The pain seared through Tracy like a hot poker. It wasn’t just Jeff, although God knew the thought of him with this cold, calculating, horrendous woman hurt like hell. It was the embarrassment. The shame. The truth was, it had been that long. After Jeff’s betrayal, Nicholas had filled the void left in Tracy’s heart. But the sexual side of her, the romantic, passionate life that had once meant so much to her? That had gone forever. Elizabeth Kennedy had taken it from her. That was what Tracy couldn’t forgive. It was that that made today a victory for Elizabeth, not for her. Elizabeth might be going to jail. But it was Tracy who was serving a life sentence with no parole.
With a huge effort of will, she managed to control her emotions.
“You say you care about Jeff. If that’s true, you should want to help clear his name.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Everyone knows you work with a partner.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“This is me you’re talking to,” said Tracy. “At least three of the jobs you pulled off could not possibly have been done alone. I know that for a fact.”
“And which three might those be? Hypothetically, of course. Your friends on the other side of that glass have nothing on me other than what they discovered tonight.” Elizabeth waved mockingly at the mirror. “Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by pretending otherwise.”
Tracy said, deadpan, “Hong Kong, Chicago and Lima.”
Elizabeth nodded but said nothing.
“What if Rizzo’s right and your partner is the one killing these girls?”
“He isn’t right.”
“Are you sure? Because someone is killing them, Elizabeth. After each of your jobs. For all we know, he might be out there right now, looking for his next target.”
Elizabeth looked thoughtful. There was a long pause. Jean Rizzo held his breath.
Then Elizabeth said, “Let’s say I have a partner. And let’s say I give you his name. What do I get in return?”
“You don’t get anything,” said Tracy. “Other than clearing Jeff of suspicion and potentially saving another woman’s life.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No deal. I want my lawyer here and a plea deal in place. I’ll serve no more than a year for tonight’s robbery. Sorry. Attempted robbery.” She bowed dramatically to the audience behind the mirror. “No other charges will be brought against me.”
Tracy burst out laughing. “You’re out of your mind! They’ll never agree to that.”
“Then they don’t get their name.”
The door opened. Jean Rizzo asked Tracy to step out.
In the anteroom, Tracy told the assembled agents, “You heard her. I tried, but without a deal she won’t talk. Not yet, anyway.”
Milton Buck looked at his boss.“I say give her the deal.”
Tracy’s eyes widened. “What? No! Are you insane? You’d let her walk away from this?”
“She’s the monkey. I want the organ grinder.”
“I agree.” Jean Rizzo’s voice was low but firm. “I’m sorry, Tracy, but Buck’s right. Elizabeth Kennedy hasn’t killed anyone. It’s her partner we need.”
In desperation, Tracy turned to Special Agent Soltan. “You can have both. She’ll give you that name if you keep up the pressure. Maybe trade it for a shorter sentence . . . But a year? And dropping all charges? You’re just rolling over. She’s playing you! All we need is a little time.”
“We don’t have time,” said Jean. “What if he’s in New York right now? He could kill again in hours.”
Special Agent Soltan said, “Call her lawyer.”
AFTER THAT, EVERYTHING HAPPENED so quickly, Tracy felt as if she were in a dream. Elizabeth’s attorney arrived within fifteen minutes. The deal was hammered out and signed in less time than it took one of the junior agents to brew a fresh pot of coffee.
“I want the name,” Agent Buck said.
Buck sat opposite Elizabeth and her lawyer in the interview room, making much of being back in charge. Jean Rizzo stood at the back of the room, a few feet from Tracy. Tracy’s face was set like flint. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Jean.
He promised me Elizabeth would go to jail. He promised me, if I helped him find her, he would put her away. I trusted him and he lied to me.
Milton Buck went on. “I want every scrap of information you have about him. I want dates, I want times, I want details. On every job. And I want to know where he is right now.”
“You can have the name and the details. But I don’t know where he is right now.”
Agent Buck stiffened. “Are you for real?”
