Topaz Heat (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series)

by Bridgeman, Hallee

  He pushed away from the counter and set about making a pot of coffee. “I’m glad that dealing with her is now off your plate. You have enough going on.”

  “Derrick,” Sarah said, putting a hand over his, stopping him from measuring coffee beans. “Are you afraid?”

  Derrick felt his jaw clench and cleared the emotion out of his throat. “Sweet Sarah, fear is not of the Lord.” Every time he felt like the world was closing in on him, he referred back to that verse.

  “I’m trying not to be afraid, but I just keep thinking –”

  He pulled her into his arms, partly to comfort her, partly to comfort himself. “It’s okay. I won’t go down without a fight.”

  “WHAT will our strategy be?” Barry asked, file folder open in front of him. He turned a page and read the arrest report. Next to him, he made notations in his legal pad.

  “According to our client,” Clifford said, sipping his coffee as he turned a page in the book before him, “profession of innocence.”

  Barry raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Derrick clenched his teeth. “What else is there?”

  Barry turned his head to look at him. “Nothing, really. But the way the police handled this, I’m sure they bungled something.”

  “If I want to continue to do what I do for a living, I’ll need to be completely exonerated.”

  With a shrug, Barry made another note in his pad. “That is absolutely true.”

  “That may not even be enough,” Tony said, lips thinned. “I’m still angry about the way they arrested you. There’s no way to keep the covers on it now.”

  Derrick sighed. “You know I can’t work until the trial. You’ll lose customers.”

  Tony waved his hand. “Non mi importa.”

  “Well, you should care.”

  “If I lay you off, or fire you, or send you on sabbatical, it will make it seem like I think you’re guilty. Since you’re not, you’ll work.” Tony stared intently at Derrick. “Tomorrow morning, be in your office. No excuses.”

  Derrick held Tony’s stare for a long time before breaking it and laughing. “Very well.” He pointed his finger at his friend and mentor. “But be prepared for a serious decline in clientele.”

  “Bah,” Tony said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, “maybe for a while. Actually, I expect a spike of looky-loos. After that, well, people have short memories.”

  “Speaking of clientele,” Clifford said. “Tony, I need you and everyone else to leave. Barry can stay, but we need to talk to Derrick alone. Your being here destroys attorney-client privilege.”

  Tony stood, his jaw clenched. “I understand.” He turned to Derrick. “Call if you need me.”

  Derrick nodded. “Thanks.”

  After Tony left the room, Clifford stared hard at Derrick. “During your time alone,” he said, “did you give any thought as to who might want to set you up?”

  Derrick ran both hands through his hair. “Of course, but I can’t come up with anything. I would have said James Castolli would set me up, or his dad. But if his dad did it, he would have done it out in the open, with cause, and to send a message to everyone else: I’m willing to kill my own son … watch your step. There wasn’t a single person in that neighborhood who would have had the guts to cross Castolli enough to kill his son.”

  “But they didn’t do it with guts. They framed you.”

  “Maybe because I was already gone?”

  Barry paused in his note-taking. “Who knew?”

  “Who knew what?”

  “Who knew you were leaving?”

  With a shrug, Derrick said, “No one. I…” Memories flooded. “Wait. Maybe one person knew. Let me think.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah. Ginger knew. I asked her if she wanted to come with me, and she laughed at me and told me I’d be back.”

  Barry raised an eyebrow. “Ginger?”

  “Yeah, uh,” Derrick cleared his throat. “Ginger Castolli.”

  “Let me guess,” Clifford said, rubbing his forehead. “Castolli’s daughter?”

  Derrick sighed. “She was seventeen. We’d been on and off for about a year. Right then we were on about to be off again. We’d had a huge blow up fight, but I saw her out that night and asked her to run away with me.”

  “Do you think she told anyone?” Barry asked.

  “I don’t know. She was pretty…” Derrick paused again, feeling ashamed for some reason. “She was pretty stoned at the time. There’s no telling.”

