Racing the Hunter's Moon (Entangled Bliss) (10 page)

“Wouldn’t it be neat if we won?” She checked the stopwatch against the route book. “Our time is good, but we’re slightly ahead—slow it down a little.”

Chapter Eleven

It was late afternoon as they coasted across the finish line in Meadowsweet. The crowds were out along the route to welcome them home, just as they had been on the way out. Three days, hardly long enough for the seismic shift that had happened since they were last in town.

Charmers’s capture was within reach. And after it was done, there would be others. More strangers to track across the country, to bring to justice. The thought held little appeal. Maybe he’d been undercover too long—focused on the bad stuff people did to each other. All that awaited him back in Chicago was a place he existed in, not somewhere he actually lived.

When he’d first driven into Meadowsweet weeks ago, it had just been another place. Another stop on the route. Now, the people and the town itself had pulled him in, accepted him. He had one good friend here, and the possibility of making a lot more, if they could accept his deceiving them for so long.

And Betty. He stopped at the time control point, and Betty handed their card out of the window for the time to be recorded. She whooped, and waved it at him. “Perfect time! No penalties!” Her eyes shone.

He cupped her radiant face in his hands and kissed her.

“Okay, we should drive down to town hall,” Betty said. She rolled down the window and looked back up the road. “Here they come.”

…

Bond and five other FBI agents had taken over a room in the Meadowsweet Grand Hotel. Two computers were set up in the living area, and the side table was stacked with paperwork.

Bond ushered Joe in. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.”

Bond walked around the room as he spoke. “Murphy will stay here listening to the tape.”

“Hey, Joe,” Patrick Murphy said. “Good to see you.”

Joe’d worked with this team on more cases than he cared to count. They were all good men, good agents. A tight-knit group he’d never taken the time to really get to know. Work had always come first. For the first time, the years at the bureau seemed sterile and empty.

“You too, Patrick.”

Bond walked up behind the two agents at computers. “Jackson and DeSilva are watching the accounts. The minute money starts moving, we’ll see it.”

Another agent, Rory Johnson, walked over. “Someone is here to see you, Joe.”

Joe met Mark at the door.

“I brought the recording device.” Mark held it out. “I guess you’re busy, so…”

“Thanks,” Joe said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about all this—I wanted to. I normally don’t get close to people when I’m undercover, but this trip—” He shook his head. It was crazy to think he had a chance of keeping a friendship based on half truths alive. They’d spent long lazy afternoons doing guy stuff together. Fishing in the stream that ran down the back of the property. Talking about women and cracking beers. The companionship had grown until Mark was like the brother he’d never had. Losing him sucked.

“I reckon you only lied about the details.” Mark stared him in the eye. “You’re still the same guy underneath.”

“Yeah. Only what I had to, and now that the secret’s out, you know everything.”

“And Betty—she seems to be pretty into you. Was caring about her an act too?”

Joe’s back stiffened. For a second he wanted to tell Mark to mind his own business. Then he took a long, hard look at his friend.
Her
friend. Remembered the sort of man Mark was.

“It started that way, for both of us. We had to pretend to be a couple because Charmers saw us together…” He ran a hand through his hair. “He would have caught her following him—I had to intervene, and, well, I kissed her. I had no intention of going any further but…”

“I care about those women. All three of them.” Mark’s eyebrows pulled together as he frowned.

“I care about Betty.”
More than care.
“When this is all over I want to be with her. I’m winging it here, but I have to make it work. Life without her would be damned boring.”

Johnson loped over. “Bond wants to talk.”

“I’ll go.” Mark thumped Joe on the arm and glanced into the room. “You look like you have backup covered, but remember, I’ve got your back too.” He walked away down the corridor. Joe closed the door and returned to his boss.

Bond was at DeSilva’s desk, staring intently at the screen.

“Something?” Joe asked.

“Leonora De Witt just made the transfer into Charmers’s account.” Bond straightened. “With luck he’ll move it into the Carlisle account before the presentation ceremony.”

Joe checked his watch. “We only have about three-quarters of an hour.” He glanced around the suite, noting the remains of room service on a tray near the door.
I need coffee.

“Here’s the recording device.” He hooked it up and sat down to listen. The conversation was very much as it had been in the MG, with Leonora giving navigation directions. The recording was clear and distinct. Leonora said, “Do you want a drink?”

Charmers answered, “Yes,” Then a noise was heard as though she were unfastening a cooler to retrieve a drink.

