Deadly Connection

by Lenora Worth

  Emmett left but he checked around the building before he got back in his truck. That man tonight had been serious. He would have killed Belle if Emmett hadn’t come along in the park, and he’d come to the police station and waited for her to exit. Now her attacker had made a bold move by coming to her home to leave a threat.

  Emmett would urge Gavin to put a watch on this place in case the intruder returned.

  Emmett said a prayer of thanks and drove back to his apartment. Unable to sleep, he pulled out his mother’s genealogy files and tried to decipher the many ways to find a family member and narrow down the odds of a match. Any one of the several distant relatives he had on his father’s side could also be a match, but none of them lived in the state of New York.

  He’d need to find Randall and try to get some fresh DNA to back up the K-9 Unit’s claims. But in his gut, he figured Randall looked pretty good for the cold-case murder.

  Randall, who’d been abandoned by his mother and abused by his father, ultimately had suffered a lot of setbacks in life. What would have motivated him to kill the couple, though? Had he known them? And had he also killed little Lucy Emery’s parents or was that the work of a copycat?

  Just a few of the many questions he’d have to ask Randall if he ever found him.

  * * *

  The next morning, Belle looked up from the laptop on her desk. She’d been going through mug shots for what seemed like hours, but now she saw Emmett walking toward her with two cups from her favorite coffee shop.

  “Here,” he said, greeting her with a weary smile. He also offered her a small white paper bag, then pulled out a bagel and held it. “I brought you an apple Danish, too. Softer on your throat than a bagel.”

  “Thanks, that was thoughtful.” Ignoring all the warning bells in her head, she took a long sip of the coffee and grimaced when it hit her sore throat.

  “Still tender?” he asked, examining the red welts over her collar.

  “Yes. Sore and bruised and uncomfortable, but I told my family I might have a stalker. I also asked Sarge to put a patrol on our apartment building and then came here and updated him and the team on everything that happened after we left the park. I talked him into letting me come in today to go through mug shots.”

  “Wore him down?”

  “Something like that.” Tapping her fingers on the desk, she said, “My parents are concerned, of course. But my Papá has a whole system of people who watch out for our neighborhood. Not vigilantes but a strong watch, all the same. Familia is very important to him.”

  Her parents didn’t like her line of work, so the stalker talk had not gone over well, but she’d assured them she was okay and as long as they were careful, they should be safe. Papá said he’d inform the neighbors. He’d put citizen watchers on every corner.

  “As long as you don’t take the law into your own hands,” she’d warned. Her father respected the NYPD, so he knew the rules.

  “How’s Justice?” Emmett asked now while he tore into the giant bagel.

  “I saw him first thing,” she said, keeping her voice low because it hurt to try to talk on an even keel. “He’s much better. We had some playtime, but Doc suggested I pamper him for a couple of days. Since Sarge told me to take it easy, Justice and I will hang out in the training arena later and do some low-key practice runs. I should be able to take him home tonight.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “But first, I’d like to see if I can ID the man from last night.”

  Belle broke off a piece of the fluffy Danish and chewed it. Then she took a swallow of the herbal tea with honey and lemon her friend and coworker Lani Jameson had made for her. “I need a caffeine boost so I’ll drink the coffee, too,” she told Emmett since he’d gone out of his way to bring it to her.

  After explaining that she was drinking the tea to soothe her throat, she went on to tell him about the female K-9 officer who’d taken Belle under her wing when Belle had first started here.

  “Lani likes to nurture everyone. She’s married to Noah Jameson, the chief at the NYC K-9 Command Unit in Queens. Her partner is Snapper, the German shepherd that worked with Chief Jordan Jameson. Sadly, he was murdered last year and Snapper went missing for a while.”

  Emmett rubbed a finger on his chin. “I remember that—a big shake-up and such a senseless murder.”

  “Yes. I worked in another unit but...it shook up the whole NYPD.”

  “Glad they found the killer.” Emmett finished his bagel. “So what’s the status on your attacker?”

