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“Did that bother you, that you’d be arresting Andrew Moore?”
“Of course.” The guilt had nearly driven her mad. “I wanted to warn him, to get him out of harm’s way, but I was torn. I couldn’t blow the mission. We had too many people undercover—people who’d be in danger if the truth got out—and I couldn’t predict what he would do. So in the end, I didn’t tell him. I waited.” Despising herself all the time.
“We still hadn’t found Moretti. Until we did, we couldn’t make the bust. We knew he’d just relocate his organization and set up shop again somewhere else unless we put him behind bars.”
But the noose had been tightening around her. The closer she got to Andrew Moore, the greater the chance that she’d blow her cover, a mistake that could have gotten them all killed.
“Andrew didn’t suspect you were FBI?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t think so.” Maybe he’d sensed her desperation. Their lovemaking had taken on a note of urgency toward the end. Or maybe she’d imagined that—just as she’d imagined what he’d felt for her.
“I decided to help him find his buddy’s sister. I figured that even if I was going to bust him, even if I was going to put him in prison, at least I could help him save that girl.”
“You wanted to make amends.”
“Yes—which was idiotic, considering how badly he’d lied to me.”
“But you didn’t know that then. You were making decisions based on the information you had.”
True enough. But it still galled her that she’d let her emotions blind her to the truth.
“So, what happened next?” Dr. Oliviero asked.
She knotted her hands, forcing herself to return to that awful night. “I’d learned that some girls were being moved, transported out of Chicago for a special event, a play-off game that would attract a lot of johns. I had information that his friend’s sister might be involved, so I went to the warehouse to find out.”
“Was she there?”
“Not that I could tell. But Andrew showed up. I figured he was doing the same thing I was, looking for that missing girl. But I couldn’t get close enough to him to ask.
“After the trucks left, I tried to find him. I had to stay quiet in case Moretti’s people were still around. I was on the point of giving up when I heard a voice—a man’s voice. It sounded like Andrew’s, but the voice was deeper, and it had a different cadence, like the rhythm was slightly off.”
She inhaled. This was the hard part. The moment when her world had fallen apart, when she’d learned that everything she’d once believed was wrong.
“I got as close as I could and hid. I didn’t want to barge in on whatever Andrew had going on. I thought he’d arranged a meeting. Then I worried that someone had surprised him, that he might be in trouble and need my help. But when I peeked around the corner, I saw that he was alone. He was talking on the phone. But I still didn’t understand.”
She closed her eyes, the lengths to which she’d gone to deny the obvious sickening her even now. “I thought he’d put the phone on speaker, that the voice belonged to whoever else was on the line. But then I heard him giving orders to move some cargo from a south side warehouse to headquarters later that afternoon. And I realized the voice was his.”
She met Dr. Oliviero’s eyes. “I still didn’t get it. I knew Andrew was sharp, probably the smartest man I’d ever met. I figured he had a reason to change his voice.”
“Did he?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah. He had a reason, all right.”
“And what was that?”
Andrew Moore—the wounded ex-soldier, the arms commander she’d come to admire and respect, the tortured man she’d confided in, made wild and passionate love to—was a total myth. Instead, the man she loved was a monster.
“Andrew Moore was Moretti.”
Chapter Two (#u765be54b-6cba-5087-815f-ef073a5ed500)
As mistakes went, it was colossal one. Falling in love with a man like Moretti had to be the most revolting thing she’d ever done.
“You hadn’t suspected the truth? That they were actually the same person?” Dr. Oliviero asked her.
“No. I was shocked. I just stood there, reeling at the discovery. All this time, I’d been searching for Moretti, and he was the man I was sleeping with.” The head of a brutal empire. The man who’d single-handedly ruined thousands of lives. The monster who’d condemned innocent children to a hellish existence, who’d tortured and killed without conscience.
How could she have been so blind?
Lara covered her face, filled with loathing and self-disgust. “I didn’t want to believe it. Even then I was trying to make excuses, to justify what he’d done.”
