Page 73 of Lies He Told Me

“But enough about the past,” he says. “Let’s talk about now. I couldn’t help but notice you just bought a bunch of duffel bags. And I see you’ve got a ring of safe-deposit-box keys around your finger. You’re moving the money, aren’t you?”

“I … no … no …”

“There’s no time for games,” he snaps. “I know David has that money. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I …” I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I’m trapped, cornered, without any help —

“Tell me his name,” he says. “Tell me your husband’s real name. Because I’m getting tired of this wide-eyed innocent routine of yours. And if Michael Cagnina doesn’t get his money back, your entire family is dead. Instead of a dead rat in little Lincoln’s trick-or-treat bag, I’ll put a bullet in —”

“Wesley!” I shout, bursting into tears, losing it right there in the car in front of a man who would kill me without hesitation. “My husband’s real name is Wesley Price. The accountant for Michael Cagnina. The man who risked everything to take down a mobster!”

SEVENTY-EIGHT

AFTER HE’S FINISHED LAYING out his theory to Camille Striker, Special Agent Blair glances over at the children in the play area, Grace and Lincoln Bowers, arguing over a game of cards. The boy, he takes after his father — or at least how his father looked when he was Wesley Price, before plastic surgery and a shaved head altered his features and he became David Bowers.

“I’m not confirming or denying anything you’ve said.” Camille looks him straight in the eyes.

“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “You’re sworn by law not to give up his identity. Even to an FBI agent. Even after you’ve retired. I respect that.” Blair sighs. “Look, no reason we have to be at loggerheads here. We want the same thing.”

She takes a step back. “No, we don’t. I want the Bowers family to live to see another day. And another after that.”

“So do I —”

“No, you want Cagnina. You don’t care how you get him.”

Blair’s head drops. He blows out a sigh. “Look, this canturn out okay for everyone. We can catch Cagninaandkeep the Bowers family safe. You want to help Marcie? Persuade her to helpme.”

Camille studies him. “Marcie as bait. I don’t think so.”

“Hey, the situation is what it is.” He opens his hands. “I didn’t create it. But if Cagnina’s got a guy making a move on them, no reason I can’t be there to catch him. I catch his guy, I catch Cagnina.”

“If he hasn’t skipped town,” says Camille. “He shot David — maybe killed him. Why on earth would he stick around?”

Oh. It hits Blair just then.

Camille doesn’t know about the money. Of course. David — Wesley Price — wouldn’t have told her about it.

“Okay, let’s make this easy,” says Blair. “I’m going to bring Cagnina in. And you’re gonna stay out of my way. If you obstruct a federal investigation, you’re gonna be giving birth to that child in a federal penitentiary.”

SEVENTY-NINE

I WIPE MY FACE after that breakdown, after saying David’s real name — Wesley Price — aloud.

“Marcie,” says Silas from the back seat, “much as I love a good cry, I don’t have time for it. Here’s what’s gonna happen. Listen and listen good.”

A police cruiser rolls down the street, heading east, the opposite side of the street. Do I flag him down? Lay on my horn? What happens then? A shootout? Silas would probably take the officer out before he or she knew what was going on.

The cruiser drives past without incident, my heart rate decelerating.

“Where’s the money? In a bank, I assume. Safe-deposit boxes. That’s what I’d do.”

I take a deep breath and nod.

“Where? Here in town?”

“Champaign,” I say. “You can have it. You can have every penny. Just leave my family —”

“Do what I say, and your family will be fine. Now, what’s the name of the bank?”

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