Game of Fear

by Robin Perini

  With the audience, he let himself stumble to stay in character, but in reality he searched in desperation through the crowd for his brothers and Hawk. Face after face, and he couldn’t find them. A stone settled in the bit of his stomach.

  Finally a tall, brown-haired head caught his attention. Luke.

  Thank God.

  Hawk followed behind him.

  Luke raised a hand and raced over. “Where have you been? We’ve been trying to contact you.” He grabbed Gabe and hugged him tight and hard.

  Confused at the intensity of his brother’s embrace, Gabe patted his brother’s back and met Jazz’s gaze over his brother’s shoulder. “Sorry. Detective Wexler put my cell phone into evidence. Long story. I picked up a new one. Same number. It’s charging. What’s wrong?”

  Hawk raised an eyebrow as if the guy could read much more into the story than that. There was, but Gabe was used to Hawk’s skepticism. Hawk didn’t trust anything or anyone.

  “Next time you get rid of your phone, tell someone,” Luke said, his voice a bit rough. “We couldn’t keep the news from Mom, she heard it on John’s police radio. She’s freaking, worried it’s your hand hanging from the porch.”

  “What?” Deb gasped. “Is it—”

  “Britney’s,” Gabe finished. “I hope not.”

  Deb shifted her stance and a spotlight bathed her face in harsh light. Gabe winced at the discoloration.

  “What the hell?” Luke said. “What happened?” He whipped around to Gabe. “What’s going on?”

  “Some men don’t know how to stay down.” Deb pressed gently at the bruise. “I’m fine.”

  She shrugged in that way Gabe had come to appreciate on the one hand and be irritated by on the other. She shoved aside what made her uncomfortable and moved on, never letting anything fester.

  Except Ashley, of course.

  “We have more important things to deal with than a little bruise. Can you take us to the . . . hand?”

  “Sure,” Luke said, and led the four of them through the crowd to the front stoop of Gabe’s house.

  A bloody hand dangled from a long string fastened to the underside of the porch roof. Someone had positioned it exactly right. Anyone walking past would see it.

  “Who would have done something like this?” Deb asked. “It’s barbaric.”

  Gasmerati was getting desperate. Gabe glanced over at Deb. Menken’s attack. His connection to Tower. He had to get Deb away from this place.

  Just as he opened his mouth to suggest she leave, the medical examiner’s vehicle pulled into the lot. A woman dressed in black pants and a black jacket exited the van, her entire body stiff as she glanced around at the bunch of looky-loos. She dismissed them and pulled out a large case. She opened it, snapped on latex gloves, and grabbed a camera.

  “Leah Hanson,” Luke said quietly. “The new coroner. A bit of controversy when she won the election out of nowhere. Now she’s in charge of a bunch of guys who’ve been at the ME’s office a couple of decades. Went over real well.”

  Gabe noticed that Hawk’s interest had certainly piqued with the new arrival. He checked her out a little more thoroughly as she contorted to take several photos of the porch.

  “Stop gawking,” Gabe snapped. “She’s examining a severed hand. No lusting allowed. That’s just sick.”

  Hawk just shrugged. “Different strokes. You’ve got this covered. I’ll be in the bar. Zach can’t handle it on his own much longer.” He sent Deb a pointed look. “You be careful. And let me know if you need me to send a less-than-subtle message to the guy who did that to your face.”

  He crossed the parking lot and vanished into the back of the bar.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Deb said.

  “He wasn’t kidding,” Gabe said. “Hawk’s got a thing about women and children getting hit.”

  “Just like I have a thing for people cutting off heads . . . and hands?” Deb took a step toward the gruesome scene, but a deputy stopped her. She scowled at him and the guy blanched at her expression. Gabe had to admit she really could be fierce when she wanted to.

  After Dr. Hanson finally grabbed an evidence bag and moved over to cut down the hand, a small growl sounded from Deb.

  Her gaze had narrowed in fury. “Is it Britney’s?”

  “I can’t tell. It’s not very big, though.”

