by Style, Linda
The guy had manners, sounded well educated, at least if his diction had anything to do with it. For a guy from New York, he had no accent whatsoever. “You can answer some questions.”
“If I can.”
“What were you doing with the kid from Victory House in your car last week?”
“She needed a ride. I gave her one.”
The guy never flinched, never hesitated, never registered emotion of any kind. “We both know that’s a lie.”
“Prove it.”
“I intend to.”
“Is that it?”
“Tell me about your relationship with Anna Kolnikov.”
He saw something flash in Stanton’s eyes, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Concern? Not likely. Recognition? Maybe.
“I told you, I don’t know the woman.”
“Did you use your hometown connection to gain her trust?”
Stanton crossed his arms. “Whatever you’re getting at, Detective, either say it or get the hell out of here.”
“You were observed at Kolnikov’s place on several occasions. And the two of you were seen at a restaurant having dinner.”
He shrugged. “So, okay. I met her a couple times and had dinner. That’s no crime.” He smiled at Jordan, almost as if he were playing a game of chess and he’d made a strategic move. Now it was Jordan’s turn. “Are you done?”
“Two words,” Jordan said. “Belzar Corporation.”
Lines formed around Stanton’s mouth.
It was a bluff, but it was all he had. Planting the idea they had more information than they did was all he had.
“That’s it?” Stanton asked.
“For now.”
***
Laura hit the bed emotionally exhausted. So many thoughts raced through her head, she could go crazy. What was Alysa’s connection to one of DeMatta’s thugs? It didn’t make sense. Unless the guy was setting up another business like Anna’s. Or maybe he was trying to get to her and Cait through Alysa?
She shivered as a cold chill ran through her.
Was it DeMatta who’d killed Eddie? Or did he just happen to be there that night? Had he sent one of his thugs to do the job and he came by just to be sure? Or was it someone else altogether? Eddie certainly had his enemies. So, how would she ever know?
Maybe she’d never know. But one thing Jordan had said stood out above the rest. If someone wanted to hurt her or Cait, he hadn’t made an effort to do it.
Luke had had the same negative reaction to her story as Jordan, and now she almost regretted that she’d said anything. Mostly she couldn’t shake the devastation that lingered since she saw the look of shock and disgust in Jordan’s eyes.
In a way, she was relieved she’d told him everything. She didn’t have to carry all her dark secrets alone any longer. What would come of it all was the million-dollar question. And in the end…she knew she trusted Jordan would do whatever he could to protect them. And just maybe, she and Cait could someday live like normal people.
It was 5:00 a.m. when Laura awoke. She rolled over in bed and wrapped the sheet around her. Another day of interminable waiting. Waiting and wondering what was going to happen next. God, she was so tired of it.
She elbowed to a sitting position in bed, reached over and turned on the lamp on the night table. Sitting there, she noticed for the first time a photograph on the chest across from her. She slipped from the bed and took the photo back to look at it under the light.
It was Luke with a beautiful dark-haired woman and a child, a towheaded boy about four years old. The same age Caitlin had been when her father died. A pain twisted in Laura’s chest. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must’ve been for Luke to lose his son. How awful for anyone to lose a child. She set the photo back on the chest, her heart aching for Luke and the family he no longer had.
Or was it for the traditional family she’d wanted and never had.
Was there ever a time when life might’ve been different?
No, there was no going back. We are who we are. And maybe life hadn’t turned out exactly as she wanted, but she had a beautiful daughter and her life was full. That should be more than enough.
Three years ago, she’d made a necessary decision. And that decision had changed her life. Right or wrong, she didn’t know. She’d felt helpless for so long. But Jordan’s words came back to her, “You can go to the police.”
Yes, she could go to the police and tell them everything—in fact, she had to. But not before she had assurances that Caitlin would be safe.
She rolled out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweats. Everything was still when she opened the door. Still and dark, except for the sliver of moonlight that shone through the small window above the front door. From the top of the stairs, she could make out Jordan’s form on the couch, one arm over his eyes. She tiptoed down the stairs and stole across the room, careful not to make any noise. But just as she reached the end of the couch, she felt a hand grab her wrist.
“Going somewhere?” Jordan’s voice…so soft she barely heard him.
“To the kitchen,” she whispered back.
“It’s very early.”
“I know. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Okay, but don’t make any noise.” He turned away from her and jammed a pillow over his head.
In the kitchen, she found a glass, poured herself some milk and then sat at the Formica table in the middle of the room. The 1920s stove and the old glass cabinet doors made her feel as if she’d been transported back in time. No renovations here…which was probably a good thing. Renovations would’ve spoiled the essence of the room. Luke didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be decorating anything, much less doing a retro look, so she had to assume someone else had a hand in it. His ex-wife, most likely.
She noticed a pile of dirty dishes in the old cast-iron sink, got up and started to run some water. A noise behind her caused her to whip around so fast, she dropped the cup in her hand and it clattered against the tile counter. Her hands shook as she fumbled to keep the delicate cup from falling to the floor.
