“Can I get some water?” I asked. “Or club soda, if you have it?”
“Yeah, of course.” Alexa stood distractedly, as if she’d been a hostess remiss and headed to the kitchen. She also seemed happy to have a minute to process what I’d said.
A slightly parted bathroom door allowed steam from the shower to carry the perfumed scent of soap and shampoo throughout the apartment, as well as Todd’s rendition of The Black Keys’ I’m Howlin’ For You. I decided not to say anything else about Todd. Even though something about his vibe really stank. Like he could be bought and sold to do just about anything. I’d warned her. From here on she’d have to see it on her own.
Cocoa, Lexie’s little cinnamon-colored maltese-yorkie pup, ran into the room and jumped up at my legs. When I scooped him up, he climbed my torso and snuggled into my neck, his fur smelling of tea tree and lavender. It mixed uncomfortably with his breath, which carried a scent of soured beef. He burrowed closer, obviously knew with his canine intuition that something was deeply wrong and that I needed comfort. Which was fine with me, I’d take it. I bundled him against my heart while I dialed William’s number with my other hand.
Blake had given me William’s number some time ago in case of emergency. I’d never called it before but I thought today qualified.
Voicemail. Dammit. “Um, William, this is Addie. I see that Otto is out and I can’t find Blake. Call me at this number, please, if you know where he is. Or just have him call me. Thanks.”
Alexa handed me my drink. The soda’s effervescence spritzed against my face with welcomed coolness while I took a few much-needed sips.
“What do you mean you can’t find Blake?” Alexa asked.
I told her how I’d opened my eyes from a rest to find Otto stalking me in my own home, blackmailing me to join him in his Gardner art scheme because he said he could return our father and grandfather, and I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Blake.
Lexie sat with her mouth agape for a few moments then audibly clanked her teeth shut when she finally noticed. Without making a noise she popped off the couch and walked a circle around the room. Then she sat on the couch again, leaned on her knees, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup.
I knew how she felt. I clicked my thumb and pinky nails against one another.
“How did he know you were there?” Lexie asked.
“He had to have had someone watching me,” I said abruptly. I felt supremely stupid and slightly sick for being one-upped by Otto.
“I can’t believe he got off.” Alexa stared into the corner. Otto’s sinister presence was palpable in the room.
“I’m worried that something has happened to Blake. He would have called me the minute he knew Otto was getting out.”
“Of course he would have,” Alexa said. “Who else can you call that might know where he is?”
“No one. I’ve called William. I don’t know any of the other people on the art crime team. Should I go to the courthouse?”
“I’ll go with you. Let me just throw some jeans on.” Alexa smoothed her wild hair. She grabbed my hand and dragged me behind her while we walked toward her bedroom. The top sheet and comforter from her bed were bundled on the floor, and Cocoa and I trampled over them as Lexie did before us. One of the windows was open an inch and the crispness of winter filtered into the recycled heat of the inside. Alexa was never without fresh air if she could help it, a fact I appreciated. I situated myself next to the breeze to staunch the nausea my nerves brought on.
“We’ll find him, sweetheart,” she said. She ripped the shirt over her head and tossed it, then rummaged through a neighboring chair full of clothes. Cocoa made a nest out of the recently worn shirt on the floor. “Why would he say that he could bring Dad and Grandad home? Did he really think you would fall for that?”
I bobbed my head back and forth. “Well, I did do a reading after he left and I saw where he thought of them as if they were alive. So…of course I could be wrong, but if they’re not dead, that would explain why none of us have ever heard from them.”
I floated the possibility out gently. It was farfetched, I knew. And Alexa wasn’t typically keen on entertaining potential solutions that she didn’t like. She was apt to flick them away like they were ants at a picnic.
Alexa was somewhat dazed, maybe from the news and perhaps from too much champagne the night before. “It’s hard to read things accurately in a situation like that,” she said. “Don’t you think this is just a trap to punish Blake for setting him up?”
“Yeah, could be.” I searched for an empty spot to place my glass but there wasn’t one.
Alexa read my face and gave me a worried smile. “Blake is probably just in with William. Don’t worry, we’re going to go find him.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Or his phone is dead or he’s held up in a room with the FBI while they overanalyze everything. Most likely both,” I said to assure myself.
Alexa wrestled her jeans to get them on and jumped three hops to help them up.
“Can you see anything about where he is or if he’s okay?” I asked.
Alexa rolled her eyes. “No. I’m sorry. Long night.”
Lex was never more ineffective than when she’d had too much to drink, too much boy, and not enough sleep. She might as well be drugged.
“Don’t panic, though. Just keep talking with me about Dad and Grandad while I get ready. I don’t think they’re alive, or that Otto could have them, because, where would they be? I mean, twenty years is too long to keep someone hidden away. Unless they’re trapped in some New York apartment somewhere,” Alexa said. She selected a thin tank and hazelnut brown sweater from the pile. “I don’t mean that, of course.”
It was too late. The haunting, Stephen King-like scenario ricocheted around my mind: our father and grandfather held up in some dark room, bound by shackles. My muscles twitched in a shudder now that I was officially focused on all the wrong things.
