14 BOOK 2 (33 page)

“She’s working for the
Tennessean,
our daily. She dis
appeared last week and she fits the profile. We’ve been as
suming all along that she’s a casualty, that we just haven’t found her yet. But with this new information, it seems like we’re off base. Delglisi’s cleaning house.”

Taylor thought about Frank Richardson, and the photos of Jane Macias. Her father. That silky voice who promised to hurt her if she didn’t look the other way. Anger built in her chest.

She looked at Baldwin. It was time to go home. 

Baldwin made a quick series of calls. One to the FBI offices in New York that handled money laundering and RICO matters, one to the pilot of the FBI plane sitting at the ready at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, the closest private airport to Manhattan. He arranged for a car service to pick them up, then they checked out of the hotel. Standing on the sidewalk waiting for the car to arrive, Taylor mentally replayed the taped message from the cell phone. Her father’s voice. God, she hadn’t heard it in so long. It had been so easy to go along with everyone’s assumptions that he was dead. To ignore the sense of wrongness in her gut. But the voice on the tape certainly seemed to dispel that theory.

What in the world could her father have to do with Edward Delglisi? Was Burt Mars the key?

She must have made some sort of noise, because Baldwin quickly hung up his cell phone and took her hand in his.

“Want to talk about it?”

She smiled.

“I don’t even know where to begin. There’ve been a few revelations this morning, haven’t there? I’m just trying to understand Jane Macias’s role in this. I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence. Can you?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. What if Snow White took her purposefully to calm things down between him and Delglisi? Jane may be a tool to broker peace. If someone is killing in Snow White’s name, under his sanction, but went against the plan and hit the massage parlor, Jane could have been taken to appease Delglisi. Deliver the girl who caused him trouble, get on his good side. Trade one for the other?”

“That’s…who knows. Might be what’s going on. But how does my father play into all of this? Do you think he’s working with Delglisi?”

Baldwin ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. I think you need to prepare yourself that he may be involved with Delglisi.”

A black Lincoln slid to the curb, and the driver came around to greet them. He got them settled and pulled away. He spoke over his shoulder as he tapped the horn and jerked the wheel, a perfect imitation of a taxi driver, just wearing a black suit and driving a nicer vehicle.

“Sorry, boss, but we’ve got to take the tunnel. There’s some sort of protest going on at the GW bridge, traffic’s all backed up. Won’t take but half an hour, boss, promise.”

Taylor looked out the window, watching as they passed by all the familiar landmarks, Rockefeller Center, Times Square, on to the West Side before they hit the Lincoln Tunnel exit. She was astounded, as always, by the sheer number of people moving through the city at any given time. Gone was the oppressive night. She wondered how long that was going to last. She put her head back against the soft leather and closed her eyes, finally answering.

“You may be right, Baldwin, but I hope to God you’re not.”

Baldwin’s phone rang as they boarded the Gulfstream. He answered, then turned to Taylor, who was already seated with a cup of tea in her hand.

“It’s Lincoln.”

She took the phone, a smile actually reaching her eyes.

“Hey, Linc. How’s it going?”

“Taylor, we’ve been missing you, girl. Are you on your way home?”

“We just closed the doors on the jet and the plane is moving. We’ll be there in a couple of hours. What’s happening back there?”

“Well, I’ve been doing some snooping around. Found a connection you might be interested in. It’s about our missing girl, Jane Macias.”

“Funny, we just spent some time at breakfast with the cops from the 108th who told us some very interesting things about her. And her father. He was killed last year by the man who had me taken.”

“Edward Delglisi.”

“Right. Where’d you get that name?”

“Jane Macias’s laptop. I finally cracked the code, found what she had so well hidden. She’s got a massive exposé in here, all about Delglisi. His crimes, his setup, the whole shebang. This is big stuff. Front-page-news kind of stuff.”

“Great work, Lincoln.”

“There’s more. Interesting things. There’s a name in here that Jane has traced back to Delglisi. One you might recognize. Anthony Malik.”

“Anthony Malik?
Why
is that name so familiar?”

