by Steve Hadden
Her next call was to the detective sergeant of the Cranberry Township police who had been a family friend forever. She reported the break-in and assault, along with the threats to her brother and father, but asked that it be handled confidentially.
She then placed a call to her best friend from high school, whose parents had a place in Ocean City, Maryland. She made arrangements for her mother and brother to stay there starting the next day.
Finally, she called the personal security team she’d used once for a client. They’d start immediately, following her mother and brother to Maryland.
Jenna hung up the phone but couldn’t shake the image of someone attacking Michael. He wouldn’t stand a chance against the thug. He’d be terrified and Jenna couldn’t live with that. The only way out of this was to win. Not only in court but with overwhelming evidence that would destroy the Falzones. She needed to think, she needed help—no, she needed a miracle. The image of the play entered her mind. She needed Ike Rossi.
CHAPTER 43
Ike Rossi saw the gunmetal pickup truck race from the curb in front of Rossi’s moments before the explosion. Maria! His sister’s face flashed before him and Ike floored the Buick, dodging the few cars on Liberty Avenue at eleven o’clock at night. He had the car door open before he slammed the brakes and shoved the car into “park.” It was still sliding when his feet hit the ground. He ran toward the door but was momentarily pushed back by the flames roaring from the front window.
“Ike. Here,” Mac yelled as he bolted from the car, dropped his shoulder, and blasted through the door like a fullback. Ike followed and found Mac on the floor. He tugged at his arm, but Mac raised his head and yelled, “Go, Go!”
The heat was searing and the smoke was thick and black, dropping from the ceiling like a curtain of death. The bar was splintered but Ike grabbed a bar rag from the rippled floor and covered his mouth. The blast had driven what was left of the bar to the back wall, blocking the hallway to the stairs and the restrooms like a beaver’s dam. Ike quickly scanned the bar’s rubble and didn’t see his sister. The flames were chasing him now, working through the fuel provided by the tables, mahogany booths, and bar fragments. Ike’s lungs burned and his eyes became worthless rivers of tears. The smell of gasoline filled his nose. Still, he ripped the jagged bar top from the doorway and started down the hall.
“Maria,” he yelled as his vocal cords tightened from the heat and smoke. He kicked the ladies’ room door open and yelled her name again with no reply, then started up the back stairs. He could see flames licking the second-floor ceiling. If she was here, she’d be in what was left of her office. Vaulting up the stairs, he kept yelling her name. At the top, a blast of heat hit him from the right, and he turned and saw a wall of flames blocking the hallway to her office. The smoke was much thicker, and his troubled breathing evolved to rapid-fire choking. He shielded his eyes from the heat, and the flames shoved him back.
He could feel Maria. She was here. She was behind the flames.
In that instant, he hurled himself down the hallway and into the flames. He crashed into something and hit the floor, his pullover flaming and melting into his arm. Ripping it off, he sprang to all fours and crawled through what had been the office doorway. Flames danced across every surface, and the smoke layer was so low he couldn’t see the top of the desk chair.
“Maria!”
The desk chair moved. He scrambled around the flaming desk and found her, stunned and reaching for him. He sucked in a searing breath and scooped her up. Squatting, he stomped the bits of flame on the floor and headed to the small shattered window facing Liberty Avenue. Knocking out the shards of glass, he leaned out with Maria. Despite the waves of intensifying heat cooking his back, he sucked in as much air as he could, then looked down at Maria. She was limp and not breathing.
Ike scanned the sidewalk below. “Mac!” He heard the sirens in the distance. They wouldn’t make it in time. “Mac!”
Suddenly Mac appeared from the doorway below and looked up, soot covering his face. Ike gently rotated Maria and slid her limp body through his arms and grabbed both wrists. “Take her, quick.” Mac spread his feet wide and flexed his knees with his thick arms open. Ike let go, and Mac caught her. Mac’s knees buckled and he fell backward on the concrete. Ike swung out, hung from the ledge, and dropped. Pain ripped through his legs as he hit the ground and rolled. Jumping to his feet, he took Maria from Mac’s arms, moved her three doors down from the burning bar, and laid her flat on the sidewalk.
