A Bullet for Carlos (47 page)

Tip looked at the
email from Julie. There was Carlos, big as life, with a smirk on his face as he hung a medal around some young woman’s neck. And sure enough there was Patti Green waiting in line for her neck to be adorned.

As Tip stared at the picture, something caught his eye to the side. He looked closer, but couldn’t quite make it out. Even zooming in didn’t help much. He grabbed the computer and took it to the kitchen where the lighting was better. “I’ll be a monkey’s ass.”

It’s Virginia Maxwell.

He tried digesting the new information, and as he did, the phone rang again. “Tip Denton.”

“It’s Julie. There were three private flights from Houston to New York that weekend. And guess what—one of them belonged to Maxwell Enterprises.”

“Goddamn!”

“Do you—”

“No, thanks, gotta go.”

He grabbed the phone to call Connie and heard a woman’s voice. “Julie?”

A short pause, then, “Detective Denton? This is Emily Miller.”

“Emily, I don’t have time now. I’ll call you—“

“No, wait, Detective. It’s about the jogger.”

Tip stopped. “What?”

“The jogger,” Emily said. “I recognized that woman from the news report. I saw her when I was jogging at Cypresswood Park.”

“When?”

“The day they said. I remember because of who she was with. It was my dad’s boss.”

Tip’s heart beat rapid fire. “Who’s your dad’s boss, Emily?”

“Mr. Maxwell.”

Goddamn.
“Okay, listen Emily, I’m going to call you tomorrow on this. You did real good, but I have
got to
run right now. I’ll call tomorrow,” Tip said, and hung up.

He dialed Connie, let it ring. No answer. He dialed again. Still, no answer.
She’s probably in the shower.
He was on his way back to the dining room when he realized she was supposed to meet with Maxwell. “Fuck,” he screamed and raced for the door, grabbing his gun as he left the kitchen. He dialed her number again as he jumped in the car, letting it ring all the way down the drive. “Come on, Connie. Answer goddamnit.”

The car bounced down his driveway. He turned on the siren and, as he accelerated and turned onto the main road, he called the station. “Julie, get cars to Connie’s house. Now! Whoever’s closest.”

“What’s the—”

“
Now,
Julie. I’m on my way.” He came close to hitting a car as he spun out onto the main road. “Hang on, Connie.”

***

My jaw hurt so
bad I didn’t know what had happened. It didn’t feel connected; I didn’t feel anything but pain. I rolled sideways, kicking at the same time, but he yanked me back and, when he did, he pummeled my side. Fists slammed into my ribs one after the other. Every punch forced me to cough and each cough brought gut-wrenching pain. I didn’t hear a snap, but I know one or more of my ribs broke.

If they puncture the lung…
I tried talking, hoping to reason with him, but when I opened my mouth he shoved in a gag, sending the pain level to new heights. I tried biting, but had no control over my jaw. It was that moment, when he shoved the gag in, that I realized this wasn’t just Maxwell flipping out; this was the freak we’d been after. With that thought came images of Patti and Mena, followed by the terror of what awaited me.

Tears filled my eyes, blood covered my face and ran from my nose into my mouth, choking me. I turned to the side hoping some would leak from under the gag, but then he began undressing me. I squirmed, grunting and moaning as he ripped the bra off. My gut reaction was to cover up with my arms, but he swatted them away. I felt hopeless. There was nothing I could do to stop him.

He unbuckled my pants, unzipped them, then grabbed the waistband and pulled them down, lifting me up and tossing me around at will. Each time he moved me, I shivered with pain. I stared up into cold dead eyes as he yanked my pants the rest of the way off. He even ripped off my socks. I lay on the bed in horrible pain, naked, and I could do nothing about it. All my police training rendered useless in a few minutes.

God, please let me die before this fucker rapes me. Please!

