Hard to Stop

by Wendy Byrne

  He watched as she charged down the steps, barely touching each as she descended. After whipping open the door of her car, she started it up and squealed away from the curb. He couldn't help but wonder if she had a lead on her brother, and he thought for a few moments about following her. But in the end, he decided to go into the home instead. Besides, if she found Mick, she'd bring him home. He could deal with it then.

  The quiet neighborhood showed little signs of life as he crept through the alleyway and into the back entrance. Getting inside was a little trickier than he'd expected, but he had all the necessary tools in the pocket of his coat. In less than ten minutes he managed to get inside before the sun had a chance to peek through the early morning clouds.

  He walked through the kitchen and spotted the note on the table, then checked the home phone for messages. Nothing. No doubt the kid would call her cell anyway, but Max figured it was worth a shot.

  Next he headed upstairs to the kid's room, which was separated by a bathroom from his sister's. For a sixteen-year-old boy's room, it was fairly neat. Max opened the closet and glanced inside. A mix of sports equipment and clothes surrounded the perimeter, while an assortment of backpacks and gym bags and a baseball bag lined the floor. He rustled through the pockets of the clothes and coats, the assortment of hoodies, his school uniform pants and shirts, and found nothing. Undeterred, he glanced around the room. A corkboard held notes and pictures of friends, as well as one of him and his sister taken maybe a year ago. Max grasped the pictures of the girls and turned them over, noting the names listed on the backs. Gabriella and Sasha. Both were wearing uniforms of the school Mick attended, so Max would head over later and see if he spotted either one. He was pretty certain Gabriella had interrupted Max and Mick the other morning. They had to be tight. More importantly, she might know something.

  He went back into the closet and glanced around. His gaze landed on the baseball bag. He unzipped the small pocket along the side and found a small stash of weed. Interesting, but not unexpected. If Mick were dealing drugs, he wouldn't keep them in the house, not with a police officer sister. Besides, that didn't help Max figure out where the kid had gone. He put the stash back inside and opened up the large part of the bag where a bat would be stored. Except it wasn't there. But at the bottom he spotted a knife and a 9mm bullet.

  * * *

  Nerves had popped along Gia's spine since the text came around 6:00 a.m. Seconds later, she took off. Mick's cell phone had finally been tracked by pinging off the towers. And she headed off to the West Village area of Manhattan. She couldn't imagine what her brother might be doing there, but she had to trust the technology as well as the favor she'd garnered in order to obtain the information.

  She drove quickly, but even at this time in the morning and using her cop light, it took her longer than she could have expected. By the time she got close to the location, her entire body shook with adrenaline laced with fear. How could she convince him to trust her and not worry about whatever he'd gotten himself into? Somehow she had to find the right words to make him see reason.

  She double-parked on the street and followed the coordinates, which led her between two buildings. Fear made her stomach roil as she raced through the narrow space. Finding her brother might not be a good thing. Tears blurred her vision as the target narrowed in on the Dumpster toward the end of the space. Maybe he'd abandoned his phone knowing she'd try to track him down.

  She flipped open the top, propped herself onto the rim, and peered inside. The smell hit her first, even though she'd prepared herself. She held her breath and pulled out a flashlight as the full effect of the aroma stymied the air in her lungs. She lit the interior as best she could. Trash—both in and out of garbage bags—and rodents scurrying about. Nothing unremarkable until—oh my god—she spotted a foot.

  Then a second one.

  Her heart raced as she jumped inside. She heaved garbage out of the way as she unearthed a pair of tennis shoes attached to a jean-clad leg. She tossed trash about to uncover the face. "Please don't let it be Mick." Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn't dare brush them away until she could…see…her flashlight…the hoodie…pulled back…and shined the light onto the top of a head covered in black hair.

  She dug fast and furious in order to see the face, even while her chest squeezed and tears continued to fall. Oxygen stalled inside her throat as she ripped through the mound of debris obscuring her view. She clutched her head as it pounded from a type of fear she'd never hoped to experience again in her lifetime. Visions of her parents' death floated around inside her brain when she moved away the last of the boxes and pointed the flashlight. Maybe if she had told Mick the truth, things would be different.

  She was nearly too shaken to move. The air whooshed from her lungs as she spotted facial hair and multiple earrings in his left earlobe. "Joey." Her nerves were too frazzled for her to feel remorse. That might come later. Death was never easy. Knowing there wasn't any love lost between her and Joey didn't make it okay. He was dead.

  She continued to forage. The signal had come from somewhere in this Dumpster. And she couldn't dismiss the possibility that her brother might be buried in here somewhere as well. She stomped through the remainder of the trash bin, then dug through the pockets of Joey's jacket until she found Mick's cell. She scrolled through the last few incoming and outgoing calls, then closed her eyes and sighed. Tears of relief rolled down her cheeks now. The glimmer of hope felt temporary at best. She called in the dead body and hoisted herself out of the Dumpster. Then she sat down on the ground and tried to collect herself as she waited for the first squad car to appear.

