Hunted by the Mob

by Elisabeth Rees

  “I’ll pray with you,” Mrs. Volto said, shuffling across the floor.

  “You two can pray if you like,” Goldie said, heading for the door. “I’ll go wait outside for backup to arrive.”

  “Marigold,” Zeke called. “What happened to you? You always said your faith was unbreakable.”

  She turned. “I’m called Goldie these days, Zeke. And guess what—I grew up over these last twenty-one years. Maybe you should try it.”

  With that, she strode from the room, brushing away a tear as she went.

  * * *

  Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Zeke stole numerous glances at Marigold as she sat at the table giving a statement to Karl Bauer, the special agent in charge of this protection assignment. Zeke’s childhood sweetheart had barely changed in twenty-one years. Her long, tightly curled hair was exactly the same color as it used to be, as coppery and vibrant as a sunset. And her freckles hadn’t faded on her cheeks, nor had her green eyes lost their ability to set his heart beating. But something had clearly changed inside her character. She was cynical and tough, having built a high internal wall. There was no way she wanted to be friends, that was for sure. And considering her prickly nature, friendship wasn’t on his agenda, either.

  She glanced his way, locked eyes with him and held his gaze, defiant and fierce. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this kind of hostility, because Marigold herself was the one who’d cut contact all those years ago.

  Her family had vanished from their Glenside home out of the blue one day, right after rumors started to circulate about her father’s gambling addiction and suspected embezzlement from his employer. Zeke, of course, had always known that Mr. Simmons was a gambler and a liar and cruel with his words. Marigold had confided all of these secrets to him, leaning on him and building up a powerful relationship. Despite being only seventeen, they knew they were in love, destined to marry one day. Or, at least, that’s what he’d assumed.

  Goldie had made no attempt to contact him once she’d moved away, and he gave up hope of seeing her again after graduating high school. When his parents made the decision to relocate to New York, he’d decided to make a fresh start and put the memory of Marigold behind him. But no matter how hard he’d tried, he had never gotten over losing her.

  “What I don’t understand,” he heard her say to Karl, “is why Marsha didn’t just shoot Mrs. Volto immediately. If her goal was to eliminate the trial’s star witness, a bullet would’ve done the job far quicker than a crystal vase. She had a loaded gun right there on her hip.”

  “I agree,” Zeke said, moving closer. “What we saw between Louisa and Marsha Volto was personal. Marsha was really mad.”

  “Of course she was mad,” Karl said incredulously. “Louisa Volto has done the worst thing possible in Mafia circles. She ratted out the family.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that,” Zeke said. “Marsha was in Louisa’s bedroom for at least four or five minutes before we realized what was going on. What did they talk about for that length of time?”

  “I don’t know, because Louisa is too traumatized to give me a statement,” Karl replied, rubbing his stubbly bald head. “But our undercover Mafia sources indicate that Leonardo Volto didn’t order the attack. He’s so far refused to place a hit on Louisa while she’s carrying his unborn child, so it looks like Marsha was acting alone. It just goes to show why this protection detail is badly needed. There might be plenty more lone wolves in the Volto family who are happy to go against Leonardo’s wishes.”

  “That’s a certainty,” Zeke said. “But Marsha wasn’t a lone wolf, was she? I hear that the real Officer Diaz was found bound and gagged in the garage and she can’t have done that all by herself, can she? What has Diaz been able to tell us?”

  “He says it all happened very quickly,” Karl replied. “He was checking a noise in a hedge when a bag was placed over his head and he was manhandled into the garage, where he was tied up and his shirt removed. You’re right—Marsha must’ve had help to do that, perhaps a friend of her husband’s. If Marsha manages to eliminate Louisa, then her husband most likely walks free.”

  “Well, her plan worked perfectly, because she got inside with ease,” Zeke said, avoiding Goldie’s eye. “But then she totally messed up. She had an ideal opportunity to murder Louisa and get out of the house quickly, but she wasted time by getting into an argument. Why?”

  Karl shrugged. “People do strange things when they’re driven by anger, and we’re incredibly fortunate that Marsha wasn’t thinking straight, because we almost lost our star witness today, not to mention her innocent baby.” He eyed them both. “I do not want this kind of scenario to happen again. I hope you two understand that I expect you to tighten up your security protocols.”

  They answered in unison. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve also noticed a little animosity between you,” Karl said ominously. “And I don’t care to know the details, but you’ll need to cooperate and share your expertise in order to complete this assignment successfully. Don’t let me down on this.”

  “No, sir.”

  He rose from the table, gathering his paperwork. “I’ll go try to coax a statement out of Louisa. She’s terrified, and I’m concerned she may try to back out of our deal.” He rubbed a hand across his scalp again. “This is turning into a very bad day.”

  As soon as Karl left the room, Zeke took his empty seat and placed his hands on the table, fingers twined. “Listen, Marigold...” he began.

  “I already told you, Zeke,” she said, giving him a look of scorn. “It’s Goldie now.”

  “Right, of course.” He smiled. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  “Except the old habit of loving me, huh?” she shot at him. “You let that die pretty easily from what I remember.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said disbelievingly. “I never stopped loving you, not until I realized you weren’t coming back. You never even said goodbye.”