“Sorry if I scared you. I thought you heard me coming in.”
She leaned against the counter, her pulse beating in her throat. “I guess I was preoccupied.”
“That looks good,” he said, indicating the milk on the table.
“I’ll get you some.” She went to the sink and washed out a glass. “I think your friend needs a maid.”
“Maybe. Guys aren’t the greatest housekeepers.”
“Maybe not. But I’ll bet your place is neat as a pin.”
His mouth lifted at the corners but didn’t quite make a smile. “You’d be wrong.”
After she poured him some milk, they sat at the table, silent, as if there was nothing left to say. But she did have something to say, and she wanted to get it all out there.
“I know what I told you before was probably a shock. I’m sorry about that. But I can’t change the past…and I’m proud of what I’ve done with my life. I’ve also come to realize you were right. I can’t go on like this. And if you can make sure Cait and I are protected, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything.”
Thoughtful, Jordan lingered over his glass of milk. Finally he said, “There was a time when I thought going to the police was the best thing to do…but—”
“But what?”
“I still think it’s the right thing to do, but it might not be the safest thing to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know, and I can’t tell you anything more, except that we have to work this from another angle.”
“Because?”
“Because I’ve found out some things that need to be kept quiet until we have hard evidence. If you go to the police, it’ll become public information, a feeding frenzy for the media.”
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“Wait.”
“And what happens while we wait?”
“I’ll work on it.”
“Fine. But I
’m going to wait at home.”
He did a double take. “Excuse me.”
“I believe you were right. If someone really wanted to hurt me or Cait, he’s had plenty of opportunities. Since he hasn’t, he must have another agenda.”
“Maybe so. But since we don’t know what his agenda is… I think it’s too dangerous to take that chance.”
“I’m going back to the shelter later today. I’m tired of running, letting this person pull all the strings. This has to stop. If you want me to go to the station and tell them everything, I will. If I can do something else, tell me what.”
He rubbed his chin. “If you insist on going back, maybe you can talk to Alysa. Find out what she was doing with Nick Stanton.”
“I already talked to her about it. I don’t think she’ll tell me anything new, but I’ll ask.”
“If it doesn’t work, then I’ll talk to her.”
“Do you have any other plans?”
“I’ll need to make sure you and Cait are well protected. I know a few people.”
“And other than that?”
“I’m working on it.”
***
Jordan hated that Laura had decided to go back to the shelter, but she was stubborn and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. And if he couldn’t convince her, the least he could do was make sure she had protection. He checked his watch. Was it too soon to call? She’d only been back home an hour.
“Hey, buddy.” Luke came over and slapped a printout on Jordan’s desk. “Something for you.” He glanced at Mary Beth. “From you know who.”
Jordan scanned the paper. Apparently Mary Beth had done more research on Stanton, research he hadn’t asked her to do. Was she trying to ingratiate herself? Or find out more about what he was doing? The second he thought it, he felt foolish. Sheesh. Now he was second-guessing the admin assistant. As if she could be a mole. Stupid.
He glanced at the printout. No history from the time Stanton left New Paltz, when he’d have been about twenty-two, until the time of his incarceration at Attica in 2012. Ten years missing.
He shoved back in his chair. Stanton’s history was probably the most insignificant piece of information on the case. All he really wanted to know was if he was the guy DeMatta hired to take out Kolnikov and later Valdez. For DeMatta to have been at Eddie Gianni’s on the night of his murder, it was possible the mobster even managed a few hits of his own.
He needed to start from the beginning, draw a time line. He picked up the Kolnikov file one more time, scanning the list of personal effects. One tiny shred of evidence could make the case—the right piece of evidence.
The paper with a date on it flashed in his mind. Like the birthday card from Rita Valdez, there’d been no follow-up. What was the date? Did it have any significance? Had the paper been tested for fingerprints? Was it Kolnikov’s handwriting or someone else’s? He flipped through the file and found a smudged copy of the note. He read the date. December 24, 1980. Damn. He shoved papers aside to find the report on Stanton and compared. December 24, 1980, was Nick Stanton’s birth date.
Why would Kolnikov have written that specific date on a piece of paper? If it was her writing. Was she trying to find out if Stanton actually did come from her hometown?
“Good stuff?” Howie Ralston’s voice came out of nowhere.
Jordan turned to find the guy standing directly over him, obviously reading the file. “No. Nothing new.”
“I thought you stopped working on the case.”
He didn’t have to explain anything to Ralston. But if he didn’t… Hell, at this point he was suspecting everyone. He swallowed his irritation. “I did. Just wanted to make a final note in the file.”
His answer seemed good enough for Ralston and he walked away. After packaging up the note with the date and a sample of Kolnikov’s handwriting for comparison, Jordan handed it to Mary Beth to send to the science guys in SID. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Then he headed for the evidence room. On his way downstairs, he pulled out his phone and called Laura. Phoebe answered.
“Hi, Phoebe. Is Laura around?”
Seconds later Laura came on. “Hello.”