The memory hit her like a ton of bricks. The men at the New Year’s Eve party. The four who were joking and laughing with her father. Burt Mars was one, Anthony Malik another. And the fourth man, the one she couldn’t name, was wearing a signet ring. His wife was the woman who’d so offended her mother by wearing the same Marie Antoinette costume. She was big because she was pregnant. Damn it,
what
were their names?

“Lincoln, what information is in the files about Malik?”

The note in her voice made Baldwin look up from his files.

“Not a lot. She hadn’t drawn any conclusions about it, just has the name Malik next to all the Delglisis. There is some stuff in here about forged birth certificates, but it’s unfinished.”

“Okay, Linc. Thanks. I’m going to give you a phone number. I want you to call Detective Emily Callahan and tell her everything you found out in those files. Maybe she can help you trace Anthony Malik to Edward Delglisi.”

“Will do. I’ll see you soon?”

“Very.” She clicked off the phone. Shook her head, met Baldwin’s eye.

“And the hits just keep on coming. Lincoln found the name of one of my father’s old friends in Jane Macias’s computer. She was trying to prove links between him and Delglisi. The name is Anthony Malik. Baldwin, he’s one of the men in my memory.”

Nashville, Tennessee

Tuesday, December 23

1:00 p.m.

They arrived in Nashville in clear, freezing, blue skies. They deplaned on the tarmac, a stiff breeze accosting them. Baldwin tossed Taylor his cashmere blazer to keep warm. Though he’d brought her all the necessities, he’d forgotten to pack a coat. She had balked at buying one in New York. She had plenty at home, and didn’t see the need to wear one while she traveled by cab to the airport. It wasn’t terribly cold in New York. That wasn’t the case in Nashville. In one of those strange atmospheric inversions, it was much cooler than its northern neighbor, below twenty degrees. She shrugged into Baldwin’s blazer, thankful for its warmth.

They climbed a short metal staircase that led to the terminal building. As they exited the door into the warm interior of the terminal, a small grouping of media started yelling, trying to get their attention. The closer they got to the group, the more the reporters sounded like a hive of bees.

“Lieutenant, can you tell us where you’ve been?”

“Is it true you were kidnapped by the Mob?”

Taylor spied Fitz and Sam standing a few feet away and went to them, ignoring the throng of gathered reporters. Fitz grabbed her in a bear hug, the snap of cameras and the whir of video making background noise almost loud enough to dance to.

“It’s damn good to see you, girl. You had me a little worried there.”

She just hugged him back, then turned to Sam. There were tears in her best friend’s eyes. They’d talked the day before, and it wasn’t words they needed now. Sam embraced Taylor, and they both held on for dear life. She had a moment of sickening clarity. If Sam had ridden to the church in the limo with Taylor as planned, it was quite likely that she would be dead now. Taylor squeezed a little harder and offered up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over both of them that day.

Baldwin moved toward the media group. Taylor heard him talking, telling them they would have a statement later on. She and Sam broke their hug, and each took one of Fitz’s arms. They made their escape down the hallway that led to the outer terminal. Fitz started teasing her immediately.

“I can’t believe you ruined all our plans. We were going to put a goat in your honeymoon suite.”

“Oh, shut up, you were not.”

Fitz nodded, and Sam giggled. “Seriously, we were.You remember Alfred Turner, Taylor? Retired a couple of years back, opened that farm and petting zoo down in Williamson County? He was going to loan us one of his babies.”

“So do I want to know what we were supposed to with it, or am I just better off not knowing?”

Fitz shook his head, caught Sam’s eye for a moment. His eyes twinkled with merriment. “Naw, you don’t wanna know.”

“I’ll see what I can do to rearrange things so you can play your jokes.” Taylor cuffed him lightly on the shoulder.

They reached the doors and stepped out into the frigid air. There were four news vans lined up at the curb. Fitz gestured toward them.

“You’re gonna have to talk to the news at some point.”

“I’ll talk later, once I have a handle on what’s been happening here.”

Sam squeezed her arm. “I’ve got to head back to the office. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine. You go on.”

Sam nodded at her, then scooted across the walkway and disappeared into the parking lot.