  She pointed to the screen. “I’ve met with the forensic artist and based on the sketch and the man’s build, I’m trying to narrow things down while the lab works on getting a facial match.”

  “Any luck yet?”

  “No, but the techs are going over the epidermis scrapings and hair follicles they found on my clothes so we should get something one way or another. The artist sketched the ring, too. Our techie, Esme Chang, offered to do some research on that, but it might be nothing.” Shaking her head, she added, “I have nothing to go on for the bike. But Sarge has people looking for any motorcycles in this area. A long shot.”

  He sat next to her and ran a hand down his jawline, giving her a chance to see him in the light of day. Handsome but looking kind of world-weary. But those eyes. Stormy gray and so serious. He was a nice-looking man. Today, he wore a navy polo shirt with a Justice Department emblem on the top left side and khaki pants, his badge on a black lanyard around his neck.

  “Did you get any sleep?” she asked to take her mind off the way he seemed to stare right through her.

  “Not much.” He took a sip of his coffee. “How ’bout you?”

  She shook her head. “Too much information jarring my tired brain and too many images of that man with his meaty hands around my throat.”

  “It’ll take time to get over that, but you’re tough.” He glanced at her neck. “I’ll do my best to track Randall down, online, finding his last known address and work records, and through my local sources in this area, and I’ll continue to stay on the alert regarding your attacker, but...I can only do so much.”

  Surprised, Belle frowned at him. “Hey, I can fight my own battles, but thanks. Besides, we both need to locate your cousin.”

  Emmett nodded in greeting to some officers moving around. They probably all knew who he was since Belle had given a thorough report in this morning’s briefing, her voice still hoarse. He seemed to take the scrutiny with ease. Nothing seemed to ruffle this man.

  Glancing back at her, he said, “I went through some of my mom’s files and found out I have several cousins all over the state of New York but they’re only listed on her tree so their information could be private and the rules on how law enforcement can obtain information seem to change frequently. But we could get more warrants. This might turn out to be someone besides Randall.”

  “But still someone you’re related to.”

  He shot her a wry smile. “Yep. I guess we can’t all be in law enforcement.”

  Belle could see he was worried. “I’m sorry we had to drag you into this, Emmett. If you don’t want to be part of the search, I’d understand.”

  “I do want in on the search,” he replied. “If Randall is guilty, I’ll be the first to handcuff him. But I’d like to keep him alive and I’d like to obtain DNA from him to verify our suspicions.”

  “We’ll do our best. That’s why we need to find him.”

  Emmett eyed the half of her Danish she hadn’t eaten.

  “Are you still hungry?” she asked through a grin.

  “I guess I am,” he replied. “I usually cook bacon and eggs but left in a hurry to get here.”

  She stopped her search long enough to offer him the rest of the half-eaten Danish. “I guess I wasn’t too hungry but thanks.”

  Emmett gave her a grat
eful smile.

  Then she turned back to the screen. “Hey, wait.” Putting down her food, she pointed to a mug shot. “I think this is him, Emmett.”

  Emmett studied the photo and the information, then read it out loud. “Lance Johnson. Twenty-eight years old. Repeat offender.” He read off the rap sheet and then halted. “Domestic abuse.” He looked at Belle. “Well now, that makes sense.”

  “I remember him now,” she said, ignoring the shiver that slipped down her spine. “Big and hefty and a bully. I caught him attacking a woman over a year ago in the very park we were in last night. One of my first collars and Justice was there to help take him down.”

  “That would explain why he tranquilized your partner.”

  Belle studied the mug shot. “He’s changed some. More beefed up. He must have worked out in prison.”

  “I got a good look at him but couldn’t make out his face. I do remember he was hefty.” Emmett sat up and scanned the photo. “Are you sure he’s your assailant?”

