“Well, he groped me in that warehouse,” Trudy said.
“I’m not at all surprised,” the woman said, and held her hand out for the Mac.
Nolan gave it to her.
“You bastard,” Trudy said.
“Trudy, it’s national security.”
“No, it isn’t,” Trudy snapped. “You got the codes when you got the instruction sheet, and then you got the USB key when you got the silencer. You don’t need the doll. You don’t care that a little kid is going to wake up tomorrow and know that everything in his world is a lie, that doesn’t bother you—”
“Trudy,” Nolan said, misery in his voice.
“—as long as your work gets done.” She wrenched away from him, her hands still cuffed behind her. “You guys, guys like you and Reese and Prescott, you don’t care about anything as long as you get what you want. Well, fine, you got it. Now take these handcuffs off me, because you know damn well you’re not going to arrest me for anything.”
“You have to promise to stop hitting people,” Nolan said.
“Fine,” Trudy said. “I promise.”
He unlocked the cuffs and she kicked him in the shin. He said, “Ouch,” and grabbed at his leg.
“You promised me,” Trudy said. “You said I could trust you, and I was as dumb as Courtney, I believed you.” She turned back to his boss. “You need me for anything else or can I go home to my devastated family?”
“We have questions,” the woman said, and gestured to the car. “We’ll have you home in a couple of hours.”
“Fine,” Trudy said, refusing to look back at Nolan. “I’ll tell you anything you want as long as you give me back the Mac.”
“Unfortunately not,” the woman said.
“Here’s your Twinkletoes,” Nolan said, holding out a shopping bag. “I found it in the warehouse.”
Trudy took the bag. “Rot and die,” she said, and walked toward the car.
“Trudy, be reasonable,” he said, following her. “This is national security—”
She turned around and he almost bumped into her. “You didn’t have to kiss me and tell me I could trust you. You didn’t have to make me believe in you again. You had the NSA out here, you were always going to get that damn doll. You could have left me my dignity, but no, you had to sucker me in.”
“That’s not fair.”
She stepped closer. “That’s why I hate you. That’s why Leroy’s going to hate his dad and his mom and me tomorrow, because he knew there was no Santa, but we all said, ‘Trust us, Santa’s gonna come through for you.’ We hung that kid out to dry. He’s going to be right to hate us. And I’m right to hate you.”
She turned to get into the car, and he caught her arm and said, “Trudy, I’m sorry,” and she shook him off and got into the backseat without looking back at him.
Chapter 3
Trudy borrowed a cell phone and called Courtney to tell her she was all right. Then she faced Nolan’s boss, who ditched the hat with the green and red bobbles and became tough, efficient, thorough, and polite, none of which made Trudy feel better. She answered everything the woman asked, and when she was finally released, it was well after midnight. She took her purse and the battered bag with the Twinkletoes and rode home through the snow in the back of a black car, too tired and too defeated to argue anymore.
I couldn’t do it alone, she thought. I really needed that bastard’s help; nobody could have done it alone. But she still felt like a failure. If only she hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t trusted Reese, hadn’t gotten in that cab in the first place, hadn’t ever talked to Nolan at all, they’d never have known she’d found the MacGuffin and Leroy would have it now. Her throat swelled and she stared at the back of the driver’s head and willed herself not to cry. Not in front of the NSA, anyway.
She tiptoed into the house, but Courtney called out from the dimly lit living room. Trudy went in and found her on the couch, glass in hand, her feet propped up on the coffee table that held a bowl of white icing, a lopsided gingerbread house, and a stack of gingerbread men with a knife stuck through them. She was staring into the gas fire, and the glow reflected off the tinsel on the tree while Christmas music played low and slow in the background.
“Do you have it?” Courtney said, her voice dull.
“No.” Trudy went around the mess on the coffee table and sat down beside her, dropping her bags on the floor. “The Feds took it from me. For national security reasons. Nice gingerbread house.”
“It’s crooked,” Courtney said, clearly not caring. “The Feds?”
“Turns out Nolan works for the NSA. I know. Unbelievable.”
“I believe it.” Courtney sat unmoving, her eyes on the fire. “That’s just my luck. Even the government is out to get me.”