“Your reaction was perfectly normal. You loved him. You’d formed a set of beliefs about him. When a view like that gets altered that drastically, it takes time for it to sink in. And denial is a typical first response.”
She’d denied it, all right. The truth was simply too horrific to accept. “I couldn’t believe how thoroughly he’d conned me, how effortlessly he’d lied.” That all this time, he’d been putting on an act, hiding his identity and true nature from everyone—especially her. Then again, she had been doing the same thing to him.
“So what did you do?” Dr. Oliviero asked, his voice gentle now.
“I knew I had to act fast, to get out of the warehouse before he spotted me. And I had to get word to my boss that I’d found Moretti. So I left right away.” She’d been terrified that he would see her, that he’d discover that she’d learned the truth. But she’d managed to escape undetected and get the information to her handler.
“I’d heard him arrange a meeting with his top commanders for later that night. We knew it would be our best chance to take him down, so we scrambled to make the bust. We had surprise on our side, but we didn’t have much time. And we knew if we didn’t catch him, we might never have another chance.”
“Were you the one who arrested him?”
“No, I stayed away. I couldn’t afford to blow my cover in case something went wrong and I had to resurrect my part. My boss took him down instead.” It had been a major coup. They’d captured all the syndicate’s major players, along with various, low-level operatives—not to mention Moretti himself.
“How did you feel during all this?” the psychiatrist asked.
“Numb. Honestly, I didn’t feel anything.” She’d gone into zombie mode—writing reports, attending meetings, analyzing the data and mopping up all the loose ends.
“And later?”
“I collapsed.” Physically, mentally, emotionally. She’d gone to ground in her apartment, overwhelmed by the horror of what she’d done. Hating Moretti. Despising herself. Unable to believe how foolish she’d been. Afraid there was something wrong inside her, really wrong, that maybe she’d secretly sensed the truth—and hadn’t cared.
“I went over everything he’d said, every moment we’d spent together, trying to figure out what I’d missed. How I could have possibly been so clueless.”
“And what did you decide?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I missed anything. I think Moretti was just that good.”
That elicited a nod. “He’s a sociopath. He doesn’t have a conscience. He doesn’t care how people feel. That makes it easy for him to lie. But you do have a conscience. That isn’t a flaw, Lara; it’s a normal, healthy thing. That’s how you discern right from wrong.”
“It didn’t stop me from having an affair with a criminal.” And not just an ordinary criminal, either. The boss of a major syndicate. A man who was evil incarnate.
“All of us make mistakes,” Dr. Oliviero reminded her.
“I know.” And she’d paid for hers. In the past year, she’d been through hell and back. She’d been emotionally beaten and battered, her confidence shattered. But she’d come out stronger. And wiser. Definitely more cynical. And far less trusting, especially when it came to men.
She’d suffered in other ways, too. But she was not going to talk about those. There were some things so private that even Dr. Oliviero didn’t need to know.
“I thought it was finally over,” she continued. “I thought I could move past it and get on with my life. That’s why I took this job with the Crisis Management Unit. It was something new, something I knew I’d be good at. I was ready to begin again.”
“But it’s not over.”
“No. Moretti is fighting back. He wants to destroy me now. And he won’t stop until he wins.”
“Or you beat him once and for all.” Dr. Oliviero leaned toward her, his expression intent. “You’re going to do it, Lara. You’ve got the skills, and you will succeed this time. I have no doubts about that.”
“It sure doesn’t feel that way.”
“That’s because you’ve let him shake your confidence and get inside your head. You just need to remember that you can succeed, that you’ve done it before. Take those skills you’ve learned and apply them.”
“I’ll try.” She rose and shook his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the impromptu session.”
“Stop by whenever you like. I’m always here for you. But Lara...” he added just as she turned to go. “Even after you stop him, this won’t be over completely. Not until you take one last step.”
She cocked her head. “Which is?”
“You’ll have to forgive yourself.”
“That might be harder,” she admitted.
And downright impossible if anything happened to the baby.
