by Style, Linda
Rubbing a beefy hand across his chin, Ralston turned to leave. “Okay. I’ve got better things to do, anyway,” he said over his shoulder.
Before Jordan could respond, the guy was out the door. Hell, he couldn’t have planned it any better. If Ralston knew they were shutting down the Kolnikov case, the whole department would know. And hopefully DeMatta’s mole.
He shoved back his chair and glanced at the papers, flipping pages. He stopped on an entry, his heartbeat quickening. The Belzar Corporation was owned by a Nick Stanton. Quickly he punched the name into NCIC.
His phone rang and Mary Beth came on the intercom. “The boss wants to see you.”
Shit. He let the program run, got up and went to Carlyle’s office.
The captain sat behind the desk, his face drawn, dark circles under his eyes. “I heard you’re giving up on the Kolnikov case.”
Jordan grinned. “That was quick.”
The captain eyed him from under his brows. “What aren’t you telling me?”
It was tough to get anything by the boss.
Carlyle motioned to Jordan to close the door. “Continue.”
Jordan took a piece of paper and wrote, I have information to suggest a particular person was at Eddie Gianni’s house the night he died.
The captain nodded, flipped on the radio and motioned Jordan to the window. Keeping his voice low, Carlyle said, “Anyone we know?”
“Yep. But no positive ID,” Jordan whispered back.
“Can you get it?”
“I will.” He didn’t know how, but he would.
“You need backup?”
“Not yet, but soon. I don’t want any leaks.” Jordan knew the captain would readily agree if it meant solving one of their biggest screwup cases.
“Make it soon. I can’t wait to get the mayor off my ass.”
Jordan went back to his desk and checked NCIC for the composite photograph he’d fed it earlier. Four pages of photographs popped up, each one bearing a resemblance to DeMatta’s new man. He paged down, mentally eliminating those in jail and those who really didn’t look like him at all. On the last page, a familiar face stared back at him. Nicholas Stanton. The guy who’d been at Vincento’s with DeMatta was the same guy listed as the owner of the Belzar Corporation.
Stanton worked for DeMatta. Was the corporation a front for something else? According to Rita Valdez’s description, Stanton was most likely the man she’d seen with Anna Kolnikov. It made sense Stanton would know the woman if he was doing business with DeMatta. Laura had seen a blond guy with Kolnikov, and if she could identify him…
His thoughts spiraled. Stanton’s corporation owned the black car that had been following Laura. But that didn’t make sense. Was Stanton one of DeMatta’s new hit men? Brought in from New York to take out Rita Valdez and threaten Laura? Maybe take her out, too. The MO for Kolnikov’s murder was similar to Valdez’s. Had he been in L.A. four years ago, too?
Jordan went back to the computer, checked for any and all information on Stanton, nerves pulsing under his skin as he waited for the information to materialize. When it came, he sat on the edge of his chair, his legs bouncing with nervous energy as he read. Stanton had a couple of felony convictions, but with short jail time. Last paroled in October, not long before Kolnikov died. But he had a New York address at the time. DOB, December 24, 1980, New Paltz, New York. Born on Christmas Eve. Nicholas Stanton’s mother had a sense of humor.
He’d never heard of town and pulled up MapQuest on his computer. His blood rushed. New Paltz was about twenty miles from Poughkeepsie, the city where Kolnikov was born. Rita Valdez had said the man she saw with Anna had been from the same hometown. Had Kolnikov grown up in New Paltz?
But what would be the connection? There were too many years between Nick and Anna for them to have known each other as children.
Another completely unrelated thought popped up. Kolnikov probably had parents and maybe brothers and sisters who still lived in New Paltz. Possibly they could tell him something about the woman. But would the information help him find her killer? He doubted it.
He sighed, resting against the back of his chair. He didn’t need to know anything more about Kolnikov. If he found her killer, it would be enough. Justice would prevail—and that’s all that mattered.
***
Laura had watched Luke’s expression shift from understanding to incredulity during their conversation. Afterward, she couldn’t tell if he was appalled or just plain disgusted.
He sat across from her on an old frayed couch in the living room. The piece of seventies furniture looked at odds with all the antiques, and she suspected he kept it around for comfort. He scratched his head. “Is that everything?”
“Yes.”
“Did the person Cait identified at the funeral know she recognized him?”
“No.” She wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. “Maybe…I don’t know.”
“Did you have any conversation with him at the funeral?”
“Not really. He gave me money. Said he takes care of his own.”
“Do you know what he meant by that?”
“I didn’t know what to think. Maybe he knew Cait was there and thought he was paying me off? Maybe he figured we would have a hard time financially? He is Eddie’s family. Cait’s great-uncle.”
“And you didn’t think any of this should be reported?” He shook his head, his expression as incredulous as Jordan’s had been.
Anger tightening her throat, she pulled up. “I’m sorry, Luke. I did what I thought best for my child. If that means I’m a lawbreaker, then so be it.”
“I’m not standing in judgment.”
