by LS Sygnet
“Helen, is Johnny here right now?”
“No. He agreed to let me meet with you.”
“There’s someone who came to me for help. He doesn’t need my help, he needs yours.”
“Dad, I can’t. Don’t you see? Johnny and I have to finish what we started. We have to find the people responsible for selling human beings, the ones who thought they could sell me. I have to stop them.” My hand drifted over my belly. “I’m running out of time. I can’t spilt my focus –”
Dad gave a slight jerk of his head toward the door. His rapt attention drifted away from me before the impassioned plea concluded. My eyes wandered in the direction of his brief gaze.
A monk. It was so incongruous, seeing a monk with his robe concealing his identity striding with such surety out of the restaurant that I nearly missed that haunting familiarity that struck me so strongly at the Sanderfield crime scene.
Almost.
But the way he moved, his height, the squared shoulders, the build that was barely concealed, it struck such a strong chord in my chest that I startled.
A moment after he slipped out the door, the pieces fell into place.
“Damn you, Dad!” I hissed, and dashed out the door after the stranger who was most certainly taking his cues from my father.
Chapter 14
I grabbed the hem of the sleeve and yanked hard. Fabric slipped through my fingers as the monk hiked up his robe and started to run.
“Goddammit, Rick! Stop!”
The man listened, froze mid-run if such a thing were possible. His hood had fallen back, draped around his neck now. The hair color was wrong, too dark. The neck too thick. But it had been nearly a year since I thought I killed my ex-husband. He could’ve put on weight.
I shook the ludicrous thought from my head. This was not what I thought it was. It couldn’t be.
I chambered a round from the gun I pulled out of the back of my jeans. “Turn around slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Dad’s hand reached around me and wrenched the gun from my grasp. “Have you lost your mind? What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re going to bring the police down on all of us, Helen!”
I glared at him. “How could you, Dad? How long have you known the truth?”
The monk slowly turned to face me. I groaned.
“You’re not Rick Hamilton.”
“Is he still alive?”
The voice slammed into me with the force of a hurricane.
“Danny? Danny?”
He quickly readjusted his hood and tucked his chin to his chest.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on?”
“We are not having this discussion on the sidewalk, Helen.”
I grabbed Dad’s arm in one iron grip and Datello’s in the other and half dragged them into the alleyway where months ago I’d identified Batshit Crazy’s remains. “Then we’ll have it privately here. What the fuck is going on? How is it that you’re still alive? And take off that ridiculous robe.”
Datello pulled the hood back and glared at me. “Were you hoping that Agent Preston was successful, Helen?”
I took an involuntary step backward. “No. No, of course not. I tried to save your life.”
“And you did, so thank you for that. Now if you’ll excuse me –”
I side-stepped Dad quickly and planted myself in front of Datello. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you tell me how you’re still alive, why Joel Soule lied to me about your death, what you’re doing here in Darkwater Bay, and more specifically, what the hell you were doing at the Sanderfield shooting the other day.”
“So you can run home and blab everything to your husband, to your pals at the FBI?” he sneered. “No thank you, Helen.” He glanced at my father. “Thanks for trying to help, Wendell. I’ll handle this on my own.”
“Dammit, don’t be an ass,” I hissed. “You’re not going anywhere. And I’m not telling the FBI you’re here.” The frown quickly replaced my exasperation. This was too unbelievable, even for Darkwater Bay. “Jesus. Does anybody ever really die in this city?”
Datello barked out a laugh.
“I don’t understand, Helen. What are you implying?”
“Irony, Wendell,” Danny chuckled. “And to answer your question, Helen, yes. People do actually die here. According to Agent Soule, I would’ve died had you not belted your jacket around my throat and stopped the blood from gushing out of me. He said it was very similar to the assistance you rendered to Journey Ireland. And for the record, I owe you my thanks for that as well.”
A sickening sense of dread settled over me.
“You still think I had her father murdered, don’t you?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think that at all.”
“Then Celeste told you everything?”
“I’d figured out a lot of it on my own,” I admitted. “Why did the FBI fake your death?”
“For my testimony against Uncle Sully, of course,” he said. “Which I have every intention of providing, but not before I clear my name in Darkwater Bay.”
“We already know you weren’t part of anything, Danny. Your name is clear, but that doesn’t tell me why you were on Hennessey Island the day Sanderfield was murdered.”
“That truly was a coincidence,” Danny said. “He was killed at my hotel, Helen. I’d been loitering around the place since I sneaked away from federal protection.”
Fingers gouged into my temples. “Of course. I’m sorry. You were there because Celeste and Sofia are there. I’m right, aren’t I?”
He nodded, but clearly, Datello was uncomfortable with our discussion. His eyes kept darting toward the alley entrance. I grabbed his arm and pushed him beside the dumpster out of clear view and turned toward my father.
“Dad said you want my help with something.”
