by Brynne Asher
“Gabby,” Tony impatiently replies. “Tell him everything you know about Trevor. That’s it.”
“I don’t know anything about Trevor.” I shake my head. “And why are you investigating Trevor? I knew there was something not right about him. Megan never says what he does for a living. Is she going to be okay? The kids?” I turn to look at Tony again. “They’re little hoodlums because no one ever says no to them, but they’re just little kids. Timothy is only six months old and hasn’t even learned how to be a hoodlum yet. They can’t help it that their dad’s a jerk.”
Jude leans forward, putting his forearms on the table and clears his throat. “Can we get back to you, Ms. Carpino? So, you’re an interior designer--”
“Decorator.” I interrupt and correct him at the same time. “Interior decorator. I’m not licensed, I don’t have a degree and I know nothing about architecture. I’m an accountant.”
“You’re an accountant?” Now Jude looks confused and frustrated with the conversation.
“Well yes, but I don’t do accounting for anyone but myself, maybe some family members if they need help with their taxes. But I’m good at decor, so that’s what I do…well, right now, anyway.”
“Fine.” He sighs, looking as if he’s trying to find the patience to continue. “You’re a decorator,” he pauses and looks to me with eyebrows raised for confirmation. I give him a small smile and he continues. “And are here because of the laundry room. Do you know where Trevor Harper is right now? Who he’s with?”
“No.” I answer honestly. “Megan said he had to leave town on a business trip unexpectedly. She said he left right before I got here this morning. Why would I know who he’s with? I told you I do my best to avoid Trevor and his associates.”
“He left right before you got here this morning?” he asked.
“That’s what Megan said.”
“What time did you get here?”
“Eleven, maybe eleven-fifteen. I was barely here fifteen to twenty minutes before you all barged in. Why?” I ask.
“Just needed a time line.”
Looking even more frustrated and maybe a bit disappointed, I think Agent Ortiz finally understands I have no idea what’s going on and know nothing about Trevor, either.
Tony, shifting at my side, butts in. “I think it’s pretty clear she has no useful information about Trevor Harper. Is she free to go?”
“Sure. We’ll need your contact information, Ms. Carpino. If you don’t mind filling out some paperwork for us before you leave, we’d appreciate it,” Jude says on a sigh.
“Of course. Can I have my things back, please?”
“Yeah. Mac has your stuff and I’ll be right back with the paperwork,” Jude answers.
“Can I see Megan?” I add.
“No, absolutely not.” Tony frowns, joining the conversation. “You’re not talking to Megan Harper. It’s important, Gabby. You need to let this play out the way it’s gonna play out, but no contact. Got it? You’ve been pulled into this shit just by being here, you don’t want to buy into more of Megan’s drama.”
Okay, Tony’s pissed. He knows Megan, we all went to high school together so he’s familiar with her tendency for drama. I get that, but he can’t order me around and tell me who I can or cannot talk to.
I glare at him as I hear Jude agree. “Yeah, the best idea would be to stay away from Megan Harper for a while.”
Looking back at Jude, I demand, “Why?”
It’s not Jude, but Tony who answers. “Gabby, I don’t even know what the fuck’s goin on here, but there’s a hell of a lot of Federal Agents and Police Officers goin through all their shit. I don’t want you anywhere near anyone with the last name Harper or anyone who has anything to do with them. Are you feeling the magnitude of what’s up here? No Megan Harper. Period.”
“Are you her husband?” Jude asks out of the blue.
I guess I can see how he might come to this conclusion since we have the same last name and Tony being all bossy with no patience for me. But still, yuck. He’s my cousin. Tony’s only seven months older than me but was a year ahead of me in school. He has seven inches on me, almost black eyes to my blue, rich brown hair to my dark blonde but we do share our dads’ olive toned complexion.
“Fuck no. We’re cousins, but she’s still a pain in my ass at times,” Tony answers as I gasp. “At least she knows enough to call for representation when she gets herself into shit like this.”
