by Style, Linda
“I doubt it. I don’t think you know yourself, much less anyone else.”
The words hit Jordan like a punch in the gut.
“You think because you discovered your mother was a whore, that somehow taints you. You think because of Laura’s past, she’s the same as your biological mother.”
“Ridiculous. I don’t think that at all. I had two wonderful adoptive parents who raised me to have integrity and to be honest, and Laura’s—” He stopped, realizing Luke had manipulated him. “Let’s drop it.”
“Sure. But it’s your loss.”
They were quiet until they reached the exit.
“Well,” Luke said, “I want to say one last thing, then I’ll be quiet. I haven’t learned much over these past few years, but I have learned a couple things. One, I can’t blame my demons on someone else. And two, I have to deal with them myself because until I do, I’m always going to be searching for the next high, whether it’s a drink or something else.”
Jordan frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Luke gave Jordan a critical squint. “Deal with your own demons, buddy. Don’t look for a place to hide or a place to lay blame. I’ve done it all and it doesn’t work.”
Within minutes they reached the corner where Alysa said she’d be waiting. Dusk fell in graduating layers after the sun set, the eerie time when it was neither dark nor light. When darkness fell, neon lights illuminated the streets as if it were Las Vegas.
During the day, the tourist-attraction factor kept the city clean…but at night, the disenfranchised came out to play. Or work, such as it was.
“Is that her?” Luke pointed to a young girl who looked like she’d been an extra for The Walking Dead.
“No. Alysa is tall and blond. Model material.”
“How about we park and get out?” Before getting an answer, Luke pulled into an empty space next to a fire hydrant.
“You’re gonna get a ticket,” Jordan said facetiously. They got out of the car and stood next to it on the sidewalk.
“I could get a mega bust right here if I wait around a few hours,” Luke said.
Jordan saw movement in the shadow of a doorway near a trendy restaurant. “That might be her.” He walked toward the door.
Alysa huddled in the corner, her gaze darting four directions all at once.
“You want to come with us?” Jordan asked.
“I don’t want anyone to see me with you,” she said.
“I can make it look like an arrest. Will that help?”
She nodded.
Jordan pulled out his shield, so if anyone was watching, he was covered. Then he took his cuffs and turned the girl around to secure her hands. She kept her head down as he led her to the car. Luke was already in the driver’s seat when Jordan got in. “Go.”
“I’m on it,” Luke said.
As they pulled away, Alysa said, “I didn’t know you were going to bring along another cop.”
“Detective,” Luke said over his shoulder.
“He’s cool,” Jordan added. “Trust me.”
“We’re not going to the station, are we?”
“No. How’d you get my cell phone number?”
“I—I got it from the card you gave Laura. But please don’t tell her.”
“Can’t make any promises until I know what’s going on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Luke’s going to find a private spot to park and then we can talk.” No sooner than Jordan got out the words, Luke made a turn in to an alley behind a warehouse. “Let’s get those cuffs off,” Jordan said.
She leaned forward so he could reach her. After the cuffs were off, she rubbed her wrists. “Geezus, those things hurt.”
Something they heard all the time. “Good thing you have no reason to be in them for a longer period of time.”
Alysa didn’t meet his eyes.
“So why are we here?” Jordan asked. “You said you might be in trouble.”
Her big blue eyes expanded. “I think so.”
“Why do you think so?”
“There’s this guy—”
“Start from the beginning.”
She bit her lip, then flopped back against the seat. “Before I came to Victory House, about six months ago, I was a real mess. I was a mess for a long time afterward. Just when I started to get my act together, I had a setback.” She chewed on her lower lip as if it was difficult to go on.
“A setback?”
“Yeah. It’s not the same as a relapse. Anyway, this setback really put me down. I couldn’t think or do anything, and when this guy offered me money for some information, I said okay.”
Jordan and Luke’s attention was piqued. “What kind of information?”
“He asked me get some information about the shelter, and the director. Laura.” She glanced at Jordan, guilt in her eyes.
“Specifically her?”
“Yes. He wanted to know about her money, how she got funding for the shelter and all kinds of stuff I don’t know about. I told him I didn’t know anything and he said he’d give me even more money if I found out.”
Luke eyed Jordan. “And did you?” Luke asked.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “I did.”
“Did he say why he wanted the information?”
“He said something about taxes and being with the government, but I really didn’t know what he was talking about. I copied the information from the records he asked for and then I told him about the hidden money.”
“Money?” Jordan asked.
“Money in brown wrapping. Lots of money.”
“What happened to the money?”
“Nothing that I know of. But last week when I met this guy and told him about the money, Laura was at the shopping center and she saw me getting out of his car.”
“Did you tell her what you’d done?”
She was shaking now, tears flooding down her cheeks. “I told her I had a relapse.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes—to no avail. The tears kept coming. “I didn’t tell her I gave information to this man…a-and now I’m afraid I did something terrible and got her in trouble, too.”