He stood above me, staring, and smiling. “I guess you thought you were going to catch me. Foolish girl. But I’ll make it worth your while. Once I’m inside of you, you’ll forget about the other men in your life.”

I mustered up enough strength to kick him, a good strike to his midsection, but all it did was knock him back a step. He returned with a new glare in his eyes. He walked to the side, to my right leg, and stroked it, ran his gloved hands up and down my skin. I wanted to puke, but feared I’d choke to death. Then he started punching, harder and harder, until I felt as if my leg would break. Maybe it did. At this point, I couldn’t tell. When he finished with me, he returned to the foot of the bed, removed his clothes, then came back and stood between my legs.

Please, God.

“It’s time now, Connie. Aren’t you glad it is almost over?”

***

Tip screeched around the
last corner into Connie’s apartment complex and came to an abrupt halt in the street outside of her place. He jumped out, ran to the door and opened it, thanking God it was unlocked. He started to yell, but then saw her gun on the table and her shoes on the floor. With gun drawn, he raced to the bedroom, busting it open when he got there. If she was in the shower, she’d have to forgive him.

Jeff Maxwell stood between Connie’s legs, naked. When the door burst open he launched himself toward Tip.

Tip raised the gun and fired. The first shot hit Maxwell in the chest, straightening him up. A shocked look came to his face, but he kept coming. Tip held steady and fired again. This bullet went in below the neck. Maxwell reeled back toward the wall, his mouth wide open, eyes aghast.

Maxwell hit the dresser, the back of his head cracking into the mirror. Blood poured from his chest and neck as he slumped toward the floor. Tip looked to Connie, naked on the bed, and bleeding, then he looked back to Maxwell—and fired three more times. Each one hit the chest.

He ran to Connie, tears already forming in his eyes.
Oh God, baby. Oh my God.

Backup came a few seconds later. “Officer down! Get an ambulance.” Tip screamed as he looked for something to cover Connie.

Chapter 59

Don’t You Die

T
he ambulance arrived within minutes, and Tip followed them out, barking orders to everyone on the scene. “Secure this place. And get that fucking scum out of her apartment.”

“Yes, sir, but the crime scene—”

“You tell them I said to hurry the fuck up. I want him out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tip hustled after the gurney carrying Connie and followed them to the hospital. “God, don’t you dare let her die, hear me. She deserves more than this.”

The trip to the hospital seemed to take forever, but the next four hours, while she was in surgery, was even worse. Tip jumped up when the doctor came out, anticipation riddling his body. “Is she okay?”

“She’ll live, but she has a lot of healing to do. She suffered tremendous physical damage: broken ribs, a broken nose, broken teeth, and her jaw took a very bad beating.”

Tip kept nodding his head as the doctor gave his report. “Anything else? I mean, was she…raped?”

The doctor lowered his head. “No semen, but there was heavy vaginal bruising and tearing. I’d say yes.”

Tip grabbed his arm. “Doctor, listen, don’t tell her about that, okay?”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

“Do you know anything for sure?”

“Not for sure.”

“Then don’t say anything. What good will it do? I’ve heard that a good mental attitude goes a long way in healing people. If that’s the case, don’t you think she’d heal better if she doesn’t know?”

The doctor started to say something, then stopped. “Perhaps you’re right, Detective. But if I find out for certain…”

“If you find out for certain, I’ll go with you when you tell her. How’s that?”

It produced the first smile Tip had seen on the doctor. “That would be fine. Now let me go see my patients.” As he started off down the corridor, he turned back to Tip. “She’ll be in excruciating pain for a while, though I’ve prescribed medication that will help.”

“Thanks.”

While Tip waited, he called Connie’s lieutenant from Brooklyn, letting him know what happened. The guy seemed genuinely concerned, asking lots of questions. Then, several minutes later he got a call from someone named Frankie who not only expressed his concern over Connie’s condition, he even told Tip he should post a watch on her room. Tip tried telling Frankie that the guy was dead, but Frankie wouldn’t hear anything of it. Regardless, Tip planned on staying with her until she regained consciousness.

