Girl of Lies (10 page)

She giggled, feeling tears forming at the edge of her eyes. “I promise.”

“Okay,
Muñequita
. Let me talk to my sister, por favor.”

Andrea blinked and said, “She’s not here.”

“What? Your mother isn’t there? Where is she?”

“I… I don’t…”

Luis muttered a series of curses, and then in an angry voice, said, “What about your father? No doubt he’s off saving the government instead of taking care of you.”

She didn’t want to lose it. She didn’t want to respond that way. She didn’t want to do anything. But involuntarily, Andrea burst into tears. “I don’t know!” she cried. “He was here last night, but not this morning. I don’t know where he is.”

“
Muñequita
,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not
your
fault,” she replied.

“No, it is. Maybe not my fault your parents are no-good, but it’s my fault I lost my temper. Andrea, just… I know your parents are loco, but they love you in their own way. And more importantly, I love you, little doll.”

She sniffed back tears. Then said, “Thank you, Luis.”

After she said goodbye, she stood there, looking at the counter, a growing rage spreading in her chest.
Where was her mother?
Why the hell had she left her to be cared for by her brokenhearted and injured sisters? She didn’t care if Carrie were thirty or fifty. She’d lost her husband and had a sick daughter. Sarah was technically an adult now, but she’d only been eighteen for four weeks.

All of which took Andrea back to the same question again. Where the hell was her mother?

She walked out of the kitchen into the living room. Sarah was still sitting, staring out the glass at the balcony, arms wrapped around her legs. Carrie rocked the baby in her arms, a nursing cloth draped over her shoulder.

The phone rang again. Carrie stirred, and Andrea said, “I’ll get it.”

Carrie gave her a relieved smile, and Andrea picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Sergeant Gorman, with the security detail. We have a couple of people here to visit. Dylan and Alexandra Paris. Okay to clear them in?”

“Yes!” Andrea cried.

Oh, thank God,
Carrie thought.

The minute the AMBER Alert went out the night before, Carrie had called Alexandra and Julia, and kept them updated during the terrorizing ninety minutes before Andrea was found again. Both had agreed to come as soon as possible. Alexandra and Dylan were coming in on the train from New York, and Julia on a flight from Los Angeles later in the day.

“I didn’t know they were coming,” Andrea said.

Carrie frowned. “Of course they are. We’re your sisters.”

Andrea gave her a weak smile. A doubtful smile. “I just assumed they were all busy.”

Carrie sighed. She couldn’t stand up easily, Rachel was still breastfeeding, but as she shifted in frustration, Sarah unfolded herself and stood. She looked almost comical as she reached her arms up to her much taller sister. But her expression was fierce. “We take care of each other, Andrea.”

Andrea looked doubtful. And really, why shouldn’t she? It’s not like they’d done anything to seek her out. Carrie had planned to last summer. She’d even talked with Ray about it. Then everything in her life went horribly wrong. And it was just exhausting, because she
wanted
to watch out for Andrea. She wanted to know why she’d spent most of the last years in Europe. She wanted to be there for her. But she couldn’t be
everywhere.
She couldn’t be the only one. Especially not now, when she had a young daughter to care for. She’d been a surrogate mother at one time or another to every single one of her sisters but Julia.

It was time for someone else to pick up that mantle. She was a real mother now, to a helpless little girl—Ray’s daughter—and she’d be damned if she’d let
anything
interfere with that.

Sarah and Andrea both walked to the door of the condominium when they heard the knock. Then, a moment later, Sarah opened the door.

Outside, in the hall, stood twenty-two-year-old Alexandra and her husband Dylan Paris. Alexandra looked weary. Her honey-brown hair was windblown, a little tangled, and she had circles under her green eyes. Carrie sat up a little at the sight of her. This wasn’t a night’s lost sleep. Alexandra looked like she’d been going without rest for a while.

Dylan was in worse condition. His eyes were bloodshot, hair unkempt, several days’ growth of beard on his chin and neck.

The worst part was that Dylan and Alex weren’t touching anywhere. A solid inch of space divided them, but it might as well have been a mile. Neither of them seemed conscious of it.