“I did, but he didn’t seem to think you were agreeable to anything inside the restaurant.”
“I would’ve had a different reaction if I’d known who needed my help. Why are you here? Is it really to clear your name?”
“We would’ve won at trial, Helen. I have proof that David Ireland was helping me, not working against me.”
“I know. Well, Celeste wasn’t that specific, but I suspected you might have evidence that you were working with him at the time of his death. Southerby isn’t going to talk, but fortunately, it won’t matter. David Levine says that Sully’s network is completely dismantled. Southerby’s on his own now, and he knows it. If Zack offers a good enough deal, he’ll take it, because he doesn’t have another Jerry Lowe to bail him out this time.”
“Levine is lying to you,” Danny said. “This thing with Uncle Sully isn’t the slam dunk he’s insinuated. Agent Soule is worried because Franchetta is a piss poor witness, probably guiltier of as many, if not more crimes than my uncle.”
I cursed under my breath. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You aren’t concerned that your friend is lying to you?”
“Considering that I’ll probably be deposed at the very least and subpoenaed at worst to testify about what happened to Rick, it seems prudent that he lie to me. Or do you disagree?”
“Did you kill my cousin.”
I pinned him with a direct stare. “I told you what happened that night, Danny.”
“And I don’t believe you. Rick was too selfish to kill himself. I could see him trying to blackmail you into helping him, but to take his own life? No way.”
I refocused on Dad, just in case someone walked past the alley. “Celeste told me that Rick was supposed to be passing information to me about Sully’s finances, information that would’ve helped the government build a case against him. Were you aware that he never told me anything? In fact, I had no idea who you were to him until the night he died.”
Datello’s turn to hiss curses. “He told me he had a file that he was going to give to you. It would’ve corroborated everything the government suspected about Sully. He was t
errified, said someone was following him.”
“Oh, someone was following him. Eddie Franchetta,” I said.
“So he did see what happened that night.”
“He claims he did.”
“Soule told me that Franchetta said someone is trying to pressure him to implicate you. The FBI doesn’t believe that Rick was murdered now. They bought the suicide story, and Franchetta confirmed it. He said you were there, that you and Rick argued, but that Rick suddenly pulled a gun and put it to his head and pulled the trigger. He said you took the gun.”
My stare at Dad intensified. “And still you doubt it?”
Datello sighed heavily. “I don’t trust Eddie Franchetta. How could I ever trust the man who pulled the trigger the night my father was murdered?”
“I’m sorry.”
“None of this is why I’m here, Helen. Your father told me about Preston’s dying declaration, about Destiny Gerard’s statement implicating me before she committed suicide.”
I looked at Dad. “You’ve been busy, Daddy. I don’t recall giving you half that information.”
“You said more than you recall. Either that or that endearing habit you have of mumbling what you know and what you suspect hasn’t abated over the years.”
I grinned. “A couple of other people have noticed that.”
“I am not involved with human trafficking,” Danny said. “And I’m not leaving here until I find out who used me, used my business for such a heinous crime, Helen.”
I glanced at him again. “We already know you were just a scapegoat.”
“By whom? Eugene Sherman?”
“You know about him?”
“He was a political ally, for years.”
I frowned. “Didn’t Sherman support Joe Collangelo?”
“He did. What makes you think I didn’t support him as well, Helen? The man’s a democrat. He has the same views on labor, the environment, the economy, social programs as I do. Whether you choose to see it or not, I’m nothing like the Marcos family.”
“Old habits die hard. Why were you so dead set against Collangelo in the upcoming election?”
Danny chuckled. “Seriously? Do you really have to ask me that question? Your husband was a pain in the ass private investigator. When he announced to the world that no, he’s really the head of Joe’s special police force, I was livid. He was wasting not only time, but the public’s money trying to build a case against me. And what for? A stupid vendetta over a prank when I was a kid.”
“Sister Agnes and that altar you burned? I think there was a little more to it than that,” I said. I hadn’t forgotten the story Johnny told me months ago about what initially convinced him that Danny Datello was a bad guy. True, it probably was a juvenile prank gone awry, but given Danny’s family connections, it wasn’t much of a leap to assume he hadn’t grown into someone more civic minded and responsible, even though the evidence thoroughly supported it.
“I know that Gwen Bennett told him that Sal Masconi would never hurt another child again,” Danny said.
“And Johnny never forgave himself for looking the other way, for letting a little karma accomplish what he believed was a failure of the criminal justice system. But you have to understand that Johnny knew who took care of Masconi. If you could do it once, in his mind, you’d do it again, or had done it before.”
“Yet he has no qualms about overlooking what you’ve done,” Danny said.
It was hard to argue with that kind of logic. I simply shrugged. “Rick was a criminal, Danny. Unlike you, he was regularly breaking the law, hiding it from his wife, and then tried to use his connection to you to blackmail me into destroying evidence. He told me that he’d ruin me if I didn’t help him.”