  “My dad wouldn’t let me come see you before he drove us all to Ohio in the middle of the night,” she said, her voice creeping higher. “He told us to cut contact with everybody in Glenside, but I wrote you letters in secret. And you ignored every single one of them.”

  “Letters?” He cast his mind back to those dark months after Goldie’s family had vanished. “I never got any letters.”

  She searched his face. “Well, I sure sent them, ten in total. And I called your house a bunch of times but I just got a message that the number was disconnected. It seemed like you were trying to erase me from your life.” She raked her fingers through her red curls. “I can’t believe I’m still hurt about this even after twenty-one years. I must be crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy,” Zeke said. “You have every right to be hurt, but I promise you that I didn’t receive any of your letters.” Still searching his memory, he was reminded of things his parents had told him at the time. “Not long after you left, my dad said we needed to change our telephone number because of some crank calls.” Now he started to see things with more clarity. “And when he saw how much I missed you, he told me to move on. It’s possible that he also destroyed your letters before I got to see them.”

  Goldie’s mouth dropped open. “Why would he do that?”

  How honest should he be with her? At one time he would’ve told her everything, trusted her to react with calmness and maturity, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  “When my parents found out what a devious person your father was, they were horrified that he’d been lying to the church for years, and they said they never wanted to see his family in Glenside again.”

  “And that includes me too, right?” she challenged.

  “They never said it outright, but I guess so.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m not overly surprised. That’s the kind of behavior I’ve come to expect from good Christian fol
ks.”

  “That’s mean.” Deep down, he knew she had a valid point, but he was on the defensive. “They were doing what they thought was best for me.”

  “What about what was best for me, Zeke?” she said, standing up abruptly. “Everything changed overnight for me. I was put in a new school where I had zero friends, and I wasn’t allowed to talk about our old life because there was a warrant out for my father’s arrest.” She let out a laugh. “We joined a new church in Cleveland, you know that? Dad continued to hide behind a veneer of respectability, pretending that he was a pillar of the community.”

  His heart heaved for her, for the innocence she had lost.

  “What happened to him?” he asked.

  “The police finally caught up with him after about a year, and he was sentenced to twelve years in federal prison for embezzlement and tax evasion. My mom lost our apartment, our car, just about everything, and we could barely put food on the table. Right after I graduated high school, I joined the army and started supporting her and my sister. Nobody else would help us.”

  “Oh Goldie,” he said, standing up to hold out his arms and invite her to take comfort in a hug, but she remained motionless. “If only I’d known where you were, I’d have come see you and tried to help. I’d never have left you to deal with all of that on your own.”

  “I went to your home in Glenside when I finally saved up enough money for the bus ticket,” she said. “I thought I’d try one last time to see you before heading off to the military base, but a new family was in your house. They said you’d moved to New York.” She bit her lip, steadied her breathing. “It was then I knew I’d never see you again.”

  He smiled weakly, letting his arms drop to his sides. “But here I am, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said, not returning his smile. “Here you are.”

  She was apparently building her wall even higher.

  “I’m sad that things turned out this way, Goldie,” he said. “My dad got a job transfer to New York after I graduated and I decided to make a new start, to try to forget you. I eventually joined the FBI and made a pretty good life for myself.”

  She fell silent for a while, before saying, “Listen, Zeke, it would really help if you’d take some responsibility for what happened between us. I haven’t heard an apology from you yet.”

  “You want me to apologize?” he asked incredulously. “For something that wasn’t my fault?”

  The last time Zeke had apologized to a woman, he had done so under duress, pressured by his pastor to preserve harmony in the church. It had left an indelible stain on his psyche, and he steadfastly refused to go back there again. Apologies were now only given to those who deserved them, and Goldie definitely didn’t fall into that category.

  “You could’ve done more to find me,” she challenged. “But you did nothing. I think you should own up to that.”

  He stared at her in frustration, her defensive posture reminding him of Susan, the recipient of his forced apology given the day after he’d witnessed her stealing from the collection plate one Sunday morning. When he’d raised the issue with the elders, Susan had vehemently denied the sin and claimed that Zeke had been mistaken. As it was only Zeke’s word against hers, the pastor had encouraged Zeke to be the bigger person and apologize. He remembered the pastor’s words distinctly: “Saying sorry is a small sacrifice in order to maintain peace with your neighbor.”

  Well, perhaps he didn’t care whether he maintained peace with Goldie. This time, he would stick to his guns and stand firm.

  “What happened was not my fault, so you’ll be waiting a long time if you want me to take the blame.” He recognized the sense of indignation in his belly—the same one he’d felt when Susan had smiled and accepted his apology, despite knowing her guilt. “You’re being totally unfair.”

  She balked. “It’s going to be mighty difficult for us to get along here if you insist on avoiding your responsibilities.”

  He threw his hands in the air, having heard enough. “I will not allow you to guilt trip me into taking responsibility for the past,” he said. “If I do that, I’ll lose respect for myself, wind up angry and isolated and have to leave the assignment.”

