Twisted Lies Read online

  "Why didn't you tell him?" Brady asked.

  She shrugged. "I didn't know for sure. And even if Leslie had heard, why would she tell Charles or any of them anything?"

  Sam spoke for the first time since they'd sat. "But now, you think maybe your sister told your fiancé's boss what she overheard? Why would she do that?"

  Marisa sighed. "I can only guess. She liked Vinnie okay, but she didn't want me to marry him. I was really young, and we only had each other at that point, and I think she was jealous. And it didn't matter how much money Vinnie made, Leslie thought I could do better."

  Rae looked up from her notebook. "You think maybe your sister told Charles what was going on to... What? Break you two up?"

  Marisa shrugged. "It's just a theory. Maybe somebody else did it."

  "Did Vinnie tell anybody?" Brady asked.

  "No. He was adamant that neither of us could tell. He was terrified Charles would find out before he had a chance to meet with the FBI guy."

  "If you didn't tell, and Vinnie didn't, then either the leak came from the FBI"—Brady's expression told them what he thought of that theory—"or your sister told someone."

  Sam reached across the table and laid her hand on Marisa's. "If she did it, I'm sure she had your best interests at heart. And I know you don't wish her ill."

  Marisa teared up again and nodded.

  "Okay," Brady said. "Go on."

  "And then Vinnie was murdered." Silence settled on the room at the word. She let a beat pass. "Then I went to Nate."

  Brady glanced at Nate. "Why him?"

  "He used to ride the same bus as I did. I recognized him from his picture in the paper."

  "At the Times?" Brady asked.

  Nate shook his head. "I was working in Queens. I wrote a column occasionally on the financial market, and they ran my photo above the column."

  "Oh." Brady turned back to Marisa. "You picked him because you recognized him."

  "And because of the finance column. Seemed he'd understand what G&K was up to. I sat next to him on the bus the next day and told him I had a story, but I needed help. I gave him the gist of it, and he put me up in a hotel. He hid me. I thought they would try to kill me, since they killed Vinnie."

  "I still think they might have," Nate said.

  "I told him the story. He protected me while I tried to figure out what to do next. He encouraged me to call the FBI and tell Kopp what I knew about Vinnie's murder. I met with Kopp and told him everything. Kopp was working on getting me in witness protection. The next morning, the FBI stormed the G&K offices."

  "That fast?" Brady asked.

  "Remember," Nate said, "they'd already been working on bringing G&K down. They just needed proof. Marisa knew just enough to convince Kopp he'd find it in the files. And Kopp didn't want to lose the opportunity."

  Rae looked up from her notes. "But Charles knew they were after him. Why didn't he hide the evidence?"

  "It's not that simple," Nate said. "We're talking about years of documents that probably looked fine at a glance, but under the FBI's microscope? I'm sure Charles was working on it, but remember, all this happened very quickly. And Charles thought he'd bought himself some time by having Vinnie killed."

  "By the time the FBI got there," Marisa said, "both Charles's personal account and the company's operating account had been emptied."

  "How much money?" Rae asked.

  Marisa looked at Nate, and he shrugged.

  "I never learned the actual numbers, but the man who took Ana demanded two million."

  Brady looked at Marisa. "And you didn't take it?"

  Familiar rage rose in her chest. "I didn't care about their money. I wanted justice for Vinnie's murder. Besides, even if I'd wanted to, it's not like they kept the account codes posted on the wall. How could I have?"

  "Okay."

  The rage turned to confusion. She studied Brady. "You believe me, just like that?"

  "If you had the money, you'd give it to the kidnappers, right? To get your daughter back?"

  “Of course! I'd do anything to get her back."

  "Besides, Nate told me about your house. That's not the way someone with that much money would choose to live."

  She turned to Nate with a raised eyebrow.

  He lifted both hands in surrender. "I just wanted Brady to know you didn't steal the money."

  "He said it was small and sparse," Brady clarified. "Nothing bad."

  "It is those things."

  "Okay," Brady said. "But like you say, they didn't keep the account numbers and passwords just lying around. So how do they think you got access?"

