10
“Y ou don’t know that ,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Fish, but she’s—”
“No, she isn’t. She spent every moment with me. She was never out of my sight,” he argued. “There’s no way it could be Annie.”
“No way what could be Annie?” she asked as she entered the office.
Both men were silent.
“Well?” she asked, hands on hips.
She was fresh from her shower. Her wet hair was twisted into a knot on the top of her head. Fisher could smell the scent of her shampoo all the way across the room. She wore dark jeans and bright white Keds canvas shoes. A powder-blue knit top that clung in all the right places completed the outfit. She wore no makeup and the spray of freckles on her nose stood out against her pale skin. She didn’t look old enough to drive.
Fisher knew she wasn’t criminal. Now he just had to prove it.
“Our perp deposited a cashier’s check this morning for the sum of ten grand. It looks like he’s getting ready to bail.”
“Tell her the rest,” Brian said. “Or I will.”
Fisher panted out a quick breath. “The cashier’s check was from the Palms.”
“The Palms?” she repeated confused. “But that’s where we were staying.”
“I know,” he said, waiting for her to think it through.
“Then that means he was there when we were there,” she said. “Do you think he followed us? Do you think he knows?” She gestured in between them.
“That we’re married?”
“Yes, maybe that’s why he’s getting ready to bail,” she said.
“If it’s a ‘he’,” Brian said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Don’t you find it the least bit odd that our perp was at the same casino as you?” Brian asked.
Fisher put a steadying hand on Brian’s shoulder. He was using the same tone of voice he used when they badgered information out of suspects. But Annie was no suspect, she was his wife.
“What are you saying?” she asked. “Do you think that I...?”
“No,” Fisher answered for both of them. “We don’t.”
Annie’s blue eyes darkened, and she looked at him as if he’d just kicked her feet out from under her.
“You do, don’t you?” she asked. “After all of this, you still think of me as a criminal.”
“No, I don’t,” he said. He took a step toward her, but she held up a hand, warding him off.
“This whole thing has just been one big lie, hasn’t it?” she asked. “You don’t give half a hoot about me. I’m just part of the game. What did you think? That if you got me to marry you, I would confess all? Isn’t that above and beyond the call of duty even for you?”
Tears dampened her eyes, giving them a sad glitter. Fisher reached for her, but she side-stepped, slamming into the doorjamb.
“And I was actually beginning to believe that you care about me,” she whispered to herself.
“I do care about you,” he protested. “And if ever get out of this mess, I fully intend to ask you to marry me for real. Not only that, but we’re going to have a big wedding at a church. And I don’t give a damn if you do the macarena in the middle of the ceremony or play roulette at the reception.”
Her lips wobbled. Tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. And then, on a sigh, she said, “I don’t believe you.”
With a sob, she spun on her heel and ran. Fisher heard her footsteps pound up the stairs. A door slammed against its frame and all was quiet.
“My bad,” Brian said. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Fisher said. “It’s my fault. Honestly? There was a part of me that wanted to see her reaction. To gauge how she feels...felt about marrying me for real. It was stupid and selfish.”
“Maybe,” Brian said. “But now you know.”
“Know what?”
“That she loves you,” he said.
“No, I’m pretty sure she despises me with heretofore unknown levels of loathing.”
“Don’t worry. She’ll get over it,” Brian said. “Then you can look forward to the make-up sex.”
“There isn’t going to be any sex if I don’t fix this mess. So, married man, what do I do?”
“Get your butt up those stairs and do some serious groveling,” Brian suggested. “I’ll keep an eye on the shop and our perp.”
“You don’t believe it’s Annie?” Fisher asked.
Brian considered him for a moment. “We’ve been partners since we both joined the Bureau ten years ago. I’ve seen you pull some dumb stunts, and I’ve seen you make some brilliant maneuvers, but I’ve never seen you make a mistake when it comes to judging a bad guy. No, I don’t think it’s Annie.”
“Good.” Fisher grinned at him. “A man’s partner and his wife should get along.”