They got into the unmarked Caprice and Fitz turned the heat on high. Taylor shrugged out of Baldwin’s jacket. Within moments, Baldwin clambered into the backseat and they headed toward downtown.

They went directly to the Criminal Justice Center, Fitz talking more of nothing than anything of consequence. Ballistics on Richardson and Gonzalez, Jane Macias, there was nothing new on any of those fronts. When pressed, he told her of the intensity of the rescue and recovery efforts on her behalf, and Taylor vowed to get the names of each and every person who’d spent the night and day on the freezing bank of the river, searching for her. She would have to thank them personally for their efforts. The thought floored her. Baldwin hadn’t gone into much detail other than pointing out that he couldn’t believe that she was gone and refused to give up looking for her. Fitz, on the other hand, gave her all the specifics, and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes at the pain she’d caused them.

Baldwin had been quiet on the last half of the flight, distracted when they landed, and Taylor had left him to his devices. She’d been racking her brain trying to put a name to the face of the man with the signet ring. It just wouldn’t come. She needed the library, the society pages from her childhood. She knew there had been photographers at the party—the Nashville media were always in attendance at her parents’ soirees. The library would have thirty-year-old society nonsense, she was sure of it. She hated to lose the time looking, but she had no choice. There was a regular welcoming committee when they got to the CJC. Lincoln and Marcus stood on the landing without their coats, both young men jumping up and down in an attempt to keep warm. Captain Price was standing just inside the door, waiting to buss her on the cheek. She was greeted with hugs and Baldwin with hand shakes and back slaps. They didn’t linger long over the festivities. They had a killer to catch.

Baldwin took Lincoln aside, speaking to him out of earshot of the rest of the crew. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it.”

“I’d like to have a conversation with your South American friend. Juan. Could that be arranged?”

“Of course. I’ll go make the call right now. Would you like him to call you back here or on your cell?”

“My cell would be great. Thanks, Lincoln.”

“No problem. Do you…never mind. I’ll just go call him right now.”

Baldwin went back to Taylor’s office, shut the door behind himself and took a seat.

“I have a theory,” he started, but her phone rang. She held up a hand in a wait-a-minute gesture, and answered the phone.

“Taylor? Honey, is that you?”

That voice again. This time deeper, richer. Not a tape. Taylor tried not to respond, but the word slipped out.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Taylor, it’s me. Dad. Win.” He was whispering.

“You’ve been making life a little difficult here lately, sugar.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your sugar.”

“Taylor, listen to me. You need to follow Mr. Delglisi’s—”

She slipped a finger to the keypad and silently pushed the speaker button. Baldwin leaned forward to listen.

“—instructions. Just make the massage parlors go away. Taylor, I’m sorry for all this. I’m trying to make it all right. I know I’ve botched everything, but I—”

Her blood started to boil, that familiar sensation of disbelief streaking back into her mind. Her father wasn’t dead. He was alive, working for a fucking mobster, and wanted her to turn the other cheek to something illegal he was involved in. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“Stop. Just stop. What do think I am, Dad? You seem to forget that I’m a sworn officer of the law. I work for the good guys, Win. Not the bad guys. Not the ones like you.”

“Taylor, knock it off. You have no idea what kind of situation we’re in. You need to cooperate with him, Taylor. If you don’t—”

“What, Win? What kind of threat can you throw my way this time? Kidnapping isn’t enough for you? Now you’re going to have me taken care of?”

A rush of noise spilled from the speaker, what sounded like banging and yelling. Then another voice came on the line.

L’Uomo laughed, a sneering, belittling noise. “Oh, Win. I should have known I couldn’t trust you. Leave you alone for a second and you try to warn your sweet girl. Hello, Lieutenant. Lovely to speak with you again. Just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“What have you done with my father?”

“Nothing, yet. But I’ll kill him if you don’t cooperate. Slowly.”

Taylor felt herself pale. The mixed emotions—she hated her father, but she loved him, too. Damn it. They were both bastards. She gritted her teeth, snapping off the ends of each word as if they tasted bitter in her mouth.

“Like you did to Burt Mars? I swear, you son of a bitch, if you do anything to him, I will personally take you down.”