  Barry scribbled something in his notepad. “It’s worth following up.”

  “Following up?”

  “Sure.” Barry capped his pen and closed the cover of his nottopaz. “It might be worth a little bit of Perry Mason to poke around and see if we can get any idea as to who framed you.”

  “What good will that do? No one else is on trial here. All of the evidence points to me.” Derrick pushed away from the table. “Go digging up old bones and everything I’ve worked hard to escape will come crashing back down on me.”

  Barry stood as well, towering over him. “You are a new creature in Christ. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t investigate other possibilities. Bones are going to come out of the closet. We can’t stop that. Just don’t lie, stand firm, and you’ll get through this.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  Barry cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. It is easy. What else would you like for me to say?”

  Releasing a heavy sigh, Derrick sat back down. “Nothing. There is nothing that can be said.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made himself a message. “I’ll go visit her. Talk to her.”

  “Not alone,” Clifford said, making notes. “You take someone with you. Barry or Tony.”

  “Okay.”

  DERRICK rolled his head on his neck before lifting his fist to knock on the door of the apartment number six. The six had loosed itself from the nails holding it in place and swung downward, making it look like a number nine.

  Tony looked around him, at the dingy hallway, the garbage strewn floor, the flickering fluorescent lighting, and said, “Not exactly Castolli’s castle.”

  “I know. I heard Castolli got busted about a year after I left. Looks like he didn’t leave Ginger with the fortune.”

  The door swung open onto a chain and a very haggard and prematurely aged face appeared on the other side, but he recognized her. Lines formed around her mouth, circles darkened the skin under her eyes, and a bad hair dye job made her once black tresses look sickly purple, but he recognized her. “Ginger?”

  She spoke around a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. “Double D? Well, if this ain’t all that be.” The door shut in his face then opened wide, no chain. The smell of the apartment almost made him take a step back. The long forgotten smell of cheap gin and burning drugs assaulted his nasal passages. “What are you doing here?”

  He gestured to Tony. “Do you remember Tony Viscolli?”

  She drew hard on her cigarette, then removed it from her mouth. Her long fake nails were scarlet red. “I only ever heard of the legend. I’ve never had the honor in person.” She smiled, showing a mouth missing too many teeth. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Derrick watched Tony slap on the charm. “I knew you when you were a little baby,” he said. “I remember rosy cheeks and cute little black curls. Your daddy loved to bounce you on his knee.”

  Ginger laughed then coughed then wheezed in another drag of the cigarette. “Come in.” She held the door wider and waved them into her apartment. “Ain’t what you’s used to, I’m sure.”

  Derrick surveyed the apartment: dirty, lone couch; fast food bags and boxes; empty bottles. A young girl of about ten sat in a beanbag in the corner, holding a handheld game system. She looked at them with bored, stoned eyes, and then went back to her game. “That’s my Delilah. Don’t mind her.” Ginger coughed again, then put the butt of the cigarette out into an overflowing ashtray. “What’s up, D? Why are you knocking on my door for the first ti
me in forever ago?”

  Derrick slipped his hands into his pants pockets. “It’s about James, Ginger.”

  “You heard about that, eh? That was some freaky stuff there, man.” Ginger grabbed a glass off the coffee table and took a swig. She shuddered, swallowed, then wiped her mouth. “Freaky.”

  “I heard about it.” He rocked back on his heels. “Think back for a minute, Ginger. Do you remember the night I left?”

  Her eyes glazed over and she looked at a spot above his shoulder. “Kinda.”

  “Do you remember me asking you to come with me?”

  She shrugged, then grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the table and pulled one out. “Sure. You had a job, you said. You was going straight.”

  “Did you tell anyone else about my job?”

  She grabbed a lighter off the table and tried to light it. She flicked it three or four times, then tossed it on top of the mess that lay on the table. She moved to an end table next to the couch and ripped the drawer open. She dug around among the various paraphernalia haphazardly stuffed inside before she found a book of matches. Her hand shook a little when she lit the cigarette. “I ain’t got nothing to say.”