“Good luck.” Brian turned back to the computer screen.
“Thanks. I’ll need it,” Fisher muttered as he strode up the stairs.
“Don’t take any prisoners,” Brian yelled after him. “Unless, of course, you’re into that kind of thing.”
Fisher shook his head and kept walking.
Her door was closed. He knocked. There was no answer. Not even a terse order to go away. He frowned. That was unlike Annie. He’d figured as soon as he knocked, she’d open the door and tell him precisely what she thought of him. Truth to be told, he’d kind of been looking forward to it. She was a real firecracker when she lost her temper.
He knocked again. Still no answer.
“Annie?” he called through the door. “Annie? We need to talk. Come on, Annie-girl. Open up.”
She didn’t answer. Fisher felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to prickle. Something wasn’t right. He banged the door harder. He felt the wood vibrate beneath his fist. Still there was no answer. If Annie was in there, she would have answered. If for no other reason than to give him hell for thumping her door so hard.
He glanced down the hall at the door that led out to the deck. He checked it. It was closed and locked. He looked across the hall at his own door. It, too, was closed and locked. Panic made his heart thump faster. He had to get into her apartment just to be sure. He slammed the door with his right shoulder. It flew back on its hinges.
“What in tarnation are you doing?” his father shouted from the base of the stairs in the coffee shop. “Son?”
Fisher stormed into the apartment. There was no sign of her. He strode into her bedroom. He didn’t even think to draw his gun. It didn’t matter. It was empty. The white eyelet curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window and Fisher thought he might throw up.
“What’s going on in here?” Brian strode into the room with Fisher’s father on his heels.
“He’s got her. Our perp has got her.”
“Now don’t make a sound and everything will be all right,” a gruff voice ordered.
Annie spit at the wool blanket that was wrapped over her head and around her upper body. She gagged at the stale odor that permeated its scratchy texture. When she’d stormed into her apartment, she’d been knocked down, wrapped in the blanket and dragged through her bedroom window and down the porch stairs all in a matter of minutes. Her ribs hurt from where she’d hit the windowsill and they pulled every time she took a breath.
She was lying on her side in the back of a van. She knew it was a van, because she’d recognized the sound of the sliding door. They were driving fast through the city streets. The floor below her was hard and she bounced across it whenever the driver hit the brakes. She’d been trying to keep track of the driver’s turns to get a sense of where they were headed.
The van took an abrupt left and Annie lost track of where they could be. Fear clamped her throat, but she refused to give in to it. If she collapsed into her terror, she was afraid she’d fall apart.
She thought about Fisher and all of the wonderful things he’d said to her. He wanted to marry her in a church – for real. She’d said she didn’t believe him, but just now, with the fear so thick around her that it left her weak and vulnerable, she knew she did believe him.
Not only that, but if she ever got the chance, she would marry him. She would marry him and spend the rest of her life making up for her stupid, stubborn pride. It was pride that had sent her running from the room. She’d known in her heart that Fisher loved her, that he believed in her innocence, but she’d allowed a bruised ego and a bucketful of pride to take over. She’d thrown a tantrum. Why? Because he’d been doing his job. She was an idiot!
And now, she might never see him again. She’d probably be dragged out into the desert and shot. Her body would be left to rot in the scorching sun and Fisher would never know how she felt about him. No! That was unacceptable. She wouldn’t let that happen.
She began to wriggle against the bonds that held the blanket around her. She dragged herself across the floor, hoping to catch the blanket on something and allow herself to wiggle out of it. A foot, a big one, landed on her middle stopping her. Her ribs cried out in protest, but she was afraid to move.
“Quit it. We’ll let you out when we’re ready and not a minute before. Understand?”
Annie nodded, but realized they couldn’t see her. “Okay,” she mumbled and spat more of the woolen fibers out of her mouth.
The voice was deep and gruff. She didn’t recognize it, but she guessed it belonged to an older man. He sounded as tough as boot leather. He sounded like a man who meant what he said.