Laura had told him about Alysa’s meeting with Stanton. Now he knew why. Damn! But what reason would Stanton have for wanting information about Laura’s accounts? And where had the money come from? She’d mentioned money from DeMatta, but that was three years ago. Had he given her more? And why would she be hiding it?
***
Laura paced the room, waiting for Jordan to arrive. He’d called more than an hour ago and said he had to talk to her again. She definitely wanted to talk to him about her conversation with Cait.
She glanced at the time again. Jordan should be there any minute. It was after ten and Alysa wasn’t home, either. And because Phoebe and Rose were on street duty, she didn’t have any way to go looking for the teenager even if she could. She’d left a call on Phoebe’s cell phone for them to keep an eye out for the teen. She felt helpless to do anything more and it irritated the hell out of her. Maybe Jordan would have some ideas.
She knew better than to call the police to report Alysa missing. They would get on it, but not immediately since she had a history of running. It was normal to think the kid had run again.
But Alysa was different from other troubled kids. The child longed for the security she’d never had, and Victory House had given her that. Maybe not in the way she wanted, but enough to get her back on track. That’s what bothered Laura the most. Alysa had to be in trouble. Something she couldn’t talk about with her counselor. But maybe with a friend?
Deciding that would be her approach when the teen returned, Laura flipped on the television set for company. Then the doorbell rang. Still on edge, she went to the door and peered between the curtains. The outside light gave the night an eerie yellow cast… Jordan and Alysa stood on the steps.
What the— She wrenched open the door. “Oh, my God, Alysa, where have you been?”
Jordan held
up a hand. “Let’s sit. Alysa has something to tell you.”
Laura listened quietly as Alysa told her what she’d done. With every word out of the girl’s mouth, Laura rode a roller coaster of emotions…astonishment, disappointment, sadness—and the ultimate knowledge of betrayal. The raw truth twisted like a knife in Laura’s chest.
Was it always like this? Did everyone in the world disappoint you at some time or another? As a counselor, she knew the answer. People were flawed. People made mistakes. God knew she’d made enough of her own, and some of them would have consequences that lasted the rest of her life.
Alysa apologized through a flood of tears. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. At first I thought I was doing the right thing, and when I found out it wasn’t, it was too late.”
“It’s okay, Alysa.” Laura took the girl’s hand. “I’m glad you told me. Now we’ll just go on from here.”
Alysa’s head came up. “You don’t hate me? You’re not going to make me leave?”
“I’m surprised and…hurt. But I’d no more ask you to leave than leave myself. We’ve made it this far, we’ll get through the rest. Now, why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning.”
The girl looked at Laura in disbelief, then hugged her. “I can’t believe you don’t hate me.”
“I care about you, Alysa. I could never hate you, no matter what you do.”
Alysa looked as if her world had just been resurrected. She swallowed, dashed at the tears on her cheeks with the back of one hand and gave a wobbly smile. Then she turned and ran up the stairs.
Laura knew the power of forgiveness, how it had turned her own life around.
“I’m in awe,” Jordan said.
Laura glanced at him, her attention still on Alysa and the significance of what she’d revealed. “What?”
“I admire how you handled that.”
Laura looked away. “I was honest, that’s all. I care very much about Alysa and what she does with her life. I’m not going to throw away all we’ve done because she made a mistake.”
“A mistake? I’d say it was more than a mistake.”
She shrugged. “I don’t believe a person’s actions condemn them for life. We all have to own up to our mistakes and failings and deal with them. Alysa will have to deal with hers.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, puzzlement in his eyes. “The big question for me is how does Alysa’s contact with one of DeMatta’s men fit into my investigation?”
Thoughtful, Laura nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t know the answer. Why would anyone want to know about my finances? About any money I might have?”
“Tell me about the money. Where did you get it? Why are you hiding it?”
She pulled back. “I wasn’t hiding it. It’s the money Eddie’s uncle gave me after the funeral. I didn’t want to use his dirty money and, under the circumstances, I couldn’t give it back. So I put it away.”
Jordan frowned. “Which doesn’t get me any closer to an answer.” He stood, glanced at his watch. “I guess the only way to get that answer is to go to the source.”
“DeMatta?” She frowned.
“No. Stanton. He’s the one asking questions.”
A loud banging at the front door nearly brought down the house. Both Laura and Jordan rushed for the door, Jordan with his gun drawn.
“Who’s there?” Jordan shouted.
“FBI. Open up.”
Jordan nodded to Laura but kept his gun leveled chest high. She’d only opened the door a fraction of an inch when it burst open. Four men rushed in waving badges. “Drop the gun!” The rest of the men moved in.
Jordan set down his gun and one of the men shoved him to the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HER HEART RACING, Laura turned to look down the hall to see if Cait had heard. Apparently not. Thank God her daughter slept like the dead. Within seconds, all the other girls were huddled on the stairs, fear etched on their sleepy faces.
“What’s going on?” Brandy asked from over the railing.
“I’m Special Agent Martinez,” the guy in front said. “Are you Laura Gianni?”
Numb with shock, she nodded.
“We have a warrant to search the house.”
