Chapter 22 #2
“That’s where it gets wild.” Zara’s expression turned almost gleeful. “Once I had the evidence, I went straight to the U.S. Attorney’s office—bypassed the FBI completely. Showed them the Kaiserhof footage, the financial trail, everything. Beverly was arrested within six hours.”
“And?”
“She cut a deal immediately. Started singing like a canary.” Zara’s smile turned sharp. “She even threw my supervisor, Agent Marcus Thorne, under the bus.”
“Thorne was involved? How?”
“He had been having an affair with Beverly for over a year, and he wanted in on the deal.” Zara’s voice went flat.
“Ironic, since she accused me of sleeping my way into the FBI. Meanwhile, she’s having an affair with our married boss.
Anyway, the whole thing collapsed like dominoes.
Beverly flipped on Thorne. Thorne flipped on Whitmore.
Whitmore flipped on Badges. Everyone was scrambling to save themselves.
” She let out a bitter laugh. “I guess I got the last laugh with Babbs.”
“Wait, who is Babbs?” I asked, completely confused.
“Sorry, I’ve been calling her Beverly this whole time, but that’s her undercover name. Her real name is Barbie Babbs.”
“Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.
“I know,” Zara said. “I can’t believe how this went down, plus that my supervising agent was in on it. I had no idea.”
“No, I mean, I can’t believe her real name is Barbie,” I said.
Zara burst out laughing—the kind of laugh that sounded like releasing two days of tension all at once.
“That’s what surprises you most out of all this?
” Zara shook her head, still laughing. “Not the conspiracy, not the corruption, not the federal officials going to prison—just that Beverly’s real name is Barbie? ”
“I mean …” I gestured helplessly. “What kind of parents name their kid Barbie?”
“Very optimistic ones.” Zara wiped tears from her eyes. “I needed a good laugh. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” I reached over and squeezed her hand. “So, what happens next?”
“Well, Babbs will probably get a reduced sentence if she keeps cooperating, and Thorne is looking at—”
“No, I mean with us.” I turned to face her. “What happens with us? Do you have to go back to Seattle?”
Zara’s smile faded into something more serious, then she shrugged. “Actually, I’m kind of unemployed at the moment.”
My stomach dropped. “Wait—they fired you? That’s complete—”
“I quit.” She said it simply, like it was the easiest decision in the world. “I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time for a change. New town. New career. New start.”
My heart kicked into a faster rhythm. “What kind of new start are you talking about? And what new town? Please tell me it starts with Leaven and ends with Worth.”
She nodded. “It does. I’m done with working in a dark corner of an old building with a fake ficus tree as my companion. I want light. I want you.” Zara bit her lip, then added, “What do you think?”
I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “I think I need to help you pack.”
“Yeah?” Her smile returned, brighter this time.
“Definitely,” I said with an enthusiastic nod.
Zara’s phone rang through the car’s speakers, cutting off the Christmas music mid-chorus. An incoming call flashed on the dashboard screen:
FBI SEATTLE FIELD OFFICE.
Her smile disappeared.
“What could they want?” Zara asked.
“You should pick it up,” I said, trying not to appear slightly concerned. “Unless you think it’ll be confidential.”
“I’m no longer an employee. Confidentiality doesn’t matter anymore.” She tapped the screen to accept the call. “Hi—this is Zara.”
“Agent Mazini, this is Special Agent Derek Meadows from the FBI’s Office of Professional Responsibility.
” The man was professional and direct. “I handle allegations of misconduct by FBI employees. We have reason to believe you’ve been colluding with a suspect in a recent investigation—Samuel Monroe—and that you have pertinent information regarding the case. ”
Zara’s hand tightened on the steering wheel.
I stayed perfectly still, not even breathing too loud.
“I don’t understand—the charges against Mr. Monroe were dropped,” she said.
“New information has been brought to our attention, thanks to Agent Barbie Babbs’ plea agreement. We need you to come to the Seattle office on Monday morning to answer some questions.”
“Agent Meadows, I resigned from the FBI earlier today. I’m no longer an employee.”
“I was not made aware of that.” Papers rustled in the background, then he added, “Upon confirmation of your resignation, I’ll administratively close the internal disciplinary investigation.”
Relief flooded through me—
“However,” Meadows continued, “please keep in mind that resigning from your position only affects the administrative disciplinary process. It does not stop a criminal investigation. If there’s evidence of criminal activity—collusion, obstruction of justice, conspiracy—the case can still be referred to the Department of Justice for criminal prosecution, regardless of your employment status. ”
The relief evaporated instantly.
“I understand,” Zara said calmly, which was impressive, considering the seriousness of the man’s voice. “Thanks for the call.”
“Thank you for your time,” Agent Meadows said before disconnecting the call.
The Christmas song resumed, jarringly cheerful.
I stared at her. “Wow. So there’s a possibility this isn’t over yet.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Zara’s expression was unreadable. “The problem is, I have all the information Eleanor gave me about you and what you’ve been doing. The financial records, everything about Good Sam’s operation. If they put me on a witness stand and ask me direct questions …” She trailed off.
“You won’t be able to lie,” I finished.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t commit perjury.” She glanced at me. “Not even for you.”
“Of course not, and I would never ask you to jeopardize your future to protect me.” My mind raced through options, scenarios, and legal loopholes. Then it hit me. “What about spousal testimonial privilege?”
Zara’s head whipped toward me so fast I heard her neck crack.
Then the car swerved.
“Watch out!” I grabbed the dashboard. “Eyes on the road!”
She jerked the wheel, over-correcting as the tires caught the edge of the shoulder. For one heart-stopping second, I felt the car slide on the snow-dusted pavement. Then she guided us back into the lane, both hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, her gaze more focused than ever.
“Sam! Are you crazy?” She exhaled shakily, her eyes locked straight ahead now.
“You can’t just go throwing the topic of marriage into the conversation out of nowhere, like we were deciding what we wanted to do this weekend, or what we might have for dinner tonight!
Marriage is not something to joke about. ”
“I’m being completely serious,” I said. “And you still haven’t answered my question.” I kept my voice calm, even though my pulse was still racing from the near-crash. “Is spousal privilege still a thing? You wouldn’t have to testify against me if we were married, right?”
Zara swallowed hard. “Yes. It’s still a thing. But—”
“Marriage sounds like the perfect solution then.” My heart hammered, but I forced myself to sound steady. Reasonable. Like I wasn’t suggesting something completely preposterous.
“Are you crazy?” she asked, right on cue, before taking the next exit and pulling the car over. “Run that by me again, just to make sure I’m not hearing things.”
“Married. Husband and wife. You and me.” I grinned.
“Sam, that’s—” She shook her head, but I couldn’t tell if she was dismissing the idea or trying to process it. “You can’t just propose marriage as a legal strategy.”
“Why not? People get married for worse reasons.”
“Worse than avoiding federal prosecution?”
“Tax benefits?” I offered. “And I’m pretty sure this is more romantic than a green-card marriage.”
Despite everything, her lips twitched. “This is insane.”
I reached over and took her hand. “Look, I’m not saying we fly to Vegas tonight and get married in an Elvis chapel. At the courthouse during my lunch break tomorrow would be perfectly fine.”
Zara laughed, then she was quiet for a long moment.
“You’re serious,” she said finally.
“Completely.”
“You want to marry me to invoke spousal privilege. You know that’s illegal, right?”
“I want to marry you because I’m falling in love with you,” I said, and the words came out easier than I expected. “The spousal privilege is just a great bonus feature.”
Zara let out a breath that might have been a laugh or might have been something else entirely. “This is the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I said. “Is that a no?”
She smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a yes.”