by Judith Lucci
Maddy took a deep breath and said, “It’s different. Wounds are different, weapon is different, and ligatures on the wrist are different, different knot, different kind of rope. All in all, a different killer.”
Jack gawked at her as the realization set in. He looked at Ted whose face was grave. This was bad news. “Maddy, are you telling us we’ve got a copycat?”
Maddy grimaced and shook her head, her dark hair moving. “'Fraid so, gentlemen. The only evidence that is the same as the St. Germaine killings are the exsanguinations. Other than that, nothing fits with St. Germaine’s forensic evidence.”
Jack, Ted, and Jason gaped at one another until Ted finally spoke. “We’re gonna have to call in the FBI serial crime experts. This is burgeoning out of our control.”
Jack nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, we should. We’re missing something, something we should be seein’, and we need some fresh eyes.” He turned to Jason and asked, “Will you call the FBI profiling unit at Quantico? We also need to alert the State Police as well.” Then Jack added with a grin, “Major Hauser will be upset if we leave him out of the loop.”
“I’m on it, sir. Anything else,” Jason asked as he moved toward the door.
Jack shook his head and looked at Maddy. “Anything else, doc? Any more good news for us today,” he asked with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
Maddy shook her head. “Nope, no good news, but I do have the identity of your newest victim.”
“Yeah, who,” Jack asked, his brain racing full speed ahead. “Who is it this time?”
Maddy’s dark eyes were wide as she broke the news. “It’s another mob boy. His name is Sonny Figuro. He was young, late twenties. Dad’s been in the mob for years,” Maddy offered.
Ted and Jack locked eyes. Maddy could hear the clicking of a computer four offices away. The silence was long and painful.
Finally, Jack shook his head. “Holy shit, Ted. We’ve got problems, big problems.”
Ted nodded. “Yeah, one could be an accident, two, no way.”
Maddy interrupted. “It’s more than that. You’ve got two mob hits by two different killers and from what I’m getting from the two of you, you’ve no idea who’s responsible.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Jack wisecracked. “I never thought I’d see the day when I thought one killer would be easier to catch than another. This totally sucks.”
Maddy and Ted nodded in agreement.
Jack spoke with more bravado then he felt. “We’ll get them both. Don’t worry, we’ll get both of them. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Yeah,” Captain Stevens agreed. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Maddy thought his voice sounded hollow and very far away.
Chapter 72
“Dude, what the hell are you thinking? You look pretty upset. We just got some good news for a change,” Shooter spouted in a loud voice as he stared at Stark.
Stark smiled briefly and looked around the waiting room of the hospital to see if anyone was staring at them. It looked like any hospital waiting room in the world, full of tired, anxious people, wheelchairs, stretchers, empty coffee cups, and candy wrappings.
“Yeah man, the news about Louis is awesome. Sounds like he’ll be all right in a few weeks,” Stark commented as he studied the grounds in the bottom of his coffee cup.
“So, what’s up? Why the long face? Things are looking up,” Shooter prodded, eyeing his friend with concern.
Stark shook his head. “No, not really, at least not in my life.”
Shooter stood and stared down at him. “What do you mean? Alex loves you, your family is safe, Louis is gonna live, and we don’t think the CIA is looking for you. That’s a reason celebrate,” Shooter opined.
Stark locked eyes with his friend and shook his head again, a look of despair on his face. Shooter felt a shiver run up his back and his gut constricted into a tight, pulsing knot. “What is it, Jake. Whatever it is, we can handle it,” he assured him, sounding more confident than he felt.
“No, ‘we’ cannot. It’s not your war, Shooter P. It’s mine. I have to go … to leave France,” Stark reported in a matter-of-fact voice.
Shooter leaned in closer to Jake, their noses almost touching and said in a quiet, tight voice, “What is it?”
Stark’s body seemed to shrink in front of him. Sadness and hopelessness etched his face. His voice was low and quiet. “I got a text from an old buddy in Yemen. He’s been undercover for years. He’s pretty sure Al Qaeda knows I’m in France. I’m leaving tomorrow evening.”
“Where are you going?” Shooter’s normally happy face was sad.
Stark smiled sardonically, “I don’t know. Maybe one of those wonderful places we were talking about a day or so ago. Some place a long way away.”
