Sheriff’s deputies routinely patrolled the alleyway to chase away squatters, and after a concerted six-month effort the vagrants had finally gotten the message and stayed away for good. The owner was supposed to have boarded the place up by now, but hadn’t yet gotten around to it.
When Rafe saw the gray Beemer turn into the alley behind him, he stomped on the gas again and shot out into the street. Horns honked around him as he cut diagonally toward the second alleyway and turned into it, shooting straight for that warehouse ramp.
A few moments later, he pulled into the darkness of a cargo bay, then came to a stop and let the engine idle.
Lisa seemed to be trying to find her voice. “...You were right about the roller coaster.”
“Sorry about that.”
“What are we doing in here?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“The inevitable,” Rafe said cryptically, feeling a little guilty for not explaining his plan. “I need you to get out of the car.”
“What?”
“This could get nasty, and I don’t want you getting hurt. You’ll be safe enough here in the warehouse.”
“But I don’t understand. Where are you—”
Rafe put a finger to his lips to silence her as the sound of the BMW’s engine reverberated through the alleyway. Getting the message, she carefully popped her door open and got out of the car. She looked frightened, but it couldn’t be helped. Better she hide in here in case this guy had firepower.
Nodding to her, Rafe watched her back away into the warehouse darkness, then popped the Mustang into Reverse and looked out the rear windshield toward the bottom of the ramp.
A moment later, the BMW rolled into view, cruising at a slow crawl now, the driver undoubtedly wary as he searched for his prey.
Rafe hit the gas. Hard.
He rocketed backward down the ramp, ramming into the side of the BMW. Metal screamed as it collapsed inward and the Beemer was punched sideways. Before the driver knew what hit him, Rafe cut the engine and was out of the car in a quick, fluid move, the spare gun he kept in his glove compartment now in hand as he turned toward the crumpled BMW.
But to his utter surprise, the driver was gone, his door hanging wide. How he had managed to flee so fast was beyond Rafe’s comprehension, but Rafe spun on his heels, looked down the alley and saw a man running, wearing a hooded sweatshirt—much like the one Rafe had worn earlier—much like the one he’d seen the hit man wearing at the auto repair shop two nights ago.
And Rafe knew this was the same guy.
It had to be.
He shouted and took off after him, and the guy turned suddenly, gun in hand, and fired off a shot.
The bullet whizzed past Rafe as he dove behind a garbage bin and returned fire, once, twice, but the guy was too far away now, heading into the street.
And then something completely unexpected happened.
Just as Rafe was about to get to his feet and give chase again, just as the guy had stepped onto the street—
An A-1 Furniture truck came out of nowhere and slammed into the man, killing him instantly.
Rafe stopped short and turned away, squeezing his eyes shut in horror.
* * *
“NO ID,” KATE SAID. “Nothing. This guy’s a phantom.”
“I’d bet my last nickel he was working for Oliver Sloan,” Rafe told her. “He’s got to be a hired killer. I’m almost positive he’s the guy I chased out of that auto repair shop.”
They were standing in the mouth of the alley, a section of the street cordoned off as crime scene techs worked to bag the man’s body and remove it.
Lisa stood nearby, looking pale and sickly, undoubtedly trying her best not to throw up. Kate’s partner, Eberhart, was leaning against their cruiser, quietly smoking a cigarette as he eyed Rafe suspiciously.
Kate frowned at Rafe. “What do you think you’re doing, little brother?”
“What do you mean?”
“It looks to me as if you’re still trying to work this case. And now you’ve gotten the ex-wife involved.”
“You’re the ones who wanted her involved, remember?”
“That was before IA arrested you. If you had any sense, you’d be lying very low right now. You need to stay away from this. As it is, my partner wants to haul you in right now and start grilling you.”
“Hey,” Rafe said. “I didn’t ask for this guy to come after us. What happened here was purely defensive.”
“Well, I guarantee IA’ll have plenty of questions, but right now, you need to go home, get some rest, catch up with your girlfriend—who looks scared witless, by the way—and try to forget that Oliver Sloan even exists.”
“Can’t do that,” Rafe said.
Kate sighed. “Look, I’m not telling you this as your big sister. I’m telling you this as a fellow cop. We’re going to stop this guy, I promise you that, but it’s going to take time to get the goods on him.”
“Maybe not,” Rafe said.
She studied him. “What do you mean?”
He gestured toward Lisa. “Turns out she may have some evidence that proves Sloan’s not only connected to organized crime, but also to one of the victims, as well. Azarov.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Some documents Sloan kept hidden on his computer with names, dates and what she thinks may have been bribe amounts.”
Kate looked visibly excited. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Where are these documents?”
“On a data chip she’s been keeping in a safety deposit box. We were on our way to retrieve it when the dead man started following us.”
“You sure this is the real thing?”
Rafe glanced at Lisa, their eyes connecting for a moment, then returned his gaze to Kate. “She wouldn’t lie to me.”
Kate didn’t need any more prompting. She immediately turned, calling out to Eberhart. “Rev her up, Charlie, we’ve got places to go.”
Eberhart frowned, ditched his cigarette. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”
“We’re going to make a withdrawal.”
