by Alison Kent
“Why not?” she cried, tears leaking at last from the corners of her eyes. “Do you know what it’s like to look over your shoulder for eight years of your life?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Fitz said. “With your cooperation, I’m going to make sure those eight years pay off.” His gaze remained locked on hers, as if he knew he had her on his hook, and was waiting to reel her in.
It was all King could do not to choke the man with his own ugly silk tie. “You’re here to make sure she keeps looking? Is that it?”
And then it hit him. His fishing analogy was off. This guy wasn’t baiting Cady with his words. He was here to use her as bait. He wanted whoever it was stalking her, and she was the easiest means to that end.
King pushed to his feet, knocking against the table hard enough that their dishes clattered. “Not happening, Fitz. Not in this lifetime. We’ll be going now.”
Cady reached for his arm, squeezed, and said, “Hang on a second. I want to hear more. I want him to tell me exactly why he’s here, and what it has to do with me looking over my shoulder.”
Spitting out a lot of nasty words, King sat. He wasn’t the one who’d been looking over his shoulder and existing day to day. Well, he had, the first part while in prison, the second for a lot of years after.
But this wasn’t about him. It was about Cady, and it was only right that she call the shots.
Hell, his only inconvenience was the loss of his ride that had been insured within an inch of its life. Good thing, since it was no longer living.
No, the only reason he was sticking around was to make sure Cady didn’t get stranded, and had someone on her side. Once they heard what the government man had to say, King would be in a better position to know if he was needed, or if he was in Cady’s way. If his being here meant extra grief.
“Does the name Nathan Tuzzi ring any bells?”
King shook his head in response to Fitz’s question, then turned his gaze on Cady to see that her face had blanched the color of bones—a pale deathly white that made her railroad track stitches seem to pull angrily at her skin, her black and blue bruises to growl.
“Who is he?” he finally asked, still watching her.
“He’s the one who pulled the trigger,” she said, her voice ringing hollow, her words flat. “The one who shot Kevin.”
Fitz took over. “He denies it, of course. To this day, he claims he was convicted on nothing but circumstantial evidence. And that his cohort who turned snitch is lying.”
King had gone to prison based on circumstantial evidence, and because the judge sitting his case wanted him there. That didn’t mean he automatically sided with this Tuzzi.
But it did mean he’d keep his opinions to himself as he dug for the facts. “The snitch cut a deal?”
“He’s serving a lesser term in another facility.”
“And he’s still alive?” King had seen more than one snitch eat the floor of the showers for his last meal.
Fitz gave him the point. “The other facility is minimum security and far far away.”
“He’s not getting out, is he?” Cady asked. “Are they? Tuzzi or Felwouk?”
“Felwouk the snitch?” King asked of Fitz.
The other man nodded. “Blake Felwouk.” And then he told Cady, “Not a chance. Felwouk’s got a number of years to go before he even comes up in front of the parole board. And Tuzzi never will. He’ll be proudly wearing the state’s colors for the rest of his life.”
King let that sink in, but knew there was more to the story. He had the man with no badge across from him as proof—not to mention the woman at his side with a face that told the truth and what remained of his Hummer blown across half of New Jersey.
So he wasn’t surprised when Cady filled in the blanks. “It’s Malling, isn’t it? He’s out.”
Fitz nodded. Cady hung her head. Since King was the only one who didn’t know shit about anything here, he asked, “Who’s Malling?”
“Jason Malling was charged as an accessory,” Fitz told him, Cady adding, “He drove the getaway car.”
“There were three of them then. Involved in the murder.” King figured he needed to level the playing field if he was going to catch up.
Fitz held up four fingers. “There was a fourth. Ryland Combs. He was the one who broke out the window on the front door and was the first one inside. Tuzzi and Felwouk told that part of the story the same way.”
Cady snorted. “Combs couldn’t argue. He was dead.”
“What happened?”
Fitz looked at Cady as if wanting her permission before he caused her to revisit the painful details of her brother’s death. She hesitated a moment, then picked up her empty cup and got to her feet.
“I’m going to get some more tea,” she said, and headed to the other side of the cafeteria and the station stocked with tea bags and sweetener packets.
It was only then, watching her walk away, her head hung low, King realized that beneath her unzipped hoodie, she was still wearing the T-shirt and sweatpants she’d put on to sleep in before wrapping up in her bedspread cocoon.
All those layers were supposed to keep her safe from him…yet because of her, he was sitting in a hospital cafeteria with a dozen stitches in his scalp and some government goon keeping him from his crawfish.
And now neither one of them had anything to wear but the clothes on their backs. They didn’t even have a toothbrush or a comb. At least he had things at home. Cady had no things. And no home.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Fitz said, bringing King back to the moment.
He looked at the government man in his choice suit and designer haircut, his build lacking anything in the way of fat, his eyes lacking the compassion to back up his words. Flat. That’s what they were. Flat.
King was sure his own eyes were anything but. “The girl chose walking away over listening to you talk about her brother. How do you think that’s not hurting her?”