“Yes, you are. Both you and Jordan! But then I wouldn’t expect you to understand. If either of you had children of your own you’d know what I’m talking about. A caring parent will do whatever it takes to protect her child.”
Luke stared at her, his expression hard. She saw an undercurrent, something dark and dangerous simmering, which made the veins in his neck pop. He stood. Slowly. Deliberately. “Well, thank you for the parenting lesson. We’re through with this conversation.” He turned and walked down the hall.
She was still sitting there, stunned at his abruptness, when she heard a knock at the front door. She tensed. Had Luke heard the knock? No way was she going to the door. But as she sat there, the knob turned. Her heart raced. And then Jordan entered.
He looked surprised to see her.
“It’s you,” she said on a sigh of relief.
“A good thing, I hope.”
“Considering the alternatives, yes.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He just left.” She pointed. “Thataway.”
Shucking off his suit jacket, Jordan came over and sat next to her. “Cait in bed?”
“A long time ago.”
“Did you and Luke talk?”
“We did. Until he got angry and stalked off.”
He frowned. “He got angry? Why?”
She stood, her own bottled-up frustration coursing rising. “During our discussion—which really wasn’t a discussion since I was doing all the talking—he seemed…well, like you, he seemed to be judging me for what I did. I got annoyed and told him I don’t think either of you have any idea what being a parent means. That’s when he left the room.”
Jordan bowed his head, pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. He’s got some issues.” His voice was so low she could barely hear him. “Five years ago he lost his son. The ordeal was devastating. It became too much for the marriage and he and his wife divorced because of it. I don’t think he’s ever gotten over either one.”
Laura dropped down next to Jordan. “Oh, Lord. I had no idea.” She leaned forward, hands over her face. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.
“You couldn’t have known.”
She sat up. “I feel so horrible. I need to apologize.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that. In the meantime
, I’ve got a couple more questions for you.”
Silent, she nodded.
“Do you know where Kolnikov grew up?”
“No.”
“Can you remember anything more about the people in the black car when you took down the license number?”
She looked away.
“You’ve got to help me, Laura. I need to know everything. Even things that don’t seem important to you.”
The sharpness of his words went right through her.
“We’re on the verge here. The car belongs to the Belzar Corporation. Have you ever heard of it?”
“No.”
“The president of the Belzar Corporation is Nicholas Stanton. I believe he’s the same guy you met with Kolnikov.” He pulled out Stanton’s photo.
She pulled back, astonished. “What does it mean? Why would he be following us? Why would he—”
“He works for Frank DeMatta. I think we know what it means.”
She slumped against the back of the couch. “Oh…my…God.”
Jordan’s gaze locked with hers. “What?”
“Alysa,” she whispered. “It was Alysa who got out of the black car.”
She saw his jaw twitch. He jerked to his feet, every muscle in his body rigid. “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”
She looked away, then back again. “No, I didn’t. I thought she might be hooking again. I wanted to work it out with her. I thought when I got the license number, you’d find him and I could get a restraining order. Then both the stalking and Alysa’s problem would be solved. I had no idea he worked for anyone, much less DeMatta.”
The hardness around his eyes softened, as if understanding, but it took a moment before he asked, “What made you think she was hooking?”
“That night, I suspected something wasn’t right and I went after her. I parked near the place where she said she was going. A strip mall. Some other girls were standing on the sidewalk and at first I thought they were just hanging out. Then a car pulled up and one of the girls got in. Then it happened again and I realized what was going on. When the black car pulled up and Alysa got out, I was stunned.”
“Did you talk with her?”
“Uh-huh. But not right then. I told her I’d seen her. She said she’d been devastated over her parents’ rejection and thought it didn’t matter what she did anymore. But she realized later she’d made a mistake and she was only hurting herself, not them. I think she’s back on track.”
Jordan shook his head in what seemed to be more disapproval. “But we know differently now.”
Damn it. She was tired of his judgments, tired of finding herself in the wrong all the time. She stood. “I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my decisions. The fact is, in my line of work I come across illegal activities all the time and I’m bound by the laws of confidentiality. I have to make decisions, and as long as I don’t believe a person is a danger to herself or others, I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. So stop judging me.”
Oddly, he smiled. “I’m not. Com’on, let’s sit.”
Her agitation was too great. “I don’t want to sit.”
“Okay. Then we’ll both stand.” He stepped closer and said softly, “Here’s the deal, I’ve found connections between the car, Kolnikov, your ex and some other things I can’t mention. Now you’re saying there’s a connection between Alysa and one of DeMatta’s men. That’s huge. Every single piece of information is important here. Don’t you agree?”
The air left her lungs. “Yes, of course.” For the first time she fully realized how what she’d been doing had only made things worse. And the fact that she knew more about Anna might be important, too. She didn’t know how, but if it could be… “Now that I know what’s involved, everything seems important.”
“And so is what we do from here.”
“What’s that?”
He shook his head. “I’m still figuring it out.”
