“Who is this?” Owen asked. It was nearing midnight in California but Owen was still awake, no doubt crunching numbers on some project or deal for his logging company.
“It’s me. I need a favor.”
“Tommy? What number are you calling from? You okay? You sound funny.”
“I’m fine but I have a bit of a situation I’m dealing with and lost my phone. I’m on one of those disposable things.”
“Like the ones drug dealers and pimps use so it can’t be traced back to them? Must be one helluva situation you’re in. So what’s the favor?” Owen asked, getting straight to the point. “I’ll help if I can.”
“You near a computer?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you to text me the addresses of the bus stations nearest to Gorkey and Landon Streets in New York City.”
“Going on a trip?”
“Not recreationally.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Or at least it would be once he caught that little escape artist who had managed to make him look like a rookie and a dumb ass with one shot. “I’d do it myself but this disposable isn’t internet capable and I don’t have time to locate a computer.”
“This sounds personal,” Owen murmured, and Tommy didn’t waste time denying it even if it wasn’t exactly true. But Owen didn’t press for details, either, which was another reason Tommy picked him instead of Christian, who lived in Manhattan and was always interested in getting the dirt. “All right. Sent. Anything else?”
“No,” he answered, a short satisfied smile following as the cell dinged with an arriving text message. “That’ll do it. Thanks, man. I’ll explain later.”
“Can’t wait,” Owen returned dryly but then added, “Be safe.”
“Always.”
The line went dead and Thomas tossed the cell on the seat beside him. Both his brothers were solid guys in different ways. They didn’t share a drop of blood but Tommy knew Owen and Christian would have his back just as he would always have theirs. That’s how Mama Jo had raised them. He missed spending time with them, but the past few months had been consumed with tracking down Cassi, leaving little time to socialize and catch up. Besides, he wasn’t the only one whose personal life was submarined by the job. Christian was a bartender at some swanky place, pulling down more money a year than he was, while Owen had his hands full over in the wilds of the Santa Cruz Mountains in California trying to keep his logging company alive in an economy that had determined logging was something of a dirty word.
They’d scattered but it was rare that they didn’t connect a few times a month. And he was feeling the separation. He made a mental promise to pop in and at least say hello to Mama Jo after he dragged Cassi back to West Virginia.
He missed Mama Jo’s cooking.
And right about now he was thinking he needed one of her signature finger thumps on the back of his skull for being such a class-A idiot.
She checked the time for the next bus. She had about a half hour to kill. Lucky. It could’ve been worse. Her stomach growled. Repositioning her pack, she went to the vending machine to check out what kind of toxic waste cleverly packaged as food was available. Hmm, the choices were slim. She settled for a candy bar, figuring the sugar kick might bolster her flagging energy if not help keep her focused.
For some reason she couldn’t shake the sense of guilt that shadowed her every movement. Damn Tommy. Why’d he have to be the one to come after her? If it’d been anyone else she could’ve left without a second glance or even a smidge of concern weighing her down.
She huffed a short breath and took a bite of the candy.
He moved quietly but with purpose, his eye on the target. He kept to her peripheral vision but bad luck must’ve been riding on his shoulder for she turned and they locked eyes. Panic registered in hers and she bolted.
Her long legs ate up the dirty tile, putting more distance between them, pushing past the other people waiting for the incoming charter. Desperation gave her the edge. His heart hammered with the exertion but he wasn’t about to give up. He’d chase her off a cliff if need be, but she wasn’t getting away this time.
“Freeze,” he bellowed, causing a number of people to stop and stare, but she kept going. He didn’t think it would work but it’d been worth a try. He put all his energy into narrowing the gap between them and he closed in on her. She was nearly within his grasp but she dodged just as he made a grab for her. If he could’ve managed it, he would’ve shouted a few choice curse words but, as it was, his lungs were burning, screaming from the stale station air.
She burst outside and darted left to slip past a slightly open gate that led to the maintenance yard and slammed it shut, locking it behind her seconds before he could get to it. He slammed into the gate hard and shook it with both fists when he realized she was beyond his reach.