  She could identify the dead body but didn't have much information beyond that. She had no idea of his next of kin, despite the bozo who'd called the lieutenant and claimed to be his father. She'd learned along the way Joey was eighteen, which was one of the many reasons she didn't want him hanging with her brother. It would be a couple of days before they learned the time of death, even if she'd already estimated it to be less than twenty-four hours.

  Detective Brown came to the site and greeted her with a nod. "How did you come across the body, Detective Collini?"

  "Tracked a cell phone that belonged to my brother."

  "The body's your brother?"

  She shook her head so vigorously she got a pounding headache. "No…but…he's an acquaintance of my brother." The words seemed to stick in her throat.

  "What's the kid's name?"

  "Joey Trattner."

  "He had your brother's cell phone?"

  "Yep. I'm not sure why. Right now…" She gulped as the admission stuck in her throat. Admitting her brother was missing would not bode well in terms of the case against him. "Here's the phone. I used gloves, but not sure you'll get anything." Her breath hiccupped in her throat.

  Joey. Crap.

  "I'll have it run. And I'll need to keep it for a while."

  "If you could send me it when you can. I doubt it has anything to do with the murder, but I understand your need to work your case."

  He gave her a look like he didn't believe her. For good reason. He'd known her long enough to question her easy compliance.

  "How did it get with the body?"

  She knew what he was thinking even if he didn't have to say the words. Did Mick have anything to do with the murder? The words floated between them in the air and she didn't dare look him in the eye, afraid of what she might see. It was going to be a long day or days until she figured out what to do next.

  * * *

  Max had to get back in that same mindset that had served him so well in the past. Back then he had the ability to ferret out information that was virtually nonexistent. This shouldn't be any different.

  Think.

  How did the incidents in the last few days fit together with his past? And what did the kid have to do with any of it?

  Before he could think too long, he heard the back door open, and someone entered. The creak of the old floors sounded
, even though the steps were light. Unless he was mistaken, it wasn't the detective. The steps were too tentative, not ones of someone who lived in the home, which also ruled out Mick.

  He stood behind the door and relaxed as he waited. Tiptoes sounded as the door to Mick's room squeaked. He peeked through the opening and spotted the blue and gray plaid colors of the school uniform, along with a dark ponytail. From his limited view, it might be the girl who came to Mick's rescue the other day when Max had him trapped at the side of that building.

  She entered the closet and grabbed some clothes, shoveling them into one of the gym bags along the floor. A shiver passed through her before she walked toward the dresser and pulled out socks and underwear. Mick had sent her on this mission. Which meant he was alive.

  Now he had a way to track down Mick that Gianna would never see coming. As soon as the girl tiptoed down the hall and out the door, he followed behind her.

  While she was dressed for school, she didn't head in that direction. She went into a store and came out with a small bag before going down a block then turning a corner. After glancing around, she slid beneath construction tape barring the entrance of a building and knocked on a door. Seconds later, someone opened up and pulled her inside. It had to be Mick. Was this dwelling a temporary solution to his current problem? For a minute, Max considered breaking inside, but not knowing the kid, he didn't want to spook him any more than he already was.

  About fifteen minutes later, the girl slipped outside and rushed toward the bus stop. Although Max hated to admit it, he might have to enlist the detective's help to guarantee some success.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gia's head throbbed. Her stitches were pulling and itching, and it had already been a long day despite the fact it was barely past noon.

  Things got even worse when she pulled up to her house and Max Shaw was lounging on the front steps, thousand-dollar suit and all. She pounded on the steering wheel. Didn't that man ever work? Of course he did, and he made a lot more money than she did—probably about twenty times as much, as far as she could tell. She'd looked up his financial information. He had well over ten million dollars in various banks throughout New York, had a substantial portfolio he managed, owned a townhome on the Upper East Side where he lived, owned another condo he rented out near the Financial District, and worked with a little over a half-dozen clients, making trades for them on the stock exchange, with two of those clients being his siblings, Sabrina and Jake.

  He had an assistant named Amanda who he paid over $450,000 a year. She'd been with him since he'd immigrated to New York from Serbia eight years ago. Everyone wanted to be his client, but he managed only a few clients he'd met through people he trusted. He was featured in the society pages, with a different woman at each function. All of them gorgeous. Most of them models. He was listed in the ten most eligible bachelors in Manhattan five years in a row.

  The guy had connections, but could he have already found out about Joey? If he had, she wouldn't be surprised if he were here to pump her for information. That was how guys like him operated. They thought their money bought them entry to wherever they wanted. All in all, it wasn't bad being Max Shaw—except for the whole "somebody wanting to kill him" thing.

  Finally, because she had no other recourse, she opened the car door and put on her best scowl. The man thought he could drop by any time to harass her. Harass her brother. And get away with it. She didn't even want to think about how he'd found her address. That would only make her want to arrest him for something.

  "Good afternoon, Detective." He gave her that smile that no doubt made lesser women swoon.

  "You seem to turn up everywhere. Do you ever work?" She gave him a surly look and hoped he took the hint that she didn't want whatever he was offering. He might charm other woman with his fancy talk and money, but not her. She wasn't like most other women.