“She’s been through all of this. It’s nothing new. It’s nothing she doesn’t know or hasn’t heard.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not hurting. Or that anything about it is easy for her.”
“And you’re such a good friend you can speak for her about what’s easy and what’s hard?”
“Not such a good friend, no.” Goddamn this man. “Just a fucking human being.”
Fitz looked down, then cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Cady before telling King the truth. “That’s one thing I can’t afford to be. I have a job to do. It’s not a pretty one. But what I’m doing is going to save lives.
“If reminding that girl over there of what happened to her brother helps me get what I need to do that, then maybe Kevin Kowalski won’t have died in vain.”
Fourteen
Then maybe Kevin Kowalski won’t have died in vain.
King let that sink in as he fought off the cold of the cafeteria and the tingling ice pricks in his face as feeling to his deadened nerves returned.
He wasn’t investing his fortune in what this guy was selling, but the pitch had caught his attention. Now he needed details. “Whose life are you trying to save?”
“The stupid fucks who snort or shoot up what Nathan Tuzzi is putting on the streets.”
“You just lost me, boo. I thought you wanted Cady because of the dick tied to her brother’s murder being cut loose. The one I’m guessing is responsible somehow for me being on foot. I loved that Hummer, you know.”
“Tuzzi’s got a lot of puppets in his pockets, but his pulling Malling’s strings is personal. They ran together in college, and went down for the same crime.”
That helped, but King still wasn’t quite there. “So Tuzzi’s running drugs from the inside.”
Fitz nodded. “He went in, set up shop, and no one’s been able to plug his pipeline.”
“And now he’s got Malling on the outside to do his personal dirty work. Which is where Cady comes in.”
Fitz nodded again. “Tuzzi’s made n
o secret of the fact that he’s coming for her.”
“She said she’s been looking over her shoulder for eight years. When did Malling get out? It had to be recently because Cady didn’t know.”
“Two days ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
“I don’t work for the court system.”
King was beginning to wonder if he worked for anyone but himself. “Meaning it’s not your job to let her know to look over her shoulder for real. Even though that’s the human thing to do.”
“I’m here now. And I’ve had people following Malling since the moment he set foot outside.”
“And the trial? Who’s been looking out for her since then?”
Fitz shook his head. “I’ve only been working the case since last year.”
Convenient, like so much of the rest of this circus. “The guy set up shop eight years ago, and he’s just now on your radar?”
“Like I said—”
“Yeah, yeah. You and your people are new on the job. You’re not responsible for who did what that far back. Who are your people, anyway? You never have said. Or produced any sort of ID,” King reminded the other man.
Fitz reached into his suit coat’s inside pocket and pulled out a leather badge holder that held no badge. Neither was it embossed with any government insignia.
Inside, there was nothing but a picture of Fitzwilliam McKie along with his name, the presidential seal, and the commander in chief’s signature.
“Impressive, but that doesn’t tell me much.” Except that he’d probably been right about the X, Y, and Z files thing.
“It tells you all I can.”
“Well, your ‘all you can’ doesn’t explain what you want with Cady. I’m assuming you want to use her to get to Tuzzi somehow, but I just can’t wrap my tiny Cajun brain around how that’s supposed to happen.”
Fitz twisted his seat to lean against the wall. “There’s a reason Malling, who was relegated to do nothing but drive, got caught.”
That one was easy. “He wasn’t the brains of the operation.”
“Exactly. And we’re counting on him to be just as loyal to Tuzzi without giving any more thought to covering his tracks now than he did then.”
“I’m still not making the connection to that girl over there.” The one who’d settled in with her tea at a table the width of the room away, and hadn’t once looked over to where King sat talking to the government man. He could’ve sworn the shard of glass had splintered into his gut.
Fitz took a deep breath. “We weren’t sure until last night’s explosion exactly what Malling was up to.”
“But now you know.”
“We have an idea,” he said, giving King a bit of a nod as he palmed his mug. “We wouldn’t have made the connection except Cady’s name popped up on our radar when the locals plugged it into their system.”
Huh. Interesting. “You were watching for it?”
“We watch for anything related to Nathan Tuzzi,” McKie said, and brought his mug to his mouth.
And that anything included a black-haired waif from New Jersey. “Back to this Malling. He’s after Cady?”
“Best we can figure he’s supposed to make sure she knows that Tuzzi doesn’t forget or ever forgive.”
“But if Malling’s been inside until recently, who’s been giving her grief all this time? Never mind. You’ve only been working the case a year.” King frowned, wished he had another cup of coffee because he was taking way too long to put this puzzle together. “What I don’t get is why Tuzzi blames her for his conviction.”
This time Fitz considered him more closely. “Has she told you any of what led up to the break-in?”
“Not much. Just that she holds herself responsible for her brother’s death. Nothing about why Tuzzi or any of his bunch would blame her for their situation.”
“It started out as a college prank. One Cady got caught up in without intending to, I’m quite sure.”
