Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  Dean was right. Matt wouldn’t prosecute this case based on what he had. They were circling around the answers, they just didn’t have enough facts.

  “If everything Huang gave me this morning is verifiable, I think I can press Hart,” Dean said. “But because he used to be a prosecutor, I don’t know that he’ll blink. He’s not going to be stupid enough to leave anything incriminating in his office, and I don’t have a strong enough case – yet – to get a warrant for his house or campaign. If I can connect the shooter to Rykov, then maybe I can use that as leverage.”

  “Why would Rykov want Huang dead? What does he know that is dangerous to the Russian mob?” Matt couldn’t figure out why Hart would take such a big risk.

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think he knows anything ... except about the Star Consulting bid that slipped in under Hart’s watch. Definite shenanigans there, but one bad bid isn’t going to stop Hart. Everything Huang shared had to do with how Hart ran his office and how he worked the bids. I have several avenues to pursue—but it’s grunt work. It’s not going to happen fast.”

  “I can’t think of any reason Rykov would take out Huang. But I can think of reasons Hart would want him gone.”

  “You’re insane. Why on earth would Hart kill his own staffer? And in public no less? There are easier ways to get rid of someone.”

  “Maybe, but no one would look at Huang as the target,” Matt said, warming to this theory. “They would assume Hart was the intended victim. The shooter kills himself, no one knows why, Hart can say anything—he’s tough on crime, the gangs want him dead. Whatever the hell he wants.”

  Dean considered. “Hart fed Alex a line last night about Huang having suspicious friends, but we haven’t found anything to suggest that. Still, Matt, you’re stretching. More likely Rykov was concerned that Huang knew something that would come back on him. And we still don’t know what’s in this relationship for Hart. I’ve gone over Hart’s financials and they’re in line with his job and investments.”

  “Go over them again,” Matt said. He sounded desperate.

  Dean said, “Matt, I was the Assistant FBI Director in charge of White Collar crimes for six years before I married Sonia and stayed in Sacramento. I know what to look for, and it’s not in his financials.”

  Matt squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I’m just worried.”

  “You know this is how cases are built. I’m going to get him, even if I have to go head-to-head with my boss over the resources I’m spending on this investigation.”

  “Why the change from yesterday?”

  “Because we have an inside person now, if Alex takes the job with Hart. That changes everything.”

  It did, but Matt didn’t like it. “There are too many individuals who could be involved. If anyone is suspicious of Alex’s motivation, she’ll be in danger.”

  “I’m working on that. I have a friend inside the CHP who can get assigned to Hart’s detail and keep an eye on her.”

  “Good.” He hesitated. “I feel like we’re missing something. And maybe it’s not money. Maybe it’s not a financially beneficial relationship between Rykov and Hart. How did they team up anyway? They have no past connection. When did it start? Was Cordell the only cop on his payroll? Probably not ... which brings me to Jim Perry.”

  “Detective Perry? Alex’s ex-boyfriend?”

  “I pulled his personnel file.”

  “Matt—”

  “It’s not illegal. There’s nothing that stands out in his record. A couple reprimands, all pretty typical. Except one thing—he graduated from Rio Americano high school twenty-one years ago.”

  Dean’s eyes widened, then he frowned. “So he and Sergei Rykov were in high school together. That’s not proof of conspiracy or corruption.” But his expression said he was interested.

  “It’s one more a connection.” Matt glanced at his watch. “What time did Alex say she’d be here? It’s after one.”

  “She didn’t, just that she was running late.”

  Matt dialed her cell phone. Again, it went to voice mail. He started to worry. “Last night she talked about checking out the address on River Road. I left a message for her nearly two hours ago, told her I had information and to call me before she went out there.” He jumped up. Two hours—she would have called him. Especially after last night. “I have to go.”

  “Not alone,” Dean said and pulled his gun from his drawer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “He fell for the bait,” Alex told Selena over the phone as she drove from the county jail toward the Sacramento River. “If you hadn’t found the third victim, I don’t think he would have bought it. But it worked, and John Doe isn’t our rapist.”

  “I wouldn’t have found the third victim if I hadn’t asked John to pull the ballistics report as well as the autopsy from the prostitute who was shot three years ago. There are other similarities.”

  “Why didn’t anyone see the pattern sooner?”

  “Because the first death was an overdose, the second was a bullet to the head, and the third was strangulation, and the river destroyed much of the evidence. All prostitutes, but only two confirmed homicides. And,” Selena added bitterly, “they were prostitutes and Russian. Not a priority.”

  “They were a priority for John.”

  “Until the leads dried up, and he said there weren’t many to begin with. He’s digging deeper, though, reviewing everything he had on his case, and talking to the detective who pulled the gunshot victim. If there is another connection between the girls, he’ll find it. John asked if you could come by and look at the files with him. You might notice something as well.”

  “I need to be discreet.”

  “Hmm. Well, why not do it at my place? We’re friends, if anyone sees us together it’s not going to be suspicious. I’ll call John and set it up.”