Frankie got off the
phone, pondering what to do. He had warned the detective—Tip, his name was—but it didn’t seem as if he took it seriously. He walked around the room, pacing like he always did when he got nervous. A cigarette dangled from the left side of his mouth, a habit he had picked up at a young age and never seemed to break. “Fuck it,” he said, and dialed a number on a throwaway cell phone he had.

“Pronto.”

“Go to a private phone and call this number back.” Frankie repeated the number to him, and within two minutes his phone rang. “Hello.”

“Who is this?”

“This is Frankie Donovan. I’m calling to let you know that Connie Gianelli is hurt and is in a hospital in Houston. She might still be in trouble. They never caught Carlos.”

A long pause followed his statement. “Detective Donovan, I am in your debt. Anything—”

“None of that shit, Mangini. I don’t want anything from you. The only reason I’m calling is because I don’t trust those people to keep her safe.”

“And you think that I can?”

“I
know
you can. And now I’m through with this conversation.”

“Goodbye, Detective.”

Dominic hung up the
phone and called for Zeppe. “Concetta is hurt,” he said, then told Zeppe what happened. “Get hold of Nurse Crincoli and get her to Houston immediately.”

“We should go,” Zeppe said.

“We can’t do that. It’s one thing for a neighbor to visit her in the hospital up here when she is a hero cop, but to go all the way to Texas would look too suspicious.” He walked from the counter to the table and back again several times. “We need to get her back to Brooklyn.”

“She won’t come back till she gets Carlos. You know what a
testa dura
she is.”

“Then we need to help her with that. Get Fabrizio. We’ll find this Carlos and end it once and for all.”

Tip kept vigil in
Connie’s room, waiting for her to come to. Late the second night she came fully awake. Tip smiled, then moved his chair close to the bed, holding her hand. “How you doin’, girl?”

She could barely talk, but managed to get out, “Okay.”

“We got him.”

“Jail?”

Tip checked to make sure no one was around. “Dead as duck shit. I put five in him. I really wanted to kick the living shit out of him, but circumstances wouldn’t allow it. Now, of course, I’m on the desk until the shooting gets cleared.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Can’t believe it was him all along,” Tip said. “All the evidence was there though. He worked out at the gym with Patti Green, and he was in on the 5k run she did. He knew Mason from charity events. And Gardner worked for him. Santiago he met at the ball, and I’d bet he knew her from before.”

She shook her head, disbelief showing even in her bruised and battered face. “Can’t believe…you made me go out with him.”

Tip patted her hand. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t…” He stopped before tears came.

Connie tried smiling. “Not your fault,” she said, then reached for her face. “Bet I look…bad.”

“Bad? You look great if you ask me, that is for a woman who has a broken nose, teeth knocked out, broken ribs, and other things.”

“Maybe it’s time…”

“What?”

She pointed to her nose.

He shook his head. “Don’t you dare get that fixed; that’s what makes you sexy.”

She smiled. “Never called…me sexy.”

“I didn’t want to swell your head.”

She lost her smile and started to cry. “Did he…”

Tip reached over and hugged her, careful not to cause pain. “He was trying but I told you, I plugged his ass five times. Almost sent him through the wall into your neighbor’s house.”

Connie’s look demanded an answer.

Tip didn’t say anything.

“Tip?”

He held her hand, stared into her eyes. He had planned on a bold-faced lie, and found he couldn’t do it. “I don’t know, but…yeah, he probably did.”

More tears flowed.

Tip sat silent for a minute, then he got the nerve to tell her. “They let Carlos go. The DA said we couldn’t hold him.”

She nodded.

Tip talked to Connie for the next thirty or forty minutes, but she was fading. Shortly afterwards, a nurse came in.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Tip.

“I’m her partner.”

“You should go soon. This woman needs rest.”