“This could take a while. There’s hours of recording to review.” He rubbed a hand over the ache at the curve of his spine. “I might call out for coffee…”

“Sure,” Bond said. “Call room service.”

While waiting for the coffee, Joe contacted Betty and arranged to meet her outside the town hall. By the time the coffee had been ordered, delivered, and drunk it was almost time to leave.

Bond called one of the agents over. “Murphy, you know what we’re listening for. Stay here and monitor this.” He clapped his hands. “Everyone get set, we’re going to stake out the town hall. When Josh De Witt makes his appearance we might expect Charmers to make a break for it.”

Murphy nodded.

“Sir.” Jackson stood up and turned from the computer. “We got it. Charmers has just shunted the money into the Carlisle account.”

…

She was waiting outside the town hall. Dressed in black jeans that molded over her curves and a V-neck sweater in that funny color somewhere between blue and green. She stepped from foot to foot, looked up the road and back, waiting for someone. Waiting for him. The exact moment she saw him she stilled and smiled.

He walked over and kissed her, feeling the soft wool of her sweater under his hands as he pulled her close.

“Leonora and Charmers arrived a minute ago,” she said. “They’re inside.”

Everyone was crowded into a barely-big-enough room in the town hall. The rallymeister stood at a table at the back of the room, but there wasn’t enough seating, so the majority stood. Joe located Charmers and Leonora at the back and stood next to them.

“I’m not going to keep you very long,” the rallymeister said. “I know you all want to get back to your families and ready for the Hunter’s Moon Festival.”

He lied.

It took three-quarters of an hour to hand out prizes and thank everyone involved. Representatives from the hotel and places they’d stopped for lunch were thanked, and the team responsible for time control was congratulated for doing such a good job. Charmers smiled. “These things take forever, don’t they?”

Before Joe could answer, the rallymeister spoke again. “And now, the final prize. The winners’ cup. I’m delighted to say that the winners of this year’s rally are…” He waited a few seconds, like those annoying people on TV talent shows. “Joe and Betty! Come on up, guys!”

Betty was gripping his hand so tight it had gone numb. Her wide grin forced an answering one from him as she dragged him up onto the stage to accept the silver cup. Everyone clapped, genuinely happy for them.

This was home. This was where he was supposed to be, with this woman at his side. Joe snaked an arm around Betty’s waist as they returned to the back of the room—back to Charmers and Leonora.

“I have one final announcement to make,” the rallymeister looked around the room until he found Leonora. “Leonora, can you come up to the stage please?”

She looked puzzled, but walked up the aisle between the seats to the front anyway.

Charmers turned to Joe. “Do you know what this is about?”

Joe shook his head.

“We have a very special guest this evening. Someone who’s come a long way to be here with us, someone who is part of our community, that I know you’ll all be very happy to welcome home. Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from Afghanistan, Josh De Witt!”

Leonora gasped as a door at the back of the room opened and her son walked through. The room burst into applause as she ran to her son and threw her arms around him.

Joe turned to Charmers.

The older man pulled a handkerchief from the top pocket of his tweed jacket and dabbed his forehead. His gaze flickered to the door. Joe took a step closer. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not feeling too well,” Charmers murmured. “The heat in here…I think, I think I need some fresh air.” He glanced at the door again.

“I’ll help you.” Joe grasped his arm.

“I…yes, thank you.” Charmers undid the top button of his shirt, slid a finger around the inside of his collar and started to move. Everyone’s attention was on Leonora and Josh as Josh started to speak—to thank them for the welcome and explain how he’d managed to return home early to surprise his mother. There was no time to talk to Betty, who’d moved back so Charmers could pass.

The hunter’s moon shone down, bathing the scene in light as they walked from the town hall. “Do go back inside,” Charmers urged. “I’ll be fine. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Four dark-clad figures approached from all sides. Charmers’s eyes widened. “What…”

Joe stared into his quarry’s eyes and spoke the words he’d waited a lifetime to say. “I’m FBI, Alexander. You’re under arrest.”

…

Betty walked toward the park in the center of town with Alice and Mark. It was strange to be at the Hunter’s Moon Festival without Joe. Large barbecues were set up, and the park was set out with tables and chairs. A stage had been erected—local bands would take turns entertaining the audience, which ranged from young to old. A fairground was set up, surrounded by a number of stalls. One selling cotton candy, others with games. There was even a small striped tent with a large sign outside stating
Madam Mystery—fortune teller
.

