by Darcia Helle
“I wish it were that simple,” Endicott said. “I’m thinking that it might be wise to have your mother hospitalized for a time. That way we can keep a constant watch on her. Keep her from regressing into her protective shell.”
“No.” Ian shook his head emphatically. “I won’t do that to her.”
Endicott continued to tap his thumbs together. He kept his gaze fixed on Ian, his face registering no emotion. Finally he leaned back and said, “I understand your reluctance. But it is an option you may wish to consider.”
Ian realized that he had clenched his hands into fists. He forced them open, stretched his fingers, concentrated on his breathing and controlling his anger. “I do not wish to consider that option. Ever.”
Endicott nodded almost imperceptibly. He said, “Your mother has brought up a relationship with someone named Luci. A new friend, she claims. Is that correct?”
What had his mother said about Lucianna? And how much should he admit to? Should he tell Endicott that Lucianna was a private investigator? Endicott would not be happy. But that shouldn’t matter.
“Yes, that’s right,” Ian said. “Lucianna is a friend.”
“Of yours or your mother’s?”
“Does that matter?”
Endicott arched a brow. He let the silence fill the air and settle. Then he said, “In a way, yes, it does matter. I was curious as to how your mother would have made a new friend. And, if she had, what the basis of that friendship is.”
“They talk a lot of nonsense,” Ian said. He could hear the irritation in his voice. He didn’t care. “And technically she would be an acquaintance of mine who occasionally visits with my mother.”
“I see.”
“She’s a private investigator,” Ian said. He paused, watched Endicott’s expression harden. “I hired her to try and find out what happened to my mother on that last day she was normal.”
“And you think that is the magical answer?” Endicott scoffed.
“No, I don’t think that’s the magical answer any more than I think bringing her to you is.” Ian stood, bit back a string of obscenities. “I’m just doing what I can to help my mother. Everything I can. And if you’re not willing to work with that, just say so.”
Endicott’s expression remained impassive. He pushed out of his chair and said, “I would appreciate updates on this investigator’s progress. If any.”
Ian nodded. “Sure.”
“And tread carefully, Ian. Your mother is highly unstable. The slightest thing, the smallest memory, could cause her to retreat deeper inside herself. Permanently.”
“Or snap her out of it.”
“Correct,” Endicott said. “The problem is, without medical supervision you won’t know which way she’ll go until it may be too late.”
Ian bit back his reply. Medical supervision was getting him nowhere. He strode to the door, feeling the need to escape this place. Was this how his mother felt? Was he helping her? Or making her worse?
“Next week, then?” Endicott asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Ian said.
Chapter 21
“Patrick called twice,” Vinnie said.
Lucianna groaned, pushed the rest of the way through the door. She said, “Can you wait until I get all the way inside before delivering bad news?”
Vinnie shrugged. He waited while Lucianna shoved the door closed and trudged across the room to his desk. Then he said, “Ready now?”
“Is there more?”
“The man is a nuisance. Not to mention a complete embarrassment to the male gender. What is with this groveling nonsense?”
Lucianna tugged off her coat. “Apparently he thinks that he loves me.”
“Is this a recent revelation or one discovered during your brief… relationship?”
“Recent, I think. Who knows? I don’t really care.”
“This is how stalkers begin.”
“Oh please.” Lucianna strode toward her private office. “He’s immature, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
Inside her office, Lucianna tossed her coat over a corner chair and dropped her briefcase on top. From behind her, Vinnie said, “Care to hear about my morning?”
Lucianna rubbed her temples as she crossed the room. After dropping into the chair behind her desk, she said, “Should I be mean? Like tell him I was just using him for the sex?”
Vinnie broke into a wide grin. “And Patrick is the type you’d seek out for that sort of thing?”
“Okay, so a diversion then.”
“A diversion from the type you would normally seek for a sexual fling?”
“Yes.”
“Might work,” Vinnie said. “Might just piss him off. The problem is that any acknowledgement you give him could be misconstrued as encouragement. You know, by someone in his pathetic state.”
“Great.” Lucianna leaned back, stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “Okay, tell me about your breakfast meeting. You had pancakes smothered in syrup. Bacon. Two eggs, over easy. And at least a half pot of coffee.”
“And wheat toast.”
“Hmm… Something healthy as a concession to all that cholesterol?”
“Have to keep my doctor happy.”
Lucianna shook her head, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure your doctor just adores you.”
“Who doesn’t?” Vinnie had made himself comfortable in a chair opposite Lucianna. He stretched out his long legs, smoothed the creases in his slacks. “Now would you like to hear about my breakfast conversation? Or was your interest limited to the menu?”
“My interest is piqued at the prospect of hearing details of the conversation. Please, do tell.”
“This investigation Graham is running,” Vinnie said. “It’s all very hush-hush. No one knows much. And the little information floating around is difficult to piece together.”
That sounded very much like her entire case so far. She crossed her legs, leaned her elbows on the desk, and rested her head on her hands. She watched Vinnie. His face had that serious edge that said he had a line on something big.
Vinnie said, “Graham has been after a guy by the name of Nico. Been trying for years to take him down. Guy keeps slipping through the cracks, using the system to his advantage.”