* * *
THE HAMPTON BRANCH of the Westland National Bank was located in a strip mall in southwest St. Louis.
Rafe’s Mustang had to be towed from the alley, so he and Lisa rode in the back of Kate’s cruiser to their destination, which was little more than an oversize box, sandwiched between a Taco Hut and a Gino’s Pizza.
As they all climbed out of the car, Eberhart said, “So this is where we find the evidence to take Sloan down, huh? Fat chance.”
Kate said, “Why don’t you wait out here, Charlie?”
“And miss the look on your face when this turns out to be a big fat bust?”
“Smoke another cigarette,” she said. “I think you might need it.”
Eberhart shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
As he pulled his pack from his coat pocket and turned back to the car, Kate, Rafe and Lisa moved toward the bank’s entrance. Rafe opened the door, letting Lisa and Kate step past him.
The bank was small, nothing more than a satellite office for one of the large branches downtown. Which, Lisa had told them, was exactly why she had chosen it.
There were two teller windows and a manager’s desk off to the right. Toward the back was a cage with the vault on the left, and a small room full of safety deposit boxes on the right. The safety deposit clerk sat at a desk nearby, and looked up with a smile as they approached.
Lisa introduced herself and gave the clerk her account number. The clerk checked her records, nodded, looked at Lisa’s photo ID then stood and escorted them past the gate into the security box room.
The clerk and Lisa approached a small door in the wall marked 339, and used dual keys in the locks to open it. The clerk slid the box out and handed it to Lisa, then excused herself, telling her that she could have privacy in a small, curtained booth to the left of the room.
When she was gone, they all moved to the booth. Lisa slid the curt
ain back and set the box on a table inside. As Rafe and Kate watched, she took hold of the lid and lifted it, Rafe feeling giddy with anticipation.
But disappointment soon followed.
The box was empty.
Her face filling with shock, Lisa shoved a hand inside and patted it—an instinctive, but ultimately useless gesture.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I put it in here. I know I put it in here.”
Kate glanced at Rafe as if to say, Are you sure this woman’s trustworthy? But Rafe ignored her and grabbed hold of the box, turning it upside and shaking it.
Nothing fell out.
The data chip was clearly gone.
“Somebody must have taken it,” Lisa said. “I don’t know how they managed it, but—”
“We can certainly try to find out,” Kate said, then turned and headed back toward the safety deposit clerk’s desk.
They followed as Kate pulled out her badge and showed it to the clerk. “Excuse me, but I need you to check the records.”
“For what?” the clerk asked.
“I want to know if anyone had access to that safety deposit box in the last several days.”
“I’m afraid you’d need a warrant for that.”
Lisa moved forward. “Are you forgetting that it’s my box? Please do as she asks.”
The clerk nodded, then jabbed a few keys on her computer keyboard, watching the screen. When she found what she needed, she said, “The records show that you came in three days ago to access the box.”
Lisa frowned at her. “Oh, really? And do you remember seeing me?”
“I wasn’t on duty that day. But it says here the customer complained of a lost key, so we used a master.”
“You what?”
“It’s all right here,” the clerk said. “She had several forms of identification and there was no reason to believe—”
“This is ridiculous.” Lisa shook her head in dismay, then staggered to a nearby chair and sat down.
Rafe and Kate moved to her.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I don’t know how he found out where I was hiding it, but this has to be Oliver’s doing. He must’ve found someone to pretend to be me.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Kate said.
Rafe nodded. “Which would explain why he suddenly showed up at your house the other night. You don’t have any leverage against him. Not anymore.”
Tears sprang to Lisa’s eyes. “I can’t believe this. Why won’t he just leave me alone?”
“Because he’s a psychopath,” Rafe said. “He’s fixated on you.”
Lisa wiped her eyes. Rafe could see that she was beyond distressed. Terrified that she would never be rid of Sloan.
Unfortunately, that was a very real fear.
She looked at Rafe. “Maybe I need to do what your sister and your bosses want me to.”
“Meaning what?”
“Make Oliver believe I want him back and—”
“No way,” Rafe said. “Forget it. I already told you, that’s not going to happen.”
“But couldn’t you put a wire on me? If I could get him to admit he set you up, if I could get him to confess to me that he had those Russians killed, wouldn’t that be enough to—”
“Did you hear what I just said?” Rafe barked. “The guy’s a psychopath. If he were to find out what you’re up to... I’m not going to put you in that position.”
“Well, maybe it’s not your choice,” she told him.
“It’s the only choice, Lisa. Anything else is too dangerous.”
She stood up now. “You know, I love you with all my heart, Rafe, but don’t for a minute think you can tell me what to do any more than Oliver can. If you think you can control me...”
“I’m trying to protect you, Leese.”
“And look what it got you,” she said. “Maybe it’s time I started protecting myself.”
Then she turned and walked out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They were silent on the ride back to Grandma Natalie’s house. The only one who had anything say was Eberhart, who seemed outright gleeful that he had been proven right. That nothing would—or had—come of their little jaunt to the bank.
