Burn in Hell: A Jake Carrington Mystery (Volume 2) (Jake Carrington Mysteries)

by Marian Lanouette

  He didn’t leave the office until eight o’clock. Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t called Kyra all day. What she must be thinking? He dialed her while he drove home. She didn’t answer. Her phone went immediately to voice mail, so he left a message.

  One down, one to go, he thought. He dialed Mia next.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mia. I see you called this morning.” Controlled—that’s what his voice sounded like to him. He wondered what it sounded like to Mia.

  “I did.”

  “What do you need?” Real friendly, Jake.

  “I thought we could set up a date to talk.”

  “Ah…has anything changed, Mia?” With gut clenched, fear filled his body. One hand gripped the steering wheel tightly while the other pressed the phone closer to his ear. Her breathing filled the air, not her words. Jake waited her out while his stomach rolled like a sea in a hurricane.

  “I miss you so much, Jake,” she whispered.

  “You didn’t answer the question, Mia,” he said harshly.

  “Can we meet and talk?”

  “If nothing has changed, why bother?”

  “I didn’t say it hadn’t.”

  It wasn’t like Mia to play games. What was she up to?

  “Jake?”

  “When?” Why was he being a bastard? This was all he’d thought of for the last two months. Was it Kyra? The look on her face this morning tore him apart. He never meant to hurt her. Hadn’t he told her he was screwed up?

  “Tonight or tomorrow would be good for me.”

  “It’s been a long day. I’m just getting home now. Why don’t we do this Monday night?” He couldn’t remember if he promised Kyra they’d do something tomorrow and he wasn’t going to cancel on her.

  “You have plans tomorrow?”

  “I do.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “With Kyra?”

  “I’m not going there, Mia. Do you want to meet on Monday night or not?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Okay, why don’t we make it around seven-thirty? Do you want me to come to your place or do you want to come to mine?”

  “I’ll be in the area Monday, so I’ll come to your place.”

  Jake hung up. Tried Kyra’s number again. The phone echoed in his ear as it rang. Was she ignoring him or just out? And with whom?

  *

  Kyra hadn’t been to the casino in over three weeks. Exhibiting super-human control, she’d ignored her urge to go and had won—until tonight—tonight she lost, the urge winning out. The machine she loved was occupied so she took a new one and put her money in. For some reason, she didn’t get the normal rush. Her mind was on Jake and that bitch Mia. Why couldn’t she leave Jake alone?

  Pressing the spin button, watching the wheels fall into place, she didn’t get the old thrill as the three sevens appeared across the machine. Bells clanged as the machine announced she’d won the jackpot. Wasn’t it always the way? You won when you didn’t need the money. No excitement. What’s wrong with her? The phone vibrated in her pocket. Taking it out, she saw Jake’s number and pressed the ignore button. She wasn’t interested in what he had to say tonight. Sure he didn’t want to continue their relationship, she continued to play. She waited for her message light to come on before she played his message. He apologized for not calling today—he was just getting home from work and wanted to know if she wanted to do something tonight or tomorrow. Well, at least he didn’t break up with her. Tomorrow wasn’t good. She had Trevor all day and planned a day at the beach with him.

  Tonight it would take her an hour and fifteen minutes to get home, if there wasn’t any traffic. She’d be home between nine-thirty and ten. Should she ignore him? She did want to see him. Did he talk to Mia yet? Confused, Kyra decided not to return his call tonight. She’d give him a call in the morning. It wasn’t good to be available every time he called, she mused. Easy, conflict resolved. No call-back. She continued to play for another half hour. Before long she was bored. Cashing out she headed home earlier than planned.

  Her life had changed. Should she thank him or blame him? It wasn’t long ago she’d shake if she couldn’t get to the casino and now it held no draw for her. Or was it Phil and his bodies that turned her off gambling? How long could she get away with what she was doing? Could she develop a long-term relationship with Jake and keep burning bodies for Phil? All these questions crowded in her head. No obvious answers presented themselves.

