by Tami Lund
“On Friday, he sent a necklace to the office. It was dripping with diamonds.” She touched her neck, remembering. “It came with a note that said he’d pick me up at seven. He didn’t ask me out on our first date; he told me we were going.”
“Given your issues with your parents, I imagine that sort of attention was exhilarating at the time. Assuming, of course, what you told me was the truth.”
She flinched. She deserved that jab. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry.”
“Was any of it real?”
Was he talking about her stories about her past or her feelings for him? Either way… “Yes. Most of it. All of it, really. Except Phoebe, well, you know she isn’t my sister. She’s the jogger.”
He furrowed his brows. “The jogger?” And then he lifted his chin while his eyes widened, and she could tell he’d made the connection. “She was the Good Samaritan. She saw Nina get kidnapped.”
Margot nodded. “Weird way to become friends, huh? But she and Antonio are my best friends. My only friends, really.” She shook her head. The poor decisions she made all those years ago. “Do you want to know what Gino and I did on our first date?”
“Not if it involved sex.”
She snorted. “No sex. He took me shopping. Insisted I try on and model every single outfit he picked out for me. Then he purchased everything I said I liked. He loved to throw around his wealth, and I got caught up in it. I mean, what girl doesn’t like getting pampered like that?”
“So it was superficial right from the beginning,” RJ said.
She nodded. “Yes. And it all happened so fast, I was in too deep before I figured out I didn’t really want to be there. And that was before I started putting together the fact that he was much more than the owner of a chain of dry cleaners.”
“You had a child with him.”
“Yes. Nina was an accident. So I thought, anyway. I have no proof, but I have suspected for a long time that he switched out my pills. He figured out I wasn’t happy, and he knew it would be harder for me to leave if I had a child. And he was right.”
“If he was so controlling, how’d you convince him to give you the divorce?”
Here came the part that even Antonio didn’t know. She glanced over his shoulder at the open doorway leading out to the garage.
“Um, well, one day, I mixed up my hair appointment. Thought it was that morning, but it was the next week. So I went back home. Gino wasn’t expecting me, and I walked in on him…”
“With another woman?”
She rolled her eyes. “That would not have granted me a divorce. Don’t you watch mafia movies? Those guys have affairs all the time. The women can’t, of course, but the guys? Heck, it’s practically expected. So long as the affair is with a woman.”
“What does that mean? Wait. Does that mean what I think it does?”
She nodded. “Yes. When I walked into our bedroom, Gino was playing this really twisted version of cowboys and Indians…with two other guys. They were all naked except for the hairpieces and cowboy boots and fake guns in holsters around their waists. It was bizarre, to say the least, but certainly explained why my sex life was so damn lacking.”
She sucked in a breath, let it out slowly while RJ’s eyes widened. “He freaked. The other two guys took off, leaving me alone with him. I honestly thought he would kill me. I still don’t know why he didn’t. No one would have missed me. My parents were already dead and I didn’t have any siblings, no close family, and by that point, no real friends.
“But he didn’t. He asked me what I wanted. What would it take to ensure I erased what I saw from my memory. So I told him I wanted a divorce. Because I foolishly thought that was my out.”
“He didn’t kill you because if you’re dead, he can’t control you,” RJ said.
“That makes sense.”
“That’s why he latched onto you at the restaurant. He’s good enough at reading people that he knew he could reel you in. He knew he could control you.”
She nodded, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “I was the perfect cover, to be honest. I was so desperate to feel loved, I was blind to the fact that he wasn’t even capable of that emotion.”
“And he also knew being openly gay wasn’t acceptable in his line of work,” RJ added.
“Wait. What?” Antonio stood in the doorway, staring at Margot with wide eyes. “Did he just say Gino is gay? Seriously?”
Margot nodded. Phoebe shook her head while she stepped around Antonio and headed upstairs, this little bit of true confession obviously not impeding her desire to get on the road.