“Cassi, don’t,” he warned, his chest heaving as his fingers curled around the cold, rough-textured metal. She stopped and turned. Her breath curled in a teasing cloud before evaporating into the night. She held his stare and he could almost sense her hesitation even though she seemed poised to run. He grabbed on to that hope, distant and fleeting as it may be. “I don’t want you to get hurt. If you keep running, it’ll only get worse. You’ll become hunted by every single law enforcement agency in the United States. There will be nowhere to hide and if you continue to run…they will use lethal force to bring you down.”
“I’m not a criminal,” she whispered. “I’m just trying to get to the truth.”
“What truth?”
“I told you.”
He ignored that. Everyone had a story or a reason for doing what they did but it didn’t lessen the crime. “What about the people you took advantage of? The people who took you in and bought whatever fairy tale you put together so that you could drain their savings and split town?”
She sucked in a breath. “I never drained anyone’s savings. Who told you that?”
The fact that she sounded outraged and hurt he found baffling. “Do you even know the charges leveled against you?” he asked.
“No, but I can’t believe they’re serious enough to sic the FBI on me.”
He ticked off the charges. “Grand theft, fraud, identity theft…fiduciary elder abuse… Cassi, these are pretty hefty charges. You won’t be able to run forever. You will be caught.”
“What are you talking about? I never did any of those things. I admit, I borrowed some money from a few people but nothing that would be missed or would devastate their finances. And I told you that I planned to pay them back.”
“Borrow?”
“Yes.”
“Borrowing implies consent and your victims weren’t given the choice. You took without asking.”
“I will pay them back,” she maintained stubbornly.
“It doesn’t matter. There’s a warrant for your arrest. You’re going to be brought to justice sooner or later. Make it easy on yourself and stop running.”
“So you believe I did these things?” she asked, her stance rigid, her stare boring into his, almost daring him to answer. “Grand theft? Elder abuse? Do you really think I could do these things? Me?”
He shook his head, his heart heavy in his chest. “It’s not about what I think you’re capable of…it’s what you’ve done. I have to bring you in.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if all those charges were false? What if someone was trying to keep me out of the picture and painting me as a criminal was the best way to get rid of me? What if the real criminal was the one giving you the bad information?”
“What about Barbara Hanks? Winifred Jones? Or Isaac Wilmes? What would they have to say about your claims of innocence?” At the mention of her fraud victims, she didn’t pale as he’d expected her. Her confused look threw him off for a moment but he shelved it. “You played yourself false to those kindhearted people and you took all they had to fund your little East Coast excursion. Barbara and Winifred were old ladies and that’s bad enough but the worst one, I think, was Isaac. You played him like a fiddle and left him not only broke but broken-hearted.”
Something flitted across her face—guilt perhaps—but then she lifted her chin and responded with a quiet but unapologetic, “I told him I wasn’t the marrying type. I never lied to him.”
“Except the part where you lied about who you were, your past and the future you had no intention of sharing with him.”
Her mouth tightened as her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. My reasons were my own. Isaac has nothing to do with anything. Leaving someone isn’t against the law.”
“No, but representing yourself as someone you’re not and getting someone to propose to you under false pretenses is called fraud.”
“That’s ridiculous. If that were the case every single person who’s used their natural assets, be it a pretty face, big breasts, or money to get what they want would be guilty of fraud. And that’s not what happened with Isaac, not that it’s your business,” she snapped. “I had feelings for him. Just not
those
kinds of feelings.”
“You liked him enough to accept the four-carat diamond he put on your finger,” he reminded her softly. “A diamond I suspect you sold the minute you left.”
“It must be nice to be able to judge from that high horse of yours,” she said. Then her mouth pinched in scorn as she added, “And for your information I sent that monstrosity back to him. I didn’t want it in the first place but I hadn’t wanted to humiliate him in front of his family and friends.”
“So you left him at the altar?” he asked, incredulous. “That seems far more humiliating than just turning a man down when he’s on bended knee.”
“I was a fool to think you might be willing to listen to my side of things. You’ve obviously got your mind made up about me and what I’ve done.” She started to back away and he shouted at her to wait but she was already fading into the darkness. Her voice floated back to him, taunting. “Look deeper, Tommy…look deeper.”
And then she was gone.
At first glance it seemed pretty straightforward. Classic identity theft and fraud. But when he pulled the victim statements, he found one troubling similarity.