  “What? That’s quite a stretch, Zeke. Are you crazy?”

  “Not crazy, just eager to speak the truth.”

  After reluctantly apologizing to Susan, Zeke had found it impossible to enjoy the worship while watching her continue to serve, to collect the offerings and pretend as if nothing had happened. He knew that she was a thief and a liar, and yet he was the one being punished. He had eventually left his church family and joined another, a wrench that had left a mark of deep injustice etched on his heart. He had paid the price of her sin.

  “We’re here for a week,” she said. “We’ll have to find a way past this.”

  Sounds of movement came from the stairs, then a man called out that the forensic team had completed its analysis of the crime scene.

  “How about we keep things strictly professional?” he suggested. “That’s all we can do for now.”

  “Sure.” Her tone was as snippy as scissors. “I’m fine with that.”

  Zeke’s attention was taken by the appearance of two men in the hallway, carrying a body bag between them. He automatically lowered his head and clasped his hands at his waist. It was an involuntary reaction, one that obviously irritated Goldie, judging by the loud huff.

  “What happened to your faith, Goldie?” he asked, his attitude softening. “How did you lose it?”

  “That subject is off-limits,” she snapped, striding from the kitchen toward Karl’s voice, which was rising animatedly from somewhere on the stairs. “We’re keeping things professional, remember?”

  He followed her from the room, feeling the metaphorical door slam in his face. Goldie was full of anger and resentment, not only for him but for God too. And it wasn’t his job to try to fix it.

  On the grand carpeted stairway, Karl was agitated as he clutched his cell phone tightly to his ear.

  “This is the worst possible news we could receive right now,” he said into the speaker. “I agree that we need to source two more agents to replace Goldie and Zeke. I’ll get on it immediately and call you back.”

  He ended the call, pressed one end of the cell to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut behind his heavy framed glasses.

  “What’s going on, sir?” Goldie asked, holding on to the curved banister at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re not throwing Zeke and I off the case, are you? We made a promise that we wouldn’t let you down.”

  Karl walked the remainder of the stairs with a slow and tired gait, coming to stand next to Goldie on the shiny hallway floor. Zeke didn’t like the look on their boss’s face, not one little bit. He moved closer, wondering what on earth had happened to see him and Goldie both ejected from the assignment within hours of arrival.

  “I just spoke with Christina,” Karl began. “And she told me some very disturbing news.”

  Christina Phillips was the special agent in charge of the FBI’s Philadelphia office, a woman who Zeke heard was a no-nonsense, straight-talking leader, admired for her dedication to the job.

  “What did she say?” Goldie asked.

  “Leonardo and his brother are very angry about what happened here today,” Karl replied. “And they want revenge for Marsha’s death.”

  Goldie held up her hands, palms forward, fingers splayed. “Wait, are you serious? Marsha went against Leonardo’s wishes by trying to harm Louisa. Why would they care that she died defying the family’s orders?”

  “I don’t know why they care, but they do.” The strain of this case was showing on Karl’s lined face. “They’ve somehow managed to find out who fired the fatal bullet, and they’ve put a hit on you, Goldie. That’s why you have to come off the case. You need to lay low until we figure out how to proceed. I’ve ass
igned Zeke to protect you.”

  Goldie’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Zeke, revealing her horror and resistance to this plan of action.

  “No way,” she said, pacing the hall. “I refuse to let this happen. You’re probably overreacting, sir. Nobody’s gonna come after me.”

  “Oh, I think they will,” Karl said strongly. “For the kind of reward that the Voltos are offering, I expect a ton of criminals to come crawling out the woodwork.”

  “How much are we talking about, sir?” Zeke said, his concerns rising.

  Karl paused for a dramatic breath. “The Volto family has promised the sum of two million dollars to the first person who kills Goldie, and we’re relying on you to help keep her alive.”

  TWO

  Goldie replayed Karl’s words in her head, convinced that she must’ve misheard.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said. “Did you just say there’s a price of two million dollars on my head?”

  Karl ushered both her and Zeke into the living room. “I’m sorry, Goldie, but that’s exactly what I said. The Bureau is taking the threat very seriously, and we’re doing all we can to ensure your safety.”

  “How does the Volto family have access to that kind of money?” she asked, sitting on the huge white couch next to Zeke. “I thought the FBI froze all their assets.” She gestured to the opulence around her. “Apart from the ones we allowed Mrs. Volto to keep as part of her deal, of course.”

  “The Voltos aren’t the ones supplying the cash,” Karl replied. “A powerful Mafia family in Chicago has agreed to front the money on the Voltos’ behalf after Leonardo begged for their help. As we already know, members of law enforcement aren’t the Mafia’s favorite people, unless they’re on the payroll.”

  Goldie rested her elbows on her knees and let her forehead drop onto her cupped hands. Zeke placed a tentative palm on her back, but she stiffened and he removed it. Finding out that he had never received her letters all those years ago did nothing to ease her pain. In fact, it made it worse. Why did he not try to track her down rather than move to New York to start fresh? He could’ve at least tried. He gave up without so much as a whimper. And just like her ex-con father, Zeke was refusing to say sorry for causing so much misery.