Tough Justice Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  Lara pointed to the phone. “Do you need to answer that?”

  “No.” She stuffed the phone into a red purse.

  “That’s partly why I called you.” Latanya didn’t need to know about all the other crimes being committed by someone connected to the Moretti syndicate. She deserved to get on with her life...if that’s what she wanted to do. “We started thinking about the possibility of someone who was working with Olivia carrying on her activities on the outside. That’s why your interview jumped out at me.”

  “That would be seriously messed up if someone was doing that.”

  “So, tell me about what you saw during the bust.”

  “We were all kept in these little rooms, but we could hear each other, and sometimes we’d talk. Some of the girls were too drugged up or terrified to talk, but I could still hear them. I did a kind of inventory of the women there. There were twenty-eight of us there at the time of the bust.”

  “Did you adjust your number over time as women left or...?”

  “Died?” Latanya plucked a leaf from the tree behind her and twisted it in her fingers. “Yeah, I did. It varied, but I counted every day, and on that particular day and a few days before, there were twenty-eight of us caged like animals.”

  “And you counted again when you’d been freed.”

  “That’s right. I wanted to make sure all my sisters were out of there, you know? Like, in case some of them hadn’t made it out.” She tossed the mangled leaf over her shoulder. “Don’t laugh. It’s possible.”

  “I know.” Lara touched Latanya’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Latanya sniffed. “Anyway, I counted when the FBI rescued us, and there was one more girl—twenty-nine this time.”

  “Did you happen to figure out who was the extra woman?”

  “No. Like I said, I didn’t get a look at all the girls when we were there, but I counted twice, and I know there was someone who hadn’t been locked up with the rest of us.” She lifted and dropped her shoulders quickly. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe I’d think of something like that, but I did—kept me from going nuts.”

  “I do believe you, and it dovetails with something we’d been kicking around. It’s just a shame you wouldn’t be able to identify the woman.”

  “I know, but then again maybe it’s a good thing.”

  “How so?”

  “If Moretti’s gang knew I could identify one of their own, I’d be a dead woman.”

  The hair on the back of Lara’s neck quivered. “I appreciate that you came out to meet me, Latanya.”

  “I figured it had something to do with Olivia’s murder.”

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m seeing a shrink and I quit drinking. Being stone-cold sober all the time makes it hard to face stuff in the middle of the night, but my shrink tells me it’ll get better.”

  Lara nodded. “The middle of the night can be a bitch. Can I give you a lift?”

  “Nah, I live over in the Alphabets. I can walk from here.”

  They both stood up, and Lara gave the other woman a quick hug and slipped her card into her hand. “Take care of yourself, and give me a call if you remember anything else.”

  Lara turned toward the service area where she’d parked her car while Latanya took a few steps in the other direction.

  “Hey, Lara.”

  Lara pivoted to face Latanya. “Did you remember something else?”

  Latanya pointed to the fountain. “That’s the Temperance Fountain. Kinda fitting, don’t you think?”

  Smiling, Lara started to nod, and then her smile froze on her face as she noticed a red laser dot on Latanya’s forehead.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lara yelled. “Get down! Get down!”

  Latanya’s eyes widened as she jerked back.

  Not. Good. Enough. Lara’s adrenaline surged through her body, and she lunged at Latanya, tackling the model-thin woman to the ground where they both rolled beneath the dome of the structure.

  A whisk and a pop sounded above Lara’s head, and a chunk of granite landed on the ground inches from her nose.

  “What the hell?” Latanya squirmed beneath her.

  “Keep down.” Lara covered Latanya’s head with both of her arms as she called out to the gawking looky-loos. “Take cover. There’s a sniper.” She grabbed her cell and called it in.

  People hit the ground or dove into the bushes. A few crowded under the fountain’s dome with her and Latanya, who emitted a muffled sob.

  After several tense minutes, sirens wailed in the distance. Soon the first responders swarmed over the park, and Lara helped Latanya to her feet but kept her under the dome, behind a pillar.

  She’d been followed again. Tracked down and hunted like prey. And just like before, she hadn’t been the target.

  Why go after Latanya? She had no real, viable information. She couldn’t finger anyone in the Moretti organization. Was it to intimidate Lara and prevent her from talking to anyone? Was it to make her feel guilty that every person she contacted would be killed?

  Her gaze slid to Latanya, crying and shaking in the arms of a cop. How many therapy sessions had this set her back? Would it knock her off the wagon?

  Lara had texted the team, and Victoria and Xander had just arrived. Victoria gave Xander a little push in Latanya’s direction before she marched toward Lara.

  Victoria took her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It was that sniper again. I was followed.” She pointed to a building across the street. “He must’ve been up there. The laser was coming from that direction, and I already told the officers who responded to the 911 call. I’m just glad Latanya called me back to tell me about the fountain...or she’d be dead.”

  “If you hadn’t tackled her, she’d be dead.” Victoria squeezed her shoulders. “She didn’t even have any information to give you.”

  “Not a name or face, but I’m sure one of Moretti’s people posed as a victim and slipped out of there. I’m sure of it, now.”

