Fractured (20 page)

“That's because he gave a couple of million dollars to the city. The mayor doesn't want to stop his gravy train even if the guy is running drugs out of there.”

“Do you have proof?”

“Well, no. But Ramirez was there—”

“Stop it with Ramirez. You tried to nail him and you lost. End of story. The guy's not going to let you catch him.” He sucked in a deep breath. “If you don't have proof, you've got nothing.”

“Don't you think it's odd that I saw him going into Schmidt this morning?”

“Odd, maybe. But that still means diddly-squat.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don't know how much clearer I can paint this. Back off, or I'll put you back on leave.” With those final words, the lieutenant went back to examining his paperwork.

She got the distinct impression the lieutenant was keeping something from her. Not that she should be privy to all that went on in the department. It wasn't her business. But she got the distinct impression whatever he was keeping from her would have a profound impact on her life. But short of torture, she wouldn't get a word out of him. The man had a very tight lip. If he wasn't given authorization to say something, he wouldn't.

Instead of pushing the matter, she went to her desk and did a search of the inmates at Stateville Prison for the last couple of years. She'd meant to do it a couple of days ago, but had gotten sidetracked. Now seemed as good a time as any to muck around in something that would add another layer of frustration to the equation.

She keyed into the database then tried to come up with good search parameters. She wanted to strike a balance between too much information and not enough. In the end, she opted for the last five years as a happy medium.

After printing out the pages, she sat at her desk and studied the list. Stateville was a maximum security prison. Many of the names she knew through the media, through gossip at the station, or they were people she'd arrested herself. There were quite a few Johnsons on the list. She used her finger to scroll down the names.

Nathan Johnson.

Somehow she knew he'd be in there. He was discharged in September of this year. An uneasy feeling slid through her body as she saw another familiar name.

Sergio Valentine.

She decided to pull up mug shots to verify the identifications. It took her a few minutes to key the necessary information into the computer. But when she did…

Damn. It was the same guy. He even was sporting the same ponytail and had been released around the same time as Nathan Johnson.

So what was he doing ingratiating himself into the life of her cousin? Lou didn't hang with criminals. And why did he want to meet with her to tell her about Lou? Or did he have another agenda?

* * *

Isabella didn't want to dwell on the fact she was getting way too used to sharing her apartment with Landry. When he showed up at the door later that night, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I missed you,” she whispered against his ear while he lifted her onto the counter and positioned himself between her thighs.

His erection pressed against the thin cotton of his boxers as he slid back and forth against her. “You need to start wearing nightgowns.” He nuzzled her neck. “Without underwear, of course.”

She elongated her neck to give him better access to that sweet spot she craved. “I'm not that easy.” With a throaty laugh, she yanked the shirt out of his pants, unbuttoned it, slid it off his shoulders, then rubbed her fingers down his chest.

“Babe, you're not even close to easy. I have to work damn hard for every inch of progress with you.”

He slid off her boxers and T-shirt in a move so effortless it defied logic. Seconds later, her butt cheeks rested against the cool granite-covered countertop and he was inside her.

Nerve endings in her body she didn't even know existed sprung to life as he stroked her. Each thrust into her body brought around another level of friction and tension until she thought she might go mad.

“This can't be remotely sanitary.” She laughed as she caressed his butt enjoying the definition of muscle along the way.

He lifted one eyebrow. “You want me to check with the health inspector? Cause you know I have family connections.”

“I'd have to kill you first.” To illustrate her point, she slipped her hand between them to touch him until his breath went ragged.

He maneuvered his arms under her thighs, spreading them wide. Next he buried himself deep inside and pounded into her. The dishes in the cabinet above her rattled and shook.

His lips were buried in her hair while her body coiled tighter and tighter. When the orgasm took over, she felt like every piece of flesh on her body hummed from intensity until she rattled just like the dishes overhead. His guttural moan as he came only intensified the sensation.

It wasn't until her body hit the mattress still inexplicably joined to his did she recognize that he'd somehow maneuvered them both to the bedroom. “Wow.” She kissed him softly on the lips as she didn't think she had the energy to do much more.

“What was that?” His hand trembled as it traced the line of her hip.

“Cosmic nympho explosion.” She nodded barely keeping the smile from her face.

“Really.” He grinned. “Never heard of it.”

“It's a rare phenomenon, but I hear it comes about every hundred years or so.” She shrugged. “Either that, or my Bears T-shirt and boxers are a total turn on.”

“You know me, I've always been a huge Bears fan.”

* * *

A few hours later, they were lying in bed with him curled around behind her. “Did I tell you Jonas said your dad's case never went to trial? He mentioned something about a plea deal.”

“Hell of a plea deal ending up with life in prison.” She bit off the words as once again an inkling of something foreign slithered through.

He kissed the top of her head. “I sure wish we could find that file.”

“You and me both.” She pressed her lips against his hand. “What do you think of Matthews?”

“Besides the fact he's an idiot?”

She nodded. “While all the rest of the license plates were registered to rental companies, one traced back to him. At least I think it's him.” She turned so she faced him.

He grasped her shoulders. “Tell me you didn't confront him?”

“Not yet.”

“Don't even think about it. If he's involved, you don't want to tip him off.”

She nodded. “True. Do you think I should run it by the lieutenant?”

“No. Malone's our best bet. Liam will make sure he's okay.”

“Are you sure?” When he'd proposed looking into Malone's background she'd resisted at first. While some people might be afraid of what they'd find, she was more afraid of what they wouldn't find. The last thing she needed was yet another glob of half-information on her plate.