  Luke’s cell rang. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “I should let you take this.” He scowled at Gabe. With a deep breath, Luke answered the call. “He’s okay, Mom. Promise.” He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at Gabe. “You didn’t make any friends by disappearing for several hours,” he whispered and handed Gabe the phone.

  “Gabriel Francis, where have you been?” His mother’s voice choked around the question.

  “I’m okay, Mom. Promise.”

  He fielded her questions as best he could. The last thing he’d wanted to do was to hurt her, but he’d known Luke and Jazz would be at risk. He’d had to do something.

  He finally got off the phone. “She’s upset.”

  “You think?” Luke taunted. “Who wouldn’t be? By the way, Ernie called me earlier. Also upset you weren’t around. I was his last resort. He said he needed help. He also said something weird. He told me to tell you to look in Idaho.”

  “What the hell is in Idaho?”

  “I don’t know. He sounded pretty out of it, babbling a bit. He just kept asking where you were. He sounded frantic, but he wouldn’t stay on the line. That’s all I got.”

  Gabe looked at the forensics techs taking samples on the porch. A chill pierced his nerves. Ernie had called. He needed help.

  Which meant he wasn’t in hiding.

  Please don’t let that hand be his.

  “You got a minute, Gabe?” Neil Wexler walked over, his notebook in his hand.

  “Yeah. You get around, Detective.”

  “And you’re at the center of too much chaos . . . not to mention severed limbs. Any ideas on this? It may not be a homicide yet, but I get nervous when body parts show up.”

  “The girl?”

  Deb and Luke leaned in to listen.

  Neil shook his head. “It’s not Britney’s hand. Definitely a male, but a small guy. According to Dr. Hanson, it’s pretty bruised. Some of the fingers look like they may have been broken and not reset correctly.”

  Gabe swore under his breath. “I think I know. Check AFIS for fingerprints for Ernest Rattori, aka Ernie the Rat. He’s from around here, and he definitely has a file.”

  “You know him, don’t you?” Neil asked. “I’ve seen him lurking around outside the bar a time or two.”

  Gabe scanned his surroundings, then lowered his voice. Ernie had gotten careless if Neil had noticed him. “He’s a snitch.”

  The detective drummed his fingers on his pad. “What’s going on with you, Gabe? Dealing with snitches and Gasmerati? Not a good idea.”

  John Garrison walked over. “Detective, may I have a word with Mr. Montgomery? Alone, please?”

  Neil stared at the captain curiously, then nodded. He turned to Gabe. “I’ll check out those prints.”

  “Thanks, Neil.”

  As soon as the detective left, Garrison moved in.

  “Get out of sight now,” Garrison said sharply. “Take Deb. I haven’t said anything, but we found a John Doe in the landfill, so this is the third body in the last week with Gasmerati’s calling card. But this time it was left at your house. I don’t like you standing out here, exposed, with all these people milling around. Too easy for a sniper to take you out. We’ll secure the premises.”

  “You heard him,” Luke piled on. “Move it. We have some talking to do.”

  Both Garrison and Luke were right. He had to get Deb out of sight. Too many people had seen them together. He should have forced her to return to her apa
rtment.

  Like he could force her to do anything. She was one stubborn woman.

  And he liked that about her. Too much.

  Gabe grabbed her hand and they quickly rounded his house to the side entrance, followed closely by Luke. “I’m sorry about this, Deb. I’ve put you in a bad position. They may have seen you.”

  With a quick survey, Gabe slipped the key into the lock, pushed it open, then sent his brother a sidelong glance. “Look, I’m fine. But I need you to keep everyone else safe.”

  Deb gasped and pulled a gun from the side pocket of her pants. “Don’t move!” she said sharply, peering into the darkened room.

  Gabe whirled around, gun drawn.

  A ghost stood in front of him, barely visible in the dark.

  Steve Paretti. Former SWAT teammate. Former best friend. Lying, traitorous son of a bitch.

  “You bastard. You’re dead.”

  Gabe lunged across the room and slugged the dead man in the jaw.

