Speak of the Devil (24 page)

“Mm-mm.” Mia shook her head. “You’re a young woman. This is your wedding, it’s your day. Look at you. You’re a bride.”

The words inflated a bubble of happiness in Anna’s chest. She tried on another twelve dresses, all beautiful, but none with the same effect as the first. When she was putting her work clothes on again, Grace spoke quietly with Mia outside the dressing room, then came back in and announced that Mia could discount the dress even more, if Anna took it tonight. That clinched it. Back in the showroom, Anna thanked Mia and handed her a credit card. They made arrangements for Anna to come back for fittings.

Anna, Grace, and Jody walked out of the store and into the darkening night. On the sidewalk, people hurried home from work, their footsteps tapping cheerfully on the bricks. Anna felt content and tired and hungry. Trying on all the heavy dresses had been a surprising workout.

“See,” Grace said. “I told you Mia would do right by you.”

“She’s wonderful,” Anna agreed. “Thank you for setting that up!”

They hugged their goodbyes. Grace and Jody exchanged logistical information for the engagement party the next night: what time Jody would come over, what she should bring. Then Grace waved goodbye and caught a cab.

“She’s really cool,” Jody said, as they watched the taxi drive off. “I like her.”

“I know, right? I just hope you like Jack as much.”

The two sisters walked to Dupont Circle, chatting and window-shopping along the way. As they turned north on Twentieth Street, they began hearing the murmur of a big crowd. The streets were blocked to traffic with orange striped barriers. Anna and Jody had to push their way through a thickening crowd of people. And then the parade rounded the corner, preceded by the blaring sound of Cher’s “Believe.” The music came from a huge elaborate float, which was covered in men dressed as glamorous women, wearing sequined dresses, feather boas, enormous BeDazzled hats, and seven-inch-high metal-studded platform shoes.

“The Drag Races!” Anna shouted to her sister.

“The what?”

“Drag queens have a parade through the city around Halloween every year. Actually, they call it the High Heel Races these days. More politically correct, I guess.”

“Seriously?” Jody gawked at the raucous parade. Dozens of floats followed the first. Confetti whirled in the air as the crowd applauded the men in their glittery outfits. With expert makeup, long wigs, and shimmery stockings, many of the drag queens looked more feminine and beautiful than the biological women standing on the sidewalk. Everyone danced and cheered.

“This hasn’t made its way to Flint yet?” Anna asked.

“I’m not sure Flint is ready for this.”

“Everybody fantasizes about being someone else. It’s fun to have one night where we celebrate that.”

“It’s weird.”

“I’m in favor of any event in D.C. where everyone has fun and no one gets hurt. I’m glad you got a chance to see it.”

“Um . . . okay.”

A drag queen dressed as Kathy Griffin threw candy at their feet. A float full of guys dressed as the “YMCA” characters boomed past, with men in chaps, police costumes, and Indian-chief headdresses exuberantly making the letters with their arms. A guy in a slinky evening gown walked two pugs in sequined tutus. Jody laughed. Eventually, her toes began to tap to the music.

“I want that guy’s shoes.” Jody pointed to a pair of sparkly red stilettos. “And his legs.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They watched until Anna’s phone buzzed with a text.

Jack: You ok?

She realized she was late for dinner. She was sorry to make him worry. She replied,

Yes, fine, on my way.

Anna and Jody pushed through the crowd. A few dour protesters stood on the edge of the parade, holding up signs about sodomites, evil, and eternal damnation. Anna shook her head at them. From where she stood, evil was the exact opposite of the parade. Evil existed when one person tried to hurt another. The protesters were roundly ignored.

“That was fun,” Jody said, as they hurried up Connecticut Avenue.

“Yeah,” Anna smiled at her sister. “I’m glad you think so.”

Outside the dancing crowd, the night was dark and chilly. Anna hugged her coat tightly to her chest and leaned into the wind as they navigated a crosswalk.

Truth be told, she was a little nervous about this dinner. She was about to introduce the three most important people in her life. She hoped they would like each other. You don’t just marry a man—you marry his family, and you marry your two families together. They become a unit: for holidays, birthdays, and big events, and for those times when you need someone to babysit, celebrate with, or mourn with. They become the source of your recipes and gossip, the sounding board for your political views. Jody had little choice in the matter—but she would now be spending Christmases and Thanksgivings and who-knew-what-else with Jack and Olivia. Anna hoped Jody would like the new family she was being brought into. If she didn’t, holidays were going to be awkward.