“Wanna come down to NOLA and work on the rigs? Our first plan?” Shooter offered him a hopeful look.
Jacob shook his head. “No, too dangerous. Maybe later, when things quiet down a bit.” He was pensive for a moment and continued, “I need to know if Sarah and Haley can stay in France until I figure out how bad the threat is.”
“Of course. I’ll guard them with my life. I don’t think Louis would let them leave anyway,” he assured Stark. “What about Alex?”
Stark’s despair surfaced again, this time more sharply. “I guess I’ll tell her I have to go away for a while … work or something … but truthfully, I need to get out of her life. I am only screwing it up,” he lamented. “I will never be able to offer her anything. She needs stability, not someone running from terrorists.”
Shooter gave him a shrewd look. “Why not give her the opportunity to decide. You at least owe her that,” he suggested.
Without replying, Stark got up, walked over to the vending machine, and pushed the button for an Espresso. When he returned he said, “We need to keep a 24/7 guard here at the hospital until Louis is discharged. Then, step up the security at the Chateau.”
Shooter nodded. “Agree. When are you leaving? It can’t be tomorrow.”
Stark shrugged his shoulders. “Two days, maybe three. I can’t wait much longer than that.”
Shooter was quiet as he considered options. “Why not stay in France and we’ll handle it here. Louis won’t mind. I think we can end this, Jake,” he pleaded.
Stark shook his head. “No, no way. Way too dangerous for all of you. I can just picture a suicide bomber on the terrace.”
Shooter started to argue, but Stark waved his protests away. “I’m gone, Shooter P. I’ll keep in touch, I promise.” Stark’s eyes were moist.
After a long silence Shooter spoke. “OK. I need to go back to the States to take care of some business, but I’ll be back in four or five days at the most.”
Stark raised his arm in protest, but Shooter shook his head and said, “If you want me to watch out for Alex and Haley, I need five days. End of conversation.”
Stark sat back in the blue plastic chair, resigned and said, “OK, it’ll give me a little time with Alex and my family. But, five days is just about all the time I can spare.”
“You got it,” Shooter assured him. “Now, let’s go check on Louis. It’s visiting hours again.”
Chapter 73
Jack grunted in pain as he lifted his injured leg up onto his desk. It hurt like hell but once it was up there, he immediately felt relief from the pain in his back. He stretched his leg and back muscles. He put his other leg up as well and sat back in his desk chair, hands behind his head, feet up on his desk, and thought about St. Germaine.
He had reviewed the files again and agreed with Dr. Jeanfreau, they had a copycat killer on their hands. What the hell was going on? Who was killing Mafia Bosses? He had a bad feeling in his gut that suggested things were going to get worse, a lot worse. He would be glad to meet with the FBI profiler team in a few hours without the idiot Mayor, so he could really ask them some salient questions. The case needed fresh eyes. A knock on his door disturbed his thoughts.
“Come in,” Jack barke
d, unhappy that someone had interrupted his thinking time. He turned around and saw Jason at the door with a curious look on his face.
“Yo, Jason. What’s up? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”
Jason smiled. “Commander, we have a body down in the French Quarter.”
Jack’s heart sunk. “St. Germaine? Has the SOB or his alter ego killed someone else?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Jason said with a smug look on his face.
“Well, what then,” Jack muttered impatiently.
Jason moved from one foot to the other, anxious to tell Jack who was dead. “Someone has done us another favor. The vic was Mafia, again part of the Andretti family.”
Jack maneuvered his legs off the desk and turned around in his chair to face Jason. “Damn, same MO?”
Jason shook his head and grinned.
“So, a dead Mafia member without a slit throat, no weird body posing, killed at the scene,” Jack questioned.
Jason nodded. “That’s correct. He most likely has almost all of his blood.”
“So, was it a hit? A normal, average Mafia hit.”
Jason grinned, “Oh yeah, it was definitely a hit. But it wasn’t a regular style Mafia hit.”
“Oh, then what was it?” Jack was impatient. “Spit it out.”
“The man was killed by a sniper. We found the sniper’s nest in a Penthouse at Harrah’s.”
Holy shit, a sniper? Mafia didn’t kill each other using snipers or sniper weapons. That wasn’t the MO for a typical mob hit. Jack was silent for a couple of moments as he thought about what Jason had said.