The van slowed and turned onto a jutted drive that crunched under the wheels like gravel. Annie strained to hear any noises that would identify where she was. But the wool covering her head muffled anything beyond the sound of the tires.
The van stopped and she rolled. The door was jerked open and Annie was pulled to her feet.
“Walk,” the gruff voice ordered.
Annie didn’t hesitate, cringing with each step.
She was shoved through a doorway and pushed down onto a hard chair. The bonds around her body were loosened and the blanket was pulled off of her head. She blinked against the bright light. Squinting she looked at her captors, trying to gauge their intent. She was ready to duck and roll if they took a swing at her.
She blinked and then she blinked again. It couldn’t be. They were an older couple. They appeared to be in their early to mid fifties. The man wore a white suit and a black shirt. Annie gasped.
“You’re the man from the blackjack table,” she said. “And you, you’re the woman in purple sequins who played roulette with me.”
“Very good, Annie,” he said. “I was afraid you recognized me. But, of course you didn’t because I am a master of disguise.”
“You sure are, baby,” the woman said as she lit a cigarette.
“Who are you?” Annie asked. “What do you want?”
“Now, this ain’t personal,” the man said. “I suppose I am a bit better looking all cleaned up. Here let me give you a hint.” He launched into Henry’s song.
“Henry?” Annie felt the room spin. She looked closely. He had shaved. His hair was neatly combed back into a ponytail and what his clothes lacked in taste they made up for in cleanliness. It was his eyes that clinched it. This man’s eyes crinkled around the corners just like Henry’s and his singing voice was just as rich as Henry’s had been.
She realized that she was thinking of him as an impostor who had taken over Henry when it was probably Henry who’d been fictitious all along. Still, she felt as if her old friend was dead. Her shoulders slumped.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Don’t you?” the man, Henry, asked.
“You used me,” she accused.
“Not on purpose,” the woman said. “Me and Eric just saw an opportunity and we took it.”
“Hush, Dotty,” Henry, or rather, Eric said. “Annie, you’re a good chef, but a terrible businesswoman. You want to save yourself some grief? Invest in a paper shredder.”
“A paper shredder?”
“I was going through your trash cans when I found it,” Eric said. “A way to get me and Dotty out of our hard times. It was easy really. You see, Dotty and I are entrepreneurs.”
“Crooks would be more like it,” Annie interrupted.
He shrugged. “If you like. What we do is take money from our investors and hide it for them so they don’t have to report it. Your business was just small enough not to attract any notice, or so we thought.”
“So you laundered money for your ‘investors’ by setting up a bogus account attached to my business. Your ‘investors’ are probably dope-dealing dirtbags. Do you even care that you’re breaking the law? I trusted you. I looked out for you. How could you do this to me?”
“What? We weren’t hurting you! Everything was fine until you let that man move in. When I broke in—”
“You broke in?” Annie gasped. “You’re the one who trashed my shop?”
“Yeah. I thought it might scare that guy off. Once I discovered the two of you were an item, I knew the gig was up. That guy’s not what he appears to be. Don’t be thinking he married you because he loves you, because he doesn’t. It’s my money he’s after. I don’t know how he figured me out, but he did. I know he’s taking money from my account.”
“That account had the name A. Talbot on it,” Annie said. “That makes it mine. Mine and my husband’s.”
“Ha. Your husband thinks he’s so smart, cutting in on my action. But I’m smarter. I got me a partner at the bank, see? You and Dotty are going back to the bank to see my buddy Raul, and then you’re going to close that account for me in unmarked hundreds and twenties. Thank you very much.”
“My husband will be very upset when he hears about this,” Annie said.
“Oh, will he now?” Eric laughed. “Well, we’ll be sipping pina coladas on a beach somewhere near the equator by then.”
“I’m not helping you,” she said.
“Unless you want your husband to find your body, suffering a deadly sunburn in the desert you will.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Do you want to risk that?” he asked, cracking his knuckles.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll do it!” she reluctantly agreed, hoping she could somehow stall for time.
