Dirty Money Page 8

  “You don’t think the council will be upset at the spending?”

  “I don’t really care,” he said. “That’s the good thing about being sheriff. The council is not in charge of the department and they can’t control what we do with the budget. I’m elected just like they are, and I’ll run my department how I see fit.”

  I raised my brows and snuck a look at Jack from the corner of my eye. He didn’t normally let his frustrations show when dealing with the political side of his job. While the council didn’t have any control, Jack had always been diplomatic enough to listen to their concerns and see if there were nuggets of wisdom buried somewhere in the conversation.

  The council hated that they didn’t control the sheriff’s department, and if it were up to them, the position of sheriff wouldn’t be elected at all. They’d much prefer to appoint one of their old cronies and tell him what to do.

  “Wow, where’d that come from?” I asked.

  “The council is going to propose a vote next month for each city in the county to have its own police department. It’s a nightmare waiting to happen, and it’s going to cost a fortune that they don’t have.”

  “The people in King George aren’t stupid,” I said. “No one is going to vote for that, no matter how much Ernie Rodgers tries to convince them. He’s just sore because he couldn’t beat you for sheriff when you first got elected. And even if they do create their own police agencies, maybe that’ll take some of the workload off you. Like you said, you’re still in control and that tax has already passed, so you’ve really set the department up to be financially solvent. They’re just jealous. And in the end, they still won’t be able to control you or the choices you make for the department. No one is going to beat you in the election. No one has even officially put their name on the ballot.”

  “Ha,” he said, shaking his head. “Never say never. There’s a lot of time between now and November. And don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you’re avoiding any serious discussion about last night.”

  “Takes one to know one,” I said, feeling very mature.

  He got out of the Tahoe and I blew a raspberry at him. And then I grabbed my bag and followed him into the house.

  The shutters were all closed at the front of the house so no one could see inside, and though the temperature was still warm, I couldn’t help but shiver. Locks and blinds had never stopped Malachi.

  I loved our home. I’d loved it even before it had been mine. It felt like home, and Jack had built it for that purpose alone. He’d wanted a place that was a sanctuary. That would make whatever he’d seen or dealt with while on the job disappear the moment he stepped through the door. Now it was our sanctuary, and I hated Malachi for making it feel less like one.

  It was a three-story rustic log cabin, built so it looked like it was part of the trees and cliffs around it. The entire back of the house was nothing but windows, and the drop-off down to the Potomac and the trees that seemed to grow sideways out of the cliffs was an awesome sight to see. The view was spectacular from every direction. And I had to wonder what my dad thought about the view from the outside looking in. I could feel his eyes on us.

  I hung my bag on the hook in the foyer and ignored the mail someone had put in the bowl on the front table. Jack moved toward the den where I could hear the indistinct rumbles of the TV, and I assumed Martinez was in there.

  I headed back to the kitchen to see what I could find to eat. The two pieces of leftover pizza I’d eaten before we’d gone to interview Roy Walsh were no longer cutting it.

  The kitchen was the heart of the house, and it was open to the living room and a dining room we only used at Christmas and Thanksgiving. It was a mix of wood, stone, and heavy timbers on the ceiling. It was a kitchen built for someone who knew what they were doing in the kitchen, which was not me, but cooking was Jack’s escape and he was good at it. The appliances were state of the art, and he even had fresh herbs growing on the windowsill.

  I made my way to the fridge and looked inside. I’d had nothing to drink but coffee all day long, and I figured my body could probably use some water. I got a bottle of water and then bent down to the freezer to grab a frozen dinner, but I put it back. It didn’t look appetizing, and I wasn’t all that sure I was hungry anyway. My stomach was in knots. It had been a long two days.

  It wasn’t until I turned around that I noticed the tiny woman sitting in the breakfast nook, staring at me intently. She was wearing baggy gray sweats, and I could see the bump of her stomach beneath the table. She held a steaming cup in her hand with the string from the tea bag hanging over the side.

  Her white-blond hair was cut pixie short and her eyes were so dark they were almost black. It was an arresting combination. She had the most beautiful alabaster skin I’d ever seen. She definitely didn’t look like the mother of almost four, or someone tough enough to handle what she’d been through the last couple of days.

  Her mouth twitched once and then it turned into a smile and she said, “I would’ve said something when you came in, but you were having a pretty good conversation with yourself. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  I must’ve been more tired than I thought. I had a tendency to talk to myself and not realize I was doing it.

  “Apparently, I do that sometimes. I hope I didn’t say anything too interesting.”

  “Only something about hardheaded, insensitive men. Other than that, I only caught the occasional swear word.”

  I lifted my eyebrows in surprise and pinched my lips tight. “Don’t tell anyone that part, okay? My jar is almost full, and I’ve been doing pretty good lately. For the most part.” I pointed to the mason jar on the kitchen counter that was three-quarters of the way full of quarters.

  “Where does the money go?” she asked.

  “It was going to go to the local food bank, but I’m thinking about just putting it in a sock and bashing my husband over the head with it.”