“You are unbelievable, Tony Carpino.” I throw him my dirtiest look before turning to Jude. “Just for your information, I’ve never had to call for representation before. Ever. But if there’s a next time, I’m calling another Carpino.” I turn to Tony. “Got it?” Looking back at Jude, I continue. “Paperwork…my things…please?”
“Yes ma’am” Jude replies, gazing down at me with a hint of a grin this time.
Salt and Pepper, who answers to Mac, returns my purse with all my belongings and my gun. He smiles kindly and despite him making fun of me earlier, I’m pretty sure had we met at say, a picnic or any happier occasion, I would really like him. He appears to have a soft side under his tough black police outfit.
I fill out my paperwork and without giving Tony a second glance, turn on my heel, strutting myself out to my car. It’s a miracle I’m not blocked in with the number of cars parked in the drive. I walk as fast as my shoes will take me and start to climb up into my pearly white Tahoe when I hear Tony trailing behind me, calling for me. “Gabby, stop.”
Barely turning, I give him the edge of my tongue. “What do you want Tony?”
“Stop and talk to me for a second. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I fully turning to him. “Do you think I wanted that to happen today? I was told to stand with my hands against a wall, cuffed, patted down, had to wait for almost an hour because if I didn’t, I’d be treated to a different load of shit from you for not calling before answering questions. Am I right?” Tony sighs, tipping his head back, looking to the sky. I go on while waving my hand around. “See, I’m right. I did nothing but deliver a client gift to be treated to this crazy-ass mess. So, drop the attitude Tony, next time I’ll call your dad or Gino. The only reason I didn’t was because it would get straight to my aunts and I didn’t want to worry them. They worry about me enough—I don’t need to add fuel to their fire.”
“I’m sorry Gabby, but you run your mouth like a freight train and always say too much. I know you’ve never been questioned like that before, but next time, God help me—there won’t be one, but if there is, just answer the damn questions. I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’re clear, but you never know. Just leave out the fucking commentary.”
“You’re in business law, Tone—mergers and acquisitions. Didn’t know you handled so many interrogations on a daily basis.” I have no trouble being haughty now.
Tony takes a step closer, putting a hand on the side of my neck and leans down to me. “Look, I’m sorry. I hated to see you sitting in that shit-storm when I walked into the house.” I close my eyes and turn my head to the side. “Gabba.” He uses his nickname for me softly and I open my eyes but don’t turn to look at him. “You good?”
I don’t answer him for a few seconds and he gives me a little shake. I finally look up and whisper on a sigh, “Yeah, I’m good.”
Tony goes on softly. “I was serious in there. You do not see or talk to Megan. If she tries to call you, do not answer and let me know if she tries to come see you. They don’t put together an operation like this for no reason. Trevor’s got himself sucked into some serious shit and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“I know. I get it, I get it.” I finally give in.
“I don’t have any meetings the rest of the day. You want me to follow you home and hang out for a while?” he asks, proving to me I’m his favorite cousin and just maybe his favorite person ever.
“I’m good, really. I’ve ruined enough of your day. You’ve got a couple hours left. Go back to work. But don
’t you dare tell your dad. He’ll tell Aunt Lizzie, she’ll freak and be all up in my business, stressing me out.”
Tony looks at me as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to give me what I want. I’m really not worried about it—he usually lets me have my way.
“Okay.” He sighs, finally giving in.
See? There’s a reason he’s my favorite cousin, too. I smile and give him a hug as he kisses the top of my head. “You comin’ to the draft tomorrow night? Dad’s grilling.”
“I’ll be there, I’m bringing a salad.”
“Of course, you are.” He smiles as he rolls his eyes at me.
“Shut up and go back to work.” I give him a good hard shove, which of course doesn’t move him an inch.
“See you tomorrow, Gabby. Try not to get arrested,” he teases.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I climb in my car to crank it on and jack up the A/C. My hair is going to frizz if I stand out in his heat and humidity any longer.