Their stories were nearly identical, which in itself was no shock, especially if Cassi was using the same M.O. to achieve her goal. But the similarities in the statements were downright uncanny, as if they’d read a script and were delivering their lines. And the amounts lost seemed a helluva lot of money for two widows to have stockpiled. It wasn’t impossible but…he scribbled a note to double-check the backgrounds of Barbara Hanks and Winifred Jones.
And then there was the expression on Cassi’s face when he’d mentioned their names. She’d been genuinely shocked to hear that they’d pressed charges against her. Why would a woman who’d swindled two little old ladies be surprised by their decision to turn her in? Unless she hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place…
He shook his head. No. God, he was being drawn into whatever illusion she’d spun for the victims. Classic mistake. Pretty girl, sad story of persecution…this was the kind of stuff they warned rookies about. But there was a troubling question that kept crowding his thoughts each time he tried to move forward. Why would two old women conspire and make false charges against Cassi? It was crazy. It wasn’t his problem. Not his job to investigate, just to haul her in. But this was Cassi…how could he walk away with these unanswered questions in his head? They would drive him crazy.
He leaned over and grabbed his cell phone. He made a quick call to another agent. It was late but he knew this guy was still up. He was in the cyber crimes division and held late hours.
“D’Marcus, Thomas Bristol…you got a minute?” he asked, switching his Bluetooth on so he could talk with free use of his hands. “Can you do me a solid? I need a little help following up on a hunch.”
“Glad to hear I’m not the only government employee still hard at work at such a ridiculous hour. What’s the favor and before I say yes, what’s in it for me, brother?”
Thomas grinned. “My sincere appreciation. I’d hate to think you’re open to persuasion.”
D’Marcus barked a short laugh. “Always the stickler for rules, man. All right, what’s the favor?”
“I’m working on a case involving identity theft. Can you access the bank records of a Barbara Hanks and Winifred Jones?”
“You got their socials?”
“Yeah, gimme a minute,” he said, scrolling to the victim page with their personal information. He gave the numbers and waited for D’Marcus to do his magic.
“So what am I looking for?” D’Marcus came back, a frown in his tone. “I don’t see anything that jumps out as unusual. A lot of pharmacy runs…not so weird given they’re both old ladies. Oh, ouch. Major withdrawal. About five thousand dollars. Brought Hanks’s savings balance to zero. Same with the other chick. This the work of your suspect?”
“Yeah, so the report says,” he murmured. “Any new accounts opened in the past month or so?”
There was a short pause while D’Marcus looked it up. Then, he said, “Actually, yeah…just the other day. Major deposits. Thirty thousand each. Damn. That’s one heck of a payday.”
He agreed. And highly irregular for two widowed ladies on modest pensions. “Where’d the money come from?” he asked.
“Looks like a wire transfer from a Swiss account. What the hell were these little old biddies into? Something seems a bit off.”
“You got that right. Can you forward me the bank transcripts? I need to follow the trail.”
“You got it, buddy.”
“Thanks, D’Marcus.”
“Happy to help. Hey, I heard you’re the man for Celtics tickets?”
“It’s true. I’m a fan.” Thomas grinned. “I’ve been known to acquire a few tickets now and then when I want to get away. I went to college with a guy who now works in promotions for the team. He can always find a ticket for me when I want one. You need me to hook you up?”
“If you could manage it. I’ve got a girl who’s crazy about basketball. Figured I should do it up right and take her to a game.”
“Sounds like a keeper. Sure. I’ll call my guy and have a few tickets set aside for the next home game.”
“You’re the best, Bristol.”
Thomas clicked off and opened the file that D’Marcus sent. Obviously, these women weren’t high-tech criminals. They hadn’t tried—or known how—to hide money coming from the transfer, which would’ve been smart if they were getting a payoff for making a false report. He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stretched, still in thought. A few soft and satisfying pops later, he was still mired in thoughts he had no business thinking but he knew he was going to make some phone calls first thing in the morning. The question was…what happened if the answers didn’t point to Cassi’s guilt, but rather her innocence?
It wasn’t his call to tear into this investigation. His job had been to bring her in. Simple. Yet, he should’ve known nothing involving Cassi was going to end up simple and tidy. Her middle name should’ve been
complicated.
He muttered under his breath. He knew he couldn’t walk away, hand over the case and forget about it.
And there was no sense in pretending that he could.