“Are you sure about this?” Fisher asked Brian for the umpteenth time.
“As sure as I can be,” Brian said from the driver’s seat.
They were sitting in an unmarked car, watching the entrance of the main branch of the Arizona Savings and Loan. So far no one unusual had appeared.
“That’s not very reassuring,” he said. Annie had been missing for six hours, and Fisher felt as if his sanity were teetering. If anything happened to her...he just couldn’t bear it.
“Look, we’ve locked the account up under your name as her husband, so the only way they can get access to it is to use her to get it for them. They have to convince her to go to the bank for them or they lose the whole shebang.”
“How do we know they’ll use this bank?”
“We don’t,” Brian said. “But it’s the branch he always used so we’ll have to hope he continues to do so.”
“I hate this,” Fisher said. “My wife is in danger and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”
“Hang in there, Fish.” Brian patted him on the arm. “We’ll get her out safely.”
“Hand me the binoculars,” Fisher said.
“Do you see her?” Brian asked, handing them over.
“No, but I do see...Henry?”
“Henry? Who’s that?”
“It’s the homeless guy I told you about. The one who sings outside the shop every morning.”
“Well, now you know what he does with his days,” Brian joked. “Pretty smart of him to panhandle for money outside of a bank. Quite a coincidence, too, his picking this bank.”
“Yeah, too bad I don’t believe in coincidences,” Fisher said and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. He checked the clip. He was ready.
“Fish, what are you...?”
“I think he’s our perp,” Fisher interrupted. Brian looked unconvinced. “Think about it. Annie said she caught him eating out of the dumpster three years ago. How long has the laundering been going on? Just under three years. What if he wasn’t foraging for food? In the dumpster, he had access to everything Annie has ever thrown away—receipts, purchase orders, voided checks, everything.”
“Holy—” Brian whistled. “We never even considered him.”
“He appears agitated,” Fisher said. “He looks like he’s waiting for someone.”
“He is.” Brian pointed out the window.
Two women, one with Annie’s distinctive red hair, were making their way up to the sidewalk towards the bank.
“So, he has a partner,” Fisher said. “You follow Annie. He doesn’t know you. If he sees you he won’t be suspicious. I’ll watch him.”
“Done,” Brian said and ducked out of the car.
Fisher watched Henry. He was getting more and more skittish, glancing at the building and shaking his head in frustration. If he got too spooked, he might bolt. Fisher decided to get behind him. He wrapped his gun in a newspaper and crept out of the car. He slipped into the shadow of the building and followed the sidewalk until he was ten feet from where Henry paced.
Henry looked as if he were on the verge of a breakdown. Finally, he must have suspected the game was up. Taking swift looks about him, Henry began to hurry down the sidewalk.
Fisher stepped out of the shadows and into his path.
“Henry, is that you?” Fisher asked and grabbed his arm. “You shaved. I almost didn’t recognize you. Almost.”
Henry tried to shake him off, but Fisher dropped his paper and held up his gun.
“Henry the Eighth,” Fisher began, “you have the right to remain silent...”
Henry protested right through his Miranda rights. “You’ve got nothing on me. It’s her. She’s the one.”
Fisher snapped the handcuffs onto Henry’s wrists and glanced over his shoulder to where Brian was leading the woman who’d been with Annie out of the building. She was covered in mud from her neck to her knees.
“What the...?” Fisher glanced at Brian.
Brian looked as if he were trying to hold back a laugh. “Go ask your wife.”
Fisher took the steps up to the bank two at a time. He slammed through the front door only to have his feet shoot out from under him on the slick marble. He landed with a bone crunching thump on the ground. Around him lay three wasted potted plants.
“Oh, Fisher!” Annie wailed as she slid across the floor toward him. She crashed into his hip and threw her arms about his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here. It was Henry...uh...Eric all along. Can you believe that? They dragged me out of my room. Eric and Dotty. Dotty was the smoking woman at the roulette table in Vegas. She’s been his partner all along. And...”