  Tony cocked his head. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I ain’t afraid of nothin’, rich boy.” She pulled the smoke out of her mouth and pointed at him. “I ain’t afraid of nobody.”

  “Something.” He stepped closer. “Someone has you scared.”

  Both of her hands shook, and she had a hard time getting the cigarette back to her mouth. “You just stay away from me, hear? I ain’t losin’ what little I get –” She slapped her own hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

  Derrick looked around. “Getting a monthly check, Ginger? Is that what’s keeping you and Delilah off the streets?”

  She threw the cigarette into the ashtray and rushed to the door, ripping it open. “You get out!” She yelled. “You get out of my house. I ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

  Tony slammed the door. She whirled around to him and covered her ears with her hands. Tears streamed down her face, smearing cheap mascara. “What is it, Ginger?” he asked.

  “He’ll kill me,” she whispered. “Or Delilah. She don’t matter none to him, even though she’s his. He pays every month, though. Money comes right as rain. Can’t lose my baby.” With jerky movements, she tried to open the door again but her hand slipped on the handle. “I ain’t got nothing to say. You can’t make me.”

  Derrick pulled a roll of cash out of his pocket. “How much for just a name?” He asked. He started counting bills. At one thousand dollars, he said, “Just a name.”

  Her eyes bugged as she watched the money being counted. When he reached two thousand, he started to fold them up and put them in his pocket, but she snatched at his wrist. “Twenty-five,” she said.

  He counted another five one-hundred-dollar bills, then held up the money in a fan. “Name?” She reached for the money, but he held it back from her. “Gotta give me the goods before you get the cash,” he said.

  Ginger looked over her shoulder, as if someone else might hear. She leaned forward and whispered, “Nick Wilson.” Derrick was so stunned at the name that he froze. Ginger snatched the money from his hand and rolled it into a tight roll before sticking it down her shirt. “That’s all you get outta me.”

  “You’ve been very helpful,” Tony said. He opened the door and gestured toward the hallway with his head. Derrick followed as if in a trance. As soon as Ginger slammed the door behind them, Tony spoke. “Some things just started looking a little clearer.”

  Derrick shook his head. “It just got more confusing.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “SO what does it all mean?” Sarah asked, shaking some oil and vinegar on her salad. All around her, the hospital cafeteria buzzed with lunch time traffic. She nodded a greeting at a friend then focused her attention back to Derrick.

  He shrugged. “No idea. He looked familiar to me the day he came to my office. He must have been a narc way back when. Maybe undercover.”

  “What does he have to do with her?”

  “Well, her daughter was about ten. This all happened ten years ago.”

  “There you are.” Sarah looked up as Barry pulled a chair up to their table. He threw a file folder in front of Derrick. “You’re going to be interested in reading that.”

  She watched him skim the contents. “What is it?” she asked when he glanced up at Barry with a look of surprise.

  “Yeah,” Barry said. “That’s what I thought, too.”

  Derrick pushed the file toward Sarah. She took a quick bite of salad and opened the folder. Apparently, Nick Wilson had worked under cover for over a year, and in the end he took down Gianni Castolli and his entire empire. He did it at the age of twenty.

  She shut the file folder and looked at Barry. “How could he do that so young?”

  Derrick answered her. “Gianni preferred younger guys working for him. Easier to control, less expensive, usually no family.”

  “Vice recruited Wilson fresh out of the academy,” Barry said. “Top of his class, very green. But, he dirtied up easily and slipped right in.”

  “I probably worked right with him, and didn’t know him when I met him in my office,” Derrick said. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Sarah could almost feel the agitation coming off him in waves. “I thought maybe for a moment I recognized him, but I dismissed it because I know his father from work.”

  Sarah felt little excited bursts going through her stomach. “Could he have killed James?”