Alexandra’s eyes teared up at the sight of Andrea, and then they were embracing.

Dylan gave a wry smile to Sarah. She returned the smile, then said, “Hey Dylan, show me your scars later?”

He shrugged. “Only if you show me yours.”

They hugged, then all four of them moved back into the apartment.

Objectively, Dylan looked awful. Carrie had a sinking, dreadful feeling tied up in her throat. Dylan had been a heavy drinker in high school, but he quit. But the last couple years had been tough on him. Wounded in Afghanistan, then his best friend murdered. She watched him closely, worried. She’d never seen him looking this disheveled.

Dylan approached Carrie. She studied him. She was assuming too much. Exams at Columbia would be in another week or two. Dylan and Alexandra were probably just tired. This was Alexandra’s last term at Columbia—she would be graduating in a few weeks.

Rachel had fallen asleep. Carrie smiled then whispered, “Give me just a second to put her down.” Very carefully she unlatched the baby, covered herself, then stood and carried Rachel into the bedroom and lay her in the crib.

She felt Dylan’s presence behind her. He was silent, as was she, but his eyes were on Rachel. Carrie looked over at him. He was somber. Dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by the growth of stubble all over his face. It had been several months since she’d seen him. His hair had grown down well past his collar, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had a haircut since Ray died.

She swallowed. Ray had loved Dylan. Brothers, in so many ways.

He whispered, “She looks like both of you. She’ll be like ninety feet tall when she grows up.”

She gave him a crooked smile, and then backed out of the room, switching out the light. “She’ll stay out for a couple hours,” she said.

Dylan followed her back down the hall. “How is she doing?”

She shrugged, moving down the hall. As she passed by the living room, she saw Andrea, Sarah and Alexandra huddled near each other on the couch talking. She paused for just a second. Even there, on the couch, she could see the separation. Sarah and Alexandra sat close to each other. Andrea was a few inches away… just enough that they didn’t accidentally touch.

Carrie sighed. She couldn’t fix everything. But she’d keep trying. She kept on going into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” she asked, taking down a mug for herself.

“Please.”

She took down a second mug and busied herself pouring coffee. Dylan knew where the sugar and cream were. He’d been here often, both before and after Ray’s death.

Dylan repeated his question. “How is she doing?”

Carrie shrugged. “Rachel? Or Andrea.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “Both, I guess. Rachel first.”

Carrie crossed her arms over her chest, the coffee mug in her left hand. “She’s not in any immediate danger. We have a blood transfusion scheduled for next week… she’ll have to get them weekly for now.”

“And… finding a donor?”

Carrie shook her head. “I’ve been tested and I’m not a match. But I’m close. Neither is Sarah. We should have Julia’s and Alexandra’s results back today, and Andrea gets blood drawn tomorrow.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t get the testing done in Spain,” he said.

Carrie shrugged. “I asked her to come. And then… well, you know what happened.”

“No one could have predicted that, Carrie. Give yourself a fucking break.”

She bit her lip and looked away. Abruptly, she set the coffee cup down, spilling a little on the counter. “
Damn it,
” she said. She reached for the paper towels, but Dylan grabbed her wrist.

“Carrie. You don’t have to shoulder everything, okay?”

Horrified at herself, a sound escaped from her throat, somewhere between a hiccough and a scream. She covered her mouth, but said through her fingers, “I have to stay strong for Rachel.”

“Christ,” he muttered. Then he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug that locked her in like a vice.

She kept her arms across her chest, in between her and Dylan, shielding herself somehow. “I can’t. If I let go of control I’ll never get it back together.”

“I know,” he said, his voice raw. “It’s okay. I miss him too. But you gotta know he’s out there somewhere looking out for you and Rachel.”

She sobbed. “
Stop,
” she said.

“Carrie, we’re here. I’m here, and Alex, and your other sisters, and we won’t let you fall.”

Carrie nodded viciously. And then dropped her arms and wrapped them around him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I miss him so much sometimes.”

And then she felt other arms on her shoulders. Andrea had squeezed beside her, wrapping an arm around her. She whispered in Carrie’s ear, “We’ll take care of you, Carrie. I promise.”