  “I’ll be there, just let me know when.” She turned off the freeway toward River Road. She would need to pull in Matt and Dean Hooper as well. She should also get the okay to bring two more people into the investigation. She should have asked before she read Selena into the investigation.

  “You need to tell the FBI,” Selena said.

  “Tell them exactly what?”

  “That the dead Russian in the car didn’t kill the prostitute three years ago.”

  “He could have killed her. He just didn’t rape her. And what do I really have other than what Tommy didn’t say? I bluffed about the fourth victim and he didn’t blink. That tells me he knows that the dead kid wasn’t involved. But proving that? Impossible.”

  Alex drove across a narrow bridge over the Sacramento River. As she got closer to the address that had scratched at her memory, everything came back.

  Tommy Cordell had come out here several times ostensibly to pay for boat storage. Alex had always thought it was a cover for something else, but she’d never had evidence of anything but what he said it was.

  “Alex, I don’t like this. Call your FBI contact. You’d better not be heading to the river alone.”

  “I already called Hart and asked to meet this afternoon about the job offer. He’s at his office. I called Steve to ask about the case and he told me that Jim’s at the crime lab. I’m just going to drive by, see if I remember anything else, but I think this is the place Tommy picked up cash. It’s like he was on Rykov’s fucking payroll.”

  “That’s why you have to be careful. I know you lied to him, but what if he realized that you were playing him?”

  “He didn’t. He didn’t tell me anything.” She decided not to tell Selena about the threat. Her friend would just worry more, and it was a hollow threat. Tommy couldn’t do anything to her from prison, and even if he contacted someone about her questions, he wouldn’t know she was heading out to River Road, or even what she was really interested in. He’d absolutely believed that she was helping Selena with a rape case. “It was his reaction when I said the dead Russian shooter had tried to kill Hart with the same gun that was used o
n the prostitute. That rattled him. Or—maybe just surprised him. Either way, Hart’s shooter didn’t kill the prostitute. Look, I promise, I’ll call you as soon as I’m done here. Thirty minutes, tops. Okay?”

  “Don’t forget.”

  Alex hung up. She was almost there.

  The Sacramento River curved around, and the road could be dangerous especially in bad weather. Today was warm and windless, and she wasn’t worried about the road conditions, but she didn’t want to be seen slowing down as she passed the building.

  1160 River Road was a converted warehouse, with offices built on the second floor, the ground floor appeared to be the main business, and the basement had high windows. Could the basement be accessed from the river? She hadn’t thought about that the last few times she’d been here. She’d never been inside. The sign on the front said, “Salvadore’s Boat Repair and Maintenance.” Several small boats were docked on the river, but she couldn’t see much from the road.

  She drove a mile down, then turned around and headed back. She slowed enough to take a picture of the license plate of the truck that was parked in the turnout that served as a small parking lot.

  She nearly dropped her phone when she recognized the truck. It was a common make and model in popular black, but the sticker on the rear driver’s side—dead giveaway. A small badge. The widows and orphans fund sticker.

  Jim.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  She drove past the business again, but pulled over to the shoulder after she rounded the bend, about a half mile away, so no one from the boat repair shop—or whatever it was—could see her. She needed to think. She stared at the river, trying to make sense of everything that had happened over the last two years.

  Jim had been a cop for nearly twenty years, a detective for the last ten. She’d never thought he was corrupt—she’d slept with him, dammit! She’d once cared about him. Maybe he was checking out a lead. Alex had seen the shooter here with Tommy Cordell. Could Jim have another witness who put the shooter here? Why his personal vehicle and not his assigned police sedan?

  Yet ... she’d just talked to Selena about her concerns that Jim had been pumping her for information while they lived together. That he’d come over last night to see what she would say ... or didn’t say.

  The detective sedans had GPS, just like squad cars. They were tracked and could be audited at any time. Dispatch could pull up a cop’s location at any time. That’s why Jim had his personal truck.

  Steve had said Jim was at the crime lab ... was Steve lying or had Jim lied to Steve? Why?

  Go back to the beginning.

  The beginning was over two years ago, in December, when she’d been transferred to the North Command. The City of Sacramento had three regional divisions, North, Central, South. Each regional division covered two smaller sections, split geographically for patrol purposes, but detectives covered the whole territory. She’d been in the Central Command. So had Jim, but they hadn’t been dating at that time. Central was the largest command and she’d known Jim, but they hadn’t really hung in the same circles.

  She’d been transferred to North Command because of some bullshit new directive for gender equality. She was all for gender equality—she was just as competent as any of her male colleagues—but practically what happened was the female-heavy Central command had shifted female detectives and officers north and south because there were fewer females in the two smaller divisions. Still, she’d been promoted to Detective II, giving her a small pay increase. One more promotion and she could have taken her Sergeant’s exam.

