Dirty Little Lies (29 page)

Marisela tore her gaze away from the scene long enough to catch Yizenia take a tentative step toward Bradley Hightower, her fists clenched. Yizenia knew she no longer had the right to kill him for his supposed crimes, but the instinct hadn’t yet died in her entirely.

Tracy grabbed Parker’s arm and pulled herself to her feet. “I do understand.”

“What?” Parker’s skin flashed bright red and the veins in his temple and neck bulged. Marisela took a step forward, glancing to her left to ensure Max was still there, keeping Yizenia from taking off, but he signaled for her to remain where she was.

“Parker, please,” Tracy said calmly. “Bradley didn’t want any of this to happen. He cared about his friends. He loved his brother. Rebecca ruined
him
, remember? She outed him to hurt him—in front of me and his brother. She wanted to tear him apart—not the other way around.”

Tracy opened her arms and Bradley immediately fell into them. Marisela watched, part entranced, part unnerved, by their instantaneous weeping. She heard Brad apologize, though she wasn’t sure for what, while Tracy tried to explain how her sister could have been so cruel as to use his sexuality against him. Parker, frozen with shock, dropped back onto the couch. Yizenia had her back to them all.

Marisela decided that Tracy’s capacity for forgiveness trumped anyone else she’d ever seen. Bradley Hightower used her and Rebecca—leading them on so the whole world thought he was straight when he wasn’t. His actions, coupled with Rebecca’s vindictiveness, had put in motion the events that led to Rebecca’s death. Maybe all the tragedy in Tracy’s life had given her the gift of mercy. Blaming Brad for covering up his sexual preference when he was likely no more than a scared, confused kid wasn’t going to help her heal—and for fifteen years that had been her only goal.

The young girl who’d accidentally caused the death of her sister, who’d lost her friends and her parents, who’d been shipped off alone to battle demons and drugs, had come out on the other side without losing her humanity. Was it too late for Yizenia?

Marisela strolled over to her nemesis. “You were wrong,” she said, her words crisp but not accusatory. Simply a statement of fact.

Yizenia glanced over her shoulder. “Wrong? There are worse things to be than wrong,
mija.
”

“How about tricked? Duped? Deceived? You killed two innocent men.”

“They aren’t blameless. They lied, covered up.”

“Yes,” Marisela agreed. “Whatever Brad and Craig did in that tent that night was
their
business. Fifteen years ago, their lives would have been ruined if the whole world found out they were gay—or at least, that Brad was gay and Craig was confused. What teenager isn’t? And what about Raymond? He was just a kid who worshiped his big brother and had his whole family torn apart first by Rebecca’s revelation and then by accusations of murder that weren’t true.”

“Evan Cole dumped her body in a cold, icy swamp,” Yizenia argued.

“Yes, he did. But that shallow playboy’s only crime was trying to protect the young girl he loved but for whatever reason felt he couldn’t have.”

Yizenia sneered. “You make it all sound so
romántico
.”

“I’m just telling it like it is. The truth was twisted. Bent and broken until the bastard who hired you got what he wanted. Has this happened to you before? Have you ever been this betrayed?”

Yizenia remained with her back to Marisela. She shook her head, the movement quick. Sharp.

Marisela slid her hand onto Yizenia’s shoulder, then down her arm. When she reached Yizenia’s wrist, she latched on tightly, encircling the bracelet Yizenia wore over her tattoo. “Tell us who fucked you over, Yizenia. Turn over whatever information you can and help us bring this
hijo de puta
down.”

Yizenia turned around slowly, her eyes sad and…tired? Suddenly, Yizenia looked her age—still stunningly beautiful, but her gaze possessed a weariness that Marisela prayed she’d never experience, not even if she managed to live beyond sixty. With a quick jerk, Yizenia extracted herself from Marisela’s grip.

“I came to Boston to achieve two goals,” Yizenia said, her voice laced with irony. “First, to avenge the death of Rebecca Manning. Second, to meet you and recruit you to be my protégée. Can you imagine? You, studying to be a killer under a woman as gullible as I?”

“Craig Bennett and Bradley Hightower are still alive,” Marisela reminded her. “If you leave them alone, will he hire someone else to finish the job?”

Yizenia’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. He convinced me he had been in love with Rebecca Manning and wanted to avenge her death. He told me he’d been too poor as a young man to push the police, but now that he had money and power, no one cared about a fifteen-year-old murder. He gave me articles and files filled with evidence that proved those boys killed Rebecca and were simply never prosecuted because of their wealthy families.”

