by G. K. Parks
“I’m sorry.”
Freddy waved a hand dismissively. “Serves me right for not checking the peephole.” He turned the photo facedown and gave the bar another furtive look. “They asked if I was alone. One of them dragged me into the bathroom while the other searched the place. I elbowed the son of a bitch, and that’s when he rammed me head first into the mirror. After that, everything’s foggy. I remember the second one flashing the money and coke at me and saying that was payment for the added inconvenience or whatever. I asked what they were talking about, and they said I better mind my business if I knew what was good for me. I imagine the same holds true for you.”
I thought about the silver SUV. Did the assholes follow me to Freddy’s? Is that how they knew I’d be here? Or had Freddy’s hunt to track down Knox’s ring turned the thieves’ attention toward him?
“Luci, why do you look constipated?”
I pulled out my phone and brought up Will Esposito’s driver’s license. “Do you know this guy?” I handed him my phone.
“No.”
“What about anyone who drives a silver SUV?”
“How much time do you have?” He slid off the couch and headed for the bar. A few glasses and bottles had been smashed. That’s what caused the glass to crunch beneath my feet, but the tequila and bourbon remained unharmed. Freddy opened the tequila and took a swig before I could stop him. “Everyone and their brother drives an SUV.”
“You shouldn’t drink with a concussion.”
He looked at me with his one good eye and took another swig from the bottle, just to be spiteful. Still holding it, he returned to the couch and slumped down. Taking the tequila out of his hand, I swallowed a mouthful and placed it on the coffee table, out of his reach.
“C’mon, man, don’t be like that. I got my brains scrambled tonight because of whatever shit you got me involved in.”
“Which is why I’m doing what I can to keep you alive.” I watched as the washcloth slowly soaked through with his blood. “You need stitches.”
“I already told you—”
“You’re Freddy G. You must know some doctors who work off the books.”
“I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone else remotely sketchy.”
Tapping my fingers against my phone, I thought about the people I’d crossed paths with. Surely, someone must know a concierge doctor in the city who wouldn’t report this. Out of the list of celebs and corporate types, very few would answer my calls, and I couldn’t risk going to a valuable and reputable client with this kind of request. Still, there was a very good chance the reason Freddy had been attacked was because of me. I couldn’t let that stand. I was supposed to protect people, but I’d repeatedly done a lousy job.
Scrolling through my contacts, I stopped on Miranda’s personal line. She was clean and sober and had a good head on her shoulders, but she was in the music business. That hadn’t always been the case. I dialed her number and waited. After a brief exchange, she said she’d get someone to text me a doctor’s info. A few minutes later, my phone chimed. I read the details and made the call.
“Help’s on the way,” I said to Freddy. “For once, I’m the guy who knows someone who knows a guy.”
He laughed. “I’m surprised you don’t have medics on your payroll.”
I snorted, though that might not be a bad idea, especially when dealing with clients who might find themselves in similarly problematic situations. I filed that thought away for later consideration, wondering about the insurance and legal ramifications of such actions.
While we waited, I called Justin and asked if he could get back to the office to run the photo I e-mailed him through facial rec. Since Freddy shouldn’t be left alone, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t think the men would return, but I didn’t trust the fence not to drink himself into a coma or die of a brain bleed because he was too afraid to seek help. So I waited.
“Stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy.”
“I’m not pacing. I’m cleaning up this mess.” Actually, I was looking for clues. But according to Freddy, the men wore gloves. Regardless, I hoped to find something damning, but the place looked clean. Even though Freddy had elbowed his attacker, I didn’t find any drops of blood anywhere except around the bathroom sink, which I assumed came from him.
By the time I finished my search of the apartment, the concierge doctor had arrived. He examined Freddy while I tidied up. The prescription pill bottle full of pre-rolled joints and the pills I found in the cabinet hadn’t been touched. Either the men who broke in had no interest in them, or they missed them. The expensive stereo system and AV equipment remained undisturbed, as did several pricey antiques. I was surprised the thieves hadn’t taken them or smashed them.
This wasn’t a robbery. It was a warning. And it wasn’t meant for Freddy. It was meant for me.
Nineteen
“You have no idea who would do this?” Justin asked.
“No, but it links back to Knox. It has to.” I just didn’t know why the men who assaulted Freddy didn’t empty out the penthouse. Perhaps they’d been in a rush since they knew I would be arriving, but how did they know? And if the point was to threaten me, why didn’t they wait for me? I should be the one with a dozen stitches and a concussion, not Freddy.
“Freddy G’s not exactly Mr. Upstanding Citizen.”
“No, he’s not, but he conducts his business according to a specific set of rules. It’s very civilized.”
“How can it be? He doesn’t know what a client will want or what he’ll have to do to get it. He could come up against all different types. People far less reputable than some pawn shop owners and those responsible for home invasions.”
I looked at the clock. “Trust me. This is about Knox.” It was too late or too early to call, depending on perspective. But as soon as seven a.m. rolled around, Knox’s phone would be ringing.