“Why are you sure?”
Fitz cast a glance toward the third member of their strange little party before looking back at King. “She might like to tell you herself.”
Or she might like not to, since this was the first he’d heard of any prank so far. “I’ve got a bald spot the size of Montana on the back of my head thanks to her. I think that buys me something.”
“Nothing in the case files are sealed,” Fitz said, after several moments spent studying the floor as if searching for permission to speak. “Everything’s public record. So it’s not like I’d be betraying a confidence.”
And if he was, King wouldn’t care. He didn’t have time, energy, or the means to do a search through courthouse files right now.
Begged, borrowed, or stolen, he wanted the information so he and Cady could get out of here, and he could get some sleep. “Speak, man. I don’t have all day.”
Fitz gave him a look that reminded him his day was no longer his own. “A friend of Cady’s had a beef with another girl at school. This girl belonged to a sorority that did a lot of charity work. They had a sculpture of their mascot, a Persian cat, in the sorority house’s front hall. Cady’s friend lifted it as a joke.”
So far, all Cady seemed guilty of was a bad taste in friends. “That’s it?”
“No, but it is where the story starts.”
Patience, once his strong suit, no longer was. “Can we move on to the part where it gets good?”
“The friend knew Cady was going home for the weekend, and asked her to take the sculpture with her and keep it for a while.”
“Did she know what it was? Cady?”
“She did, yes, but says she didn’t think much about it. Figured the prank would play out like these things do.”
“How did this one get so out of hand?”
“There was more to the figurine than met the eye.”
“What was inside?” King asked, though he knew.
Fitz shook his head. “A kilo of smack.”
“Shit,” was all King could think of to say, though he was now keeping tally of all the things Cady hadn’t told him that he would’ve liked to have known. “Dealing drugs was how the sorority funded their charity work?”
“The heroin belonged to the boyfriend of the sorority’s president, the girl who got into it with Cady’s friend.”
Now things were cooking. “Let me guess. His name was Nathan Tuzzi.”
“It was. And the stuff was ninety-two percent pure, just off the plane from Thailand with his number one mule, Ryland Combs.”
“A drug-dealing college boy murderer.”
“That about covers it.”
“Did the girlfriend know?”
“She denies that she did.”
“She just sent him after her pussy.”
Fitz nodded, fought a smile. Then he looked over at Cady and that hint of a smile faded away. He didn’t have to fight it anymore.
King followed the direction of the other man’s gaze, seeing his stowaway in a whole new light, one that left him fighting an uncomfortable emotional battle of his own.
She’d been minding her own business when one wrong road taken, one bad decision made, had put her on a collision course with another man’s crime.
Her life had been turned upside down, the direction of her future taken out of her hands. An innocent, she’d been sentenced to eight years of looking over her shoulder.
The only difference between their situations was that he’d spent his time behind bars, a guest of the State of Louisiana, one who should never have been locked up at all.
He’d long since quit believing punishments ever fit the crime. Tuzzi should’ve been strung up by his balls.
“So, Tuzzi and his bunch take a trip to New Jersey to recover this cat. Combs is first through the door, itchy to get back his product, and bites it.”
“Best we can make out, Kevin Kowalski was sleeping on the couch in the living room when Combs busted the pane out of the front door’s window.”
�
�He woke. They fought. He won that round, lost the next.”
“Tuzzi wasn’t leaving without the cat. Even if that meant going through Kowalski.”
“What a fucked-up mess.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“So rather than blaming Cady’s friend who stole the statue in the first place, he decides to make Cady’s life a living hell because her brother thwarted the recovery.” King paused as another thought began to form. “Tuzzi was put away for the murder, but he didn’t go down for the drugs?”
“If I’d been involved then, he would have.”
“That’s what you want to happen now, isn’t it? You don’t care about what’s happening to Cady. You’re only here because she hit that radar, and you need her.” King didn’t even bother to tone down the accusation. It was all cards on the table or nothing.
Fitz responded just as bluntly. “It’s what I do. It’s how I work.”
And King had always thought himself cold. “What do you want with her? Besides to make her life even more miserable than it already is?”
“I don’t want to make her miserable. I do want her to let Malling follow her, and do whatever it is Tuzzi wants. That flow of information will get me to the drugs.”
King laughed so hard and so loud that Cady got up from where she was sitting and made her way back across the room. She took her seat again at King’s side and asked, “What’s so funny?”
King did his best to knock the snot out of the other man with nothing but a poisonous look. “Fitzwilliam here was just explaining how he wants to put you in a world of danger so he can get him some Tuzzi.”
But it was King who was poleaxed when Cady said, “If it’ll make this nightmare go away, I’m in.”
Fifteen
“One room?” Cady asked, when King offered her the single card key to open the door. Not that she minded sharing again. In fact, being alone was the last thing she wanted.
And since her choices for company were limited—King on one hand, an anonymous afternoon crowd at a suburban shopping mall or city park or business district on the other, she preferred sticking with who she knew.