  “Oh, yeah. The woman he attacked that night was his ex-girlfriend. He’d beaten her before, and she’d left him but he tracked her down. She called 911 and I was in the area and first on the scene. She testified against him, and the prosecution also brought out that his ex-wife had filed abuse charges against him and then dropped them.”

  Shrugging, she said, “But the judge ruled that as inadmissible since the ex-wife had dropped the charges. That incident happened before the new state law allowing prosecutors to go forward on those types of charges even if the victim didn’t press charges.”

  She hit print on the file and then whirled her chair around. “It was ruled as a misdemeanor, and he did go to prison but the sentencing was not long enough in my opinion. Domestic abuse cases can swing both ways, depending on probable cause and the strength of the evidence and testimonies. Only a year in jail, a fine and then probation. Which I’m thinking he’s probably already broken.”

  “We need to check with his probation officer.”

  “On it,” Belle replied to Emmett’s suggestion. “Let me go and talk to Sarge so he’ll reconsider making me stay by my desk. If we can get this suspect off my back, I’ll have more time to help you search for your cousin.”

  Emmett wouldn’t mind spending more time with her, but their duties had to come first. He needed to remember that and keep his head in the game.

  FIVE

  Two hours later, Belle and Emmett walked into a small office inside the Kings County courthouse. They needed to talk to Johnson’s probation officer, a man named Sam Blain.

  After they explained why they were there, Sam Blain sank back in a rickety office chair, his face dour and his eyes bloodshot.

  Rubbing his bald head, he grunted. “Lance Johnson hasn’t checked in the last two weeks and I couldn’t find him at his last known address. I’ve alerted the proper authorities and filed a violation with the court. Since no one can locate the man, I had no choice.”

  “Can we have his last known address?” Belle asked, her mind on getting this done. “I really need to question him.”

  “Humph. You and me both, lady.” Sam grunted again and pulled out Lance Johnson’s file. “He’s one angry man. Didn’t like jail and keeps saying he was framed. Started griping the first week he reported to me and now it’s three weeks in and he’s a no-show. I wouldn’t put it past him to go after everyone involved in this case. If he did attack you, he might try to find all of his exes, too. Could get ugly.”

  “We’ll alert them,” Emmett replied, giving Belle a knowing glance. “Has he made any threat toward anyone that you’re aware of?”

  “That boy makes threats toward anybody who looks at him sideways. I see jail again in his future regardless. Hotheaded and desperate, not willing to follow the program.”

  They left and headed to the address he’d jotted down on a sticky note. It was located in Canarsie, on the fourth floor of a rundown apartment building over a dry-cleaning business.

  Once they cleared the crumbling stairs up, the heat inside the dank, narrow hallways made the air stifling, the smell of this morning’s bacon still lingering in the air. Belle twisted the collar of her uniform, her raw skin burning once they’d climbed to the fourth floor. “This should be the place.”

  She knocked loudly on the flimsy door.

  No answer.

  But a couple of dogs down the way started barking in response to the knocks.

  Emmett knocked this time and called out, “Lance Johnson.”

  Other doors creaked open as people peeked out to see what the ruckus was and after seeing uniforms, slammed their doors shut.

  “I have a feeling our man’s not at home,” Emmett said on a whisper.

  “Let’s go to the lobby and see if we can find the super or a manager.”

  They trekked back down to the shoebox lobby that held mailboxes and a small office.

  Belle walked into the office. “NYPD,” she announced. “Anyone here?”

  They heard shuffling and a bald-headed man wearing a faded green shirt and paint-splattered black pants came out of a back room carrying a Chinese takeout box.

  Giving them a worried stare, the man put down the container. “Sorry, I’m on break.”

  “This won’t take long,” Belle said, flashing her credentials. After introducing herself and Emmett, she asked, “What’s your name?”

  The man’s brow furrowed up. “Albert Stein.” Eying his lunch, he shifted on his feet. “What do you need, Officer?”

  She pulled out her phone and showed Albert Johnson’s mug shot. “We’re looking for Lance Johnson, fourth floor, apartment 410.”