He said to Rafe, “I’m holding you responsible for all of this, Franco. You’re an embarrassment to your entire family.”
Kate said, “Shut up, Charlie.”
“You telling me I’m wrong? I’ll leave it a jury to decide if he offed those two Russians, but you can’t deny he’s been stickin’ his nose in where it don’t—”
“Shut. Up. Charlie.”
He would have kept going if Kate hadn’t given him the death stare. The one she’d been perfecting since she and Rafe were kids.
Rafe had always sensed a lot of tension between her and Eberhart, and was pretty sure that Kate would just as soon trade the guy in for a new partner. But in the Sheriff’s department you didn’t always have a choice of who you’d be riding with. And unless the relationship was so fractured that the two of you were coming to blows, changing the situation was next to impossible. So you did your best to get along.
Not that Eberhart was making much of an effort. Yet for all his faults, he wasn’t wrong. Rafe was an embarrassment to the Franco clan, and he’d be the first to admit it.
He just wasn’t sure it mattered all that much at this point.
After Kate dropped them off, Rafe and Lisa went inside and Lisa scooped up Chloe in her arms and took her straight to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.
All she said to Rafe was that she had “some thinking to do” and that was that.
End of communication.
* * *
HE DIDN’T SEE HER again until close to dinner.
She came down to help Nonna and Bea in the kitchen as he took babysitting duty and watched cartoons with Chloe.
The girl sat close to him on the sofa, snuggling up against him, and Rafe put an arm around her, once again feeling that inexplicable connection.
He wondered if she ever missed her father.
How could she not?
Yet oddly, Chloe had yet to even mention Sloan. Maybe the guy didn’t like pink and blue kitty cats.
That was the least of his faults, if true. Sloan didn’t strike Rafe as the type to care much about kids, and Rafe had to wonder what his reaction had been when Lisa told him he’d gotten her pregnant.
Joy? Elation?
Doubtful. The only thing Sloan got elated about was Sloan. He was a narcissist, pure and simple, and Rafe didn’t get the impression that he’d ever spent more than obligatory time with his daughter.
Which was probably for the best.
Rafe couldn’t imagine having a child like this and not wanting to spend as much time as possible with her. If she were his, if he were lucky enough to be her father, she would quickly become the center of his universe.
Kitty cats and all.
* * *
BEA DID MOST OF THE TALKING during dinner, telling them stories of her childhood in a small town in Texas. How her father had wanted a boy and had raised her to ride and shoot and wrestle pigs in the mud patch.
Chloe seemed to get a kick out of that one. The thought of this woman rolling around in the mud with a three-hundred-pound pig was too much for the girl to handle, and she giggled like crazy, asking Bea to tell the story again.
Lisa, on the other hand, seemed pensive, barely touching her dinner. Several times, Rafe was tempted to ask her what was going on inside her head, suspecting he already knew, but he resisted.
She would talk when she was ready to.
He thought about what she had said at the bank. About him trying to control her, just as Sloan always had.
Was that true?
If it was, that had never been his intention. Rafe had always had strong opinions, sure, but he wouldn’t dream of trying to impose them on anyone, especially Lisa.
But he wouldn’t shy away from telling her exactly how he f
elt, either. And to his mind, playing games with Sloan was far too risky.
* * *
HE WAS READING a bedtime story to Chloe when Lisa appeared in the doorway, fresh from a shower, wearing a terry-cloth robe.
“I need to talk to you when you’re finished,” she said.
She stepped into the room, kissed Chloe on the forehead and bid her good-night, then left them alone so that Rafe could finish the story. It was one his own mother used to read to him about Whacky Wednesday, where everything in the world seemed to have been turned upside down.
He was halfway through it when he realized that Chloe was asleep. Smoothing her hair back, he raised the blanket up to her small chest, then turned out the light and closed the door.
A moment later, he was in Lisa’s room, surprised to find her dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans and an equally tight cardigan sweater. Her hair was brushed back and she’d put on enough makeup to enhance but not mar her natural beauty.
“I thought you were getting ready for bed,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Sit down, Rafe.”
He studied her a moment, saw the measured determination in her eyes, then sat on the edge of the bed.
She moved to him, took his hands. “I’m sorry I got so upset with you at the bank this afternoon. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. All you’ve ever tried to do was help me.”
“I’m glad you understand that. But don’t even worry about it. You had a right to be upset.”
“Maybe, but there’s something you need to understand. Do you think you can try to do that?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Good. Because I have to make this right. You’re in trouble because Oliver is obsessed with me. And while there’s nothing I can do to control that, I can at least try to stop him.”
Rafe stared at her. “You called Kate, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “I told her I wasn’t bluffing this afternoon. I’m more than willing to cooperate with their investigation and wear a wire. She’s setting it up as we speak.”
“For tonight?”
She nodded. “I’ve already asked Oliver to meet me at the house. Alone.”
A mix of emotions tore at Rafe and he squeezed her hands. “Lisa, this is crazy.”
“I’m not asking for your approval. But if we’re ever going to have any kind of life together—and I’d like that, more than anything—then something has to be done about Oliver. Something that will keep him away from us forever.”
Internal Affairs Page 13