“But he’s always hanging out with hookers. Female hookers,” Antonio protested.
“Trust me,” Margot said, “those hookers are packing under their leather skirts.”
Antonio whistled. “Damn. I had no idea. And you’re right, that would have changed his image drastically. Right or wrong, he would have had a harder time being the big boss he wanted to be.”
A sound like thunder cut into their conversation as Phoebe came charging down the stairs, a wild look in her eyes.
“Nina,” she cried out. “She’s gone.”
9
Gotta Save The Girl
RJ’s mind automatically went to Margot’s ex.
The guy had been released from prison two days ago. Plenty of time to get to New Hampshire and kidnap his own child. Again.
Fuck.
Whatever RJ planned to do about Margot—something he still hadn’t worked out—didn’t even matter at the moment. His first priority was finding her daughter and returning her safely to her mother. The woman had been through enough hell in her life; no way was he going to let her lose her child.
“I need a picture,” he said, tapping at his phone, ready to call into the station to give them a heads’ up. “And tell me what she was wearing. Was her hair in a ponytail or braid or down? Give me everything, and then I’m putting out an Amber Alert—”
His phone vibrated in his hand. Jessica’s name flashed on the screen and he groaned. Exactly the last person he wanted to deal with right now. “What is it?” he barked into the phone.
“Hillary’s gone.”
“What?”
He was conscious of Margot inching closer.
“She took my phone earlier and was texting someone. I have no idea who. One of her friends, I’m assuming. Whoever she was talking to said she was being forced to move and she didn’t want to, and she wanted Hill to meet her to say good-bye. What the hell is going on, RJ?”
“Where’s your phone?” he asked Margot, who patted her pockets and frowned.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Check Nina’s room.”
“What? Why?”
“Just go,” he barked.
“Who are you talking to?” Jessica asked while Margot rushed upstairs with Antonio and Phoebe hot on her heels.
“I think I know who Hill was talking to.”
“Who?”
“Her friend Nina.”
“The one who encouraged her to clog the toilet at school?”
RJ rolled his eyes. Leave it to his ex to twist the facts to suit her own needs. Hell, if he had to guess, it was probably Hill who came up with the idea. The kid was a hell of a mastermind.
“Here it is,” Margot called, waving the black, rectangular object as she hurried back down the stairs. “And there’s a bunch of text messages to a number I don’t know. It looks like—”
“Nina was trying to say good-bye to Hillary?” RJ suggested.
Margot frowned. “Yeah, actually.”
“What is going on, RJ?” Jessica demanded.
He ignored her and pulled the device from Margot’s fingers, quickly scrolling through the text conversation. “Where would they meet?” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. “Someplace they’re both comfortable. Someplace they’d consider safe, given it’s after dark.”
“School,” Jessica shrieked into his ear. “They’re meeting at th
e school. It’s close enough that Hillary can walk there.”
Shit. She was right. And so could Nina.
“I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” he said before disconnecting and pocketing his phone. To Margot he said, “Let’s go. They’re probably at the school.”
All four of them rushed out the garage door and hung a left at the sidewalk.
A bloodcurdling scream greeted them when they reached the circle drive where parents picked up and dropped off their kids.
“Hill,” he shouted, pulling his gun out of his hip holster and bursting into a run. He knew that scream. He’d taught her that. If anything bad happens, scream at the top of your lungs. Most bad guys don’t want to draw attention to themselves, so they’re likely to run away if you do.
Except he had a terrible feeling this particular bad guy wasn’t like the rest. Gino Sarvilli had scared Margot and Antonio and Phoebe into hiding, into walking away from their lives and starting over with new identities. And he’d allegedly killed nearly eighty people, for no other reason but to have another buck in his bank account.
A little girl’s scream wasn’t going to deter him.
RJ rounded the corner near the playground equipment and stopped when he saw movement over near the school, in the shadows cast by the security lights glaring down on the grounds. “Stay back,” he commanded the three civilians with him.