  The grumpy man eyed the photo and moved some papers around before he dropped his lunch on the counter, his expression going blank. “Yeah, I know him. Ain’t seen him in a week or so and he owes me rent. He won’t be living here much longer if he doesn’t pay up.”

  Belle noted the man’s downcast eyes. What was he hiding? “He’s late on the rent?”

  “Yep, he’s been here a month now and next month’s rent has been due for a week.” He waved his hand up. “Not the best tenant I’ve ever had.”

  Belle saw a flash of gold on the man’s hand.

  He wore a gold signet ring rimmed in black.

  Giving Emmett a warning stare, she went on. “So you don’t have any idea where we can find Mr. Johnson?”

  “Nope. Like I said, he owes me money. But good riddance. The man is always fighting with somebody about something, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, we know,” Emmett replied on a droll note. “We might be back with a search warrant. He could be in a whole lot of trouble.”

  Albert plopped down on a rickety chair. “I’m the landlord and maintenance man here and I’m telling you, I got nothing. No information on that troublemaker.”

  Belle motioned to his left hand. “That’s an interesting ring you got there. Where did you get it?”

  The man dropped his food and stood up. “Look, I answered your questions about Johnson. Where I shop is none of your business. Now can I please eat my General Tso’s chicken before it congeals?”

  “Sure, you enjoy your lunch,” Emmett said. “If you spot Johnson, give my friend here a call, okay?”

  Belle handed him a card. “It’s important.”

  “It always is,” Albert said, his chopsticks ready. “If he’s in trouble with the law, he’s outta here.”

  After they were headed back to her SUV, Belle glanced over at Emmett. “That’s the ring my attacker wore. I know it is. Gold with an onyx rim. Like a crest.”

  Surprised, he asked, “Do you think Albert is your man?”

  “No. I matched the attacker to the mug shot we found. It’s Lance Johnson. But I think Albert knows more than he’s letting on.”

  Checking traffic, she peeled out of the parking space they�
�d found down the street. “I’ll keep an eye on Albert while I try to find out more about that ring. Why would he and my attacker both be wearing the same kind of unique ring, anyway?”

  * * *

  Emmett ended his phone call and turned back to watch Belle go through some paces with Justice in the indoor training arena. He’d had to get special permission from the chief US marshal of the East New York district to help Belle find his cousin. He couldn’t shirk his own duties too long. Due to his Special Operations status, he could get called to travel and he’d have to leave at a minute’s notice.

  All the more reason to get this done and soon. Emmett tended to get antsy when he was out chasing bad guys. Watching Belle now, he decided this woman made him antsy, too. It had been a while since he’d even tried to date anyone. He needed to remember his rules and stick to his standards. Dating was tough enough without adding in law enforcement on both sides. Watching his mother fret and worry when he was growing up, he’d told himself time and again he didn’t want to put anyone through that and most of the women he’d dated didn’t appreciate him being absent on a regular basis.

  This woman lived and breathed the danger. She got what his job entailed. He couldn’t deny she’d gotten to him, but he had to stick to the job of finding bad guys.

  “That’s a good boy,” Belle told Justice as the big dog jumped over a hurdle and climbed up a ladder. Belle had explained how Justice only got one meal a day—at dinner, and he rarely got treats. Instead, these dogs were rewarded with playtime. Emmett was learning more and more about the Brooklyn K-9 Unit as he moved through the corridors of the main building and the training areas.

  Dedicated and hardworking. Determined, too, from the way Belle and Justice both tried to bounce back from their ordeal. These officers and their K-9 partners were together almost 24/7. He felt like a third-wheel.

  Meantime, he’d put out some feelers regarding his wayward cousin. Nothing on that yet, but he held out hope that Randall would turn up in the old stomping grounds around Brooklyn.

  After he left here, he’d try to find his dad’s files. He’d have to go to the storage unit he’d rented to hold some of the things he’d kept from his parents’ house.