Bear Wyden had spent his entire career in the Department of State, and had always thought the large four-winged building at Foggy Bottom was a huge, messy maze.

It had nothing on the Pentagon. He’d shown up fifteen minutes early, and needed that much time just to clear security. It troubled the Pentagon employees mightily that an investigator from the Department of the State would actually have a sidearm. After all, interagency cooperation only went so far, and arming diplomatic personnel was akin to arming the enemy. Several phone calls to increasing levels of seniority later, he’d finally been cleared into the building, and provided an escort to get him through the maze to the Secretary’s office.

Forty-five minutes after his arrival, he was escorted into the office of the Secretary of Defense. It was a large office, nearly fifty feet along one wall, with plush blue carpeting. A nine foot long teak desk faced the room. Behind it, an equally ornate and large credenza was the Secretary’s workspace. Two computers, three separate phones, and a scattering of papers. Above the desk, huge portraits dominated the room. On the left, General Dwight Eisenhower, on the right General George Marshall. In between, a family portrait showed Richard and Adelina Thompson, surrounded by their six daughters. To the left and right, the desk area was flanked by an American flag and the flag of the Department of Defense.

Bear wanted to study the portrait—he had experience with all kinds of families, including broken ones. A good look at the portrait might have shown him something—they often did. Sometimes, when he looked at the photo he and Leah had taken about six months before the divorce, he could see it. The disappointment and anger had been right there in her eyes. But, back then, he’d been too blind to see it.

So Bear tried to get a good look at the Thompson family portrait. But he didn’t get a chance. Richard Thompson approached him, hand out, a smile on his face.

“Mr. Wyden, a pleasure to meet you.” Bear snorted internally. Thompson wasn't one to forget a face—much less the face of the man who had once provided the protective detail for his own family. This was nothing more than a display of how important Thompson had become.

“Mr. Secretary.”

“Come in, please.”

Thompson led him to a round, highly polished round table with four seats near the desk. Wyden understood that Thompson was a career diplomat. A politician, really. But the smile seemed off. His youngest daughter had been kidnapped. The wide smile somehow seemed inappropriate.

The two of them took seats at the table. It was mahogany, with ornate carvings around the edge, and polished so much Bear could have safely shaved in the reflection.

“What can I do for you Mr. Wyden?”

Bear shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sir, as you know, I’m the lead investigator in the kidnapping of your daughter. I need to ask you some questions.”

“Please, however I can assist the investigation. Can you tell me what you’ve found so far?”

“We’re still early in the investigation.”

“I know that. But I do know the identify of one of the suspects is known. A Saudi named Koury?”

Bear nodded. “There are some things I obviously can’t discuss as of yet, Mr. Secretary.”

“I’m sure you are aware I have security clearance, Mr. Wyden.”

“Of course, sir. But this is an ongoing investigation. That said, you are correct, Koury was involved in your daughter’s kidnapping.”

“Who was behind it?”

Bear swallowed. “We don’t know that yet.”

Thompson leaned forward. Any traces of a political smile were gone. “Why the hell not?”

“Mr. Secretary, I’m sure you’re aware both suspects died. It takes time—”

“Don’t talk to me about time!”

Bear shook his head. “Sir, I need to ask you some questions. If you want us to resolve this, then you need to answer them.”

“Fine. What do you need to know?”

“First, why does your youngest daughter live in Spain?”

Thompson waved his hand, as if swatting away a fly. “Her mother felt it was best.”

Bear was stunned. That was it? “And you had no opinion?”

“Of
course
I had an opinion. What relevance does this have to the investigation?”

“Koury flew over here from Spain, sir. In the seat next to her. This was a sophisticated operation, launched on a moment’s notice, with people involved from multiple countries. Who do you know who has the resources to pull off something like that?”

“Not many criminals,” Thompson replied.

“That’s right. Now, is there
anyone
you can think of on a personal level that might be involved? Enemies?”

Thompson shook his head. “Of course not. I’m a career diplomat, of course, and I’ve dealt with some unsavory characters over the years. We did, after all, require a protective detail for some time.”