On the drive home, I start feeling guilty about leaving Megan, wondering where Trevor is and what in the hell he’s into. I don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s a jerk but it’s still a surprising situation to be at your high school friend’s home only to find yourself in the middle of a federal raid. I understand why Tony doesn’t want me to have anything to do with Megan right now but I have a feeling this guilt is going to eat away at me.
I pull into my neighborhood, curve around, and turn down my dead-end street. My chest tightens a bit like it does every time I drive up to my childhood home over the last three years and eight months. Counting the weeks and days is a different level of depressing that I’ve made myself stop doing. I try to smile and wave to my neighbor, Martha, who’s weeding her front flower beds.
My neighborhood is developed with mature trees and landscape. The homes are somewhere between twenty to twenty-five years old. My parents built ours when I was three and it was one of the first in the development, I have a prime lot. It’s at the end of a cul-de-sac backing to a lake with a tree line on the other side, offering a lot of privacy in back of my house. The lots are wide, spacious, and well maintained by homeowners. There’s been quite a bit of turnover in the past ten years, empty nesters moving out, younger people making homes for their young families. It’s a popular neighborhood because of the larger homes and good school district.
I push out a breath as I pull into one of my three garages. Hopping down from my car, I trudge through my yard sale, estate sale, and Craigslist treasures that I’ve not quite found a use for but couldn’t say no to because of their personality. I’m sure someday I’ll have just the right project for them.
Opening the door to my mudroom, I’m instantly attacked from the knees down. The tightness in my chest quickly releases as Mia whines and yelps, communicating how much she missed me during the last four long hours she had to manage on her own.
“Hi baby.” I crouch low to give my sweet little Maltese-Shih Tzu mix scratches and kisses. “Mama’s had a bad day, but I’m home now.”
Mia, with her paws on my knees, reaches as far as she can for my face, relaying how happy she is and she loves me more than anything. When I stand, she races across the kitchen and great room to the deck door off the back of my house, knowing the ritual we go through every time I come home. I follow slower as she dances in circles, eagerly anticipating the outdoors. She has business to take care of, squirrels to chase, and neighbors to greet, so I hurry myself to the door to give her what she wants.
I turn to see the mess in my kitchen from my morning coffee and breakfast, and if I’m honest with myself, a couple dinner dishes from last night. I keep a clean house without a problem but being tidy on a daily basis is something I’m still trying to mature into. The arguments my mother and I used to have over my bedroom still play in my head. My dad would say, “Meredith, shut her bedroom door so you don’t have to look at it. I’m sure it’ll be clean again someday when she takes all her shit and moves out. Then you’ll be sad, so get over it.” Such stupid arguments, why I couldn’t just pick up my clothes to make her happy, I’ll never know. With these thoughts, I grab the remote, turn on my stereo hitting shuffle on the playlist and start to tidy my kitchen.
My mom completely gutted and refurbished it about five years ago. I lived in an apartment at the time, finishing up graduate school, but she and I had a grand time renovating. She would say, “I don’t need a decorator, I have my Gabby.” The cabinets are all cherry wood, dark brown and distressed with just enough black glaze settling into the grooves. The kitchen, originally U-shaped, was replaced with a long, deep rectangular island the length of the room that houses an extra-large copper apron front sink with five barstools across the front. Across from the sink is a five burner Jenn-Air stainless steel range. To the side are matching stainless steel double ovens and an enormous refrigerator. My mom always said, “Having a big family means you need the right tools to cook.”
I kick off my heels and toss them in the way of my bedroom thinking I’m just going to have to pick them up later. I hear Lifehouse croon out You & Me while I set about my task. I do my best to put my day behind me and move on. I’ve gotten very good at this the past few years, but I’ve also never been handcuffed, patted down, and questioned by federal agents. Thinking of being patted down brings my thoughts back to Jude Ortiz. I haven’t had many second thoughts about men in the past few years. I’ve been set up occasionally by friends, asked out a few times on the rare occasion I put myself in a social situation, but haven’t dated anyone on a regular basis since James.
