by LS Sygnet
Shelly was back on the line. "We're setting up a roadblock Helen. Do not engage the occupants of the vehicle. Before we stop it, I need you to tell me the license plate number."
"He's too far ahead. Devlin, get closer so I can read the plate."
"It's India-6-Foxtrot-Golf-3-7-1."
"Did you hear?"
"Looking it up right now and... it's registered to Datello Enterprises."
I blew out a slow breath.
"Helen, that doesn't mean that Datello is in the car. When I spoke to the sergeant on Hennessey Island, he assured me that his men have not seen Datello leave the penthouse."
"And they're covering every point of exit?"
"To our knowledge, yes."
"Whoever is in the Escalade has to know something is wrong. He's surrounded by police cars. The longer this goes on, the more dangerous it becomes."
As if on cue, I watched the barrel of an automatic rifle slip through a crack in the rear passenger side window and aim toward one of the police vehicles.
"My God, they're gonna open fire," Ned shouted. "Give the order to apprehend, Shelly! Give it now!"
"Buckle up, Helen," Dev barked over his shoulder.
"Are you insane? Do you want them shooting at us too?"
A flash of light burst from the tip of the gun. Glass shattered. The patrol vehicle swerved wildly before crashing into the side of the Escalade. Devlin gunned the engine on the Expedition and rammed the black luxury vehicle hard.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Airbags exploded in the front seat. Another one of my vehicles took the hit.
The squad car on the other side returned fire on the Escalade. It sped up, trying to escape, to maneuver around the cars boxing it in. Ned pulled his weapon and leaned out the window.
"Keep it steady, Dev."
The concussion from gunfire so close to our enclosed space was deafening. I dropped the phone and clapped my hands over my ears, involuntarily protecting them. Ned emptied his clip and reached for another. On the first shot from the new magazine, the back tire of the SUV exploded.
The Escalade rolled to a slow thumping stop.
Uniformed officers scrambled out of the vehicles away from the Escalade and took cover. I felt particularly vulnerable, even though Devlin stopped far behind the damaged vehicle. The two squad cars that flanked us had pulled in front, noses pointing inward like the tip of an A in front of my car. They were closest to us. I watched guns take aim on the SUV. A moment later, one of the cops' voices bounced through the morning air.
"Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up."
Seconds ticked by. I was ready to jump out of the vehicle and tear the occupants out of the SUV with my bare hands.
"Don't even think about it," Devlin warned.
And I wondered when I'd become such an open book.
The sound of a rifle hitting the pavement startled all three of us. If the officers I could see tensed at the abrupt sound, they didn't show it. We waited. More guns, some semiautomatic, hit the ground.
I heard a muffled voice, saw a door crack open. One by one, four men got out of the car and laid face down on the pavement.
"May I get out now?"
Devlin and Ned shared a brief glance. "He's our collar. Let's go," Ned said.
I bounded out of the vehicle. Only one man on the ground held interest for me, and contrary to what Ned and Devlin thought, Datello wasn't a mere passenger. I dashed to the front left, to the shock of black hair and olive skin. One hand reached toward the uniformed officer with a gun trained on the back of that head. "Cuffs."
The man on the ground groaned and lifted his head. "You!" he hissed.
"Me," I twisted one wrist into the metal bracelet and then the other. With more strength than I am certain my physical therapist would've believed I could summon, I hefted Danny Datello off the pavement.
"You're under arrest for attempted murder, you son of a bitch."
His lips curled into a sneer of confidence. "And I have yet to begin with you, Helen. I know what you did."
"And I have the disk, and Lowe, Storm and Southerby, and scores of others. Do you think they'll hesitate to turn on you when they know you can't touch them anymore, when they find out that lifting a finger to help you will bring down the wrath of Uncle Sully?"
"Wait 'til he finds out what you did to Rick," he rasped. "There won't be a safe place in the world where you can hide."
My smile turned the air around us into ice crystals. "You're assuming he didn't know the truth all along, Danny-boy."
"He wouldn't –"
"Wouldn't what? Stop a man from committing suicide?"
Datello's jaw dropped. "It wasn't that!"
"Oh, but it was. I should know. I was there. Merry Christmas, asshole."
Chapter 43
The old man tipped a flask to his lips – for medicinal purposes, of course. After all, the good book said, wine is a mocker and strong drink is raging. Whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.
He was a wise man, shrewd even.
Imagine the luck! Eriksson had followed the breadcrumbs, taken the bait, got herself snared but good this time. She was almost worth the insomnia she caused every time she came up for air and found herself dead center in yet another Darkwater Bay mess. But this time? Absolutely priceless.
All the same, it posed another unique set of problems, ones that he and his compatriots could no longer ignore. Not with other unanticipated events.
He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.
"Yes?"
"It's me," he said. "You're never going to believe what happened this morning."
"I'm afraid you're the bearer of old news, my friend. Helen's latest exploits have been all over the airwaves. On one hand, this is very good news, if the information we received from Mr. Franchetta two months ago is accurate."