Fisher reached up, grabbed Annie by the back of her neck and kissed her. She was safe. That was all he cared about.
Annie hummed low in the back of her throat and when Fisher released her, she looked completely bemused.
“What happened here?” he asked.
Bank officials and customers had formed a mob around them. Several people shouted questions and one woman saw Fisher’s gun and fainted dead away into a security guard.
“It’s all right.” Fisher pulled out his badge. “I’m FBI.”
“Dotty brought me in here to sign some papers that would free up the account. They have an accomplice working in the bank named Raul, but we never met him. When we entered the building, I knocked her into a plant and they all went down like dominoes. Apparently, they’d just been watered. What a mess. I knocked her flat on her rump!”
Fisher brushed some of the mud off of his pants and grinned. “Grace in motion.”
“That’s me.” She sighed.
Fisher stood, dragging Annie with him. He hugged her close and whispered against her springy red hair, “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what I’d do if...”
“Special Agent, sir,” one of the bank officers interrupted. “We need to talk to Ms. Talbot. We need to debrief her.”
Fisher glared at the balding little man in the bad suit. “Her name is Mrs. McCoy. You don’t need to talk to her. You can talk to me.”
“With all due respect...” the little man began, but Fisher interrupted him. “She said there is an accomplice named Raul working at the bank. That’s all she knows. Now, I’m going to see my wife home. I’ll be back to talk to you shortly.”
Fisher led Annie out of the building without giving the banker a chance to draw a breath.
“Thank you. I’m not really up for explaining something I don’t understand myself,” she said as he stuffed into his unmarked car. Several other special agents had arrived and Fisher told Brian to sweep the bank for Raul and he’d meet him back at the bank within the hour.
“Are you all right?” Fisher asked as he got into the driver’s seat. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“Just my pride,” Annie said. “I can’t believe that it was Henry all the time and I never even suspected.”
“Tell me about it,” Fisher said as he headed north on Central Avenue. “I should have suspected him, but I never gave him a second thought. I’m so sorry, Annie. I made a rookie mistake. I just...I’m so sorry.”
“There’s no need to be. He fooled us all. Could you drop me at my sister’s?” Annie asked. “I need to let her know I’m safe.”
“Sure,” he agreed, even though he didn’t want to part with her.
They were silent as he drove toward her sister’s house. Annie pointed and Fisher steered, but neither of them said a word. The air in the car crackled with tension and awareness. Fisher wondered which of them would break the silence first.
When he pulled into her sister’s driveway, Annie spoke. “Fisher, did you mean what you said earlier today?”
“What did I say?”
She studied her hands. Her fingers were clenched so hard that her knuckles were white. “That you would marry me for real.”
He studied her bent head with her long strawberry curls spilling forward obstructing his view of her face. He had nothing to lose by telling the truth. “Yes, I meant it.”
“Oh.” She snapped her head up and her eyes studied him as if not sure what to make of him.
“Annie!” Her sister banged out through the front door of the house. “Annie! We’ve been so worried.”
Annie slid out of her car to greet her sister and Fisher watched her go. He put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, wondering if the next time he went home there’d be an eviction notice waiting for him.
It’d been three days of taking testimony, interviewing witnesses and writing reports. Eric and Dotty Balsowitz were going to be locked away until Eric’s bad taste in clothes came back into style again. The only time Fisher saw Annie was when he and Brian were taking her statement. He missed her. He missed the way she moved at the speed of light, the sound of her voice, the sound of her laugh, the sight of her long red hair, the way she talked to herself and the feel of her body against his. He missed her more than he’d thought possible. When had she become a part of him? The other, the better half, of him?
He arrived at The Coffee Break well after dark. All of the lights in the shop were off and the Closed sign was up. He parked in back, next to his parents’ psychedelic van and trudged up the stairs to his own apartment. He wanted to knock on Annie’s door, but he was afraid. He was afraid she’d remember that they needed to annul their marriage. He supposed it was crazy, but he didn’t want to do it. He wanted to stay married to his delightful redhead.