Maria looked blue and wasn’t breathing. Her pulse was nonexistent, and he started CPR. Ignoring the wave of panic, he kept up with the compressions. “Maria. Don’t leave me, Maria.”
Suddenly, her body quivered and she sucked in a loud, deep breath. It was the sweetest sound Ike had ever heard.
“Hang on, Maria.” Ike looked up and saw the paramedics running toward them, Mac leading the way. “They’re coming.”
In the distance, he saw the Rossi’s sign crash to the ground as the fire engines flooded the flames. Steam and smoke disappeared into the dark sky above. When he looked down at Maria, she was watching it, too. After a moment, Ike saw the tears cutting through the black soot on her face.
“Ike,” was all she said, crying.
They’d lost the place where their mother had found so much joy—the place that connected them to her. And they’d almost lost each other.
CHAPTER 44
Joseph never expected to be in this position. As he spied through the glazed panes of the living room window of their Squirrel Hill home, he watched Jack hug his aunt and cling to her as if she were his lifeline. Then they walked from the car and down the winding, shrub-lined walkway to his wife and daughter. After several minutes of tearful negotiation in the bright morning sun, his grandson hugged Lauren one last time and was embraced by Erin and Shannon. They each placed a hand on a shoulder and led him to the front door, with Jack looking back to Lauren like a prisoner walking to his death.
Since Joseph had been the lead antagonist in Lauren Bottaro’s nightmare, Erin had decided he couldn’t be present to greet his own grandson. He’d asked Shannon to join his wife because Shannon and Jack had developed a close relationship upon Brenda’s departure. It was a curious connection and Joseph sometimes wondered why, but his gratitude for the connection always dwarfed his suspicions.
When he heard the front door open, he knew he’d need to strike a delicate balance. On one hand, he needed to know what Jack knew. That knowledge could kill his only remaining son, Nick, and destroy the family he’d so painfully built. But on the other hand, if Erin sensed any effort to interrogate Jack, her suspicions would overflow—and with the ensuing explanation, he’d lose his family anyway.
Erin and Shannon led Jack to the large entry, and Joseph moved from the window and slowly walked to meet them. The smell of white-chocolate-chip macadamia-nut cookies—Jack’s favorite—filled the air, and he could see that Jack’s nose had found the trail.
“Hi, Jackie boy,” Joseph said, extending a hand. Jack looked up and shook his hand. Joseph eyed the young boy. His dark-brown crew cut and bright blue eyes reminded him of Nick as a kid and triggered a touch of guilt he quickly discharged.
“Hi, Grandpa,” Jack said. His sadness and unease were obvious.
“Did you have breakfast yet, honey?” Erin asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Aunt Lauren got me up early and we stopped at IHOP.”
Shannon seemed to sense Erin’s disappointment and reached out and touched Jack’s arm. “You ready to try some of those cookies?”
Jack nodded and showed a bit of a smile.
“Can I take your backpack?” Shannon said.
Jack nodded again and slipped it off.
The cookies were a great idea, and as Joseph sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating cookies, he began to enjoy himself and let the mission ahead drift into the background. They talked about what had happened since they’d last seen each other over Christmas. E
rin and Shannon took turns waiting on Jack, and all seemed to enjoy their roles. Two hours later, after helping clean up, they lured Jack into his favorite card game with the promise of computer time. As each hand played out, Joseph felt the weight of anticipation growing. He needed time alone with his grandson. When Jack won for the third time in a row, Joseph saw his opening.
“Okay, young man. You’re pretty good at this, but can you have the same success with the chessboard?”
Jack’s face lit up. “Yes, Grandpa.”
The chessboard had been a gift from a Russian oligarch, but most important, it was in Joseph’s library. While Erin was always welcome, an unspoken respect for Joseph’s work space had developed over the years.
“You boys go ahead,” Erin said. “Shannon and I will clean up here. Just remember we have lunch plans in an hour.”