James and I met in the last year of our MBA program. He was fun, nice, and attentive as long as we were doing what he wanted to do. He always wanted to be with his friends, watch the game he wanted to watch, eat where he wanted to eat, and so on. I thought I loved James, we were together for one year and three months, but my family was not so crazy about James.
My family is big. My family is gregarious. My family is in your face if you are their family. And since I’m their family, they love me, they want to see me, spend time with me and be in my face, they saw James as a roadblock to all of the above.
James thought my family was overbearing. Period. I did my best to walk that tightrope for one year and three months because I thought I loved James and he loved me in return. Then I found out when times got tough and I needed to focus on me, he proved to be the self-centered jack wagon that he is and broke up with me. It sucked, but other things sucked worse, and I got over James-who-I-thought-I-loved way faster than I ever imagined I could.
End of story. End of James.
So, thinking of Jude Ortiz with his melty eyes, big strong hands, broad shoulders, and the list goes on, is a surprise even to me. He has a great voice and when his lips tipped up at me right before I left it was so appealing, I can’t help but think what a full-on smile would do to me.
Finishing my tasks in the kitchen, I go to the back door and whistle for Mia. She comes bounding at me like it was her idea and runs straight to her treat jar.
“This is number two today, you only get one more. And don’t try and talk me into a fourth, Lanny said you have to cut back or you’re gonna get chubby.”
Lanny is my vet and my cousin’s husband. He loves Mia but thinks I overindulge her with treats, which is true. I overindulge Mia in about everything.
I walk to my room with Mia at my feet, picking up my heels on my way as the phone rings. Rounding my bed to get to the phone I look at the caller ID, sigh, and hesitantly answer.
“Lilly, what’s up?” I ask.
“Yoga is what’s up. Five o’clock. I have reservations for both of us, it should be a semi-private class, she has two others signed up. You in?”
“I don’t know.” I close my eyes. “It’s Friday and you wouldn’t believe my day if I gave you a thousand guesses. I’m beat and was going to curl up with wine and a movie.”
“Gabby, get your ass up and going. You can do your wine and movie afterwards,” she sa
ys, planning my night. “It’s only an hour, you’ll have the rest of the night to veg.”
I guess I could use some stress release and I’ve been so busy I’ve barely hit my treadmill all week. “Fine, I’ll be there. I need to swing by the grocery store anyway, I’ll do that on my way home.”
“Perfect. See ya there,” she says, way too excited for yoga.
Hanging up the phone, I head to my closet to change, try to center my head or whatever it is we do in yoga that I can never seem to concentrate on enough to do. I put all thoughts of Jude Ortiz out of my head, I’ll never see him again anyway.
Chapter Three
You Ask A Lot Of Questions
I should call her. Really, I should have Mac call her. I have enough to do with the case I’ve been working on for seven months going to shit yesterday.
Reading the transcripts from the wire taps from the few phones that haven’t been dropped after the round-up has been frustrating as hell. Harper’s cell pinged from his house thirty minutes before we hit his door, we were sure he was there. Since yesterday morning we’ve figured out he’d been tipped that warrants were being served and skipped town as fast as he could, leaving his cell behind, not to mention his wife and kids.
This should all be enough to monopolize my time, but what’s about to make my fucking head explode is what I’ve read on the transcripts regarding Gabrielle Carpino.
She was not exaggerating yesterday when she said she got a bad vibe from Trevor Harper. She doesn’t even know the half of it, and from the attention she’s receiving on the wire taps since yesterday’s raid, she needs to take extra precautions in a big way. Extra precautions that include a hell of a lot more than carrying around her little S and W 380.
I’ve seen a lot in my job, but she surprised the hell out of me yesterday when she threw her mass of long, thick blonde hair over her shoulder informing us she was carrying and had a C and C. I’d never expect a woman in a fancy-ass getup like that to be carrying, especially just going to a friend’s house, even if she was working, which leads me to believe she carries most of the time.