“Fake evidence, clearly,” Marisela surmised.

Yizenia nodded. “From what I’ve heard here today, assembling such evidence wouldn’t have been hard. The police did pursue those
muchachos
as the killers. Even the authorities never suspected Tracy.”

“Thanks to Evan, the man you murdered.”

Yizenia’s eyes flashed with anger, but she blinked in rapid succession until the emotion faded. “My client paid me in full,” she admitted, “even though the job is incomplete. The telephone number I used previously to contact him is no longer in service. I have no idea of his true motives. I’m no longer of any use. To him or to you.”

Marisela stepped closer. “You can give us evidence. Let us work out how to make it stick.”

“And lose the last thing I have? My freedom?
No en esta vida.”

Max cleared his throat, then gestured to Marisela to bring Yizenia to him. She complied and no other words were exchanged. A few minutes later, Parker stormed out of the room, unable to listen as Tracy and Brad mourned for their lost friends and loved ones. Parker had spent many years blaming Bradley Hightower for ultimately causing the destruction of his family. Marisela could understand why he couldn’t let go of his anger so easily.

Marisela dug her hands into her pockets. Now what? Without Yizenia’s help, they couldn’t identify the source behind the contract killings. Craig Bennett would not be free until the man who wanted him dead was found and turned over to the police.

Her determination to see the case through forced her to intrude on Tracy and Bradley’s hushed conversation.

“Tracy, we’re not done,” Marisela said.

Tracy looked up at her with eyes liquid with confusion. “You know the whole story.”

“Did you have any other boyfriends in high school? Someone poor who’s now made it big?”

Tracy shook her head. “No. Only Brad.”

“No secret admirers?”

Tracy scoffed. “If any boy would have shown an inkling of interest I would have been all over him. You’ve caught the killer. What more do you want from me?”

Bradley started at the mention of the killer. “Who? That woman? She killed my brother?”

Marisela nodded, blocking Bradley’s path when he started to stand. “We’ll take care of her, believe me,” she insisted, though she had no idea how they’d pull it off. That plan, thankfully, was for Brynn and Ian to fight over. At this point, Marisela had to concentrate on milking the last bit of information she could from Tracy. She introduced herself to Bradley Hightower and explained what they knew so far.

He sat back on the couch, winded.

“So someone went to all the trouble to hire a paid assassin to take us all out, but then fired the killer before they got to me?”

“Looks that way,” Marisela confirmed. “The man who wanted you dead may have simply decided to change tactics. Just because one assassin is out of the picture doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

Wide-eyed, Bradley listened, then gave a curt nod. “I don’t have a death wish. I’ll cooperate however I can.”

Marisela gave Brad a half-smile. “It’s not your help I need. Tracy, there is one bit of information we haven’t fully explored. You were the only one who knew that Evan Cole had been on the island that night. You said you told your brother,” Marisela pointed out, cutting Tracy off before she could protest Parker’s innocence again. “I know you believe he never told anyone and I agree. He went to a lot of trouble to hire goons to protect you. He never would have blabbed about Evan and risked implicating you. But that still leaves us with the question of who else could have known.”

Tracy glanced up at Brad, embarrassed.

“I know all about your past, Tracy,” he said softly “Just like you know about mine. I mean, yeah, I’m gay. Craig wasn’t,” he explained, his eyes darting between Marisela and Tracy. “We were young. Did some experimenting. I didn’t know what it really meant to be gay back then, I just had these feelings I couldn’t cover up.”

“But you tried,” Marisela said.

Regret glossed Bradley’s eyes. “Yeah, first with Becca, then with Tracy, not to mention all the other girls I made sure were hanging off my arm so no one ever suspected what I was. I’m ashamed of how I handled my sexuality back then, seducing a friend, but we were stupid kids. We made mistakes.”

Tracy sat forward, her head in her hands. Marisela gave her a few minutes of silence, noticing how Tracy didn’t balk when Brad ran his hand supportively up and down her spine.

“I opened up a lot when I was in therapy,” Tracy admitted, “especially this last time. I was approved for one-on-one therapy. The doctor and I dug down deep.”

“Hypnosis?” Brad asked.

