Chapter Twenty-One

Love Letters

The party had not gone exactly to plan, but it was far from a waste of time. After reviewing the surveillance video, it seemed they had gotten a look at their ghost as he slipped his cell phone into the pocket of the foreign national the agents had mistakenly tackled to the ground. That was infinitely more information than they had previously had on Ghovat.

After the party was dissolved and making sure Tara was safe in the care of his agents, Peter offered to take Nora home. After the excitement of the party, she seemed worn out. Her smokey eye lids drooped slightly, and she stifled the occasional yawn. He kissed El quickly before sending her on her way, promising to be home soon.

As they got in the car, Peter handed back her tracking anklet. She made a slight look of distaste as she kicked off her high heel and pulled her foot up onto the seat, and Peter couldn't help but chuckle. "Did you think I was going to forget?"

She sighed. "No, but one can hope." She clicked it into place. Peter tugged on it quickly, making sure it was all the way on. Once satisfied, he began driving. Rather than putting her shoe back on, she kicked the other one off instead, pulling it up to rub the top of her foot soothingly.

"Why wear those if they're so uncomfortable?" he asked with a laugh. El did the same thing. It just didn't make sense.

"Men," Nora snorted under her breath. "Women will go to great lengths for the sake of beauty, Peter. Don't question it, just embrace it."

"It just doesn't make sense to me," he admitted.

"What, you've never went out of your way to look nice?" she asked. "Never worn a suit you hated for Elizabeth's sake?"

He opened his mouth to protest, to explain that that was different, but the words froze in his throat. It really wasn't different, he realized. "Okay, fair point," he said after a moment. She smiled weakly for a moment before turning to look out the window, head drooping on the seat.

Peter was sure she was done talking, but she spoke again after a few minutes. "So, what happens next? Was the party a bust?"

Peter considered this for a moment. "Not completely," he decided. "We didn't catch Ghovat, but we got him on surveillance. That's something. The team's going to run his picture through facial recognition and see what comes back."

She nodded slowly. "That's good. I'm glad you got something you can use."

Peter didn't respond. They drove in silence for a several minutes. Peter realized how tired he was getting himself and attempted to start a new conversation to keep himself alert. "So, was the party as fun and exciting as you'd hoped it would be?" he asked lightly, teasing her earlier childish excitement while she and El planned the party.

Nora didn't respond. For a second, Peter wondered if she was mad at him for something and racked his brain to figure out what. He couldn't think of anything. "Nora?" Still nothing. He glanced over. Her head was lolled on her shoulder, eyes shut. She was breathing deeply, evenly. Peter couldn't help but laugh. She had fallen asleep.

Smiling slightly to himself, he turned on some music – quiet so not to wake her – and made the rest of the drive in silence. While awake, she hid behind masks and lies. She was great at manipulation, playing off of peoples moods and sympathies to get her way. When she was asleep, she looked so small, vulnerable. All the well-honed pretenses she built had fallen away. She looked less like a devious, cunning con artist, and more like a normal, innocent young woman.

The words he'd overheard her say to Tara burned in his ears. Looks can be deceiving. Nora was a walking testament to that statement alright.

It wasn't too long of a drive, and before too long he pulled up outside of June's. "Nora," he said softly, lightly shaking her shoulder. "Wake up, Nora."

"Huuh?" she muttered groggily, eyes blinking open slowly. She rubbed her eyes slowly before looking around. "Wha?"

"You fell asleep," he explained. "You're home now."

The words took a second to sink in. "Oh, right. Sorry." She bent over to slip her heels back on.

"Don't worry about it." She yawned widely, and Peter worried for a second she would fall asleep again, right up against the dash board. She didn't.

She finished strapping the heels on and unbuckled her seat belt. "Thanks for the ride, Peter." She got out and wobbled a little. It made Peter kind of nervous.

"Do you want me to walk you in?"

She smiled sleepily. "No, I think I can manage. Thanks, though." She paused for a moment. "Have a good night, Peter."

"Yeah," he said, still not convinced she would make it to the door. "You too." With that, she closed the door. Peter waited until he saw her disappear inside before heading home himself.

Despite her fatigue, Nora found she was too keyed up to sleep once she got home. The party hadn't gone her way, and she found herself somewhat worried if she was going to get in trouble with Hughes for wasting FBI resources. The uncertainty killed her. Would they put me back in prison for something like that?

"How was your party?" that all too familiar voice asked from behind her. She hadn't heard him come in, too busy looking out over the city from the balcony to notice much of anything.

"Didn't quite pan out," she admitted, "but it got us some useful information, so I suppose I'd call it a success."

He nodded. He'd put in almost as much effort as she had, connecting her to various contacts that got her in touch with the models and the friend who arranged the venue. Despite the fact that his effort was going to the benefit of the FBI, he loved helping Nora on her cases. His insights were valuable, and he got to work with her for the first time in ages on what they both loved doing.

"Any luck getting this thing off me?" she demanded, nodding down at her exposed anklet.