* * *
Lara was still struggling to follow the psychiatrist’s advice an hour later as she sat at her cubicle, poring over her notes on the Moretti case. She couldn’t let Moretti spook her. She had to have confidence that she could beat him at his game. She’d learned a lot during her time undercover and was so much smarter than before.
But even Dr. Oliviero’s pep talk wasn’t helping her solve this case. She kept combing over the evidence, and nothing made any sense. She felt lost in a labyrinth, unable to find the exit, knowing she was overlooking something vital that would point the way. She finally tossed down her pen, her frustration veering into despair.
What was she missing here? How were these events related, aside from their apparent connection to her? Or was she trying too hard to link them all? Maybe someone else was involved in this case besides Moretti—but if so, who?
Just then, Victoria poked her head over the wall of her cubicle. “Lara,” she said softly so no one would overhear. “I’ve got news.”
Lara’s heart lost its beat. She held her breath, both eager and afraid to hear what she had to say. “What is it?”
Her boss cracked a smile. “The baby and her family are fine.”
Lara slumped back in her chair and released her breath, the tension that had kept her up all night escaping in a crazy rush. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Victoria stepped into her doorway. “It turns out there was some sort of glitch with the phone lines last night, and the service shut down. I just got a new number from the marshal. I’ll forward it to you.”
Lara struggled to take it in. The family was safe. She closed her eyes, more relieved than she could express.
“Still...that note he sent. I know what you’ve done. He must be talking about that family. And remember the photos I got of the safe house? The one with the bull’s-eye on the baby’s face?” Not to mention the charm the kidnapper sent—all indications that someone knew about that child. “And the timing of this—the phone going out at the same time Cass was stabbed. Do you think—”
“That Moretti had someone mess with the lines?”
“Yes.” It would fit his MO perfectly—to draw out the torture, heightening her fear and anxiety to a fever pitch, and then finishing her off with his Grand Finale.
“I wondered the same thing,” Victoria acknowledged. “I’ve got people checking that out.”
“Maybe we should move the family again. If they’ve been compromised...”
“I’d rather not do that until we’re sure.”
“But—”
“Lara, we can’t keep moving them around. The constant upheaval isn’t good for them. They need to start leading a normal life. I want to make sure it’s necessary before we make them leave.”
Lara forced in a calming breath, trying not to imagine the worst. Victoria knew what she was doing. WITSEC would keep that baby safe. She had to focus her energy on stopping Moretti, not worrying about things she couldn’t control.
“Speaking of that note, how’s Cass this morning?” she asked.
Victoria sighed. “You can see for yourself. She’s in her office, writing up her statement about the attack.”
“She’s here?”
“She insisted on coming in.”
“But she just had surgery last night.”
Victoria glanced toward the tech room before answering. “She’s not doing too well. She said she had a rough night.”
Lara didn’t doubt that. Cass had been a wreck at the hospital the previous night. The entire team had kept her company, waiting until the doctor released her, then loading her into Victoria’s car for the trip to the safe house they’d arranged. She’d looked shaken, weak and thoroughly traumatized, despite their attempts to cheer her up.
“She’s supposed to keep her leg elevated. She should be in bed for the next few days.”
“I know, but I couldn’t convince her. She didn’t want to be alone, even with an around-the-clock protective detail. She feels safer here at work.”
Lara understood. It was a classic reaction to a violent attack—jumping at shadows, worrying that an attacker would pounce at any minute and be hiding behind every door. And the effects could last for months.
“Have you heard back from forensics yet?” she asked. “Any clues about who might have stabbed her?”
Victoria shook her head. “I got the initial report. About the only thing of interest is that he was most likely left-handed.”
Lara’s heart missed a beat. “Moretti is left-handed.”
“Moretti’s in prison.”
“Could he have gotten out?”
Victoria’s mouth went flat. “Not a chance.”
“You’re sure? Because—”
“Lara. Calm down. He’s locked up in a federal maximum security penitentiary. There’s no way that he got out.”
“You’re right.” She was overreacting. And that was exactly what Moretti wanted. He wanted to rattle her nerves, ensuring that she wouldn’t think straight—just like Dr. Oliviero said.