  "I'm working as we speak. I've put in my orders for the day, and my assistant will call if anything out of the ordinary happens with the market."

  "Yeah, right. Well, if you don't mind." She tiptoed past him as she tried to avoid stepping near his relaxed body, which happened to be taking up more than its fair share of her step. "I have better things to do than spend my time talking to you."

  "Even if I know where your brother is?" He uttered the question as if he was dropping a bomb. And he kind of was.

  Her hand stilled on the doorknob while her heart stalled in her chest. "You what?"

  "Ah, I get it. Now you'll pay attention to me." He got up from his lounging position.

  She gritted her teeth and stalked close enough to recognize how good looking he was. Pfft. Yeah, that was probably why he thought he could get away with a whole lot of things other people didn't. Not on her watch.

  "That was to get my attention."

  "Yes, but it's still the truth."

  "How—"

  "I happened by this morning and spotted a young lady in a Catholic school uniform going inside your house. She came out about fifteen minutes later with a gym bag she hadn't gone in with. I took a guess that she came to get some additional supplies for your brother, so I followed her."

  "Why didn't you—"

  "Although it was tempting for me to show up with him in tow to your home, I figured he might put up a fight and thought you'd have more luck persuading him to come without incident."

  "Take me there." She grabbed his arm and yanked him down the steps.

  "Thought you'd never ask."

  "Did you see him? How did he look?" A million questions flitted through her mind. "How long has it been since you left?"

  "Before school started this morning, so I imagine it was around seven thirty when she dropped the stuff off. And no, I didn't see him, but I can't imagine why she would bring stuff from your house to someone other than your brother." To her dismay, he was remarkably calm and didn't seem to understand the urgency factor. Nope, he didn't know what she knew about Joey's murder.

  "But what if he's gone by now? You should have stood outside and called me." She twisted to look behind her. She couldn't understand why a man with his long legs was moving so slowly. The only explanation was that he was doing it to piss her off.

  "I tried, but your phone kept going into voice mail. I figured you were blocking my calls so thought it would be best to wait in front of your place. That way you couldn't ignore me."

  She huffed. "That's my police-issue phone. My personal cell—"

  "I didn't think we were at that stage in our relationship where you'd give me your personal cell phone number, Detective."

  "Don't try to be funny. I'm not in the mood. This is my brother we're talking about."

  "There are so many things I could say."

  If she were being kind, she might conclude he was trying to distract her, but she wasn't feeling very generous right now, especially when she thought about the three bullets in Joey's chest and the one smack dab in the middle of his forehead. A professional hit. And that terrified her.

  "How much further?"

  "Just up the block. The building with the construction tape across the front door. But—"

  She took off running. She didn't want to listen anymore—she wanted her brother safe and sound. He caught up with her by the second house. "What if he took off after you left?"

  "More than likely he moved in after dark. Which means he'd wait until dark to move again."

  "Let's hope you're right. But he thinks I'm mad at him." She sucked in a breath. "In reality, I'm scared to death for him." Why was she sharing so much? For all intents and purposes, he was the enemy. He might be playing the nice guy right now, but she knew better than to trust that he didn't have his own agenda going on.

  He slowed his stride and slipped his arm across her shoulder as if trying to match her pace to his. It worked. She appreciated the sentiment, even if she never would admit it.

  "You ever going to share what that last argument—let's say discussion—with Mick was about? The one that had
him running?"

  "No." She bit her lip. Doing her job, she had no trouble keeping information from people, but now it felt kind of bitchy, considering his lead about her brother.

  "I can respect that. Sometimes family things need to stay in the family."

  She glanced his way and wondered about the story behind his words. The detective in her couldn't help but be curious about a past he held so close to the vest. While he might put out one vibe, there was a whole lot more behind his obnoxious demeanor.

  "I should go in on my own." She hated to think about the possibility that her brother might be armed, but she should be prepared. "Maybe you could keep an eye on the back in case…" She was unable to finish her thought as emotion clogged her throat.

  "No problem." He walked along the side of the building while she approached the front door. Living in a world dominated by machismo, she couldn't help but admire his easy capitulation to her request. And for once, she was grateful.

  The windows were boarded, but that didn't mean Mick didn't have a peephole somewhere. He was the brother of an NYPD detective. That meant he usually made decisions with a hint of paranoia, let alone under his current circumstances.

  Sporadically throughout her neighborhood, brownstones were being gutted and rehabbed and turned into amazing new homes. She and Mick had talked about doing something spectacular with their home one of these days. He'd even drawn up plans in his architecture class at school. Thinking about the good times didn't help her current situation. It only made her more anxious.

  She sucked in a breath and knocked. "Mick, are you in there? It's Gia. I need to see you and know you're okay."

  Silence.

  Her lips trembled. She had a bad feeling, but that might be attributed to discovering Joey's body. Or it might be fear of what she might find. She brushed back ominous thoughts and knocked again. "Mick, it's me. Let me in. I want to help you."