“Facial rec will take a while. The footage you got from outside the building didn’t get a look at the vehicle, so we can’t cross-reference that.” Justin yawned.
“Go home. It’s late. Take tomorrow morning off. You deserve it.”
He gave me a look. “You only call when it’s an emergency.”
“It wasn’t, but I wanted to get this started. And I couldn’t get back to the office until I knew Freddy was squared away.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“He’ll be okay as long as he stays away from the drugs and liquor for a while.” I didn’t know how likely that was, but I couldn’t control Freddy. He’d do what he wanted. The doctor agreed to stay and monitor him during the night, something that had cost me a cool grand. But time was money, and since I had work to do and couldn’t stay, this was the next best thing.
“Do you think they’ll return?”
“No. They made their point.” They wanted me to back off, but now I was more intrigued as to why they targeted Knox in the first place and why they’d taken so much offense to me helping him. “They won’t be back, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure. Who’s next up on the roster?”
Justin handed me the info on the unassigned members of our security detail, and I called the first two names on the list and had them stake out the penthouse apartment.
“I’ll send you a photo of the attackers. If you see them anywhere near the building, hold them, and notify me immediately,” I said.
“Yes, sir,” one of them said.
“Should we call the cops?” the other asked.
“Yes, let them know you detained a prowler. I’ll handle the rest.” Disconnecting the three-way call, I gave Justin another look. “You’re still here.”
“I’m going.” He grabbed his jacket. “I’ll see you at lunchtime. If you need me sooner—”
“I won’t.”
He laughed. “Whatever you have to tell yourself, Lucien, but we both know that’s not true.”
Alone with my thoughts, I couldn’t figure out where to start. Too many things needed to be done. I had to pick one a
nd run with it. So I did.
Facial rec ran in the background while I homed in on tracking down the SUV. I thought about the times and places I’d been, but most of it was a jumble. The only time I had been certain I’d been followed was on the way back from the Chinese restaurant, so I phoned in some favors and got access to DOT footage.
After an hour of scanning the feed in the hopes of finding the exact moment I passed through the intersection, I backtracked until I spotted the SUV I was sure had been tailing me. With the plate number in hand, I pulled up the vehicle registration information.
Danny Foster. According to this, he didn’t live anywhere near me or the Chinese restaurant. He could have been lost or running an errand, but I swore I saw the same SUV parked outside my place later that night. Luckily, I’d also requested DOT footage from outside my apartment building on the same night, so I switched to that feed and fast-forwarded. The silver SUV parked less than ten minutes after I entered the parking garage. Unfortunately, the angle was shit. City footage from stationary cameras left a lot to be desired.
I tried zooming in on the driver, but no one ever got out of the vehicle. Whoever it was either remained inside the SUV the entire night or timed their exit perfectly to match with that of a passing truck. I couldn’t tell either way.
Dialing the number for the building manager, I left a message and asked if he could call me back. My apartment building didn’t have the best security system, but it wasn’t bad. Getting in and out was difficult for anyone without a fob, but I wasn’t sure how many exterior security cameras the building had. The garage had plenty. Cameras covered each door and emergency exit. But I didn’t know if any of them pointed that far down the street. I hoped so.
Now what? I turned back to the computer program, but it’d be hours, possibly days, before we got a match. So I let myself into the backdoor of the police department’s database and did some digging into Danny Foster. He served in the military and currently owned a gun, so his prints were in the system. He was thirty-eight years old. I checked his driver’s license photo again and compared it to the photo of the men who attacked Freddy, but Danny wasn’t one of the two men in the elevator.
Could Danny Foster have crossed paths with Trey Knox? Grabbing the Knox files, I skimmed the list of names, but Foster’s didn’t pop. As far as I could tell, he didn’t work at any of the auction houses or websites where Knox purchased a part of his collection. Foster could be involved with the trade shows. I hadn’t had much luck getting the vendor list and names of everyone who had a booth at every show that Knox had ever gone to. All I knew for certain was Danny Foster wasn’t one of the guys he exchanged merch with or contacted.
I dug into Foster’s social media presence. He had a single profile image. When I did a reverse lookup, I found one photo, and that was it. The only things he posted were articles, pictures, and stories that he’d taken from somewhere else. He didn’t put anything personal up. He had hundreds of friends. As far as I could tell, he rarely sent or received messages from any of them, unless they were all done in private.
Unsure what Foster had to do with anything, I locked the office and headed to his home address. When I arrived, I scanned the surrounding streets for the silver SUV, but I didn’t see it anywhere. So I parked my car in clear view of his front door and waited. Since he’d been so desperate to follow me, I’d make it easy for him.
At 4:30 a.m. the front door to the apartment opened and a man matching Foster’s description stepped out in running shorts, compression leggings, and an olive green hoodie. He lifted one leg and tugged his knee to his chest a few times before repeating the stretch on the other side. Since I was in no mood to chase him through the streets, I got out of the car and approached the stoop where he was now doing hamstring stretches.
“Danny Foster?”
He didn’t look up.