Erin’s encouragement made Joseph hate himself even more for deceiving her. She had a good heart and genuinely wanted her grandson to get to spend time alone with his grandfather. She never would have suspected that Joseph wanted to grill him over his reasoning for killing Tanner. But it had to be done.
Joseph excused himself and Jack followed him into the sprawling library. On previous visits, Jack had loved gawking at the shelves of books stretching to the twenty-foot ceiling and playing chess with the oversize hand-carved ivory chess pieces that depicted a czar, his family and his court. The Russian had jokingly said it was Ivan IV, better-known as Ivan the Terrible, who was said to have died playing chess. Joseph always went with the more generic description since his research showed that Ivan the Terrible had killed his oldest son in a fit of rage.
The board was mounted on a hand-carved table near one of the large windows. Jack moved next to the velvet seat and awaited his grandfather’s permission to sit.
“Go ahead, Jack. You’ve been here before.” Joseph took his usual seat.
As they began play, Joseph was impressed by Jack’s level of improvement. He’d played chess masters who weren’t at Jack’s level. As they alternated moves, Joseph thought it was time.
“Jack, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the trial coming up? I want to understand it from your view in case I can help you.”
Jack stuck out his lower lip and gave a matter-of-fact nod.
“Okay, then. Do you mind if I ask you why you shot that man?”
Jack didn’t look up from the board and contemplated his move as he spoke. “He was the reason my father died. And they were coming for me and Aunt Lauren next.” He moved his piece and glanced at Joseph, then leaned back and awaited Joseph’s move.
Joseph struggled with his focus on the game in the face of Jack’s frankness. He contemplated his move, and as he positioned his piece, he said, “How do you know that?”
Jack quickly reached for his piece and moved it. “I heard my dad on the phone.”
Joseph realized he’d made a mistake and Jack was pouncing. He liked Jack’s instincts, but he was more concerned with his answer. If his grandson truly knew too much, letting him go to trial and then prison was the only outcome that would save the family. Sacrifice the boy for the family—it didn’t seem fair. He made his next move and contemplated his next question.
Without warning, Nick appeared at the library door. Joseph knew why he was there.
“Hey there, boys. What’s up?” Nick said as he closed the door and walked to the table, smiling. Something in his look changed when he came face-to-face with Jack.
“Hi, kid.”
Jack ignored him and focused on the board.
“I said, ‘Hi, kid.’”
“Nick,” Joseph said, warning him.
Jack stayed quiet, and Joseph could see the anger flare in Nick’s eyes. “You should answer your uncle when he talks to you,” Nick said.
Joseph stood. “Nick, that’s enough. Leave him alone.”
“He needs to talk to me. I have a few questions for him.”
“Not here. Not now.”
“Why not now? He’s here. And I need to know.”
Jack was now watching the argument.
The door sprang open and Erin rushed in. “What are you doing?” she yelled at Nick.
“None of your business,” Nick said.
Joseph took Nick by the arm and pushed him toward the door. When he was halfway there, Shannon stormed in. “Are you always an asshole?” she said as she passed Nick.
Nick lunged for her, but Joseph clamped down harder on his bicep and dragged him out the door. Joseph looked back and saw Erin and Shannon comforting Jack.
Joseph narrowed his glare on Nick. “With me, now.”
Nick followed him to Erin’s study and Joseph slammed the door closed.
“You need to get control of yourself.”
“No. That kid can take us both down.”
Joseph stepped toe-to-toe with Nick, looking down on him. “What you’re doing will put you in prison faster than anything. I’ll take care of it.”
Nick looked away, then stepped back. “Fine. Have it your way.” He left the room.
While Joseph had heard the words, he couldn’t read his son’s intent. Most of his life, his son had been a great liar. And if what Nick had just said was a lie, Joseph knew he was capable of anything to get his way.
Joseph had served his dues—done his time—and using his money and influence to guide the outcome of the trial didn’t bother him. He controlled the odds, but he was losing control of his son—and that loss could cost him everything.