  "I have no idea." Marisa looked at Nate. "Do you?"

  "I'm not sure they know how. Only that, as far as they knew, Marisa was the only one who knew the feds were on to them. I know they figured Vinnie's murder was her motive."

  "But they must have a theory about how," Brady said.

  "They didn't share it with me," Nate said.

  Brady stared off, shook his head slightly, and frowned. Finally, he focused on Marisa again. "What else?"

  She couldn't think of anything to add.

  "That's all we know," Nate said. "After that, Marisa went from the FBI's best witness to their number one suspect."

  "Charles's, too." Marisa still couldn't believe how it had all backfired. "Even my own sister doesn't believe me."

  Nate pulled her hand into his and held it on his knee. "I knew Marisa hadn't stolen it."

  "How?" Brady asked.

  "I just knew. I'd gotten to know her, and I couldn't believe that of her. And I was right."

  "But it didn't matter, because they all thought I had. Charles, Kopp—they were all after me. I thought if I exposed myself to the FBI to try to clear my name, Charles would find me and have me killed."

  "Or worse. Whatever it took to get his money back." Nate squeezed her hand. "The way Vinnie was killed...the man was vicious."

  "You helped her escape?" Brady clarified.

  Nate sat up straighter. "You have a problem with that?"

  Brady glanced at his wife, whose eyebrows rose, before focusing on Nate again. "I wish more people trusted the authorities. It stands to reason that whoever stole the money knew the FBI was on to them. Who knew?"

  "Just Nate and I," Marisa said.

  "And maybe Leslie," Nate added. "And Charles."

  "Well, yeah," Rae said, "but Charles wouldn't steal his own money,"

  "Why not?" Nate looked at Rae. "He's in prison, but for all we know, all that money is in some offshore account, just collecting interest."

  Brady shook his head. "But we don't think Charles knew the FBI was coming that night. Or else he'd have been destroying evidence."

  "Maybe he knew the jig was up." Rae tapped her pen on her yellow pad. "Maybe he knew he was going to prison, so he hid the money."

  Brady conceded that with a nod. "Possible. Put him on the list."

  Rae wrote on her tablet.

  "Who else?" Brady asked.

  "As far as I know," Marisa said, "nobody else."

  "But if Leslie knew, she could have told someone," Nate said. "Charles got the hit man involved, which proves he knew. Maybe he told someone else at the company. Even Kopp—"

  "You think the FBI agent did it?" Brady's eyebrows rose.

  Rae chuckled. "Because cops are never bad."

  He glanced at his wife. "It's not usually the cop, despite what you see on TV."

  "We're just brainstorming here, Brady."

  He nodded once. "Fine. Put him on the list."

  "Already did." Rae winked at Marisa. "We'll need the names of the rest of G&K's employees."

  "On it," Sam said, tapping away on her keyboard.

  Brady looked at Nate. "Anyone else?"

  Nate looked at Marisa. She shook her head, a little shocked at the turn of events. Nate had told her his friends would help. She didn't know what she'd expected, but not this. "I can't think of anyone else."

  They were silent, di
gesting what they knew so far. After a minute, Brady said, "Well, despite the fact that he's a"—he cleared his throat and glanced at this wife—"suspect, I think our next step is to talk to Agent Kopp."

  "Agreed," Rae said.

  Nate looked at Marisa. "What do you think?"

  Were they crazy? "He'll throw me in jail."

  Nate squeezed her hand. "We don't have to tell him where you are. We just want to have a conversation with him. Surely he has more information than we have."

  "But what if he finds me?" She looked from Nate to Brady. "I'm a fugitive."

  "We'll take it one step at a time. First, we have to find him."

  "I got him."

  They all looked at Sam.

  "Already?" Rae said.

  She looked up from her screen. "It's not like Kopp is a common name."

  A moment of stunned silence was followed by Brady's chuckle. "Why do I ever doubt you?"

  "Because you're a slow learner," Sam quipped.

  His jaw dropped, and he covered his chest with his hand. "Me? I'm like...like..." He leaned toward his wife and said, "Quick. Think of somebody smart."

  Marisa nearly giggled.