Jason stood silently, waiting for the next question. He couldn’t wait to tell Jack the name of the victim.
“Who’d the sniper kill,” Jack finally asked, curious. A sniper, who the hell would hire a sniper for a Mafia hit.
Jason laughed with anticipation. “You’ll love it. Someone we’ve been after for a long time,” Jason teased him.
“Who, damnit, Jason. Speak up,” Jack roared.
“Fredrico Petrelli, good old Fredrico.” Jason was so happy he almost danced around the office.
This time it was Jack who smiled broadly. “Holy Shit. Fredrico Petrelli. Damn, this is like Christmas. We’ve been trying to nail that SOB for years.” He picked up his phone to call Ted Stevens who’d be equally pleased. But, a bad feeling nagged at him, who the hell did this. Why a trained sniper?
Chapter 74
Alex sat in the main salon at the Chateau, gazing out of the large windows. It was raining, and the sky was gray and dreary. The happy, fun-filled days at the Chateau were over. Shooter had returned from the States, and Stark had left for parts unknown. He had been gone for several weeks and no one had heard from him – not Sarah, not Louis, and certainly not Alex. She had heard a rumor that Jake was going to Russia and might be gone for months but when she asked Louis, he would not answer her directly, saying only that Jake was ‘on business’.
On a brighter note, Louis was doing well and was scheduled to be discharged from the hospital in a few days. Sarah and Haley were planning to move into the house and stay with him until Jake returned. Louis had hired several additional security men for his detail, and they were currently guarding him at the hospital.
Alex’s mood matched the gray of the day. She was exhausted and depressed. For the past several days she hadn’t felt well and hadn’t been able to eat. Cook had come to see her and asked what she could prepare for her meals, but Alex hadn’t been able to come up with anything,
Alex mulled her situation over in her mind. Perhaps I’m just lonely for Jacob, or home sick for the farm and my grandparents. I really need to go back to Virginia and see them. I’ve been gone for almost two months. Maybe I haven’t recovered from the trauma of the bombing at the farm, who knows. It seems like everywhere I go, people get hurt. I’m bad luck.
She reached for her pocketbook and removed the small package she had purchased from the Pharmacie, and then headed up the wide staircase to her bedroom. She sat on the bed, exhausted and short of breath from the stairs, as she opened the package and read the instructions. They were pretty simple, so she headed to the bathroom.
She watched in disbelief as the test stick changed color. There it was, as big as life. She was pregnant with Jake’s baby. Unbelievable. They barely knew each other and she was going to have his baby. What kind of an idiot was she? She headed for her bed, got in, pulled the covers up over her head, and lay there as hot tears flooded her pillow and shook her body until she fell asleep.
She awoke several hours later, a bit more calm and hopeful, but the depression lingered. The rain had stopped, and sun was streaming through the window. Alex sat up in her bed and made a few decisions. She’d decided to stay in France a few more weeks until Louis was stable and then she’d return to Virginia, to the farm, to spend time with her grandparents and contemplate her future. No matter what, she knew Grand and Adam would support her.
Maybe she’d give up her job in New Orleans. She was tired of being a hospital lawyer anyway. Perhaps she’d try something else one day, maybe something in healthcare where she could truly impact patient care. In the meantime who knew what would happen, but she was returning home to rest and prepare for the next chapter in her life. She felt oddly excited. Life was good after all.
Thank you so much for reading Toxic New Year, the fourth book in the Alexandra Destephano Medical Thriller Series. I hope you enjoyed it. Since reviews are very important to Indie authors. I would be delighted if you would click here to review my book.
To err is human and to forgive is divine. I can honestly say that writing novels is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and I’ve done a lot of things. Even though my books are professionally edited by three editors and reviewed by at least five others before they are published, you may find an error. If you do, please email me at [email protected] and I will immediately correct it or if you’d rather, contact me on my webpage at http://www.JudithLucci.com.
I always want to hear from and connect with my readers. Contact me at any time with questions, ideas for new books, or just plain anything. I am happy to answer any questions. You can follow me on Twitter at Judith Lucci Writes @ Judith Lucci, on FB at https://www.facebook.com/judith.lucci or check out my Amazon Author Page at http://www.amazon.com/Judith-Lucci/e/B00AUVN0GK.
Once again, many thanks for reading my book!
Judith