“Mr. Foster,” I said a little louder. It was pitch out. The only light came from the streetlamps half a block away and the two porch lights on either side of the door.
He stopped stretching and reached into the pouch of his hoodie. When he finally looked up, he noticed me. Sliding the earbuds out of his ears, he tugged off the hood. Anxiety etched his face.
“Mr. Foster?”
“Yeah,” his eyes darted from one side to the other, “what can I do for you?”
“I have a few questions.”
“Who are you?”
“I’d think by now you’d know.”
“Look, pal, I don’t know what this is or what game you’re playing, but you don’t want to mess with me.”
“Ooh, scary.” I wondered if I could take him in a fair fight. It didn’t matter. I was armed. He wasn’t. “You probably should have thought of that before you started following me.”
“Hey, you came up on me.” He took a step closer to the door. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Again, you should have thought of that before.”
“I’m going inside and calling the cops. You don’t want to be here when they arrive.”
“Fine by me. I’ll show them the video footage I have of your SUV following me home the other night.”
He took a deep breath and held up his palms. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. Are you sure it was my SUV?”
I rattled off the license plate number, even though I had no doubts.
Danny rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair. “That’s not mine.”
“It’s registered to you.”
“So call the cops. I didn’t do anything illegal.”
“Stalking is illegal.”
“I’m not stalking you.” He tried to push past me, and I shoved him back toward the door. Anger burned in his eyes. His chest puffed out, and he shoved me. I moved with the momentum, putting some distance between us and pulling my piece before he got too close. He raised both palms. “Whoa. Take it easy.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I wasn’t following you. I was following her.”
Jade. “Why?”
He glanced to the side, his face contorting. “She used to date a buddy of mine. Some serious shit went down. He’s dead now.” He gave me a look. “You should steer clear of that bitch.”
My blood boiled. “Stay the hell away from her.”
“Fine, whatever. She’s toxic anyway.”
I bit my lip, turning back toward my car, my breath coming in angry huffs. For a moment, the only sound I could hear was my own heart beating. Everything moved at half-speed as if in slow motion. Then time caught up. I spun around and decked him. It took every ounce of self-restraint I possessed not to beat the living daylights out of him. He was the reason Jade didn’t feel safe. He was the reason she left. Okay, part of the reason, but still, a big fucking part.
“He hurt her, numbnuts,” I spat. “Scott used to knock her around. He tried to kill her. She barely survived.”
He looked up at me with both hands in front of his face, protecting his ugly mug from my retaliatory anger. “That’s not what I heard. Didn’t you read the paper? She must have been involved in some shady shit. Scott tracked her to a motel and got gunned down by some asshole she was meeting.”
“If you really believe that, who’s to say I’m not the asshole?” I stared at him. “If I’d kill a cop, I don’t see any reason why I’d bat an eye before killing you.”
Danny swallowed. For a tough guy, he’d just lost his nerve. But crazy trumped tough every day of the week.
“How long were you following her?” I asked.
“Just that one day. I spotted her at the café where she used to work.”
I glowered at him, wondering how long it would take the police to respond to a report of gunfire in the area. Five minutes? Seven? “What were you going to do?”
“I wanted to confront her about what went down with Scott, about the trap she lured him into.”
I didn’t argue, though every cell in my body desperately wanted to. “You stayed camped outside my apartment all night.�
�
“Most of the night. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I decided it wasn’t worth it and left.”
“If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. If you go near Jade again, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
He let out a grunt, his eyes still on the barrel of my gun. “Yeah.”
“Good.” I thought about all the strange circumstances. Was anyone following me? “Where were you tonight?”
“What?”
“Answer the fucking question.”
“At work.”
“Where do you work?”
“I’m not telling you. You’re crazy.”
I cleared my throat. I could find out easily enough. “Someone close to me was attacked tonight. If you had anything to do with that, tell me now.”
“No way. It wasn’t me.”
He didn’t appear to be lying, but I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything at this point. “Are you sure? I’ll go easier on you if you tell me the truth. You don’t want to know what happens if I find out you’re lying.”
“I’m not. I swear.”
Narrowing my eyes, I asked one final question. “What about Trey Knox?”
“Who?”
Without wasting any more of my time or energy, I turned and headed back to my car, listening for the sound of his footfalls behind me. But he didn’t try to jump me. When I got to my car, I turned to see him creeping back inside the apartment building.
Once inside my car, I locked the doors, placed my gun on the seat, and filled my lungs with air. I was so angry, I was shaking. Justin had been right. The last time I’d been this on edge was before I blew up everything around me. This time, I’d do things differently. I had to.
Eight minutes later, a patrol car turned down the street. He double-parked behind me, flashed his lights, and hit the siren once so it’d make that obnoxious sound. I took my gun off the seat and stuck it in the glove box while grabbing my registration. By the time I straightened, he and his partner had stepped out of the vehicle. They approached from opposite sides, with one hand on their service pieces and the other near their belts. The officer who’d been driving rapped against my window, gesturing that I roll it down.