Al Tiramisu restaurant was cozy and warm, full of good smells and bustling with waiters carrying plates heaped with pasta. Jack and Olivia were already seated. Jack stood and smiled when they walked in.

“Is that him?” Jody whispered.

“Yeah,” Anna said.

“I approve.”

“You haven’t even met him.”

“You want a debate?”

They went over to the table, and Jack and Jody greeted each other with a handshake that turned into a hey-we-should-be-hugging-right? embrace. “You look radiant.” He kissed Anna, then held her at arm’s length to study her face. “You’re actually glowing.” She smiled; she’d felt all glowy since leaving Hitched. They sat down. Olivia had drawn a picture for Jody, which was presented and accepted with great ceremony. Jody had brought Olivia an MSU Spartan sweatshirt, which was similarly received.

“So, I understand I have to earn your stamp of approval,” Jack said. “What can I tell you?”

“Do you have a brother?”

“I’m an only child.”

“Damn.” Jody covered her mouth. “I mean, too bad.”

Olivia giggled.

“Seriously.” Jody put on a stern face and looked at Jack. “Do you love my sister?

“With all my heart.”

“You gonna treat her right?”

“Like a queen.”

“I know you already do. I know you make her happier than I’ve ever seen her. I know she thinks you’re pretty much the best man on the planet.” Jody smiled at him. “I approve.”

“Phew!” Jack wiped his hand across his brow in an exaggerated show of relief. They all laughed.

Olivia ordered a baby pizza; the grown-ups ordered homemade pastas, fresh fish, and a couple bottles of wine. The food was good and the conversation was easy. Anna sat back and watched all the people who now constituted her family chatting, laughing, and having a good time. She felt a wave of pure contentment, and she made a conscious effort to be fully present in the moment, savoring it. It had taken her a long time to get to this point. But she’d made it. And this was what life was all about.

36

After weeks of bureaucratic wrangling, the Marshals finally agreed to let Anna meet Julia Hernandez, the mysterious witness who had gone into the Witness Protection Program after Maria-Rosa was killed. But the meeting was on the Marshals’ terms. They refused to bring the witness downtown—too dangerous, they said. The meeting would be at the Days Inn on the outskirts of the city. And it was scheduled for five
P.M.
on the evening of Anna’s engagement party. When Anna tried to move it, they said they could try again in May. Anna told them not to cancel—she would be there.

“No worries. I’ll see you at Grace’s,” Jody said as Anna changed from jeans to a dress.

“I wish I could help you set up.”

“Nah, this is better. The bride shouldn’t be chopping onions.”

Anna got Jody a cab and climbed into Deputy Fitzgerald’s Taurus. Fitzgerald drove up I-395, then through the surface streets downtown. Usually, Anna liked to prepare for a witness interview by reading everything about the witness, but the Marshals hadn’t shared Julia’s statements with her. Anna hoped Julia would be able to identify Psycho and Diablo at the construction site as the same two men who raided the brothel.

Agent Fitzgerald drove east on New York Avenue, toward the edge of the city. The farther out they got, the scruffier the street became, lined with cheap motels, warehouses, and vacant lots, all punctuated with chain-link fences. The dull gray sky provided a fittingly bleak backdrop for the ruined urban landscape. For decades, politicians talked about upgrading this street, which was a main artery into D.C. and many tourists’ first impression of the city. A new Metro station had spruced up one section of the road, but most of it remained gritty and unimpressive.

The Days Inn was a squat motel long past its prime of life. A plastic bag swirled through the mostly empty parking lot. Cars on New York Avenue sped past, their drivers hardly noticing the sad structure. It was the sort of anonymous place where the Marshals could keep a witness unnoticed.

“Days Inn The ’Hood,” Fitzgerald muttered.

Samantha’s black Durango was already parked in the lot. The FBI agent climbed out of the SUV as Anna got out of the unmarked Taurus. Anna had asked Sam to be with her during the meeting, to take notes and witness the interview. Fitzgerald would wait in the car; her job was just to transport Anna.

“You set?” Sam asked. “They’re ready for us.”