  Paretti didn’t fight back.

  Luke grabbed his brother’s arms. “I get to kill him first. He shot at Jazz. She almost died because of him.”

  Nick Montgomery, U.S. Marshal, stepped out from the shadows. “You can’t kill him, Luke. Paretti’s in protective custody.”

  The hubbub across the street drew all the officers away. They wanted to check out the garish display on Montgomery’s porch.

  Sheriff Tower smiled. Exactly as planned. All was still and quiet in the detention center, except for that idiot Menken.

  Two of Tower’s loyal deputies accompanied Menken down the hall and into the holding area. Lights-out was hours ago. Security cameras had been deactivated. The town drunks had been given the night off from arrest for DUIs in an unfamiliar surge of leniency from the sheriff’s department.

  Ernie Rattori’s hand had done its job. He’d have to thank Gasmerati sometime for agreeing to the donation.

  Tower wanted no outside witnesses for what was to happen next. He and the deputies snapped on latex gloves and made their way down the corridor.

  Menken was still yelling in his cell when the sound of their footsteps finally broke through to him. The deputy’s face had turned purple with rage, but Tower could see the panic as well. The man’s behavior fit perfectly into his plans.

  “Good evening, Menken.”

  The deputy lunged against the bars. “You’ve kept me locked up in this stinkin’ jail cell for hours and haven’t even let me call anyone. Didn’t even spring me, after all I’ve done for you. You owe me, Tower, and don’t you forget it. Now, get me out of here.”

  “Certainly.” Tower unlocked the cell door, then tugged a belt from behind his back, holding it in his gloved hand. It was Menken’s belt, complete with fingerprints, and was already looped to use as a noose. “Officers, I believe our prisoner is depressed. How could we have forgotten to remove his belt? We shouldn’t be so careless. Bad things can happen when a man is suicidal.”

  Menken howled and charged Tower. The other two officers grabbed him.

  “Remember,” Tower said. “No unusual bruises.”

  Menken started yelling and fighting, but the deputies took care of the rest.

  Ten minutes later Tower stared at the hanging figure in disgust. How could the man have been so stupid? Jeopardizing everything.

  “You’ll get out of jail all right, Menken,” he told the lifeless man. “Unfortunately, it will be in a body bag. Deputies, make sure there is no evidence left behind, then disappear. I’ll reestablish the security loop, then join the others at Montgomery’s house across the street.”

  Without a last glance, Tower walked out.

  Only a few stars twinkled in the frame of the small one-foot-by-four-inch window. Ashley huddled under the thin wool blanket and buried her head into the pillow. She could fight during the day, she could be like Deb. But at night—at night everything changed.

  The moon had moved past her window. Lights-out.

  A few coughs echoed through the corridors. A few sobs. Some male; some female. They were all in hell, and in the dark, there seemed to be no way out.

  She couldn’t let it get to her. She had a plan. If only . . .

  A metal door slammed closed. Footsteps pounded down the concrete hallways. One after the other. Closer and closer.

  The boots thudded with the precision of a metronome.

  Her chest tightened. Please, go on. Please don’t find out.

  They didn’t slow. They passed her room.

  A tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye.

  Then, the footsteps paused.

  The clang of keys. A metal door creaked open.

  “No. I didn’t do anything!” The boy’s high-pitched yell identified him at once. Geeky, tall kid with Buddy Holly glasses. Math genius. No name.

  “Please, don’t take me.”

  Ashley buried her head under her pillow. Was it her fault?

  A loud, horrible scream sounded down the hall.

  The large metal door opened again.

  The footsteps came back.

  Ashley’s pulse pounded in her ears. She squeezed her eyes tight.

  The keys jangled and clinked.

  Her door opened.

  “Lansing,” a low voice whispered. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  GABE CROSSED HIS arms and faced the man who at one time he would have trusted with his life.

  “Maybe I’d better take off,” Deb said, backing to the door.

  “Don’t leave, Ms. Lansing,” Nick Montgomery said.