“Even then, someone from our family would be able to sense their whereabouts,” I said. “So, that theory doesn’t work.”
“Okay, so if they’re alive—and I’m not saying that they are. Just, if. Then my question is why? Why take them? Maybe they found out about the forgeries, and then Otto does what? Locks them away so they won’t tell anyone?” Lexie slid the sweater over her head and static electricity crackled, making her hair stand on end.
I shook my head. “I don’t think Otto kidnaps someone to keep them from talking. If you’re Otto, and the secret is big enough, you kill them to keep them from talking.” I thought about Frank, closed my eyes at the horror that the same thing might have happened to my family.
“That doesn’t work, either.” Lexie lowered her voice and moved next to me when the shower turned off in the background. “Because if they’re dead, how does he keep us from interacting with them on the Other Side?”
I didn’t think Lexie fully realized it but she was beginning to defend my side of the point.
“Maybe he’s able to put up some energetic barrier in a way that we don’t know about?” Lexie brushed through the knots that had tangled in the length of her hair.
“Nothing completely adds up,” I said. “That’s the problem. Though I do think he knows where they are.”
The vivid dream I’d had months ago of our father and grandfather knocked on my mind’s door. I heard their voices, felt their emotions run through me. I reminded Alexa of it while her new boyfriend bustled in the background, dropped change, and jangled keys.
“And you’re sure they weren’t ghosts?” she whispered surreptitiously.
“I…don’t think so.” I fought my inner critic for not knowing the answer to such a simple question. I’d seen ghosts all of my life. This was a question I should know the answer to. I swallowed a bit of panic that crawled up my chest when I thought of our father and grandfather lost somewhere beyond our sight and awareness. Not the walking dead, like Frank. Maybe close. I shook my head and tried in vain to make sense
of the riddle. “It’s like they’re neither here nor there.”
I made my way toward the door, across the cascade of linens and clothes. Cocoa hopped up and pranced behind me.
Alexa tied her hair into a low braid and lifted it to the front left side of her shoulder. “All right, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Even after a raucous night Lexie was still one of the most beautiful women I knew. Her green eyes appeared to be lit from within, and the warm tones of her complexion were air-brushed on her skin. The reasons why she chose to settle for someone as sketchy as Todd were as textbook as they were for any little girl whose dad disappeared too early in her life.
“Oh, hi,” Lexie said with a smile when she peered over my shoulder.
Todd had entered the room.
“This is my sister, Addie.” Alexa gestured toward me. Neither Todd nor I made a move toward one another, but we both managed a near-impolite nod and slight smile.
With stars in her eyes, Lexie was ready for a hug and glided closer toward Todd, but he stood with his hands on his hips.
“I’ve got to get to the gallery. Piper needs my help with a few things.” He nodded toward the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said. She smoothed her hair and sweater when she followed him, tested her breath in her palm, and made a face.
My phone buzzed and I read the screen. My heart hammered against my chest.
It was William.
“Hello?”
Chapter 10
Two security guards and an EMT guided Blake into a small office where William Condon of the FBI’s art crime team barked at two other men. Blake’s grip on one of the guards was tight for balance and for strength to remain upright. Whatever they stuck in his neck kept him stumbling and dizzy.
William hung up a call, seemingly before it started. “Well, you finally decided to show up. Where the fuck have you—” His words halted when Blake was fully in the room. He assumed the pallor he felt must have been visible, along with drips of sweat that rolled down his cheeks. The guards eased him into the red leather chair that was closest, and he tried not to pass out from the pain that battered his head.
To his annoyance his strength was returning at glacial speed. He tried to ask William for a phone to call Addie but only a gasp escaped from his dry throat. The tall man with ultrashort, reddish-blond hair responded quickly from across the room. He opened a bottle of water from the side table and handed it to Blake. The EMT removed Blake’s jacket and shirt and took his vitals.
“We found him and Marshal Roxy Dalton on the west side of the building, Mr. Condon. He says they stuck Marshal Dalton and him with something. There’s a needle mark on the side of his neck. Here, where the blood is.” The security guard pointed to Blake’s neck. William and the EMT leaned in for a closer inspection.
“They took Marshal Dalton to the hospital—she was unconscious.”
Blake lowered the half-empty bottle from his mouth. “I need a phone.” The words came out far slower than they had repeated in his mind.
“Thank you, Lewis, Donald. We’ll take care of him,” William said, and the guards left the room.
Blake managed to sit on his own now, though he leaned back for support. He took a few deep breaths for the EMT who listened to his heart. His lack of resistance made him appear cooperative, but really he was using the moment to reclaim more strength. As soon as he could, he would grab someone’s phone and call Addie.
The EMT hung the stethoscope around his neck and ripped the blood pressure cuff from Blake’s arm. “His vitals are improving, but I think you should go to the—”
“I’m not going to the hospital.” Blake tried to stand and walk toward William, but sat in light of the dizziness that nearly dropped him to the floor. “And you can give me your phone, or I’m going to walk out that door and grab one from whomever happens to be closest.”