  Rae smacked his arm and turned to Sam. "Is Agent Kopp still working in New York City?"

  "He retired two years ago."

  "Retired?" Marisa said. "He was like thirty."

  Sam click-clicked. "According to this, he's forty-two. He was commissioned in the Air Force at twenty-two, so he had twenty years in."

  Nate leaned sideways to look at her screen. "How in the world do you do that?"

  She lifted her shoulder in a no-big-deal shrug. "I did a little digging. He lives on Long Island. I have a phone number for him."

  "His phone number isn't unlisted?" Nate said.

  "It is," she said.

  "But how—?"

  "Don't bother asking," Brady said. "She won't tell."

  Sam ripped a piece of paper from Rae's notebook. "You'd probably throw me in jail."

  "Did you do something illegal?"

  "Can I plead the fifth?"

  "That's enough." Rae looked at Marisa. "I'm sorry. They've been like this since third grade."

  This time, Marisa did giggle. The sound seemed foreign and wrong and she immediately squelched it.

  Sam wrote something on the paper. "Here's the number. Who's making the call?"

  "Brady should do it," Rae suggested. "He could probably get the most information, being a cop."

  "Actually, I'd rather not. Since we're harboring a fugitive here, I think I need to step out." He looked at Marisa. "I believe you, but I am still a cop. I can only go so far."

  "I understand." Marisa swallowed a lump of emotion. "I appreciate what you've done so far." She looked around at the rest of them. "All of you. I can never repay you."

  Rae reached past Sam and touched Nate's elbow. "You're Nate's friend. And we'd do anything for him."

  Marisa looked just in time to see his cheeks turn pink. "I didn't do anything. I nearly..." He looked at Marisa, then at the table. "I didn't do anything."

  Rae squeezed his forearm. "You did, and I'm forever grateful."

  Marisa was definitely missing something. She'd ask Nate about that later.

  "Okay." Rae pulled her hand back. "I can call the guy."

  "I'll do it." Nate snatched the paper from Sam's fingers. "We've met before. He'll talk to me."

  Chapter 9

  NATE STOOD AND PULLED his cell phone from the charger on the kitchen island.

  Marisa stood, eyes wide. "Wait. Are you calling right now?"

  "The sooner we talk to him, the closer we'll be. You okay?"

  Marisa looked behind her as if Agent Kopp might have just sneaked in the back door.

  "It'll be fine," Nate said. "I'm not going to tell him where you are."

  Brady pushed back in his chair. "Be careful what you do tell him. You're guilty of harboring a felon. If he believes you know where Marisa is, this could backfire."

  All true. But Kopp was their best bet for more information. They'd have to expose themselves to someone if they were going to figure out who stole the money—or who kidnapped Ana and Leslie. Kopp seemed like the safest place to start.

  Brady, Rae, Sam, and Marisa were staring at him. "I'll be careful." He smiled at Marisa and pushed out the back door.

  The air felt brisk and clean, cool—fifties, maybe—but the sun shone through the bare branches overhead and warmed him. He crossed the patio onto the dock, where he wandered the twenty feet or so to the end. He stared out at the clear water and inhaled the loamy scent of the forest all around him. It was good to be home.

  He typed the number Sam had found into his phone and hit send.

  Two rings later, the call connected. "Earl's Pizza and Grinders." The voice sounded like it belonged to a teenager.

  So much for Sam's magic touch. "I'm afraid I have the wrong number."

  "Oh, wait. Uh... Who's this?"

  Nate said, "I'm looking for Garrison Kopp."

  "Oh. Sorry, dude. Hold on a sec." There was a muffled sound, a bang, and a laugh. "Dad! Hey, Dad. Telephone."

  Another muffled sound, then Nate heard, "Sorry. I was sorta messing around."

  Nate clearly heard the sound of a sigh on the other end before an older male voice came on the line. "Hello?"

  "Agent Kopp, this is Walter Boyle of the New York Times. Do you have a minute?"

  "It's Nate, right?"

  "You remember."

  "Hard to forget a guy who harbored a fugitive."