He opened his apartment door to find the lights on. His father was pacing the length of the room with Harpy riding on his shoulder. He was wearing a black suit coat over his usual tie-dye.
“Where have you been? Everyone is waiting for you,” his father snapped. “Put these on. We’re late already.”
“Late for what?” Fisher asked, catching the wad of clothes his father threw at him.
“No questions,” Swift said. “You’ll have to dress in the car. Come on.”
Fisher followed his father and Harpy out the door. He knew better than to question his father. Swift would tell him what he wanted to know when he wanted him to know it and not before. Fisher sat in the back seat and unfolded the clothes. It was a tux.
“Why do I have to put on this monkey suit?” he asked.
His father didn’t answer. Fisher shrugged and began to change in the cramped quarters of the car. He’d just finished knotting his tie when they pulled up to the front of a church. It was a small chapel set amidst a grove of orange trees. The evening was cool, and Fisher paused to take a deep breath.
“Okay, Swift, what are we doing here?” he asked.
“No time,” his father said and strode toward the church.
“No time,” Harpy repeated, watching him from Swift’s shoulder.
When they entered the church, his father rushed him up the aisle, hardly giving him a chance to greet the people he knew that filled the pews. Brian was there with his wife Susan and their baby. A bunch of guys from the Bureau, including his boss Paul Van Buren along with their wives and girlfriends. He saw his sisters Piper and Wren with their husbands. Tony and Eve Iannocci were there. Tony sent him a thumbs-up sign and Fisher smiled. Across the way he saw a cluster of regulars from The Coffee Break. In front, sat Annie’s mother with a young Nordic type who must be her current spouse, and a young woman who was probably Annie’s latest stepmother.
His father stopped at the front of the church, but when Fisher would have sat down, Swift grabbed him by the elbow and propelled him next to the altar. Just then the organist in the balcony of the church began to thump out a processional, and everyone rose to face the back of the church.
Fisher felt someone fuss with his collar and he turned to see his mother. A single tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away and smiled. He heard a sigh echo throughout the congregation and looked down the aisle to see Annie, escorted by her father, walking toward him. She was a vision in white gossamer.
He felt his heart beat once and then twice really hard. He couldn’t catch his breath, and then he thought he might faint. He was at a wedding. His wedding to Annie!
She must have been watching his face, because she beamed at him from beneath a filmy veil. If the minister and one hundred of their closest friends and family hadn’t been standing there watching them, Fisher would have grabbed her and kissed her within an inch of her life. Heck, he might anyway.
When she and her father reached his side, Annie tossed back her veil and looked at him from beneath her lashes. Her cheeks were pink and she whispered, “I hope you meant it.”
“Meant what?” he asked, stunned by the beauty of the woman before him.
“That you wanted to marry me in a church for real,” she said.
“Oh, Annie-girl.” Fisher reached out and pulled her close. “I meant it and how.”
Annie tossed her bouquet of yellow roses to her mother and looped her arms around his neck. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Fisher swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Annie Talbot, I want to ask you, will you marry me...for real?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Fisher McCoy, I’ll marry you...for real.”
Then he kissed her. It didn’t matter that her father was standing right beside them or that the minister was clearing his throat, trying to prevent this highly unusual occurrence. He kissed her until he was satisfied that she knew how very much he loved her and then he kissed her again.
When he released her, her lips were swollen and her chin was sporting a touch of whisker burn. She looked thoroughly bemused. Fisher grinned and pressed his forehead against hers.
“I love you, Annie-girl,” he said.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
Fisher took her hand in his and together they turned to face the minister.
As the minister began his sermon, Annie leaned toward Fisher and whispered, “Does this mean I never have to be a bridesmaid again?”
“Yes. Now you’ll always be a bride. My bride.”
Annie grinned and squeezed his hand. She had a feeling she was going to like being a bride.