  So she sucked it up and moved. She hadn’t known Tommy Cordell before she was partnered with him. He was arrogant, but smart; crass, but funny. He’d gone through a bitter divorce the year before and had a twelve year old daughter who he adored. When they were on duty, sometimes they would swing by his daughter’s soccer games to watch for a few minutes. Over the months, there was nothing in his relationship with his daughter that made Alex think he was a borderline pervert. In fact, it was that fatherly affection that had Alex liking Tommy, and his daughter adored him as well. Reminding Alex that even criminals weren’t all bad.

  It was at the SPD holiday party three weeks after her transfer that she and Jim hooked up. It was one of those things ... they’d been drinking, they’d been flirting, and they ended up at her apartment in bed. It would have been completely awkward if she had to work with him—she rarely dated cops and the few times she did, they weren’t from Sac PD—but she and Jim were in different command centers. It made it less awkward in the morning if things didn’t work out.

  Except, Jim had been very charming the next morning.

  “Alex Morgan,” Jim said. “Wow. I’ve had the hots for you for years.”

  She gave him the evil eye. “We already had sex. You don’t have to sweet talk me.”

  “I’m serious. I’ve wanted to ask you out forever but I heard you don’t date cops.”

  “Not cops I work with.”

  “You just transferred, right?”

  “So?”

  “So we don’t work together.”

  “Jim—I like you, and we had fun last night, but—”

  “But what?” He looked at her with such a boyish expression, as if he was afraid she was going to say she didn’t like him.

  “Relationships between cops don’t usually end well.”

  He smiled and rolled her over so she was on top of him. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’d like to try.”

  It had been as simple as that. A fun night turned into a serious relationship and she’d moved in with him ten months later. Yet ...

  She’d never told him she loved him. She didn’t know why. They didn’t talk about it, really. When they decided to move in together it was because her lease was up and they had miserable schedules and rarely saw each other. She’d thought their increasing arguments were because they hadn’t been spending time together, and for a few months everything was wonderful. He even took her to Florida to meet his dad.

  Then ... the arguments started again. He seemed to be suspicious of her, and when she called him on it, he told her his last girlfriend had cheated on him and he had a hard time trusting women. And he’d get all sweet and fun again.

  She thought back to their big fight last June, a few weeks before she was shot. He’d accused her of cheating on him with Tommy ... but it wasn’t exactly that. There was something more to the fight than sex.

  She’d come home late the second week of June, a Saturday. She had Sunday and Monday off, and she needed the break. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be spying on Tommy. She hated it. More, she hated it because the more she learned the more corrupt she realized he was. She couldn’t talk about it with Jim because the one time she’d brought it up—couched in another conversation so he didn’t realize she had a big problem with it—he’d just dismissed it as being minor shit, not worthy of her attention. He’d even offered once to talk to Tommy for her, but she’d shot him down. If her boyfriend went to bat for her with her partner, she’d lose all the respect she’d earned not only with Tommy, but in the department. Jim got it. In fact, Jim understood cop politics better than anyone, and she’d learned a lot from him.

  But that night something was wrong with Jim. She didn’t notice immediately because she’d just witnessed her partner shaking down a low-life drug dealer. Nothing she hadn’t seen before, but Tommy had hit him. She’d had to call him on it. Tommy simply said he’d deserved it. Tommy had been angry about something, and she tried to smooth things over with him, but he was in a shitty mood and Alex was nervous.

  So she’d met briefly with Matt Elliott. They’d gotten into the habit of meeting once a week on Mondays for lunch—when Jim worked and she didn’t—someplace outside the city. And it felt like an affair without the benefits, though Matt had never once made a pass at her. But that day, she’d called him and he met her downtown. Told her not to worry, document the confrontation, and he’d call Dean Hoop
er to find out more about the drug dealer and what might be up.

  She’d gotten home late and Jim was furious.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he asked.

  She feared he knew everything. That he would be angry because if she turned on a fellow cop, it would rub off on him. Image meant everything to Jim.

  “It’s been a shitty day.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You’re mad because I’m late? I texted you, told you I had some errands.”

  “Errands. Right.”

  “I’m not your ex-girlfriend.” This argument was getting old. But at least he didn’t know about Matt. Shit. She felt like she was cheating on him. That made everything worse. She was the scum of the earth.

  “What’s going on with you and Cordell?”

  That confused her. “What?” Her head hurt. She just wanted to eat dinner and have a beer.

  “You heard me.”

  “If I was going to cheat on you, it certainly wouldn’t be with Tommy Cordell!”

  “Maybe you’re not screwing him, but something’s going on. Is little miss high-and-mighty falling off her high horse?”

  “Jim, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re making no sense. I’m tired. It’s been a fucked day. You know why I’m pissed? Because my partner decked a kid selling pot.” That was partly the truth. The drug dealer wasn’t really a kid, he was closer to twenty. And Tommy had taken cash, but she decided to hold back sharing that. After all she’d complained about that to Jim before and had gotten nowhere.

  “Must have done something.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Tommy had me sit in the car like I was on a fucking ride-a-long.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Maybe you should ask for a reassignment.”

  “Like hell I am. Haven’t you always said to suck it up? That female cops who complain get a bad rep? You’re right.”