  “Must’ve been someone with a cover story for just that purpose. Everyone we interviewed checked out—or at least had a convincing enough backstory.”

  “Backstories can be manufactured—Andrew Moore, the arms broker, can attest to that.”

  “But why go after someone like Latanya? Why try to punish her when she can’t even ID the woman?”

  “She’s being punished for talking to me.” Lara watched Xander escort Latanya away from the scene. “Protective custody for Latanya? We can’t send her back to her apartment. She’s not safe.”

  “We’ll protect her. Don’t worry about Latanya.”

  Latanya twisted her head over her shoulder, her gaze locking on to Lara’s, and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  For what? Almost getting her killed? Lara flashed her a quick smile.

  “Have you eaten today? I bet you skipped lunch, and it’s almost time for dinner. Go home and get some rest.”

  “I should be saying the same to you. How are you even functioning with Anna missing?”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” Victoria leaned close and put her lips next to Lara’s ear. “If I didn’t keep busy, I’d curl up into the fetal position and pull the covers over my head.”

  “I get that. I do.”

  “I’m fine, Lara, really. You’re the one who just dodged a sniper’s bullet.” Victoria tapped her buzzing cell phone. “Duty calls.”

  Lara had a few more conversations with the cops still on the scene. She’d been right—they’d found evidence on the roof across the street that someone had been up there. The same sniper who’d hit the others. Had to be.

  She shivered and trooped back to her car. Nick must’ve still been in meetings because he was the only team member who hadn’t responded to her.

  She dropped the car off at the office and took a subway home. She had no fear of snipers or anyone else. Apparently, neither Moretti nor his crew had any interest in harming her—yet.

  She
punched in the door code and entered her building. She waved to Jerry at the desk, who peeked over the top of his newspaper.

  “There was a package waiting for you when I came on duty, Ms. Grant.” He folded his paper and dropped it on the desk.

  “A package?” Her heart skipped a beat. She used to like packages.

  “I assumed Ron called you.”

  “No one called.”

  Jerry, luckily wearing gloves as part of his uniform, ducked behind the desk and pulled out a pink gift box with a silver bow, smaller than the one before but the identical box and ribbon.

  With her mouth dry and her steps jerky, she approached the desk. “When did it arrive?”

  “I’m not sure. Like I said, it was here when I came on duty.” Jerry cocked his head. “You okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” She grabbed a pair of gloves from her bag, then took the box, crossed the lobby and sank onto a padded bench. With a throbbing pain pounding against her temples, she untied the ribbon and stared at the box, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

  Swallowing hard, she lifted the lid of the box. One photo. She grabbed it and held it to her face. She clapped a hand over her mouth, banging her head against the mirror behind her.

  The baby. The baby with a red laser target on her forehead—just like the one aimed at Latanya.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Her stomach twisting into knots, Lara dropped the picture back into the box and strode toward the security station. “Jerry, I need to see security footage from this morning now. Can you bring it up?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Give me a few minutes. What time did you leave this morning? I came in at four, so it would’ve been dropped off between those hours.”

  “I left here around 6:45.” She groped for her phone in her jacket pocket.

  “That’s easy enough, then. I’ll search for the footage between those times.” He wheeled his chair to a bank of computers to his left. “Hold on.”

  Clutching her phone, she ducked outside, looking around for anything out of place. She scrolled for the telephone number of the U.S. Marshal responsible for the baby’s safety.

  “Marshal Linden.”

  “Peter, this is Lara Grant. Is Baby Minnow safe? You moved the family, right?”

  “Yeah, I gave you the new phone number, remember? But I thought you didn’t want to know the location of the new safe house, Lara.”

  “I don’t want to know the location. I just want to know if the baby, if the family, is safe.”

  “Everyone’s fine. We check in and monitor regularly. You know that. What’s wrong? Your voice has an edge.”

  “I got a picture, Peter, a picture of the baby, and she has a target on her forehead—literally, a red laser dot. The picture has to be from the new safe house. I’ve seen the previous house, and this isn’t it.”

  “Slow down. What do you see in the picture?”

  Lara peeked at the photo in the box, and tears pricked the back of her eyes. “The baby’s in a car seat, which is sitting on a walkway, like the parents put her down for a minute to get the door or the groceries. Are these parents responsible enough?”

  “They’re the best, Lara.” Peter cleared his throat. “What does the walkway look like?”

  “It’s brick. It looks like there’s a step behind the car seat, a step up to a porch. There’s a flower bed on the right, as you face the house. Daisies, gerbera daisies are planted in the flower bed.”

  “I wouldn’t know a gerbera daisy from a cactus. What color are the flowers in the picture?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Pink and yellow.”

  Peter cursed, and her heart sank even more.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the new safe house.”

  “Sounds like it, but I can assure you, the family is fine. They’re secure.”

  Lara felt like tearing her hair out. “The baby has a high-powered rifle pointed at her head. How is that secure? Someone knows where they are. Someone can get to her. You have to move them again.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Please, report back to me, Peter.”

  “Will do.”