“Just checking. Everything okay?”
“We’re fine. Cait’s at school and everything is back to normal. Well, except for the bodyguards you have surrounding the house and Cait’s school.”
“They’re not supposed to be seen.”
“They’re discreet, but I know they’re there. I doubt anyone else does.”
He wanted to say more, but felt the distance between them ever widening.
“Thank you for doing this,” she finally said. “I’m grateful, and I know the police department isn’t paying for it. When this is all over, I’ll pay you back…only it’ll have to be in installments.”
“Forget it.” He wanted to say he’d do it for anyone, but it wasn’t true. He was doing it because he cared about her and Cait. He loved her. “Repayment isn’t necessary.”
So, if he loved her, why couldn’t he put what she’d told him out of his mind? The thought of Laura willing to give up her child, the thought of her selling her body made his stomach churn. How could he love someone and yet hate what she’d been?
“I’ll call later,” he said. He disconnected and kept walking, his anger growing. The pain of her deception hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before. He was a fool. He’d fallen in love with one woman and then found out she was another. Some judge of character he was.
The smell of stale tobacco hit him about ten yards before he reached the storage room. He went to the desk and signed in with a request for the evidence collected in the Kolnikov case.
George Federovski, a uniform on his last year with the force, stubbed out his cigarette and shoved the ashtray under the counter. Smoking had been banned from the department years ago, but some diehards ignored the rules. Which was probably why George was in the basement.
The man studied the registration book, then scratched his balding head. “I think it’s gone. Yeah, someone checked it out earlier.”
“Someone? You got a name?”
His sausage fingers ran down the pages. “Here it is. But I don’t recognize it. Walker Davis.”
Jordan didn’t recognize the name, either.
“And there’s no date or department listed. I don’t know how it happened.” George shrugged.
Unfortunately, Jordan did. George was counting the days until retirement and only did as much work as he had to. Back at his desk, Jordan pulled up the computer file of officers on the LAPD. Twice he scanned the list, but found no one with the name Walker Davis. He got up and walked over to Luke.
“Yo,” Jordan said as he sat on the corner of his buddy’s desk. “You know an LEO named Walker Davis?”
“Nope. Someone new?”
“I don’t know. Never heard the name and he’s not listed with the LAPD. He checked out the Kolnikov evidence.”
“You need it?”
“Yeah, but it’s gone…with no record…like it disappeared into thin air.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LAURA WAITED IN the lineup of vans and SUVs along the street outside Cait’s school. It had been a week since they returned from Luke’s and every day Cait complained bitterly over not being able to walk home by herself anymore. But Laura simply wasn’t going to take chances—no matter how many people Jordan had on watch.
She’d explained to Cait about looking at some pictures Jordan was going to bring over sometime, and the child hadn’t flinched. And then she’d scampered off as if none of it had any significance to her. Had Laura known it would be so easy…
But she couldn’t go back and do an instant replay.
At three o’clock the children started spilling out the door, running to their parents’ cars, some to the playground and some walking home. Laura saw Jenny and Shannon and expected Caitlin to be with them. But she wasn’t.
She bolted from the car and caught the girls b
efore they got away. “Hi, there. Either of you know where Cait is?”
They looked at each other, then back to her and shook their heads.
“She’s usually with the two of you.”
“I think she might’ve had to stay after school,” Shannon piped up.
Kids didn’t stay after school in Caitlin’s grade, and if they had problems of any kind, a parent was always notified. “Are you sure?” Laura crossed her arms.
The guilty look in Shannon’s eyes told her the child was lying. “Tell me the truth,” she ordered, while casting about for Cait. “You two stay right here. I’m going in to check with Cait’s teacher. And if I find out—” She rushed off before finishing the sentence.
Lunging up the stairs, she saw Cait’s teacher standing just inside the door directing the children out in single file. But Cait wasn’t among them.
“Mrs. Gianni.” The teacher smiled. “How nice to see you.”
“Where’s Caitlin?” Laura blurted. “She’s not where she’s supposed to be.”
“Really?” The woman glanced around, her attention caught by children trying to run instead of walking or joining in line. “She was here just a while ago, talking to Shannon.” Her gaze darted from right to left. “I thought she was right here.”
“Did she have any problems today?”
The woman drew back in surprise. “Of course not. Caitlin’s one of my best students. And I would always call a parent if there’s a problem.”
“But you don’t know where she is?”
“I’ll call someone to look in the bathroom. She may have gone there without permission, though that doesn’t seem like her.”
“Please do,” Laura said, then dashed out the door, scanning for Cait’s curly hair and pink jacket. She didn’t see Cait, and the other two girls weren’t there, either. “Oh, God.” She ran back into the school to the principal’s office and barged through the door. “My daughter is missing. Please call the police.”
The man behind the desk stared at her for a moment, as if not comprehending. Then he stood. “I’m Mr. Clancy,” he said, and held out a hand.
“I know who you are! Didn’t you hear me? I said my daughter is missing.”