  He wore a U.S. Marshal badge, and while he appeared calm, Gabe could see the regret in his eyes.

  “You’ve been seen with my brother,” Nick continued. “It’s not safe for you to leave alone until this operation has been closed, no matter how well you can defend yourself. Hopefully, Steve has the nails for Gasmerati’s coffin. He came out of hiding to help.”

  “And to save Grace,” Paretti added. “I won’t let her take the fall for me.”

  Gabe looked at his former friend. He couldn’t believe the man he’d known since childhood was standing here alive. He should be happy, but the betrayal cut too deep. “Why should I believe anything you say? You lied to me for years.”

  “Steve had to in order to survive,” Nick cut in.

  Gabe whirled on his brother. “And why should I trust you, brother?” He paced back and forth, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “You knew his betrayal was tearing me apart, Nick, but you hid the fact Paretti was alive—even from me.”

  “Just like you hid the fact you’re running an undercover op in the bar from the whole family,” Nick snapped. “You can’t have it both ways, Gabe. Your secrets are okay, but no one else can have them? Life isn’t like that. Sometimes tough decisions have to be made.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to throw my arms around this traitor and welcome him back into the good-guy fold? Not happening, bro.”

  Nick bit out a curse. “Steve is in WITSEC and he’s my responsibility. He threw the protection agreement away to come here, because he refuses to stay hidden while the people he loves are threatened. I could lose my whole damn case against Jeff Gasmerati if something happens to Steve, so back off.”

  “People he loves? Right.” Gabe lunged at Paretti and fisted his shirt at the collar. He brought them face-to-face. “Tell me the truth, asshole, are you a cop or a criminal?”

  Paretti shoved Gabe back. “I’m a cop. I’ve always been a cop.” He clenched his fists, then suddenly, his shoulders sagged. “I hoped you’d understand eventually. The world isn’t always black and white when you’re undercover. Sometimes you have to do borderline things to stay alive and try to keep others that way, too.”

  He looked over at Luke. “I’m sorry
. I tried to keep you and Jazz out of it. Jeff wanted me to kill you.”

  “You shot at us, Paretti. You almost killed Jazz.”

  “I knew where I was aiming, Luke. I might not be a SWAT sniper, but I’m a close second to Jazz. I missed on purpose. I tried to scare you, to get you both to run. Or at least hide until things were safer. But you didn’t run.”

  Steve glared at Gabe. “And you’re not running, either. Rumor has it that Jeff Gasmerati is dead set on taking you out.” Paretti gestured around the room. “Maybe all of you. What is it about Montgomerys and sheer stubborn stupidity? Why can’t you behave like a normal family and just leave.”

  “Instead of telling us what we already know,” Gabe snapped, “tell us something that will help end this.” He clenched his fists. He wanted to punch something, anything.

  Deb moved to Gabe’s side. She didn’t take his hand or even touch him, but just her presence cooled his temper a bit, like spring rain dousing a fire.

  Paretti let out a sigh and looked over at Nick. Gabe’s brother nodded. “We’ve broken this many rules,” he said. “Go ahead.”

  “I spent a couple months in a coma after getting shot,” Steve said. “And then time in recovery before I could start to piece together my memory. I knew something big was in the works before I was forced to disappear, but it’s hard to get info while you’re supposedly dead, especially when your bodyguard won’t let you so much as pee without watching.” He glared at Nick.

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Nick said.

  “If that’s what you call hiding out like a coward.”

  “I’m not hearing anything that will help my investigation . . . or find Deb’s sister,” Gabe snapped.

  “Before I was shot in the head and shoved into WITSEC, I overheard bits and pieces about a couple of hush-hush construction projects Jeff Gasmerati had his hands on. Most having to do with tech and selling video games. Probably pirated, but I don’t know. My cousin was definitely part geek as a kid. He wanted to be the next computer whiz, but he never had the smarts.”

  Deb clutched Gabe’s arm and leaned forward. “Did you hear any names mentioned? How about Point of Entry?”