“What did you say?” Datello asked.
“I told him I was leaving to tell David Levine what he was trying to do. Then he told me that Sully had someone watching him, that he was afraid for his life. I didn’t believe him. If Sully had one of his thugs following him, the FBI would’ve known about it. They’d have scooped him up and put him in protective custody and offered him a deal not even he could’ve been stupid enough to refuse.”
“He would’ve refused it,” Danny said bitterly. “He didn’t want anything to change. Remember what I said to you last year when you told me that Gwen was dead?”
I nodded. He accused me of enjoying Rick’s money, living that lifestyle of wealth.
“It was true. He liked the money. He wanted in, Helen. My mistake was trusting he would do what he promised, that he’d use what he knew and give it to you. Since I was seventeen years old, the only thing I’ve wanted is to see Sully pay for killing my father.”
I moved around the dumpster to Datello’s left and sat cross-legged on the ground. “I can relate to that, you know. My father went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and I was forced to pretend that I hate him for nearly twenty years. It eats at your soul after awhile, until you do something reckless to fix the mistake.”
Datello squatted down beside me. “Celeste was right. She said that she had a feeling that if you and I could ever sit down and have a real conversation, that we’d find out that we have an awful lot in common.”
“She said the same thing to me.” I looked at him and smiled. “I’m sorry I arrested you. I’m sorry I wasn’t the type of cop you felt you could tell the truth to, Danny. It was a mistake, and I was wrong.”
“I should’ve never pushed Rick to pursue you. I really thought he was attracted to you at first. When I realized that he thought it would be a stronger selling point to Sully, it was too late. You already accepted his proposal and set a date for the wedding. I figured there was simply something wrong with the family gene pool, that men in my family don’t know how to love their wives.”
“I’m glad Celeste disabused you of that notion. Somehow, I get the feeling you’re nothing like your cousin.”
“Wendell told me about what happened to you, Helen, when you were born, I mean. He thinks that all of this is related, your abduction, my Sofia Helene’s kidnapping, the operation that Gutierrez and Gerard had through my fishing business.”
I nodded. “They were all pretty convinced that you could be the convenient patsy.”
“What worries me is that Sully might be part of this too, Helen.”
I shook my head. “I highly doubt it. Every single link we’ve found so far exists here and in Montgomery.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about my uncle.”
“Would you be willing to share that information with us?”
Datello frowned. “Us?”
“If you can let go of your hatred of Helen, I think she’s suggesting that you should also consider putting a little bit of faith in her husband, Danny. Orion really isn’t the enemy.”
He scowled at the asphalt alley.
“He knows the truth, Danny. Maybe you’ll understand why I trust him if I simply say that he is my Celeste.”
“I don’t know,” Datello said. “You’re asking an awful lot, Helen. I’d need guarantees that he’s not gonna try to arrest me and put me back on trial for something I absolutely did not do.”
“I’ll tell you what he said to me after Celeste told me the truth,” I said. “Johnny reminded me that when all of this came out in court – and he had no doubt that it would’ve – that Zack would’ve been the first person to drop the charges against you. In fact, I’m pretty sure that he’d love to have your testimony against Mitch Southerby so the jury can hear what really happened in Darkwater Bay when ADA Ireland was murdered, when Johnny and I were assaulted and when he had his men storm the medical examiner’s office.”
Datello shook his head. “I can’t let anyone know I’m alive until Sully is convicted, Helen.”
“Not even Celeste?”
Datello’s sound of distress was muffled in the back of his throat. “I’d love nothing more than to ease her pain right now. But it puts her in danger again. She’s better off in the dark.”
Datello stared hard at me. “Only after you find out why your friend in the FBI has been lying to you about everything, Helen.”
“You mean about Franchetta’s testimony?”
Danny shook his head. “About why you didn’t know you saved my life. He knows I’m alive, Helen. I’ve spoken to David Levine myself.”
Chapter 15
How would I ever begin this conversation with Johnny? The temptation to lie was so strong, I could taste it like bitter acid in the back of my throat. It was distasteful, painful even. I thought about Datello and his vehemence where Celeste was concerned. She had to believe he was dead for her own protection.
Was it right to lie to the only person he truly trusted simply to keep her safe? Should I lie to Johnny and make up some story about how Wendell knew what he knew? What would Johnny think of Datello’s distrust of a man I do trust? Johnny does too. David quickly became someone that Johnny turned to for help.
Why would he let me suffer in guilt when he knew Danny Datello didn’t die at the hands of Alfred Preston?
An even better question popped into my head. Why wasn’t I suspicious over the odd appearance of Joel Soule at the hospital the day Danny died? Or the day I thought he died. How had they explained the absence of a body to his wife?
By the time Danny was buried, I’d been abducted and was out at sea trying to figure out how I could possibly kill the next person who tried to approach me.
Johnny and Crevan met me at the doorway in the garage after I parked the Expedition.