  *

  Weary, limbs heavy, mind zinging around like a tornado, Jake jumped into the shower, washing the day’s stress away. Maybe with his second wind he’d head over to Kyra’s and see what was wrong. How ironic was life—he, the player, being played. Never wanted a long term relationship before, and now he wanted one with two women. They were each so different, yet the same. Kyra had snuck up on him. It’d been a mutual attraction and both wanted a distraction and some fun in their lives, but he got so much more from her. She was warm, compassionate, funny, and a wonderful lover. She didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. Her only drawback, that Jake could see, was her gambling, but he hadn’t witnessed it. Had she given it up? What about her friendship with Phil? It still bothered him. He still needed to have the conversation with Kyra about Phil. What was she involved in?

  Then there was Mia. Mia…Mia…Mia. In an instant she’d stolen his heart, and just as fast, destroyed it. Could he forgive her? What changed her mind? Her temper seemed to match his—was that good or bad? He knew he could only have one of them, but which one? He didn’t know what he’d do when push came to shove.

  He climbed out of the shower, drying off as he walked into his bedroom. Picking up his phone he checked for any new messages. Damn, Kyra hadn’t returned his calls. With his finger poised over the redial button, he debated his course of action. He dropped the phone on the bed, deciding, while he dressed, an in-person visit was called for. Jake had to get Kyra to understand he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her, he needed time to sort everything out. The clock by the bed burned the time into his brain in big red numbers, 9:00. Not too late for a Saturday visit, he thought, but first he needed to eat something. Jake couldn’t remember if he even ate lunch today. After dinner, he turned out the lights and headed to his garage. The bell interrupted his thoughts as he opened the connecting door from his house to the garage. Maybe it was Kyra. He walked back to the front door and looked out the peephole—what the hell…

  *

  Seven o’clock on a Saturday night and Phil didn’t have any plans. As had happened too often lately, his thoughts turned to Kyra. He hadn’t talked to or seen Kyra for over a week. He was even tempted to knock someone off just to see her. How bizarre was that? The girl wasn’t interested in him—who cared? He found her intriguing. He’d call her on Monday because he didn’t want to seem pathetic. She didn’t need to know he didn’t have plans on a Saturday night. His thoughts drove him crazy, wondering if she was out with the cop. Pulled from his reverie by his cellphone ringing.

  “Yes?”

  “Phil, its Carl Stack.”

  “Why are you calling me?” Phil asked angrily.

  “I think we have a problem and we should meet.”

  “What kind of problem, Carl?”

  “I don’t want to discuss it on the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

  “No, not here.” He needed to think. “There’s a pizza place on Route 2 before Foxrun. I know we’ll have privacy there. One hour, Carl.” Phil slammed the phone down. Goddamned idiots, can’t anyone do his job correctly? This had to be about Kyra’s cop. If Kyra—no, she wouldn’t, though Carl sounded scared. Well, there was only one way to find out. He reached for his intercom, hit Angelo’s extension.

  “What’s up?” Angelo asked, walking into the library.

  “Carl asked for a meet. The little shit sounded scared. We’re going to meet him at Louie’s place on Route 2 in an hour.”

  “You’re thinking it’s Kyra’s cop?”

  “I’m no
t thinking anything yet, Ang. Carl doesn’t scare easy—so something’s up.”

  Phil shook his head before leaning back in his chair. His favorite room, the library, he decided as he looked around. With high-back chairs deeply cushioned for comfort in his favorite colors of burgundy and blues, reading lights on the tables by the chairs, and a fireplace to keep the room warm in winter. Phil’s desk held his computer, a phone, and nothing else. In prison, he’d learned the benefit of books. They helped him keep his sanity and taught him much. Phil dedicated this room to them, having read most of the books in here. Angelo had no penchant for books. He preferred those stupid video games.

  Phil was surprised when he walked into the restaurant. Carl Stack was already seated. He must have been on the road when he phoned. Stack stood, hand extended, when Phil and Angelo approached his table. Phil took his hand, dropped it quickly.