  If only he knew. The retired fed had a memory like a crypt. "Allegedly. What I really did was protect my source. It's that pesky freedom of the press. And as matter of fact—"

  "Hold on." His voice was professional, a contrast to the laughter Nate heard in the background. The laughter got quieter, and a door slammed. "You calling to tell me where I can find Marisa Vega?"

  "Do you really think she stole that money?"

  "I think she's wanted in connection to a federal case."

  "She gave you the information you needed to bring down G&K."

  “Are you calling about that?"

  Nate paced back toward the cabin. "I've had contact with Marisa. Her daughter's been kidnapped."

  The squeak of a chair came through the phone. "She has a kid?"

  "Adopted. Four years old. She was with Marisa's sister, Leslie. They were both snatched from...a city in Mexico."

  "She report it?"

  "Kidnappers told her if she did, they'd kill them both."

  "Hmm. And rather than call the cops, she contacted you."

  "She trusts me."

  "Because you always believed she was innocent."

  "I know she is."

  "How?"

  Nate couldn't very well tell Kopp about the house where Marisa had been living. And Kopp wouldn't be impressed by Nate's gut instinct. He went with the same argument he'd made years before. "First, she was afraid to leave the hotel."

  "Or so she told you."

  "Second, she wouldn't have gone near that building for all the gold in Ft. Knox. She was trying to stay alive."

  A snort from the other end.

  "Third, she wouldn't have had access to the bank account numbers. She was a nighttime cleaning lady."

  "She had access to Vinnie."

  "You think Vinnie, the smallest cog in the machine, had Charles Gray's personal bank account information?"

  "Somebody stole that money."

  "Yeah, and somebody wants it back."

  "Meaning?"

  "She was told to get the money in exchange for her daughter and sister. In fact, the kidnappers said they wanted her to turn over the money or tell them who stole it."

  A long pause. "The kidnappers want the money or—"

  "Proof she didn't steal it."

  "How peculiar."

  Nate let the information simmer and hoped Kopp would say something helpful. After a minute, he said, "Well, all I can do is refer you to somebo
dy at the FBI. I'm retired."

  "If she goes to the cops, Ana and Leslie are dead. I'm only talking to you."

  "Why? 'Cause we're such good friends? As far as I'm concerned, you're harboring a fugitive."

  Nate's pacing became more like stomping. "For the thousandth time, I didn't know where she was."

  "Didn't know," Kopp said. "Past tense."

  Crap. "Don't put words in my mouth, Kopp. Marisa took off as soon as she knew you'd arrested Gray."

  "As soon as the money was stolen. Interesting coincidence."

  "Not her fault the money was stolen before you guys stormed the place. For all I know, you took it."

  A humorless chuckle. "If you could see this house, you wouldn't wonder about that anymore."

  Nate pictured Marisa's shack in Mexico. Wherever Kopp lived, it was a mansion compared to that.

  "What do you want from me?" Kopp asked.

  "I want to meet. Maybe we can compare notes, figure out who stole the money."

  "I'm not in the city. And I don't have my notes. They're with the FBI."

  "I have mine."

  No answer.

  "Just tell me where and when," Nate said. "I can be there tomorrow."

  "Are you in Manhattan?"

  Kopp was coming around. Nate considered lying but changed his mind. "No. I resigned from the Times."

  "And when you introduced yourself as Walter Boyle, New York Times—"

  "Just trying to jog your memory. And besides, it's not a felony to impersonate a journalist, is it?"

  Another chuckle. Apparently under the Men-in-Black shades, Kopp had concealed a sense of humor.

  "I'm moving back home," Nate said. "I'm in New Hampshire, but I could be in New York in just a few hours."

  "New Hampshire, huh? That where Marisa is?"

  "Yeah. She's been hiding behind the Old Man on the Mountain for eight years."

  "Thought that thing fell."

  "She probably knocked it down."

  The man chuckled again. "Okay, I hear what you're saying." He stopped talking, and Nate waited through the silence. He wasn't going to speak again until Kopp told him yes or no. One thing he'd learned, once you make a request, you keep quiet and make the other person turn you down. Most people didn't like to disappoint, though he doubted Garrison Kopp cared much about that.