She nodded, seeing the logic. “But why would he risk that by involving himself in this?”
“Because he’s a good man, and a good cop.” Now Brooks rose, went to her. “Because he’s raised two daughters, and if he doesn’t imagine them in your place, I’ll put them there in his head.”
“You’re asking me to trust a man I don’t know, have never met.”
“I know it, and don’t think for a minute I don’t know how much that asks. If you can’t do it, we’ll find another way.”
She turned to the window again. Her gardens were doing so well. Her life had been so smooth, really, for the last year. And yet nothing had really grown until she’d opened the door to Brooks.
“Would you trust him with your life?”
“I would be. You’re my life now.”
“Oh, God, you say that and I feel I’d wither away if I lost what I’ve found with you. You make me want to risk the quiet, Brooks, and I thought the quiet was all I ever wanted.”
“You can’t keep running, Abigail.” Taking her shoulders, he turned her around to face him. “You can’t keep shutting yourself up, shutting yourself down.”
“I thought I could, but no, I can’t. Not now. How would you do it?”
“Drive to Little Rock. We couldn’t risk a phone call or an e-mail. It has to be face-to-face, not only so we don’t leave a trail but because Anson’s a face-to-face type. I could be there in under two hours, get this started, be back before morning.”
“Tonight?”
“What’s the point in putting it off? There’s a PI I guarantee is working on his laptop right now, scratching at that surface. We’ve got the advantage, why waste it?” He got to his feet. “You take your laptop or that iPad of yours. Do your research on the captain on the way. If you’re not satisfied, we turn around, come back.”
“You want me to go with you?”
“Always. But in this case I want him to see you, hear you. I want you to tell him the way you told me. You’re scared. I don’t blame you.” He took her arms. “You want to take more time, to analyze, to calculate, work out details. But that’s not what you did when you got out of that safe house. It’s not what you did in New York when they chased after you. You went with instinct, and you beat them.”
“I’m going to take my alternate identification, and cash. My go bag. If this goes wrong, I can’t come back here.”
“If it goes wrong, I’ll go with you.”
“I know you mean that now—”
“Now’s where we are. You take whatever you think you need.”
“I want to take Bert.”
Now he smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He drove her car. Neighbors wouldn’t think much about an SUV in Anson’s driveway, but they’d remember a Bickford police cruiser if a badge asked somewhere down the line.
While he drove, Bert did what dogs did in cars, hung his head out the back window with a dopey grin on his face, and Abigail worked on her laptop.
“Your Captain Anson has an excellent record.”
“He’s a good cop.”
Advantage or disadvantage? Abigail wondered.
“If he agrees to help, will you know if he’s telling the truth?”
“Yes. Trust me.”
“I am.” She looked out the side window at the blur of landscape. “More than I have anyone else in a dozen years. If this goes through, and others believe me, it would lead to arrests, trials, my testimony. And there could be repercussions. You have to understand that.”
“We could go on the way things are, let it alone. And both of us—I think both of us—would never feel quite okay with it. Safer, but not quite okay.”
“Safe’s been enough for a long time now.” She looked back at him, still in wonder how one person could change everything. “It’s not now. Still, it won’t be enough to hurt the Volkov organization, to just damage it. To be okay and safe, we have to destroy it.”
“Working on it.”
“I have some ideas. But not all of them are strictly legal.”
She watched the grin move over his face. “That doesn’t surprise me. What do you have in mind?”
“I’ve been working on something, but I need to refine it a bit more. It’s technical.”
He glanced over, and down at her laptop. “Nerd stuff.”
“I suppose. Yes, nerd stuff. If we do this, I’ll need to spend more time and effort on the programs I’ve been developing. In the meantime, and again, if your captain agrees, you have to decide on your communication. Once he makes contact with the FBI on this matter, they’ll track his communications.”
“We’re going to make a stop on the way, pick up some prepaid cell phones. That should cover it for the time being.”
“It should.”
He reached over, briefly laid his hand over hers. “We’re going to find a way.”
She believed him. It made no sense, defied all logic, and yet she believed him.
Her nerves ratcheted up when Brooks drove down the quiet street in the pretty neighborhood. Old leafy trees, green lawns, lights glowing against window glass.
Captain Anson might attempt to arrest her on the spot. He might insist on contacting the federals.
He might not be home, which would be anticlimactic and somehow more stressful.
He might—
“Relax,” Brooks said and stopped in front of a tidy two-story house with attached garage and a lovely red maple in the front yard.
“That’s not possible.”
He shifted so they were face-to-face. “In or out, Abigail? It’s your choice.”
“In, but I can’t relax about it.”
If she had to run, she wouldn’t allow him to run with her. She wouldn’t allow him to give up his life, his family, his world. She had an extra set of keys in her bag, and could be out and gone, if necessary. If that happened …
“Whatever happens, I need you to know these past weeks have been the best of my life. Being with you changed me. Nothing will be the same for me again, and I’m glad of it.”
“We’re going to win this, starting now.”
“All right.” She ordered Bert to stay, and got out of the car.
After Brooks skirted the hood, he took her hand. She did her best to focus on that contact as her heart began to thud in her throat.
Lights glowed in the window, and she could smell spring, and the oncoming summer—the grass, the heliotrope, dianthus, some early roses. She felt the anxiety build, an anvil on her chest, and closed her eyes against it for a moment while Brooks knocked.
The man who answered boasted broad shoulders and heavily salted dark hair gone thin at the temples. He wore khakis and a blue golf-style shirt with reading glasses hanging from the pocket by the earpiece.
His feet were bare, and from somewhere behind him, Abigail heard the commentary of a ball game.
His eyes were a hard steel blue, until the smile burst onto his face.
“Son of a bitch, it’s Chief Gleason at my door.”
“It’s good to see you, Captain.”
“Son of a bitch,” Anson repeated, then gave Brooks a one-armed hug while he measured up Abigail. “Are you going to introduce the lady?”
“Abigail Lowery, Captain Joe Anson.”
“Nice to meet you, Abigail. Man, Nadine’s going to be sorry she missed you. She took her mom on a girl’s trip—a spa thing—for her mom’s birthday. She won’t be back till Sunday. Well, come on in.”
The living room looked comfortable, Abigail thought, lived in and easy, with framed family photographs on a