"Oh, believe me, it's accurate. She came here for a vendetta, and this morning, it appears to have come to an end. I just wish Mr. Franchetta were available for another conversation."
"I'd feel much more confident about trusting a proven liar if she'd pack up and move on now that she's achieved her goals. You too should be concerned. It isn't as if the increased police presence out here serves our interests at all."
"Very true. No one wants the FBI in town," the old man chuckled. "But our plans for her don't change, no matter where she goes. If she leaves Darkwater Bay, there's no urgency. If she stays, the odds that she'll stumble onto the truth grow exponentially. I should've killed that son of a bitch Wendell Eriksson years ago when I had the chance."
"It was my mistake, believing that you had the means to control Helen's environment. We can't change the past, only try to predict what she'll do next now that Datello has been arrested."
The old man grinned again. "This city, every single cop at least, is frothing at the mouth over her arrest this morning. The problem with creating heroes is that it makes them far more difficult to remove when the time comes. We've seen how slippery Eriksson is. She's managed to outwit three men intent on killing her. If she were a cat –"
The low laughter interrupted him. "Dumb luck, old friend. Helen has awed her peers in Darkwater Bay, that's all. Could anyone have predicted that she'd inspire such loyalty from so many in such a short period of time?"
"I suppose you have that on high authority."
The conspirator snorted. "She practically walks on water according to some."
"And do you plan to ferret out more information from our unwitting contact in the police department?"
The man laughed softly. "He can't sing her praises enough. True, it's disturbing on one level, knowing that the two of them are forming some sort of bond of friendship, but it is what it is. I trust in the inherent abilities of Johnny Orion to prevent any budding feelings from growing into anything more, or anything inappropriate."
"Then you're talking to him soon?"
"Tomorrow is Christmas. I'll see him of course, hear all about this latest vic
tory in the police department. He can always be counted upon to justify this hideous vocation he's embraced. It's been... useful."
"I should say so," the old man concurred. "At the same time, I do feel that we should revise our timetable now, plan for the contingency that will remove Dr. Eriksson from play before she has the opportunity to discover more than she already has. It was disappointing when the FBI failed to indict her for her ex-husband's murder."
"And somewhat disturbing that Mr. Franchetta continues to modify his story. Of course, we'll never know what really happened in that park the night Rick Hamilton died."
"Nonsense. We don't have to know the truth. It was the appearance of impropriety that mattered the most." He took another nip from the flask. Damned cold weather. It settled into bones, creaked and reverberated in joints that had seen better days. "Mr. Franchetta is concerning. Perhaps our friend in the FBI who is so appalled by Dr. Eriksson's guilt and lack of consequences could explain what's going on."
"He has no easy access to information now that Mr. Seleeby was banished. How I hated to see that happen!"
"Orion again," the old man said dryly.
"And our beloved governor."
He smiled. "Well, using one's political clout for personal advantage has been the downfall of more than one elected official. When the new year begins, and the campaign picks up earnest steam, everything changes. It's all fair game. We'll see how hard and fast old Collangelo scrambles when his ignorance is known."
"He'll have little choice but do what the public outcry will demand."
"And if Eriksson doesn't have a cloak of protection from the state's top law enforcement agency anymore, perhaps it makes our lives easier."
"Or sends her back to Washington where she belongs."
"Tsk," the old man scolded softly. "Don't be bitter. I know it can't be easy for you of all people to see her out here. Stirs up a few unpleasant memories, I'd imagine."
The sigh over the phone line was little more than a harsh crackle. "You cannot begin to imagine what it's been like for me since she showed up last June. I want her gone. I want her gone for good this time." He paused. "Where are you anyway?"
"Outside Downey Division. I thought I might go in with the Good Book and see if I might be permitted a visit with the lost souls in their holding cells, see if I can pick up any interesting tidbits of information."
"I'd rather you didn't do that. What if she sees you? Recognizes you?"
The old man laughed softly. "Not possible, if you'll recall. Wendell kept her very close growing up. Certainly I knew everything going on because of Marie, but I was never granted an audience with his precious daughter."
"Precious," the other man snorted. "Hardly. Whatever you decide to do, just be cautious. I'm concerned that we're not able to get to Franchetta anymore. The fact that he refuses to speak to anyone without his attorney present concerns me."
"Yes, that was a troubling turn of events. Perhaps our friend's visit to Wendell after Orion went to see him was our mistake."
"I thought you said he was completely contained."
After another quick nip from the bottle, the old man admitted, "Well, yes, I did believe that. But we discounted the bond between Helen and her father, and the resourcefulness of that man. He'd go to any lengths to protect her."
"That guard Lucero, he disliked Eriksson enough to be rather helpful when our man spoke to him. Perhaps he could give us some more information now."
"Such as?"
"If anyone else has come to talk to Eriksson. Or more importantly, who Eriksson is willing to talk to."
"Do you think Helen's been to see him since our man was there?"
The conspirator hissed a soft curse. "No, she hasn't come up for more than booze and physical therapy since that shooting in October."
"We're not monitoring her phone calls."
"Believe me, if I could figure out a way to do it, we'd be doing exactly that."