  She laughed full out at that, and I walked over to the table and scooted onto the bench across from her. “I’m convinced that the reason women are so strong is because they have to deal with men. But killing him probably isn’t the answer. You look like you need a glass of wine and a massage.”

  “Now that’s a much better idea,” I said. “But I’m too tired to get it, and I’m afraid if I do get it I’ll fall asleep at the table and miss this excellent conversation. You must be Michelle.”

  “And you must be Dr. Graves.”

  “Jaye,” I said.

  She nodded. “I feel like I know you. Ben talks about you all the time. Between you and Miranda, I’m never sure who I should be jealous of.”

  “Definitely Miranda,” I said. “Their relationship is not normal.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” she said, holding both hands up. “I’ve actually had to tell him she can’t sleep with us in the bed. Of course, maybe if I’d let him put her in the bed we wouldn’t have had four children in five years,” she said with laughter in her eyes,

  There were shadows beneath her eyes, and I could see the grief she was trying so desperately to keep hidden.

  “Ben’s been a good friend to Jack. And to me,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I don’t know how much Ben or Jack have told you…”

  “Enough to know that it’s not your fault,” she said, reaching out a hand and putting it on mine. I wasn’t normally comfortable with outward displays of affection, but I was touched by her sincerity. I should’ve been the one comforting her. “Ben and I don’t keep secrets from each other. I don’t know if Ben’s ever told you what I do…”

  “He mentioned you have a PhD in English,” I said.

  “Well, that’s kind of an understatement.” She rolled her eyes.

  “If it makes you feel better,” I said. “He mostly talks about how hot you are and how lucky he is that you sleep with him. And he seems confused about how you keep ending up pregnant, so you might want to have a talk with him about that.�
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  She laughed again. “That does make me feel better. Thanks.” She squeezed my hand and then let it go. “Anyway, I do have a PhD in English, but I got it because I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life. I also have a PhD in finance, and I speak several languages. It turns out a PhD in English doesn’t really open up a lot of job prospects, so I work as a financial analyst for the FBI. In other words, I follow the money for domestic terror organizations.”

  I felt my mouth drop open in surprise. “Yeah, that’s a long way from the English professor I assumed you were. He told you about my father?” I asked.

  “He did,” she said. “But I knew about your father long before he came back from the dead. I want you to know you can trust me. Just like you trust Ben. I know your father wasn’t working alone. There was too much money going in and out through his and your mother’s operation for them to facilitate everything themselves.”

  “He told you about the flash drives too?” I asked.

  “He told me what your father told you,” she said. “That his freedom relied on those flash drives and whatever was on them. And believe me, I’m just as interested to find out what’s on them as you are, because I’ve followed his activities for years and was part of the team wrapping him up in a nice tidy bow before he drove over that cliff. If your father is caught, I can guarantee there’s not any freedom in his future.”

  “No,” I said. “I would imagine not. But I don’t know what he meant when he said it. If you were part of the team to bring him down, then why have you agreed to keep quiet about his return from the dead?”

  “Because there are people over my head involved and they’re just as guilty as Malachi. We’ve got to find out what’s on those flash drives. It’s our only hope of bringing everyone down. It’s time for the FBI to clean house from top to bottom.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “I’m not sure the FBI can take any more black marks. They’ve been taking hits for the last couple of years, and the same people are still at the top or they’ve had untimely deaths.”

  “They’ve been autonomous for too long. We all believe in a system of checks and balances, but the people running the FBI and the CIA have forgotten that. They’re above the law, and they’ve been doing it so long they truly believe that. There are a lot of good agents left in the Bureau. In fact, most of us just want to do the right things and what’s best for the country. It might make a dirty mark on us all, but it’s time to right a lot of wrongs.”

  “Do you know how the CIA fits into this?” I asked. “From what we’ve found out so far, Malachi was working in some capacity for the CIA. I’m not sure exactly what he did though.”

  Michelle smiled and took a sip of tea. “Your dad was working in some capacity for a lot of agencies and a lot of different countries. He sold secrets when it benefitted him. And he smuggled weapons and anything else if the price was right. The only person your dad really worked for was himself. No matter what he tells you, he’s not innocent in this. I’ve studied him, and he’s a master manipulator. A professional liar. There was a reason he lasted as long as he did doing the kind of work he was doing.”

  “And my mom?” I asked.

  “Honestly,” she said, putting down her cup. “I think she got pulled into something she never planned on. Her background doesn’t suggest that she was recruited by any agency. They both grew up in Bloody Mary, though he was several years older. And when she came home for Christmas break in her sophomore year of college, it looks like he pursued her hard and she never went back to school. He’d already taken over the funeral home from his parents at that point, so he was in place. And he had a young, impressionable wife at his side.

  “I’m sure he told her they were the good guys. I’m sure she believed him. At least at first. There comes a point when you know too much and you either have to keep going along the path of what’s wrong, or you have to cut your losses and hope no one kills you as you try to escape.”