  “Carl?”

  “I ordered a drink already. Would you like one?”

  “No, I’m good for now.” Phil didn’t ask Angelo to sit. He continued to stare at Stack as he took a seat across from him. Angelo walked to the back of the restaurant to check the place out. He returned shortly, taking up a position by the front door.

  A typical pizza joint, Phil thought. Old world with red and white checkered table cloths, empty Chianti bottles sporting candles with wax dripping down their sides, and an old jukebox on each table where for a quarter you could play the song of your choice.

  Carl consumed the bread on the table rapidly, stuffing large buttered pieces into his mouth as if they were the last bits of food on earth. It disgusted Phil to think that someone could eat so barbarically.

  Not standing on ceremony, Phil asked, “Okay, Carl. I’m here. What’s so urgent?”

  “It’s Jake Carrington.”

  Phil’s stomach dropped to his feet. Kyra wouldn’t dare turn him in. “What about him, Carl?”

  “He’s been assigned to my department temporarily.”

  “And?” Phil was losing his patience with this idiot.

  “And he’s reviewed all our cases and decided to work Church’s case because, and I quote, ‘I seem too busy to be working it.’ The bastard’s got a tough reputation, Phil. He’s a black and white guy, no grey with him. He gets results.”

  “What was it about the way you worked the case that it caught his attention?”

  Phil was trying to look at this from a logical standpoint. He noticed sweat pour down Carl’s face. “Carl?”

  “That’s the point, Phil. I wasn’t working it. I was trying to let it cool before going back to it and declaring the trail had gone cold.”

  Phil stared Stack down, not responding. This Carrington fellow was smart, from everything Phil had heard about him. Carrington would figure out Carl’s involvement, or lack thereof, soon enough. Would the trail lead back to him, thus endangering him and his operation? For Carl’s safety, he hoped not.

  “Were there any witnesses to the incident?”

  “No. The missing persons report was filed by his mother. Phil, I didn’t think they’d give us a temporary lieutenant. Christ, he’s running two departments now. Who’d think he’d have time for us.”

  Stack’s trying to cover his ass, Phil thought. “Is this the way you do everything, Carl? Half-assed?” God, Phil hated cops. Either they were gung-ho or they were lazy shits who turned a blind eye for a dollar.

  “What do you think’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know, Phil. Jake’s a good investigator. His close rate is 85 percent or better, for God’s sake. What’s he going to find on Church?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carl.” Phil smiled.

  “You asked me to…”

  “Carl, I wouldn’t go there, if I were you.”

  “But, Phil…”

  “No buts. Start doing your job, and you shouldn’t have any problems with him.”

  “I’ll ask, but I don’t think he’ll give me back the case.”

  “Well, it’s in your best interest to convince him to, if you understand my meaning. Make sure nothing comes back on me, Carl, or you and I will have a problem.” Phil nodded to Angelo. He came over to the table just as Phil stood.

  Stack started to stand. Phil leaned over and pushed him into his seat, he whispered into Stack’s ear, “Remember, Carl, I don’t know you or Church.”

  Angelo walked out first, scanning the parking lot. When he was satisfied, he nodded to Phil. Angelo had the door of the limo open by the time Phil reached it.

  “You think he was trying to set you up?”

  “No, Ang. I just think he’s a fuck-up. Now he’s got to deal with someone who takes his job seriously. It certainly is a small fucking world. Stack may be the one who puts Carrington onto us, not Kyra. If he does, we may need to arrange an accident.”

  “Do you think that’s wise, Phil?”

  “Why, because he’s a cop? He’s a dirty cop, who’d care?”

  “I don’t think his being dirty matters. If someone offs him, the cops will come after us with a vengeance.”

  “Cops like Stack flip faster than any criminal or victim I know. They know the system and would sell out their mothers to save their own hides. Our job is to make sure he doesn’t flip, agreed?”

  “Agreed. I won’t let it get that far. You seem pretty calm about this development.”