A guy who strongly resembled Antonio stepped into view. Same dark hair, although this guy’s was generously shot with gray and he had a sharply defined widow’s peak accentuated by the way he slicked his hair away from his face. His eyes were the same shape, and probably the same color, although RJ couldn’t be sure in the dull, yellow light. His cheekbones were similar, as were his full lips. Different chins, though. And his arms were bigger than Antonio’s, although he had a paunch his brother was missing.
So this was the infamous Gino Sarvilli.
And he was struggling with something. After a few seconds, his other arm came into view, and RJ’s heart stopped beating for long moments.
He had Hillary. The guy’s holding a fucking gun to my daughter’s head.
Nina stood a few feet away, crying and shifting from foot to foot. “Mommy!” she cried out and started toward Margot.
“Don’t you dare,” Sarvilli said. “Unless you want your friend to die.”
Nina stayed where she was. Her crying intensified. RJ thanked fucking God she didn’t move. This asshole who dared pull a gun on his daughter was going to regret ever crossing the border into New Hampshire.
“How did you find them?” RJ called out, trying to keep Gino talking while he worked out in his head what the hell to do.
“Who are you?” Gino asked, and then he answered his own question. “Local law? You’re hanging out with cops now, Margot? Are you fucking serious?”
Damn, was it that obvious? Or, more likely, was it because a guy like Gino Sarvilli made it his business to pick out a cop at fifty paces?
“How did you find us?” Margot asked, echoing RJ’s question.
Gino Sarvilli barked out a laugh. “My brother may be a wizard with money, but he’s lousy at everything else. How do you think he knew who to go to for your new IDs? All his contacts are my contacts. Although if it helps, Ricco did an impressive job of protecting you before he couldn’t take the torture anymore and finally admitted he’d given you brand-spankin’ new identities.”
“Son of a bitch,” Antonio said from somewhere behind RJ.
“Where is he, Margot?” Sarvilli called out.
“Let her go, Gino,” Margot said. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this. That’s Nina’s friend. You’re scaring her.”
“You think I care?” Gino demanded. “Where is my asshole brother?”
“What do you want with Antonio?” RJ called out.
“I want my damn money.”
“What money?” Margot said, her face a mask of confusion. “You took it all.”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Gino shouted, waving the gun like it was a baton instead of a deadly weapon.
“I’m not, I swear. There’s nothing left. You took it all, earlier this afternoon,” Margot said.
“Yeah, wasn’t him.”
Some guy RJ had never seen before stepped out of the shadows with a gun held in both hands. RJ shifted his own pointed gun back and forth between the two men while he hoped like hell one of the occupants of the neighboring houses had noticed something strange happening at the school and had called the cops. He could really use the backup right about now.
“Proctor?” Antonio said.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what are you doing here?” Gino demanded.
“Proctor?” RJ repeated, keeping his gun pointed at Gino. The motherfucker was still holding his daughter.
And then he remembered the articles he’d read earlier at the station. “The detective from Detroit?”
“The asshole detective from Detroit,” Margot replied.
“Good thing he didn’t tarnish your opinion of all cops, I suppose.”
“Is that the jogger?” Proctor asked. “Don’t tell me you hooked up with Sarvilli’s little brother? Holy shit. And he convinced you to go into hiding with him?”
Phoebe’s lips thinned, but she didn’t say anything.
“Let’s focus on the fact that you know Gino didn’t take the money,” RJ suggested.
“Right,” Proctor said. “It was me.”
“You?” Several people said this all at once. Possibly every adult in the vicinity except RJ.
“Well, not me literally. But yeah, us law enforcement types have smart people on our side, too.”
Antonio and Gino both swore. And then Gino shoved Hillary away from him, now using both hands to hold the gun. Nina grabbed her friend and dragged her into the shadows.
Thank Christ.