The arrest outside the town hall was all anyone wanted to talk about. Some recounted how they’d seen Charmers taken away to the police station in handcuffs. Somehow they’d seen him bundled into a black van and driven away. Everyone was concerned for Leonora—until she revealed that she hadn’t been taken in, that she’d been instrumental in bringing him to justice.

Ed Fleming was annoyed he’d managed to miss filming the moment. Sharon Delaney, the
Meadowsweet Clarion
’s only reporter, was on a desperate hunt for details for the next morning’s paper.

The huge bloodred moon made the night strange and magical, shone through the night, casting an unreal light over the spectacle. Betty’s cell phone rang, interrupting her reverie.

“We got him,” Joe said. “I’m going to be tied up here doing paperwork…and then there’ll be a debriefing… I don’t know when I can get away.”

“I’m at the festival but I don’t know how long I’ll stay. I’m exhausted. Call me when you can, okay?” Betty slipped her cell into her pocket and linked hands with her friends.

It was over. Finally over. The man she’d pursued, the man who had stolen from her mother, was finally in custody. So where was the feeling of elation?

Chapter Twelve

The arrest and debriefing continued for hours. When it was finally over, Bond handed Joe a hotel room key.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “You did well, Joe.”

Too keyed up to sleep, he decided to take a long, hot shower to ease his aching muscles. For so long he’d been focused on the moment of Charmers’s capture. Adrenaline had coursed through his veins, keeping his body in a state of urgent readiness. Now, in drama’s aftermath, exhaustion made his limbs heavy but his mind still raced. If it weren’t so late he’d call Betty—talk through the events of the evening, celebrate with her.

He climbed out of the shower. Yawned as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Who was he kidding—he no longer had the energy to stumble to the bed; celebrating was totally out of the question.

If she were here, he’d curl up with her in bed. Wrap his arms around her. Maybe talk quietly about the capture. But mostly, just enjoy having her by his side. His stomach growled, but he was too tired to even think of ordering anything from room service.

There was a knock at the door.

He tightened the towel around his waist and opened it.

Bond stalked in, eyes blazing. “Did you know?” Fury rolled off him in waves. “Did you know what that stupid girlfriend of yours was doing?”

Disconcerted by his boss’s presence and attitude, Joe just stood there. Confusion clouded his mind. “What are you talking about?”

“Betty Smith.” Bond closed the door. “Did you know that she put the investment money into Leonora’s account one day before Leonora paid it out?”

“No.”

“Yes.” Bond glared at Joe. “We had him cold, but now…I don’t have to tell you, but it looks bad. The daughter of a woman Charmers previously conned funded this takedown.”

Bond must have got it wrong. “She couldn’t have. There must be some mistake.”

“Get dressed and come next door.” Bond’s jaw flexed. “I’ll play you the tape.”

Once Bond had left, Joe dressed quickly and walked back into the FBI’s suite. Bond must have gotten it wrong. In the long days in the MG they’d talked ceaselessly about what Betty and Leonora had tagged “Operation Charmers.” Betty hadn’t given any hint that she was the one putting up the money. His stomach churned as he walked to Murphy. The burly agent handed over headphones without a word. His somber face told a story Joe didn’t want to hear.

When Joe nodded, he started the recording, and a conversation bled through the headphones.

“How much?” Betty’s familiar voice.

“Twenty thousand. Are you sure you want to risk it? Twenty thousand is a lot of money. If this all goes wrong…” Leonora replied.

Joe held his breath, hoping, praying that somehow Murphy and Bond had gotten it wrong, that she hadn’t really…

“It won’t. And I have the funds and your account details. I’ll transfer it to your account tonight.” Betty’s familiar voice was a hammer smashing his hopes to smithereens.

…

Betty had slipped away from the celebrations around midnight. Had walked straight inside, climbed the stairs, stripped, and crawled into bed. There’d been no further word from Joe, but that wasn’t surprising. There’d be time enough tomorrow.

Moonlight bled in from the gap between the drapes, so she turned over and closed her eyes. There was something wonderful about being home in her own bed. To have her own pillow under her head, and the familiar weight of her duvet covering her exhausted body. The only thing that could be better, that would make it perfect, was if Joe were here by her side.

The insistent, repeated peal of the doorbell woke her from a deep, dreamless sleep. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered as the doorbell continued to ring. She pulled on her robe and staggered downstairs to the front door.