  “Ginger is obviously very afraid of him.” Derrick tapped the file folder. “And I bet that half of what he did didn’t end up in here.”

  “Speaking of which,” Sarah said, feeling the burn of tears in her throat as some memories crept forward. “Can we talk about the little girl?”

  “Already taken care of,” Derrick said. He put his hand over hers. “Tony made calls on our way back. She’s going to be investigated. Peter and Caroline O’Farrell have offered to take her if she’s removed.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to ignore it, Sarah. Don’t worry.” She smiled at him, feeling a glow of love fill her heart.

  “Anyway,” Barry said, smiling and rubbing his chin. “We still don’t know what happened.”

  “Maybe we should ask him,” Derrick said. He reached over and snagged a carrot out of Sarah’s salad.

  “I think it best not to tip our hand without more information,” Barry said. He slipped on a pair of reading glasses and made some notes in his phone.

  “I was just kidding,” Derrick said. He smiled and winked at Sarah. “I’m just happy to see things looking up.”

  “Me, too!” Sarah said. She laughed as he reached for another bite, and just pushed the salad in front of him. “Eat. Enjoy. I’ll go get something else.”

  Derrick picked up her fork and dug in. “Thanks,” he said around a mouthful of food. “I didn’t feel much up to eating before we went to her apartment this morning.”

  “I think we might be celebrating a little too soon,” Barry said. He looked at Derrick over the rim of his glasses. “We don’t know anything.”

  “It’s all too convenient,” Derrick answered.

  “I agree. But, that doesn’t change the fact that they have proof and we do not. So, slow down on the celebrating. We haven’t beaten this thing yet.”

  Derrick took another bite then slid the tray back toward Sarah. “I have to go, anyway. I have a meeting at two with the managers at the hotel. Since most of them saw me arrested Friday night, I should go speak with them.”

  Sarah broke open her roll and spread butter on it. She looked up and saw Barry watching her. She smiled as she held up her knife. “Yes,” she said. “Real butter. Baby steps.”

  “That’a girl,” he said with a smile that made her laugh.

  To Derrick she said, “Have fun. Do they even know you’re back at work?”

  “I h
aven’t been yet. Went to Ginger’s instead of work this morning. It’s the regular weekly meeting. I’m actually curious to see who shows up.”

  He stood and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassurance into his touch. “I’ll see you later,” Sarah said.

  “Count on it,” Derrick answered.

  Sarah felt her cheeks burn at Barry’s knowing look and smile. “You shush,” she said, and took a bite of her roll.

  SARAH put her arms up over her head and stretched. She’d worked a double shift – the price paid for skipping work for court on Monday. That meant she got to work at seven that morning, and was staring midnight hard in the face as she walked out of the hospital.

  She walked with a friend and left her at her car, promising dinner and a movie the following week. Despite the nearly seventeen hours on her feet, she felt lighter, more energized than she had going into work that morning. Things might actually, possibly be looking up. Her future with Derrick might actually be a real possibility.

  As she pulled her keys out of her bag, she walked past the concrete pillar near where she had parked. She looked at her watch, knowing full well that it was too late to call Derrick, but fighting the impulse to do it anyway.

  When a rough hand grabbed her by the back of the neck and spun her toward the pillar, she was too shocked to react. The hand violently pushed her head forward until her forehead smacked against the concrete. White hot pain shrieked through her body, making her stomach roll with nausea and her knees go weak. The hand on the back of her neck held her upright, her face pressed against the cold concrete pillar and away from the person holding her there.

  Fear immobilized her. She didn’t know how to fight back – didn’t try.

  “Your boyfriend is looking in bad places,” someone whispered in her ear. “He backs off, or he’ll find your skeleton in a closet somewhere.”

  The hand on her neck suddenly released her and she crumpled to the ground. Her glasses were broken, her vision blurred, and she couldn’t make anything out but a dark figure running quietly away.