“Great,” Anna said. “Let’s meet Julia.”

They walked up the outdoor steps to the second floor, then halfway down the outdoor hallway. A man in cargo pants and a short-sleeved plaid shirt was waiting outside the door. He introduced himself as Deputy Marshal Jeff Cook. Sam pulled back her jacket, revealing her FBI badge. The Marshal nodded and unlocked the door. They all walked into the room, and he shut the door quickly behind them.

The motel room felt warm after the chill air outside. It was dimly lit, the shades drawn. Anna’s eyes took a second to adjust to the low light.

“Ms. Curtis, Agent Randazzo,” said Deputy Cook. “Let me introduce you to Julia.”

Anna turned with a smile toward the woman who sat at the desk. Her smile vanished as she recognized the woman.

It was Nina Flores.

37

Anna felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She could barely breathe.

The woman was in her late thirties, ten years older than Anna. She looked a little older than in the pictures, but she was still as beautiful, with golden skin and shiny black hair now cut in a chin-length bob. Nina’s amber eyes grew round with surprise, in a way that made her look a lot like Olivia.

Anna put a hand on the wall to steady herself. She realized why the Marshals had set up the meeting here rather than at the U.S. Attorney’s Office—so no one would recognize Nina and see that she was still alive.

Some part of her noticed that Samantha’s mouth was gaping open. Sam had been friends with Jack for a long time; she had probably met his wife. Hell, Sam might have been at Jack and Nina’s wedding.

Nina looked as shocked as Anna felt. The two women stared at each other. Anna felt like she was in a surreal dream. Nina was the first to recover. She stood and turned to her handler.

“I can’t talk to her,” Nina said. “She’s dating my husband.”

“I’m engaged to him,” Anna said. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Nina’s eyes flashed down to Anna’s left hand—to the ring on her finger—then narrowed. Anna noticed Nina had used the word “husband.” Not “ex-husband,” or “ex.” Husband. It was a proprietary word.

“So,” Deputy Cook looked back and forth between the two women. “I take it you ladies know each other.”

“I’ve seen your death certificate.” Anna couldn’t take her eyes off of Nina. “I’ve seen pictures of your autopsy.”

“I was at your funeral,” Sam said. “I saw your
corpse.
Where’d that come from?”

“The Marshals,” Nina said.

“Hector Ramos will be mighty relieved to hear you’re alive,” Sam said.

“Hector? Why?”

“I just questioned him as a person of interest in your murder.”

“Christ. Hector was my best friend. Still is, I suppose, though we haven’t spoken in four years. He helped me set it up.” Nina shook her head. “What a mess, what a goddamned mess we made of all this.”

Anna stared at her. Who did
we
encompass?

She took a deep breath. “Does Jack know you’re alive?”

Nina looked at her silently. Her eyes went up and down Anna’s figure, like a prizefighter sizing up an opponent. “No, he doesn’t. Not yet.”

“You can’t tell him,” the deputy said.

“I’m not agreeing to that,” Anna replied, keeping her eyes on Nina. “How do you know who I am, anyway? How do you know about me and Jack?”

Nina sighed, and sat on the bed. She rubbed her temples between her thumb and middle finger. Anna had seen Jack make the same gesture countless times, and she wondered whose move it had been first, and which one of them picked it up from the other.

“I couldn’t stay away,” Nina said. “I was supposed to, but I had to see my daughter. My family. I’ve been back half a dozen times, watching the house. I saw you there.”

Anna remembered what Luisa said about things being moved around the house.

“Did you come inside?” she asked.

“Once or twice,” Nina replied.

Anna had dismissed Luisa’s belief about a ghost in the house. But in a real way, there had been.

The deputy shook his head, conveying disapproval, but not shock. Nina must have admitted this to him at some point. It was a terrible breach of protocol—Witsec witnesses were never supposed to go back to their old neighborhoods. Apparently, the breach hadn’t been enough to get her kicked out of the program.

Anna and Nina stared at each other silently for several minutes. Finally, Sam stepped forward. “I don’t think this interview is going to happen today.”

“Right,” Deputy Cook said. He turned to Anna. “But, ma’am, you can’t tell your boyfriend . . . or her husband . . . or
anybody
. . . that she’s alive. That could put her life at risk.”