She turned on the outside light and peered through the peephole.

Joe
. Eager anticipation made her fingers fumble as she undid the chain. With the news of Charmers’s capture she’d longed to see him—to celebrate their success. Going to the Hunter’s Moon Festival with Alice, Mark, and the others had been fun, but unsatisfying due to his absence. She brushed her hair back with her fingers. Then with a smile, unlocked the door and opened it. “What time is…” Her words trailed off at one look at his face.

There were dark shadows under his eyes. His mouth was pressed together in a tight line. His hands hung at his sides; he made no move to embrace her—just stepped inside. No joy, no jubilation. Instead, he looked tired, disillusioned, beaten.

“I just want to know one thing. I want to know why.” He pushed a hand through hair so mussed it was as if he’d being doing that all night. His eyebrows were pulled together, creases forming parallel lines between them. “I thought I knew you. I just don’t understand.”

Still he made no move to touch her. She took a step forward, and he took one back, as though she were the bearer of some contagion. Her sleep-muddled brain couldn’t make sense of his words, of his attitude.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know damn well what’s wrong.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The expression on his face morphed from resignation to anger. “I didn’t want to believe it. I told my boss he must have made a mistake, that I knew you, that we were honest with each other. But then I heard your voice…”

Panic flared as realization dawned.
That day in the car…Leonora…
“Joe, I…” How could she explain? “She didn’t have the money readily available, it was the only way to catch him, I…”

His expression hardened. “When did you make this decision?”

She had to make him understand, had to fix this. Betty breathed in deep, and gripped the lapels of her robe. “Long before I met you. Leonora and I talked it out at the very beginning. It was always our understanding that I would provide the money to bait Charmers—I had to do something.”

His shoulders slumped. He looked away. “So you’ve known. All this time. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. At any time during the trip you could have opened up and told me about it.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I told you everything. That I was responsible for him getting away the last time. I even told you about my mother.” He stepped toward the door.

No!
This couldn’t be happening—after all they’d been through together, after catching Charmers, one little mistake couldn’t tear them apart. “Joe…” She reached for him.

“No.” He jerked away. His eyes blazed. “You didn’t trust me, did you? Couldn’t give away control for a second.”

Betty crossed her arms. “I did. I do. I wanted to get him as much as you did, and he’s in custody, isn’t he? It worked.” She wasn’t going to apologize for what she’d done; Leonora didn’t have the money, and she did. Everything she’d done to catch him was logical. But deep inside a suspicion lurked that maybe he was right—maybe she hadn’t been able to trust him enough to tell him everything.

“The daughter of one of Charmers’s previous victims gave bait money to another woman he was going to con. While working with the embittered undercover FBI agent with a score to settle.”

“But you didn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. Charmers’s defense will have a field day with it. It looks like entrapment—shifts from him scamming Leonora to a deliberate, premeditated attempt by us to entrap him. The legal team are on it, but this could be enough to totally destroy the case.” He reached for the door handle.

Panic fluttered inside like a bird desperate for escape. She couldn’t lose him now, had to make him understand, make him forgive her. “I made a mistake. I wanted to catch him, I didn’t think…”

“No, you didn’t.” Condemnation flattened his tone. “You didn’t think, and you didn’t trust. If at any stage you’d trusted me enough to come clean, we could have discussed it, could have ensured this didn’t happen. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me.”

Her heart cracked into two at his words, at the look in his eyes.

He jerked the door open, walked down the path, and didn’t look back.

…

Betty couldn’t do anything to turn back time. Couldn’t press rewind back to the beginning of their relationship and do over. But she could and would do something.

So she’d packed a bag, organized her trip, and at eleven the following morning picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number.

“I’m flying out to see you today, Mom. I’ve booked my flight,” she said when her mother answered. “I’m sorry for the short notice, but we need to talk, and it’s urgent.”

“I know,” Christine said, her voice so calm Betty’s shattered nerves quieted. “I was letting you sleep in this morning before I called you. Joe telephoned early and explained that they had seventy-two hours to hold Charmers before they had to charge him. Helen and I have just given our statements to a very charming FBI agent.”

Stunned, Betty sank down onto the nearest chair. “You spoke to Joe?” He’d known she wanted to see her mother, talk to her face-to-face—but he’d gone ahead and contacted her, arranged this… Her chest hurt, as though a steel bolt had been pushed through her heart.