  “Whelp,” I said, blowing out a breath. “That’s pretty much what I needed to know. I don’t know much about their past. I barely remember my grandparents, and it’s not like anyone was interested in sharing family photos or anything. I found out more about my family when I looked in those boxes in the bunker than I ever did from someone with the last name Graves. Of course, considering they stole me from other people and passed me off as their own, I’m sure they didn’t see any point in telling me about a family that wasn’t really mine.”

  “I can help you find them if you want,” she said. “Your birth parents.”

  I froze. It wasn’t an option I’d considered. And now that I knew it was an option, I wasn’t really sure how I felt about it.

  “No pressure,” she said, reading the shock on my face. “It’s been a lot of years. It’s just an option. One that’s totally your choice.

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said, taking a long sip of water to cool my dry throat. “I’m really glad you have that English degree. It’s been very helpful.”

  Michelle snorted out a laugh. “It comes in handy from time to time. Mostly crossword puzzles, or when I want to write a sternly worded email.”

  “I can very much see why you and Ben are a good match,” I said.

  She nodded and said, “Look. Ben is tough. He’s going to be fine. I know he is. We’re all going to be fine. He’s got a long recovery ahead of him, and I’m going to look for a house to rent close to the hospital so the girls and I can stay there and be close to Ben. I can work remotely. All I need is my laptop. And my mother will come help me out once the baby comes. It’s going to be a logistical nightmare, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter because my husband is alive.”

  There was an inner strength in her that made me want to cry. I’d noticed women were experts at finding that strength whenever it was most needed.

  “You’re a lot stronger than you look,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “When you’ve known Ben Carver as long as I have you learn how to hop from train to train without getting flattened by them. We need to know what’s on those flash drives, and there aren’t very many people in the world who are as good as Ben on a computer.”

  “And I’d venture to say most probably aren’t very trustworthy,” I said.

  “With great power comes great responsibility,” she said, using the Spider-Man quote. “And it’s easy to abuse when you’ve got that much talent in the tips of your fingers.”

  “You are definitely Ben’s wife,” I said.

  “Sorry, it’s hard for the nerd to not rub off a little. If I start sleeping with my computer then I’ll know things have gone too far.”

  “I’m assuming the ones who are reputable also have a high price tag?” I asked.

  “I know someone,” she said. “He’s actually Ben’s nephew. But he’s a little unorthodox.”

  “Unorthodox I can deal with,” I said. “Is he expensive?”

  “Is who expensive?” Jack asked, coming into the kitchen. He’d changed clothes and wore a pair of athletic shorts and a threadbare Nationals T-shirt. He looked good and he knew it. The jerk.

  He moved effortlessly between the fridge and cabinets, getting out a few things and setting them on the counter. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was so easy to watch, not only because of his looks, but just because of the way he moved. There was a poetic grace to every movement, but he was always alert and watching, waiting for the unexpected.

  “Michelle thinks she knows someone who might be able to get into the flash drives,” I said.

  Jack brought a tray of crackers, cheese, and grapes and set it in the middle of the table. “Eat,” he said to Michelle. “Feed that kid. If she’s anything like Carver she’s probably wanting to eat every half hour.”

  “It might not be a she,” Michelle said. “We’re waiting to find out the sex.”

  “You and I both know it’s another girl. It’s what Carver deserves.”

  Michelle grinned a little mischievously. “I
t’s definitely a girl.”

  I scooted over on the bench so Jack could sit next to me, and the warmth of his leg against mine made me momentarily forget why I was mad at him.

  “You didn’t tell me what Michelle does for a living,” I said, looking at Jack. I took a grape and popped it in my mouth, figuring it was as close to wine as I was going to get.

  “That’s because I don’t really know. Ben never goes into any detail and I don’t ask.”

  Michelle picked up a cracker, but she didn’t eat it as she filled Jack in on what she did for the FBI and the history she had with my dad. Then she told him about Ben’s nephew.

  “His name is Doug,” she said. “Like I was telling Jaye, he’s a little unorthodox. But he’s brilliant.”

  “As long as he can do the job, I don’t care how unorthodox he is,” Jack said. “When can he get here? I’m hoping those flash drives will give us a clue as to where Malachi is hiding or how to catch him.”

  “I’ll have to call and check with his mom,” Michelle said. “The biggest problem is going to be not setting off any red flags in the system as soon as there’s activity about Malachi. We don’t want the wrong people to know he’s alive. You’ll have a swarm of agents on both of you before you can blink.”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “You have to call his mom?”

  “He’s fifteen,” she said. “As long as you have plenty of junk food and soft drinks he’ll make himself right at home.”

  Jack rubbed his eyes with his fingers and I could sense his frustration. “I can’t put a fifteen-year-old kid at risk,” he said. “Look what happened to Ben.”

  “You’ve got security inside the house, and I know you have it outside too, even if I can’t see them. I’ve spent most of my career trying to pin Malachi Graves down. I want him just as much as you do. More now that my husband is lying in the hospital. I knew some of the agents who got caught in the crosshairs of his betrayals. This is personal for everyone.”