“What is Graham after this Nico for?”
“Ahh, an endless list. The most prominent has to do with young children, sometimes runaways. Maybe for use in child pornography. Or young hookers. Like I said, details are sketchy.”
Lucianna let that information bounce around her brain cells for a few moments. Then she said, “And you’re going to tell me that Nico is somehow tangled up with Corinne McCormick?”
“Nico is big man on campus with the K Unit. In charge of a flock of morons.”
“The same gang that Sam Evans is tangled up with.”
“You’re catching on quick.” Vinnie straightened, drummed his fingers against the arms of the chair. “At the very least, that puts your crazy lady on the sidelines of some pretty nasty stuff.”
“Her name is Corinne.”
“I know.”
“Dating Sam Evans doesn’t automatically imply that she was aware of any of this.”
“Correct.”
Lucianna rubbed her temples. “This can’t be good.”
“Correct again.”
“I’m going to have a little talk with Mr. Evans,” Lucianna said. “See if he squirms.”
Vinnie stood. The motion was fluid, as if nothing he did required effort. He gazed down at Lucianna. When he spoke, his voice had softened. “Be careful. And do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“The next time you choose a partner for a sexual diversion, first make sure he’s mentally stable.”
***
Twice during her drive home, Lucianna thought she spotted a car following her. But it was one of those nights when the sky went completely black. No stars. No moon. And, on the back roads where the streetlights were few a
nd far between, that made it hard to tell whether the car three hundred feet behind her now was the same car that had been behind her three miles earlier.
Normally she wouldn’t have given that detail much attention. Tonight, however, she was feeling on edge.
When she rolled into her parking lot, no cars slowed or pulled in behind her. People drove past, going about their business. Maybe she needed a vacation.
Dylan greeted her with a loud meow. “Impatient for dinner?” Lucianna asked as she scooped up the cat. “What did you do all day?”
Dylan meowed in response. Lucianna set him on the floor and said, “Those birds coming to the window and teasing you again?”
She hung her coat in the hall closet and dropped her briefcase on the sofa as she passed through the living room. Dylan trotted behind her into the kitchen. Turkey and giblets was on the menu for him this evening. Lucianna popped open the can. Dylan meowed.
She set the plate of food on the floor. He purred as he ate. Too bad people couldn’t be so easily satisfied.
While she chopped onions and peppers to go with her pasta, Lucianna told Dylan in all about her day. She filled a pot with water while muttering, “Neither Ian nor Corinne could possibly have anything to do with prostitution or child pornography.”
Dylan looked up from his plate, licked his lips. Then he lumbered out to the living room. Just like a guy.
Lucianna cooked her pasta, poured a glass of wine, and carried her dinner out to the living room. Dylan lay curled on the couch. He looked up and squeaked a little meow when she sat beside him.
“I’m having trouble keeping a professional distance with this one,” Lucianna said. She scratched Dylan under the chin. He closed his eyes and purred.
“He’s very sexy. But lots of men are sexy, right?”
Dylan didn’t respond. Typical.
She took a bite of her pasta. Dylan sat up, stretched. He watched her chew through big green eyes. Lucianna said, “You know, I’ve never fallen for a guy. I mean, beyond the brief lust thing. But with Ian, well, I can’t seem to keep that distance. What am I going to do?”
She waited for Dylan to enlighten her with some profound wisdom. He said nothing. Go figure.
***
Again Nico’s fist connected with Drake’s face. Blood splattered from his nose, streamed down his cheeks. Skeets took a half step back, kept watching because he was afraid not to. Another punch, this time followed by a crack. Drake’s jaw hung limp. A tooth bounced off the concrete floor. Blood dripped, forming a puddle.
Drake’s legs wobbled and his knees gave out. The two men holding his arms yanked him back to his feet. Nico continually slammed his fists into the guy’s stomach, using him as a punching bag. Drakes’ eyes rolled back in his head. He slumped backward. Nico’s assistants held him up.
When Nico realized Drake was blissfully unconscious, his fists stilled. He spat on the floor and shook his head in disgust. His gaze drifted and fell on Skeets. Hard eyes stared into him.
Skeets fought the compulsion to stand at attention. He met Nico’s stare, thinking it was easier to look at the bloody pulp that was once a friend.
“And what have you got for me?” Nico asked.
The calmness of Nico’s voice scared Skeets more than the beating he’d just witnessed. He swallowed back the bile that had risen to the back of his throat. He rattled off information, how he’d considered grabbing the dude’s partner’s wife to use for leverage. He sputtered facts about the dude’s incredibly boring lifestyle. All useless, he knew. Yet he kept talking, filling the space with noise, hoping the next sound wouldn’t be his bones shattering.
Nico held his hand up. “Enough. Where the hell are they?”
Sweat trickled down Skeets’ back despite the chill in the air. “Not even the cops have been able to figure that out.”
“You better hope they ain’t figured it out ‘cause that’ll be the end of the fucking line for you.”
Skeets only nodded. Any reply would just sink him deeper.