Blake lowered his head and leaned on his knees to steady himself. The lack of enough stamina to walk across the room infuriated and distracted him from how badly he needed to know she was okay.
William nodded to the EMT who packed up his equipment. When he was gone he addressed Blake. “Addie called earlier. She left a voicemail and asked about you. Apparently, she’s been trying to reach you. I was just calling her back when you walked in. Tell me what happened, and you can have the phone.” William held his phone just out of Blake’s reach.
Blake exhaled with frustration then drained the rest of the water from the bottle. “I got here two hours before the trial was scheduled to start, like we agreed. I took three steps from the car and two men stuck a gun in my side, took us down the side alley, then injected us with something that knocked us out.”
He put his hand out for the phone.
“Considering the weather, you’re lucky you woke up when you did.” William put the phone in Blake’s outstretched palm. “We had to drop the charges against Otto.”
“What?” Blake yelled, and the pain in his head increased accordingly. “Otto’s free?”
“Yep.” William stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step backward. His lips thinned with the familiar anger and resignation of someone who fought within the system.
“Fuck!” Blake buttoned his shirt as fast as the strange numbness in his fingers would allow. He needed to get to Addie.
“No one showed up. Not one witness.” William nodded across the room to the lean, muscular man who had brought Blake the water. “Ryan was finally able to get ahold of three of the witnesses. Seems some of Otto’s mafia friends suggested that they needed to choose between their families’ safety or testifying. They were told they couldn’t have both. This morning each of them had a car parked down the street from their houses. A reminder not to attend the trial.”
“Tell the judge. I’ll tell him what happened to me and we’ll get a new trial.” Blake rubbed the soreness on his neck where he’d been stuck, and fought the intense but dwindling surge of illness.
“I have told the judge. The defense is saying Otto didn’t have anything to do with it. It doesn’t look like any of Otto’s former clients are willing go up against the mob. When they were just testifying against Otto for stealing their art, they were all in. They had nothing to lose. Now they do. So even if I get a new trial, I don’t have any witnesses. Without them, I don't have a case.”
My phone screen, which had just shown me William’s caller ID, was now blank. William had called me, but the line went dead when I answered. I dialed William’s number again and his voicemail clicked on. So I hit redial. He would get stalked until I had answers.
“Where are you?” Blake answered William's phone, his voice tense and raspy.
“I’m—I’m at Alexa’s.”
Blake breathed a heavy sigh and relief carried through the phone. “Otto’s out, the charges were dismissed—”
“I know.”
“You know?” he asked.
“Otto came by my townhouse, I was there—”
His temper hit an all-time high and his emotion struck me in the stomach. “Shhiiit. Are you okay? What were you doing at your town house?” He sounded half-choked with panic.
“I’m okay. I’ve been calling you all morning are you—?”
“Something happened to my phone. Stay put. I’ll come get you.”
“Okay,” I said.
Blake sighed. The kind of deep exhalation that signaled nervous relief. Whatever had happened to Blake today, it felt as though we were both dodging bullets.
“I love you.” Blake said it as if he might never have the chance to say it again.
“I love you, too.” I hung up and held my phone at my chest for a moment. Took a deep breath. Alexa and Todd kept on with their good-byes in the hallway, and I flipped on the TV for noise and distraction. A moment’s break.
Unfortunately, a previously recorded courthouse step scene of Otto and his family, including his wife and sons, Philippe and Nicholas, appeared on the screen of the local news coverage. Nicholas was a y
oung replica of his father. It showed in the frame of his face, the ready tan on his skin, and even Otto’s body language repeated in Nicholas’ stance and movements.
Philippe was cast more from his mother’s lineage, with side swept brown hair, soft, rounded features and large, earthy-brown eyes. He had been my favorite playmate when he and Nicholas and Lexi and I roamed the firm as children.
Today Otto’s family stood in support of him as a free man, and my heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach with a sick thud. “This is why I don’t watch TV.”
“Earlier today the charges were dropped against Otto Albrecht as the prosecution failed to produce its witnesses. Albrecht’s attorney, Chris Menger, had this to say in a statement to the press.”
The stocky, bald man in a too-nice of a slick suit stepped to the microphone and adjusted his tie. I’d seen his face in the papers when he defended aging mob bosses. “Justice was served here today when the prosecution’s witnesses apparently had an attack of conscience. I’m happy to say that due process took its appropriate course and my client is a free man once again.”
Chris Menger patted Otto on the back while shaking his hand. Otto smiled like an innocent man, though more confident than surprised over his victory. His family members were a matched set of reluctant winners.
I thought of Frank and his other mob relations and I figured that was how Otto got out. Frank’s mob family probably bought the judge or threatened to kill every witness if they showed up to testify. Otto moved to the mic, shook his fist in the air, vowed to overcome the wrongs that had been committed against him and his firm. He said he’d rebuild his reputation.
The front door closed with a heavy thunk. Cocoa jumped off the couch and ran to see who is was.
“Are you ready to go?” Alexa asked, and scooped up her dog.
“Blake called. He’s on his way to pick me up.”
“Oh, thank God.” She dropped on the couch and sighed with relief.
Somewhere in Time Page 5