Laura took a deep breath. If she told him about her past, he’d probably never want to speak to her again. But wouldn’t it be best, anyway? And if there was something, anything, he might think was important…anything that might help make them safe again, give them a normal life, it would be worth it. “There is something else.”
He clenched his hands and squared his shoulders. “Tell me.”
She couldn’t look at him anymore. “I didn’t think this was related in any way, but since I’ve been so wrong about everything else, I’ll let you be the judge.” She turned, kept looking down. “I was a runaway once myself. I lived on the street for a while supporting myself—any way I could. One night I got arrested with…a client… along with some of Anna’s girls and she took me in. I wanted to work for her, but I was only fifteen so she wouldn’t let me. Except to clean her house. That’s where I first saw Eddie. He came to her place every week. I didn’t know what he was doing and the only communication between us was an occasional hello. Later, I—I became pregnant, and when my boyfriend split, Anna let me stay with her. She took me in, no questions asked.”
He raised his head. Stared at her with blank eyes, waiting for her to go on.
“I planned to give the child up for adoption, but I had a miscarriage. When I was feeling better, I contacted my father and made arrangements to go stay with him. I didn’t meet Eddie again until I was in college.”
Jordan looked at her as if she were a stranger, confusion and disbelief in his eyes.
“I didn’t say anything because it’s in my past and none of it seemed to be important…except that I knew Anna and I want to see her killer brought to justice. That’s why I agreed to tell you anything in the first place. I had no idea how much trouble talking to you would bring me and Cait.”
His mouth formed a thin line. “And if you’d known, would you have said anything at all?”
Jordan’s animosity radiated through the room. Just looking at him made her chest hurt. What else could she say? Nothing would make this any better. Tears welled, but she blinked them back and took a deep breath.
“I can understand if you despise me. I’ve done things you find unconscionable. But I’ve never claimed to be anyone other than who I am. I haven’t done terrible things to anyone except myself.” She took a quick breath. “I also don’t expect you or anyone else to understand.”
Jordan, his back ramrod straight and his expression unchanged, seemed impervious to anything she’d just said.
He didn’t even want to acknowledge her. And there was nothing she could do to fix it.
The heartbreaking realization sinking in, she raised her chin. Looked directly at him. “So, what do you think we should do now?”
He looked at her now, his eyes dark with emotions she could only imagine. Anger. Disappointment. Hate.
He threw up his hands. “I have no idea.”
“Well, I have some.”
Laura turned at the voice. Luke.
Jordan pried out his next words. “Any and all ideas are welcome.” He glanced at Laura, then back to Luke and said, “Later, when we’re alone.”
Something in her chest seized. He didn’t trust her enough to even include her in the discussion. But how could she blame him?
“You’ll be alone now. I’m going to bed.” She started to walk away, then stopped, directing her comments to Luke. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I made an assumption and I feel like a fool because of it. I’m truly sorry.”
Luke didn’t breathe a word but nodded his acknowledgment. Then, with what little composure she could muster, she fled the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY
AN HOUR LATER, Jordan had shucked his suit and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. Laura had dropped another bomb on him. Oddly, he could understand why she’d kept the information about Caitlin being at her father’s a secret, especially when her ex was supposed to be protected. But the rest of it hit him on a personal level. She wasn’t the person he believed she was.
She’d been going to give up her child. T
he only reason she hadn’t was because nature stepped in. He snatched his leather jacket from the front closet and yanked open the front door.
Luke’s voice stopped him. “You got a plan?”
Jordan turned. “I have to talk to some people.”
“To see if their stories gibe?”
“Something like that.” Jordan glanced at the clock. “You okay here for an hour?”
“I’ll hold down the fort, but when you get back, we talk.”
“Sure.”
As Jordan headed for his car, a stiff sea breeze blew in from the shore, and he breathed it in deeply. He had to have a clear head, stay focused on the job, not on his personal life—not on how Laura was a chameleon, how she’d fooled him. What might she spring on him next?
Within the hour, he pulled up at Vincento’s. This time there were more than a half-dozen cars in front. Either the place was busy or the mob was having a conference. He should be wary about going inside, but instead he felt numb.
The place was filled to capacity, mostly neighborhood types. The mouth-watering scent of garlic teased his olfactory glands. Italian music—someone singing Volare—and a cacophony of voices filled the air. He spotted DeMatta and Stanton immediately at the same table in the back. As he headed toward them, he heard nothing but his heart drumming in his ears. No fear? Yeah, right.
Reaching the table, he spoke directly to Stanton. “We need to talk privately.”
DeMatta’s face pinched. “Whatever you got to say, you can say it right here.”
Ignoring DeMatta, Jordan directed his words to Stanton. “Either we talk privately here or I take you downtown. Your choice.”
Stanton glanced at DeMatta, who nodded.
“Out front,” Jordan said, motioning with a tip of his head and together they walked back through the restaurant, heads turning to look at them as they went outside.
Stanton was taller than him by a couple of inches and probably had a few pounds on him, as well. He looked to be in great condition and Jordan hoped this didn’t develop into anything ugly. In any case, he was prepared.
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