  By the time she ended the call, she’d regained a little of her composure. What had Victoria just said about keeping busy or winding up in the fetal position?

  Jerry called to her as she entered the lobby. “Ms. Grant, I’ve been checking the video footage—nothing yet. No package.”

  She slipped the photo back in her purse and joined Jerry behind the monitors.

  He jabbed his finger at the screen. “I pulled up ten to one on this computer, and I’m almost through it. I can play back one to four on this one and you can review it.”

  “Do it.”

  She waited while Jerry tapped some keys on the keyboard, and a grainy video of the lobby began to play back.

  Dropping to her knees, she repositioned the monitor to get a good view of the footage. On Jerry’s instructions, she fast-forwarded through the spots that showed an empty lobby. Her neighbors and their visitors scurried in and out of the frames.

  Then the package arrived.

  “Here it is.” She tapped a key to stop the video. “Watch, it’s this boy. It looks like it’s around two-thirty.”

  She restarted the video in slow motion. A boy, probably around thirteen or fourteen. He tucked his skateboard under one arm and carried the package, pressed against his body, to the front desk.

  He placed the package on the desk and exchanged a few words with Ron, turned and left the building.

  Lara blew out a breath and fell back on her heels. “Do you know that boy, Jerry?”

  “I’ve seen him whizzing by on his skateboard a few times, reckless as hell.”

  “So, he’s a neighborhood boy. Somebody must’ve given him the package to deliver.”

  Jerry folded his hands across his belly. “Can I ask what’s in the present? I thought you were going to pass out over there when you opened it. Is it bad like the other one?”

  “It’s classified information, but I appreciate all your help.” She tipped her chin at the frozen frame of the boy leaving the building. “Do you know his name or where I can find him?”

  “’Fraid not, Ms. Grant. Are you going to go looking for him?”

  Bracing her hands against the desk, she rose to her feet. She might be able to track down the boy, but then what? The person who gave him the present was most likely wearing a disguise, just like the couple who’d kidnapped Anna.

  How much info would she really get out of the boy and at what price? Neither Moretti nor his associates would even blink an eye at killing a kid—they’d done much worse to children.

  Her gaze tracked back to the boy with the longish, messy hair, his skateboard under his arm. She couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t put that boy or his family in danger.

  She sighed. “I might look for him later.”

  “You need some help with your things?” Jerry pointed across the lobby where she’d dropped the bow and her laptop case.

  “I’ll manage, thanks.” She placed the ribbon and the picture inside the box and put the lid back on. Carrying it in gloved hands, she hoisted her laptop over her shoulder and held the package out in front of her. Loaded down like a pack mule, she trudged to the elevator.

  When she reached her place, she put the box in a corner and then removed the picture and placed it on the counter. Victoria might want a picture of the photo.

  She poured herself a glass of whiskey and perched on a bar stool at the counter to call Victoria.

  When Victoria answered, Lara dispensed with the pleasantries. There was nothing pleasant about this latest development. “Someone found the Minnows’ new safe house.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Victoria sounded exhausted, and Lara felt a twinge of guilt dumping more bad news on her.

  Lara explained about the package, the red laser on the baby’s forehead and the mode of delivery. Then she snapped a picture of the photo and sent
it to Victoria.

  Victoria cursed on the receiving end. “Bring the box and ribbon to headquarters so the lab can do some tests—not that I think this bunch is going to make a mistake like leaving a fingerprint, but you never know.”

  “I’ll bring them, but I’m guessing the only fingerprints will be the kid’s. My doormen wear gloves as part of their uniform.”

  “You’re sure it’s the new safe house and not the previous one?”

  “I’m sure.” She placed the picture on the counter and touched her fingertip to the baby’s face. “I verified the background with Linden. It’s the new house.”

  “My God, they’re good. Is Peter resettling the family?”

  “Yes, he’s going to touch base with us later.”

  “Don’t worry, Lara. The marshals know their jobs. They’ll keep the family safe.”

  “There you go again.”

  “What?”

  “Comforting me when I should be comforting you.”

  “We comfort each other, and then we kick ass, right? That’s how we roll.”

  Lara smiled into the phone. “That’s right, lady. At least try and get some rest.”

  Hanging up, she tossed the phone on the counter and poured herself another glass of whiskey and sat back down on the bar stool.

  Damn Moretti and his thugs. Was he the mastermind behind this terror and string of dead bodies on the outside, or had someone else assumed his mantle? Was he the so-called Black Stamp Serial Killer?

  Did Moretti even know about the family? The baby? He had to, or someone very close to him had the information and was waiting for an opportune time to dangle it in front of Moretti in exchange for support, territory, expertise. If that were the case, that someone would live to regret using information as leverage against Moretti. Moretti didn’t bargain. He took.

  She couldn’t ask him, couldn’t show her hand. She didn’t trust the man farther than she could drop-kick him...and with Moretti’s build and strength, that wasn’t far at all.

  She used to be so damned good at reading people, had based her career on that particular talent, but she’d totally failed with Moretti.

  She swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. Totally failed with Nick, too.