Marisela’s hackles rose. She didn’t know much about hypnosis except what she saw in the movies or on those television specials where the magician got members of the audience to act like chickens in front of the whole world. But she knew a skilled psychologist could coax deeply buried memories to the surface. She hadn’t known that Tracy had undergone the procedure. The files she’d read from Windchaser Farms contained no reference to hypnosis.

Tracy lifted her head. “Yeah, I’ve tried everything. The doctor said if I could completely relive the event that had scarred me so deeply, then maybe I could move on.”

Sounded like a bunch of shit to Marisela, but what the hell did she know?

“Tracy, this could be the break we need to find out who ordered the hit on your friends. What was the doctor’s name?”

Tracy blinked wildly. “Um, I’m not sure. I was really strung out when I first got there. I saw three to five psychologists and psychiatrists and counselors every day?”

Marisela dropped to her knees, putting herself eye to eye with the woman who might hold the key to the investigation. “But only one of them coaxed you into dreamland to pick through your brain. Give us a name, Tracy. Give us somewhere to start.”

Tracy pressed her lips together. “Selig. Doctor Selig,” she answered finally. “Andrew, I think.”

“And this was at…?”

“Windchaser. I always went to Windchaser.”

Seconds later, two agents arrived. They instructed Tracy to pack her things as they were moving her and Bradley to a new safe house. Marisela trotted down the stairs, slipping on her sunglasses as her eyes were blasted by the late afternoon sun. She spotted the limousine and dashed inside, not surprised to find Max and Frankie typing away on twin laptops.

Frankie spoke as soon as Marisela slammed the door.

“Andrew Selig is no longer listed on the staff roster at Windchaser Farm.”

Max continued typing.

“Where are Brynn and Ian?”

“Took Yizenia back to the penthouse,” Frankie replied.

Marisela scooted over so she could better see Frankie’s screen. He was paging through the main web site for Windchaser Farm, the in-patient and out-patient substance-abuse facility where Tracy Manning had been treated several times over the years. Suddenly, Frankie’s screen went blank, then re-emerged a bright blue. The text that scrolled across the screen looked more like code than words.

“I’m in,” Frankie said.

Max grinned, his eyebrow arched. “Yes, I can see you. Through their system.”

“Damn,” Frankie cursed, then immediately backed out before any security protocols alerted the server to his illegal presence in their system.

Marisela switched seats. Max had already infiltrated the facility’s main computer system. “Looks here like Dr. Andrew Selig was transferred to a facility in Germany six months ago.”

“About the time Yizenia was first contacted?” Marisela asked.

“Looks that way,” Max confirmed. “Let’s see who authorized this transfer.”

Max typed and Frankie and Marisela waited. Time ticked by, slowly, despite Max’s lightning-fast keyboarding.

“Damn,” he cursed. “The records indicate that Andrew Selig’s transfer was voluntary. Frank, check his bank accounts.”

Marisela watched, her eyes wide, as Frankie complied. She had no idea Frankie had honed his computer skills so thoroughly. He had, of course, trained under a master. No wonder he was so ripe to leave Titan. He clearly knew all sorts of shit Marisela hadn’t begun to study yet.

“Aren’t you full of surprises?” she said.

Frankie’s grin was pure sensual sin. “Even outside of the bedroom.”

Max cleared his throat. Frankie returned to his computer. Max transferred the entrance codes to the facility’s system, allowing Frankie into the payroll accounts. From there, Frankie worked his way into bank accounts.

“No overly large deposits,” he announced. “Not six months ago.”

“Trace back every month before that,” Max ordered.

Frankie complied. “Nothing. Wait,” he said, scrolling down a screen. “A year ago, he stopped directly depositing money into his savings account and canceled his 401(k).”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Max looked up. “Means the man no longer had reason to take deductions out of his paycheck to ensure his future financial security. He must have an offshore or overseas account.”

“Can that be traced?”

Max shook his head. “Not easily.”

Marisela sat back, fighting off a dark and sour mood. They were so close. If they were correct, Selig had extracted the information about the night of Rebecca Manning’s death through hypnotherapy, then gave the information to someone who used the little known facts to build a case to present to Yizenia, including the secret participation of Evan Cole in the night’s events. Yizenia’s client had paid her off and clearly wanted her to abandon the hit, but they had no way of knowing why. Craig Bennett was struggling for life in a hospital, his political career effectively halted. Evan Cole and Raymond Hightower were dead. Bradley Hightower had been flushed out by Titan. Was that enough?