Drake moaned. That was followed by a sound of pure anguish as he came to. Nico turned. The two assistants still held Drake up. “Welcome back,” Nico said. “Do you remember what I told you happens to dumb fucks?”
Skeets had hoped that Nico was done with the guy. That the beating would be enough. But he’d known it wouldn’t be. Not this time. Drake had gotten too rough and killed one of the girls. Not that Nico cared about the particular girl. Just the money.
Nico nodded to the assistant on the left. Skeets didn’t know his name. Didn’t ever want to. The dude’s biceps were bigger than his own thigh. His hands were huge, thick, strong. Just the sight of them balled into fists made Skeets want to vomit.
“Break his fingers,” Nico instructed. “All of them. One at a time.”
The snaps echoed inside Skeets’ head, bouncing back and forth until he felt the pain as his own. Finally the noise stopped, as did the screams. Drake had slipped unconscious once again. His fingers dangled awkwardly. Skeets didn’t dare close his eyes. Didn’t dare move.
Nico motioned for the two assistants to take him away. “Do it slow,” he said. “Let him feel every last breath.”
They dragged him across the concrete floor and out the back door. Nico watched impassively. To Skeets he said, “Find me something. Soon.”
Chapter 22
Lucianna woke to the patter of rain against the windows. She cracked her eyes open, peeked at the digital clock. 6:45 on a Saturday morning. Why was it that on weekdays, when she had to get up, she always wanted to sleep the morning away? Then the weekend finally comes around and she’s awake before her alarm would have gone off.
Dylan raised his head. He’d been curled against her thigh, sleeping peacefully. He gazed at her through sleepy eyes, decided the morning was too gloomy to warrant movement, and nuzzled back against her.
For awhile Lucianna lay still, letting thoughts float through her mind. Sometimes those early morning disconnected thoughts helped her solve a difficult case. This morning all they managed to do was leave her mildly aroused. Probably not a good response when thinking of a client. Certainly not productive.
She stretched, then slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Dylan’s slumber. The condo had that raw chill that came with cold rainy days. She pulled on her thick robe and slippers and wandered down to the kitchen. As she filled the kettle with water, Dylan padded into the room, stretched, and meowed. The prospect of breakfast always managed to get him up and moving.
Lucianna popped open a can of salmon dinner and wrinkled her nose at the assault to her sense of smell. “The things I do for you,” she murmured as she scooped the wet food onto a plate.
By nine o’clock she had completed her yoga routine, showered, had breakfast, and talked enough to bore Dylan back to sleep. She thought about calling some friends to get together for lunch, or spending the afternoon with her two nieces, or doing some mindless shopping at the mall. Each idea was dismissed almost as soon as it crossed her mind. She was restless, baffled by this newest case, and much too consumed with thoughts of Ian.
Finally, at 9:45 A.M., she gave up her charade of a comfortable Saturday at home and headed to her office. She may as well make use of her lack of a social life and the solitude of her office on a weekend.
The drudgery of paperwork managed to occupy her mind enough to keep thoughts of Ian on the periphery of her consciousness. At least it had worked until she got to his file. She had to write up the weekly report and bring his bill up to date. For the first time ever, she considered leaving off some of her expenses, not charging for all of her time. What was wrong with her?
She leaned back, closed her eyes, and his image popped in front of her. She could smell his cologne, see the curve of his lips as he smiled. Definitely not a good sign.
The front door to the reception area clicked open. She’d forgotten to lock it. That’s what she got for daydreaming so much.
She quietly pushed herself from her chair. Could
be a prospective client. Could be a sadistic rapist. Only one way to find out.
Just as she stepped around her desk, he appeared in her doorway. She let out a long breath. A sadistic rapist might have been easier to handle.
“Patrick, what are you doing here?” Lucianna said.
He was dressed in a hand-woven, custom-tailored smoky gray suit. His concession to it being Saturday was to omit the tie and leave the collar of his silk burgundy pinstripe shirt open. He held a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. “For you,” he said.
Lucianna made no move to accept the flowers. She didn’t even like roses. Showed how much Patrick really knew about her. “I’m working,” she said. “You need to leave.”
“I’ve missed you,” Patrick said. He took another step forward, still holding the roses out. “Have dinner with me. I made reservations at that little Italian bistro around the corner. I have so much I want to tell you.”
“What part of us breaking up didn’t you understand?”
“That was a cry for attention. I know that now. I wasn’t giving you what you needed.”
“What?” Lucianna silently counted to three and fought back the urge to slap him silly. “That’s ridiculous! There was no cry for attention, Patrick. I do not want to see you anymore. Period.”
Patrick’s mouth gaped open. He dropped the roses onto the desk. His eyes filled with threatening tears. Then just as quickly his expression twisted into a barely contained rage. His words came out in short bursts. “Does punishing me make you happy?” he said. “Is that what this is about? Are you getting your kicks by playing games with me?”
“I am not playing games with you.”
“You’re going to be sorry.”
“Do not threaten me, Patrick.”
He glared at her, muttered something she couldn’t understand, then turned and stormed from the room. After he had slammed the door, rattling the frame, Lucianna went and twisted the lock. She leaned against the door and wondered what she had possibly been thinking when she’d decided to have sex with him.