CHAPTER 45
Jenna watched Lauren collapse into the chair and eyed her from across the conference room. Waves of guilt rose up and engulfed her as she tangled with a decision she’d never thought she’d have to make. Michael had always come first. In high school, time with Michael was more important than time with friends. She’d chosen her college to stay close to him. And despite graduating at the top of her class and receiving offers from some of the most prestigious law firms in the country, Jenna chose to stay close to Michael and work for her father. This was supposed to be her chance to show her true worth—by beating one of those firms in open court. But now she’d chosen Michael again, trading her vindication and a ten-year-old’s life for his.
They’d agreed to meet at ten a.m., after Lauren had dropped Jack at the Falzones. Lauren’s face sagged and the bags around her red eyes signified the depth of her pain. Jenna poured a cup of coffee and delivered it to Lauren with as much sympathy as she could muster.
“You okay?” Jenna said.
Lauren nodded. “It’s the first time since Jack’s arrest that we’ve been apart like this.” She clenched the cup with both hands and looked up at Jenna. “And it’s with them—with them.”
Jenna saw Lauren battling back tears and wrapped her arms around her.
“It’s okay. He’ll be okay.” Jenna was disappointed that words of betrayal came so easily. She’d be leading Lauren to a decision she was certain would deliver a conviction in order to save Michael. The thick claws of self-loathing dug into her insides.
She wanted to save Jack and Michael, but these people were capable of anything. They’d entered her alarmed townhome and assaulted an officer of the court, then disappeared without a trace. She’d love to call the cops or even Judge Nowicki, but based on the photo Ike had texted last night, they were part of this.
Jenna circled back to her chair at the conference table and sat. She gathered herself and looked across the table to her father. She started, knowing this wouldn’t be easy. “I was reviewing our defense plan last night and I’m worried about it. It has holes all through it.”
Her dad threw a look of concern in Lauren’s direction before he returned his attention to Jenna. “We’ve all been over this. It’s the least destructive alternative for Jack. Incapacity gets him an evaluation and, perhaps at some point down the road, freedom.”
Jenna had expected her father’s retort. “Jack’s a genius. Hell, the boy is ten times smarter than I ever was. How do we get a
round that?”
“Like we agreed to. He wasn’t aware of the gravity of what he did. Our experts will testify to that.” Her father gave her a stern look. “What’s going on, Jen?”
Glancing at Lauren, she took her best shot. “Jack did this in self-defense. I know he did. And we still have two days to prove it.”
“How Jen? How do we prove it? We haven’t been able to do it over the past six months. What makes you think we can do it in less than forty-eight hours?”
Jenna faced Lauren. “We bring back Ike.”
“Rossi?” her father said. “He has a credibility problem. Especially with anything involving the Falzones. The judge will punt anything he has so far out of sight we’ll never see it again.”
Lauren’s coffee cup hit the table hard and her eyes ignited. “That’s what I wanted all along. But you talked me out of it. You said it wouldn’t work—it would blow up in our faces.”
Jenna felt the vise around her tightening. Her conviction to her position waned until Michael’s smile entered her mind. “Ike’s made some progress without our sanctioning. I think he might actually pull it off.”
“Are you seriously considering making that bet?” her father said, his bulging neck veins feeding his reddened face.
“Yes. Ike has evidence of collusion. If we turn him loose, he’ll find more.”
Her father tossed the yellow pad and pen onto the table and leaned back. “That’s a long way from proving self-defense.”
“Are you certain this could work?” Lauren said.
“Yes. If it were my life at stake, this is what I’d do.”
Ed slowly shook his head.
“I’ve got to try to save Jack. I never liked the insanity plea. It would destroy him. I’ve always had a feeling about Ike.” Lauren glared at Jenna. “But you talked me out of using him. You convinced me that was only way for Jack to survive. Now you change your mind?”
“All I can tell you is after going over everything last night, I got a text from Ike. Now I think this tactic could save him—save Jack.” As Jenna listened to her deceitful words, a seed of hope sprouted among them. What if she was right? What if Rossi could pull it off? That option put both Michael and Jack at risk, but if Ike threaded that needle and exposed those behind this conspiracy, they’d be home free: Jack would be acquitted and Michael would be safe.