“For what?” Jordan growled as the other guy started to handcuff him. “And if you look in my pocket you’ll find a badge. LAPD.”
The guy holding Jordan down found the badge and quickly let him go.
The special agent handed Laura some papers. Jordan brushed off his clothes and read the warrant over her shoulder. “It’s legit,” he said.
“This is ridiculous, that’s what it is.” She tossed the papers back at the man.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Please step aside.” The agent motioned to his men. “You two start upstairs, the rest of you down here.”
Standing directly in front of them, Laura blocked their path. “My seven-year-old daughter is sleeping and you’ll scare her to death if you start going through the house.”
Martinez asked, “Which room?”
“Downstairs, the room on the left at the end of the hall.”
He nodded at the men. “Be quiet and do the kid’s room last.” He faced Laura again. “You may want to wake her up and take her someplace else for a couple hours.”
Laura looked to Jordan, no clue what was going on? Why on earth would the FBI have a search warrant? “What should we do?” she asked Jordan.
“Let them do their job. You can go to my place and wait there if you want.”
Confused as she was, Laura had no intention of leaving and letting anyone ransack her house without further explanation. “I want to know what’s going on,” she said to the man called Martinez. “I have a right to know what you’re looking for.”
When one agent came out of her bedroom with her ledgers and a brown paper package, her stomach dropped. “It’s not what you think.”
The man’s lips thinned. “I don’t think anything. But it’s my job to find out the facts. Ma’am, I’d like you to come to headquarters with us to answer some questions.”
“Headquarters?” She edged back a step.
“The FBI field office headquarters,” the agent added.
“She’s not going anywhere, unless you’re arresting her, and I’m pretty sure you might need an arrest warrant. And she’ll want to call an attorney. Otherwise she can talk here.”
The agent shrugged. “Okay. But it’s just a matter of time then.”
As if gathering strength from Jordan’s words, Laura held her head high. “When you’re ready to go into my daughter’s room, please let me know.” Because she’d have to wake Cait and explain.
If she could.
***
Jordan left Laura only after the feds had gone and he knew the women would be okay. Laura had given Cait an explanation that the child apparently understood and she’d gone right back to sleep in Laura’s room. The men he’d hired to guard Laura had backed off when the FBI came, and he couldn’t blame them for that. He’d called them back and felt certain everybody at the shelter would be okay now.
As he hit the ramp and accelerated onto the freeway, he punched in Luke’s number. When he didn’t answer, he called the captain at home and asked to meet him at an all-night diner at a halfway point. While he hadn’t gotten a full explanation from the agents, he had enough information to know the FBI had some kind of sting going with DeMatta and somehow they figured Laura was involved.
What he didn’t know was if the LAPD was also in on the undercover sting and he’d been left out of the loop.
Sifting through every fact he could remember about the Kolnikov and Gianni cases, he was reminded how surprised DeMatta had seemed when Jordan told him one of his thugs had come looking for him. Were Stanton and Dutch involved in a takeover of DeMatta’s so-called empire and had they set up their boss for the feds?
But that wouldn’t explain why Stanton had chosen Alysa to g
et him Laura’s financial information. Unless Stanton, like the feds, thought Laura was involved with DeMatta, too.
Bright lights glared in his rearview mirror, the car behind suddenly closer than it should be. Jordan changed lanes and kept watching. A few seconds later, the other vehicle changed lanes. His adrenaline surged. He was being tailed, but the lights were so bright, he couldn’t identify the make. When he exited on Rosencranz, the car didn’t follow.
Odd as hell. He found the diner, parked and got out. The captain’s car was already there. Inside, the acrid scent of grease assaulted his senses. The overweight cook was frying something in a big vat, while across the room, the captain lounged in a booth looking as if he’d just rolled from bed.
“Yo, boss,” Jordan said, walking over.
Carlyle leaned forward with both elbows on the table. “This better be good, St. James.”
“It is.” Jordan slid into the booth. “You know if the feds are involved in a sting with DeMatta?”
Carlyle’s head came up. But just then, the cook came over. “What can I get you?”
“I’d like a shot of booze,” the captain said. “But I’ll have a bowl of vanilla ice cream instead.”
“Nothing for me.” Jordan smiled and leaned back. When the cook left, he said, “I was at Laura Gianni’s tonight and the suits came banging on the door with a search warrant. I thought you might know something.”
“Not a thing.” A muscle jumped near the captain’s right eye. Carlyle hated when other agencies impinged on his turf. To say he was territorial about his department was an understatement. “What’s your assessment?”
After the cook dropped the ice cream in front of the captain, Jordan told him about Alysa and Stanton and everything leading up to this moment.
“So you think the feds have been working on this for a while?”
“Yeah. How else would they know about the money DeMatta gave Laura? It was three years ago.”
“Marked money,” Carlyle said sharply. “Damn it, I’m not going to let the stupid feds take credit for this. DeMatta is our collar.” He shoveled nearly half a bowl of ice cream into his mouth.
“It’s gotta be something out of our jurisdiction.”
“Did you ask?”