RJ couldn’t see them, but at least the kids were safe. For the moment, anyway. Except now Sarvilli was aiming the gun at Margot’s heart.
Shit.
Margot lifted her arms. “He just said he took your money.” She nodded at Proctor.
“You fucking let him,” Gino snarled, shaking the gun for emphasis. “You and my brother. The goddamn expert. The king of hiding money. And the two of you let the cops take it. You’re so worthless. I never should have married you. You’ve been nothing but trouble since the second you walked into my life.”
“Actually, you walked into—”
“Shut up!”
He practically growled those last words, and RJ’s gut twisted. The guy was about to pull the trigger. And if he did, Margot was taking one straight through the heart.
RJ didn’t think; he just focused, taking precious seconds to aim, and then he squeezed his pointer finger. As if time slowed to a crawl, he noted the slight recoil, the smoke drifting from the barrel, the smell of gunpowder that permeated the air. The crack as the bullet expelled from the gun, sailed through the air, and slammed into Gino’s chest.
Gino’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe RJ had the nerve, and then he fell backward, a cloud of dust pillowing up from the sidewalk as he made contact.
Somebody screamed. RJ was pretty sure it was Phoebe. Antonio stood frozen, his shocked gaze staring at his brother’s body on the ground. Margot ran toward where Hillary and Nina had disappeared into the shadows.
RJ kept his weapon steady, aimed at the prone man, while he slowly walked toward him, fully prepared to shoot again if necessary. When he was close enough, he kicked the gun lying on the sidewalk out of Gino’s reach. Just in case.
But the guy didn’t try anything. There was a growing dark stain on the front of his shirt, and another seeping out from under his body. A thin line of blood dribbled from his lips. He stared up at the awning, blinked a couple times, slowly, and then the body went completely motionless.
RJ checked for a pulse before holstering his gun and fishing out his phone to call it in. Not that he even needed to. He could already hear sirens blar
ing in the distance. Between two screams and a gunshot, somebody had obviously already called, and it wouldn’t take the uniform long to get here.
“Son of a bitch. Are you fucking kidding me?” Proctor shouted. “You just put a hole in my perp, goddamn it.” He didn’t sound exactly appreciative.
“We know why he came here,” Antonio said, pointing at the dead guy, “but what about you? How the hell is it you’re in freaking New Hampshire?”
“Followed him,” Proctor replied. “Considering all his money disappeared at the same time his ex-wife did, I banked on him tracking her down as soon as he was out of prison.”
Phoebe stepped up next to Antonio and wrapped her arm around his waist.
Proctor shook his head. “Unbelievable. You were the link I couldn’t figure out.” He pointed at Antonio. “All that time, I thought you were just a bum, living off your brother. I assumed you’d hightailed it to Mexico when we busted him.”
“So how did you work it out?” Antonio asked.
Proctor flapped his hand at the dead body. “Seventy-seven open missing persons cases, and when we finally busted Sarvilli, I still couldn’t close a single goddamn one. No proof, no witnesses, no bodies, no weapons. Nothing. Plus, there was the money, or lack of it. I knew he had to have someone on the inside managing it for him. Except I couldn’t even find the fucking money, let alone someone who was smart enough to do anything but spend it.
“A couple months ago I realized Sarvilli was due for parole soon, and I knew we didn’t have enough to keep him in prison any longer. So I reopened the case, took another look.”
He gave Phoebe another once over and then looked back at Antonio. “I retraced my steps that evening we busted your brother. Realized you were never checked into a hospital after the paramedics wheeled you out of his house. In fact, you were never seen again after that point. So I called up the ones who were working that night, and one of them mentioned a woman had taken charge of you right before you disappeared, except there weren’t any female paramedics scheduled to work that evening. And then it finally clicked into place for me. Well, sort of. I actually thought it was the ex-wife who helped you, not the jogger. Didn’t see that one coming, to be honest. Speaking of Marge, where is she?”