"This isn't a good time to continue this conversation," the old man said. He slouched low in the front seat of his Mercedes.
"Oh?"
"If I'm not mistaken, the FBI has just descended on Downey Division. With any luck, everyone will be so busy digging into Datello's life that we will be completely ignored."
"So we're back in business," his partner's smile was audible. "And it looks like Christmas will be merry after all."
"Do tell Eugene that the shipment will arrive on schedule," the old man said. "I'll make sure that our partners are aware that they've got the green light to resume the operation."
Chapter 44
David Levine walked into Downey Division with an squadron of federal agents. They were there for the most part, to retrieve the evidence we uncovered against Sully Marcos, the names, dates, location of bodies, the reasons why hits had been ordered on close to thirty of his enemies. Oddly, Datello's father was one of them. David came for an additional reason.
He pulled me aside immediately and hugged me tightly. "It's really over, Helen."
I wasn't so sure.
"I heard what happened to Johnny. Have you seen him?"
"No."
"Why not?"
I shrugged. "It's pointless, don't you agree? Why would he want some strange woman showing up to visit him in the hospital? He doesn't know who I am. People can feed him what he missed over the past few months until the stars fall. Unless he starts remembering it on his own, it'll be fiction to him."
"What comes next for you, my dear?" his gentle voice nearly ripped my heart out. Never let anyone tell you that lying to the people you love is easy. It's not.
"Not sure," I murmured. "Carpenter wants me to stick around and be available for whenever this goes to trial. It could be years before that happens."
"I suspect it won't take that long, Helen. Datello will want to fight this as quickly as he can. When Commander Darnell personally showed up at the airport to escort us over here, he said that Danny has refused to speak, that he will only talk to his attorney."
Breath evacuated my lungs in a rush. "Yeah, about that..."
"Franchetta changed his story again, Helen, for a sweet deal of course," David said. "First he wanted to talk to you. When we made it clear that wouldn't happen, he said that you didn't kill Rick."
My eyes snapped into focus on David's face. "What?"
He nodded. "He said you were there, but that Rick killed himself. You ran off and he swooped in and picked up the weapon, thinking that they could use it as insurance against you. He stashed the gun in that waste disposal facility thinking it would be safe until they needed to cash in their marker with you."
My hands started to tremble. How could this be? How could Franchetta suddenly make the decision to protect me? If he had been present that night, he knew that I was the one who took the gun. He would've known that I pulled the trigger. And where would he get the idea that I might tell Johnny that Rick killed himself? Not just Rick, but short hours ago, I repeated the lie to Datello.
"What kind of deal did they make with him?"
"Three to five, medium security, and then witness protection, provided he agrees to testify against Marcos for the decades of felonies he witnessed the man order if not outright commit with his own two hands."
I thought of Sully's missing millions, the ones Rick feared would be attributed to him for theft. Maybe Johnny was right – Franchetta had been behind it all along. Something didn't fit. Someone had spoken to Franchetta and given him a convenient lie that would absolve me of my culpability.
"Helen, are you all right?"
I shook my head.
"Honey, what is it?"
"Franchetta," I whispered.
"Nobody believed a word he said about you, Helen."
"They should."
David's eyes widened.
"He had to have been there. He told you the truth about what happened that night, at least up to the point where I ran away from Rick after he... after."
His arms wound around me and h
ugged me close. "Why didn't you tell me this months ago, Helen? I knew something was eating you from the inside out. We could've avoided –"
I silenced him with a doubtful stare. "With Mark Seleeby heading the witch hunt? I don't think so, David. You might've tried to help, but Seleeby knew I was lying. The problem was, he wasn't interested in the truth, just the one he had determined was factual."
Devlin interrupted, curiosity crinkling around eyes that zoomed in on the arms around me. He dangled keys from his fingertips, ones that did not belong to my mashed Expedition. "Lou asked me to give you a Crown Vic until yours is repaired... and to apologize profusely for using your car as a battering ram." He grinned. "The shop says they should have the damage repaired by the end of the week. Lou pushed you to the front of the line of damaged cop vehicles."
"Thank you, Devlin." I introduced him to David.
"Are you going home from here?" David asked.
"Very soon, I hope." I rubbed my shoulder. "I think I need a hot shower and a couple of pain pills more than anything else right now."
"I've got to join the team and get on with this disk thing," David said. "Can I call you later? Maybe we could have dinner before I go back to Washington."
"I'd like that."
He kissed my cheek and left.
"On that note, I'm going to give you the rest of my news," Devlin said. "Shelly just heard from Darnell that someone left the hospital against medical advice when he heard that Datello had been arrested this morning. He's on his way over here right now. Briscoe is bringing him."
I groaned. "Get me out of here, Devlin. I'm too tired to deal with anything else."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded and locked arms with him. "Are you and Ned sticking around all day wrapping up reports?"
He grinned. "Not exactly. Lou gave us the rest of the day off. We start our midnight rotation tomorrow night. Since it's a holiday and we've already got the basics down, she said we can finish it up tomorrow night."