Mozzie sighed. "I'm working on it." Nora shook her head, returning inside to take her hair down. "You're lucky," Mozzie continued. "They have you on a two-mile tether. That's a lot in New York." She scoffed, running a brush through her hair. "Remember Jimmy Dimaco? The feds had his anklet set up at twenty-two feet. He had to take a shower with one foot out of the tub."

Nora glared at him. "That's not true."

Mozzie sighed. "Okay," he admitted, "maybe thirty feet." She turned to the sink and began washing her makeup off. "My point is, you have it better."

She paused, turning back to him. Her face was dripping, water splashing on her dress. "It's not enough, Moz," she insisted before turning back around to finish washing. Once she was done, she sat, burying her face in her hands for a moment before continuing. "I need to find Kyle. The man with the ring was with him in California." Mozzie sat across from her. "You tell me what he wants from him, 'cause he sure as hell didn't find what he was looking for in San Diego."

Mozzie cocked his head to the side. "And, how would you know what he was looking for?"

Nora sighed, running a hand through her hair. She didn't meet his inquisitive gaze. "Because," she said slowly, swallowing back the urge to lie that rose in her throat whenever she was faced with admitting an uncomfortable truth. "Because I told Kyle that I kept everything – all of the money, the bonds, the art, everything – in San Diego." She looked down at her lap.

Mozzie didn't respond for a moment. "Well, clearly that's not the truth," he said slowly, "because you told me it was all hidden in Portland. Isn't it?" She didn't reply, still not looking up to meet his eyes. She could feel the sense of betrayal radiating off of him as he connected the dots. "Oh. There's nothing hidden in either place, is there?" She hated having lied to Mozzie, but it had been a necessary precaution. He won't see it like that, though, she thought glumly. "It's a test. You told him San Diego, and me Portland. Then, whichever rock gets overturned, you know who betrayed you."

There was hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry, Moz," she offered, but it sounded hollow, even to her own ears. She wasn't sorry. "I told you, I took a lot of precautions when the feds started closing in that I never told you about. I just needed to know what I already knew."

"What, that you can trust me?" The accusation in his voice was like a knife through her chest. She finally looked up. He was angry, hurt, betrayed. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her, but pushed it aside. I didn't do anything wrong, she reminded herself. It was a necessary evil. "That I'm the one who's been there through all of it?" he continued. She could have stopped him, could have sweet-talked him out of his anger, but she felt like she deserved it. She let him work it out of his system. "But Kyle, Kyle is the one who kicked over your rock."

That was the line. She slammed her hands down on the table, fighting back the tears the stung her eyes. "No," she argued. "Kyle didn't betray me. He forced him to."

Mozzie's eyes grew softer. He took a breath to steady himself. Without meaning to, she had played his own feelings toward her against him, turned it around so that she was the victim. It was like an instinct, a shield to hide behind when things weren't going her way. Maybe he realized that, maybe he didn't. It didn't seem to matter. "Then why didn't he try to warn you when he came to say goodbye in prison?"

Nora's mind raced. She thought back to that day. He'd been acting oddly, she remembered. She'd thought about that after he was gone. It had been part of the reason she deiced to escape in the first place; there had been something he wasn't telling her, something that scared him, and Nora needed to understand what.

"I think he might have," she admitted, "but I was too stupid to see it." She stood, crossing the room to the bookshelf and digging out a piece of paper she's hidden in one of the books. She handed it to Mozzie.

He read it, face scrunched up in confusion. "'Weep for me, my love, I'll miss you more-' what is this?" Nora grabbed it back from him.

"It's just an old love letter," she admitted. "It doesn't mean anything." She folded the letter along an existing crease and handed it to him again. Now it read 'we are being watched.' "The FBI was closing in on us, so we started using precautions, passing codes."

Mozzie shook his head in exasperation. "Codes that can be cracked by anyone who has ever seen the back of a Mad Magazine."

She snatched the letter back. "That, right there is the reason I don't tell you everything," she snapped. "That attitude." She sighed, running a hand through her hair again. "You have to judge every little thing because you think you can do it better." She'd never voiced that frustration before, or really even thought about it, but as she said it, she realized it was somewhat true.

"I'm trying to be supportive," he insisted.

"This was an early attempt," she admitted, sitting the letter down. "We got more sophisticated as time went on. My point is, he knows how to send a coded message without making it obvious."

Mozzie nodded. "So you think when he came to see you in prison, he left a code?"

"I don't know," she sighed, sinking down into a chair again. "But I won't be able to relax until I know for sure. I need to see the security tape."

Mozzie paused for a moment, seeming to think over his words carefully. "Your friend at the FBI has access," he said quietly. "He's seen it."

Nora let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, he still doesn't really trust me – for good reason. He's not going to just hand it over."

"You could… ask." It was so simple. Of course she could just ask, but what would Peter say? Would he think she was getting ideas to look for Kyle again, that showing it to her would lead to trouble? He probably wouldn't be wrong if he did… The worst he can do is say no.