“I haven’t seen him face-to-face in almost three years.”
“You’re a liar!”
Elizabeth shrugged. “We’re all liars when we need to be, Agent Buck. But this happens to be the truth. We communicate by e-mail and occasionally by phone. It’s business. We aren’t friends. If we were, I wouldn’t be talking to you. I am capable of loyalty, you know, whatever the saintly Miss Whitney may think.”
Tracy looked away.
“In any case, that’s my offer. You can take it or leave it.”
Jean Rizzo was getting antsy. “For Christ’s sake, Buck. We don’t have time for this.”
“Fine,” Milton Buck barked. “Give me the name.”
Elizabeth glanced at her attorney, who nodded.
“My partner is actually an old acquaintance of Tracy’s. Funny how closely our lives have become intertwined, isn’t it?”
Despite herself, Tracy looked up.
“His name”—Elizabeth paused for effect—“is Daniel Cooper.”
PART THREE
CHAPTER 19
DANIEL COOPER WAITED PATIENTLY for the captain to turn off the seat-belt sign. Then he pushed his economy seat back as far as it would go and snapped off a single square of Lindt chocolate in celebration, closing his eyes and savoring the sweetness as it melted on his tongue.
All pleasure was sin, of course. Over the years, Daniel Cooper had learned to rein in most of his baser human desires. I am a vessel of justice, a pure servant of the Lord. And yet he knew he was still not worthy. Not yet. When he became worthy, when he’d fully atoned for his sins, the Lord would deliver Tracy Whitney to him. He felt sure that that day was moving ever closer. Tracy—his Tracy, his soul mate—was coming to him at last. All those years he’d thought she was dead! Or if not dead then disappeared, gone, lost to him forever. But he’d been wrong. The Lord had given him another chance. Daniel intended to grab that chance with both hands.
Beneath the cover of his airline blanket, Daniel Cooper started to touch himself.
God had called Daniel Cooper to hunt down lawbreakers and bring them to justice, but society had other ideas. When Daniel tried to join the New York City police force he had been rejected. Officially he was deemed too short, but in reality Daniel knew that his assessors simply didn’t like him. They found him creepy. When the FBI also rejected him, but accepted far less qualified candidates in his class, Daniel hacked into his psychiatric evaluation. Highly intelligent. Lacking empathy. Deceitful. Someone had added a handwritten note: borderline psychotic?
With law enforcement closed to him, Daniel Cooper worked first as a private investigator and later as an employee of an insurance company, tracking down defrauders. It was in this latter capacity that he first crossed paths with Tracy Whitney.
Daniel Cooper believed he could save Tracy Whitney. God had told him so in dream after dream, even as the devil tempted him with unclean thoughts about Tracy’s body. Daniel made it his personal mission to catch Tracy and bring her to justice. But throughout her long career as a con artist, she had eluded him time and time again. First by herself, and later with the appalling Jeff Stevens, she mocked all her would-be captors. In their arrogance, police forces across the globe underestimated Tracy Whitney. Daniel Cooper tried to warn them—in Madrid, in London, in New York, in Amsterdam. But like the Pharisees, they remained blinded with pride. And so the evildoers triumphed.
It was Amsterdam that changed everything.
Tracy and Jeff had stolen the Lucullan Diamond, smuggling it out of the city by homing pigeon. Weeks of surveillance and planning by Daniel Cooper had been for naught. This time it was the moronic Inspector van Duren who had let Whitney slip through Cooper’s net. Daniel would never forget the way Tracy stopped at the boarding gate at Schiphol Airport, turned to him and waved. Waved. Tracy Whitney had looked right into his eyes and seen his secrets. It was in that moment that the bond between them had been cemented.
What God has joined together, let no man cast asunder.
Daniel Cooper had looked back at Tracy Whitney on that fateful day and seen something in her eyes that he could neither forgive, nor forget: pity. Tracy Whitney—thief, goddess, whore—had dared to feel sorry for him.