  “I’m not, Ang, but it’ll give me a chance to see how Carrington operates. Then I’ll decide his fate too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jake continued to curse as he looked out the peephole. What the hell was she doing here? There was only one way to find out, so he opened the door.

  “I’m sorry, Mia. I was just on my way out.”

  “I see. I was in the neighborhood…and that’s a lie. I drove by, hoping to catch you…Do you have five minutes, Jake?”

  “I don’t have time to talk now.” He wasn’t giving an inch. He wasn’t prepared for this.

  “Oh…”

  Christ, she started crying. Jake hated when a woman cried. It wasn’t like Mia to do so, either. He stepped back, opening the door wider to let her in. She pushed past him, looked around.

  “I’m alone for the moment, Mia.”

  “She seems nice. Are you seeing her again?”

  “Who I see is none of your business, but the answer’s yes.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “She is.” Jake wasn’t offering any encouragement. Looking at his watch, he saw it was close to 9:30. “I have to get going, Mia. I’ll see you Monday night.”

  “Jake…” She choked up.

  He waited.

  “Can’t you give me five minutes?”

  “I’m late. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  “Is this how you treat someone you love? I stopped by to talk, to let you know I love you. I…I want to try again.”

  “And I love you—but if I recall, it wasn’t enough for you.” Why was he being cruel? Did he want to push her away? God, he was confused.

  “I’d like to start over with you, Jake. To be honest, I’m miserable. I need you in my life.”

  “Two months have gone by, Mia. You decide to do this after you see me with another woman? I’d have been more apt to believe you if this conversation had taken place before last night’s encounter.”

  “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to see you. This has nothing to do with what’s her name—Kyra?”

  “Yes, Kyra.”

  He walked around her to sit in one of his living-room chairs. Mia took a seat on the couch. He didn’t offer her any refreshments.

  “You don’t have a type, do you?”

  “A type? No, I go for the person.”

  “It’s like dating yourself, with her coloring.”

  “You can think that if you like, but this conversation is useless. And, I repeat, I’m late.” He started to stand up.

  “Jake, please. I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Mia, I’m not doin
g this until Monday night. And if you keep pushing, not even then.” Did he or didn’t he want her back in his life? Isn’t she who he’d been thinking of for all these months? With a confused mind it took everything he had in him not to back down. Hard ass! Yes, but she forced the issue. Stay strong here. No one’s going to lead me around by the balls. Love was one thing, to be played, another.

  “It’s going to kill me knowing you’re with her.”

  “It was your choice to end it.”

  “No it wasn’t…you gave me an ultimatum.”

  “You walked…”

  The doorbell rang. Jake got up, walked over to the door and opened it without looking throw the peephole. Standing there with a bottle of Prada vodka Kyra smile dropped as she looked into the room.

  *

  “Hi, Jake. I thought I’d…” She saw Mia standing in the living room, tears running down her face. Kyra looked back at Jake. He reached for her, but she evaded him and turned away, walking—almost running—down his steps. She reached her car and he was right there.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Kyra.”

  “Oh? What do you think I think it looks like, Jake?” He’d pinned her against her car. She pushed at his chest, but she couldn’t budge him.

  “Kyra, I made plans to talk to her on Monday. She just showed up here tonight when I was on my way over to your house.”

  “We didn’t have plans.” She couldn’t look at him and tried to turn away.

  He took her chin in his hands, turned her to face him. He held it firmly as she tried to turn away. “You weren’t answering your phone and I didn’t like the way I left you this morning.”

  “I was out.” He looks guilty as sin, why?

  “I still wanted to see you tonight. Before you rang the bell, I’d asked her to leave.”

  “I don’t care, Jake.” It was taking all her willpower to hold back the tears.

  “Kyra—” She cut him off.

  “Figure out what you want, than give me a call. I can’t play this game right now. I have too much baggage of my own. Good night, Jake.” It would’ve been more effective if he hadn’t still had her pinned between him and her car.