“He explained that time was of the essence, darling. I wish you’d phoned me first before booking the flight.” Her voice was warm and comforting. “Although if you can manage to get a few days away, I’d love to see you. Can you still make it?”

Mel and Heath were back this weekend, and the thought of being with her friends, accepting their sympathy for the end of her relationship, made her shudder inside. Her heart felt raw—she didn’t think she could stand to face anyone. She’d call from the airport—Alice would understand.

“Yes, Mom. I’m coming anyway. I’ll call you as the train nears Westhampton. Can you pick me up at the station?”

…

Twelve hours later, she walked out of Westhampton train station—bag in hand—and found her mother waiting.

“You look so tired, darling.” Christine drove her quickly home. She unlocked the front door, turned on the light, and walked into the kitchen. “I’ll make some tea. The rally just finished yesterday, you should have taken some time to recuperate.”

“I couldn’t.” For all the long hours traveling, she’d kept an iron grip on her emotions, but now the iron melted. “I’ve screwed up, Mom. I think I’ve ruined everything.”

Over tea she told her mother everything. Even about Joe.

When she had no more words, Christine spoke. “You know I love you, darling. But you’ve got to stop trying to wrap me in cotton wool. I’m in my fifties, not my seventies. Alexander wasn’t my first lover after your father, and he won’t be my last.”

Betty blinked.

Christine gave a wry smile. “I know you don’t want to think of me having relationships, but I have. And I do. I’m a woman, not a saint.” They were sitting close on one of the large white sofas in the sitting room. Christine reached over and grasped Betty’s hand. “You’ve always been protective—I appreciate that, and your father would, too, if he were here. You’ve looked out for me, and I guess I’ve let you.”

Her mouth tightened. “After talking to Joe the other day, I called Helen Dawkins and apologized. I took the easy option by not reporting Alexander. I should have stepped up. When Joe called this morning I told him right away to send an agent out to take our statements.”

Betty shook her head. “You…”

“Secrets destroy lives. I’m not going to stay silent anymore. I told the FBI every single detail of my time with Alexander. Helen and I will testify against him and make sure he goes away for good.”

Betty blinked back tears. Her heart filled with love and admiration for the woman her mother was, the woman who’d bravely made the decision to bare the truth of being deceived publicly.

“There’s just one more thing,” Christine said. “You have to let go of the feeling that you bore any responsibility by not coming to meet Alexander. Yes, I was taken in, but so was Helen, and her daughter lives five minutes away and even met him. He’s a professional con artist. I don’t blame myself for being taken in by him—anyone would be.”

“That’s what Joe said.”

“Joe sounds like a very insightful man.” Christine smiled.

…

They’d had seventy-two hours to hold Charmers without charge and to Joe’s relief, hadn’t needed all of them. The sworn testimonies of Christine Tremaine and Helen Dawkins were enough to bring formal charges against him and schedule a trial.

He should have been ecstatic.

The errors of the past were behind him. Life went on. But there was no joy in it. Every day was the same. He got up, dressed, and went to the office. The world had faded to gray, empty and unremarkable now that the goal that had obsessed him for so long was over. On Friday, a group of guys from work headed out to the bar for their regular drinking session. When he’d asked to join them, the response had hammered home how isolated he’d become.

They’d said yes, but had mentioned that he’d never joined them before.

Four years. And every night he’d been so caught up in work, he’d never even tried to socialize. His narrow life had expanded out in Meadowsweet and contracted back on returning to Chicago. He missed his workshop, the ability to lose himself in anything creative. The traffic, the noise, the continual bitter taste in the air, painted his mood black.

“Can I see you for a minute, Joe?” Bond asked.

He pushed back his chair and followed Bond into his office, closing the door behind him.

Bond pushed a manila folder across the desk to him. “This expenses chit came in for bidding at the charity auction during the Charmers case. A script for
Crime Bites
. I need you to sign off on canceling it.”

She’d been so excited… “I’d like to take it over instead, if that’s okay.”

Bond frowned, flicked the folder open, and checked the document inside. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

Joe nodded. The bid had not only been for charity, it had been the perfect gift. For Betty, anyway.

“Okay, fine. I’ll clear that with the financial department.” He leaned back in his swivel chair. “Other business. Jackson has been working an internet scam—one of the ‘help me get my millions out of a bank’ ones. He’s made contact and is ready to take it to the next phase. I thought you could go in undercover.”