“He's got a lot of connections. Give him time to work his magic.”

“Liam's a lawyer. That could mean he's full of crap and a pompous ass like they all are.” She looped her arms around his neck. “Cops hate lawyers. It's the way of the world. Didn't they teach you that at the academy?”

He hesitated for a second, as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind “This is different. Liam went to Harvard Law with a couple of guys who are pretty high up in the Bureau. Right now he's doing some informal digging to see what he can come up with. You've got to be patient.”

“That's not my strong point.” His fingertips teased the underside of her breasts. No doubt his intent was to distract her. So far he was doing a fairly good job. “Are you trying to cop a feel?”

He rubbed her nipple between his fingertips. “Am I that transparent?”

“Always.”

A lazy smile graced his face right before she pulled him into a kiss. She savored the taste and feel of him as their lips touched, their tongues explored. Every piece of skin on her body tingled with a kind of awareness that felt foreign, but soothing at the same time.

How had this happened? The rational part of her wanted to maintain a physical separation from him, while everything else fought to capture and keep what he'd provided. The really scary part is this time it seemed more than physical. She'd divulged to him more of her family secrets than she had to anybody and he still hadn't run away screaming. Either the man was a masochist or he really did love her, which, in many ways, would make him a masochist as well.

He kissed her, sending a fresh bout of shivers from her hairline to her toes. How could she deal with not having Landry in her life? She was in it so deep right now she couldn't negotiate her way out with a pick axe and a shovel. This whole thing made her feel so vulnerable; a veritable war went on inside her, both sides fighting for control.

But right now she needed him to be near, much more than she would ever like or care to admit.

Last night Landry had the perfect opportunity to fess up when they talked about lawyers, Liam and scum. If he trusted her, he would have told her of his plans. But he somehow couldn't come clean about his lofty aspirations.

He slipped his hand down her hip, relishing the soft feel of her skin against his fingertips. The tension usually present had dissipated as she lay bonelessly against him. Her mouth was in a soft pucker while breath puffed out her lips.

He'd laid awake most of the night while he watched her with an unshakable sense of doom lurking in the shadows. Most people would think his paranoia was born of guilt. But deep inside he knew there was much more.

Jason Matthews? Normally, he'd dismiss the idea as far-fetched. The guy was way too busy chasing tail to get his work done let alone get hooked up in a drug scheme. Then again, maybe he should at least run the possibility past Malone.

When had he been so reliant on the expertise of a Fed? Maybe when he saw it was the only way he had to keep Isabella safe.

* * *

After catching up on paperwork and phone calls all morning, and somehow stopping herself from snooping any further into Matthews's desk, Isabella stood and stretched. Unable to resist the urge any longer, she gave in and walked toward the snack machines. Nothing in particular drew her attention as she surveyed racks filled with mildly unhealthy to grossly unhealthy snacks.

Instead, she grabbed her coat and shoved some files into her backpack. A short, brisk walk would do her good. The fact that there was both a Starbucks and a deli within walking distance made the idea much more enticing.

She hit the deli first, ordering a ham and cheese on rye. Next she headed for Starbucks. A good cup of coffee and a nice comfortable place to sit was a great lure.

As she opened the door, she heard the distinctive ‘pop, pop, pop' of a gun. Seconds later, the window above her head shattered into a million pieces. Slivers of glass rained down on her as she crouched and drew her weapon.

A light blue car squealed past. She chased it, weapon drawn. But given the distance, she didn't have a shot.

With adrenaline still popping through her body, she called it in, giving as much detail about the car as possible. They couldn't have gotten far.

As she walked back to the coffee shop to recover her backpack, she spotted somebody lying on the ground. Wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, he could have been any number of kids in the neighborhood. Innocent bystander, a case of mistaken identity, or an out-and-out gangbanger; usually it was impossible to tell by looks alone.

As she ran the last couple of feet, trepidation caused her to slow, then speed up. Something about the body looked familiar.

She bent down and moved away the hood which had been obscuring his face. “Oh God…no.” A tightly coiled wad of emotion sprung loose inside her chest as her breath faltered, her heart pumped.

Despite the tears streaking down her cheeks, she forced herself into cop mode and felt for a pulse. Relief rumbled through her when she picked up the weak beat of his heart. “Hang in there, Lou. You're going to be okay.”

She pulled off her coat and pressed it on his abdomen to stop the flow of blood. With every pump of his heart, another spurt of the liquid seeped through the cloth and onto her fingers. His eyes fluttered open for a second. “Sorry…your gun…I…didn't…”

“Don't worry about anything.” She didn't have any idea what he was talking about and was too scared to even try to figure it out.

* * *

Sitting down in a plastic chair in the waiting area, Isabella tried not to dwell on the worst even while guilt, heavy and potent, roared through her body. She yanked out the handkerchief and twirled it through her fingers as she fought against the rising torrent of tears. Once again she was at the mercy of fate, with Lou's life in the balance. The only thing she could do now was wait and hope for the best.

Once she felt more in control, she called Landry. She desperately needed to hear his voice.

“Lou's been shot.” Saying the words out loud made the pain even more intense.

“Where are you? I'll be right there.” She heard him moving about as he spoke.

“No, you've got to get ready for your shift. Besides, there's nothing you can do here.” She desperately wanted him there to hold her hand, to lay his arm across her shoulders, but she fought against the desire. Having him there would only mean both of them were immobilized.

“You shouldn't be alone.”

She straightened her shoulders. Dragging him into this because she felt weak and vulnerable wasn't the right thing to do. “I'm a big girl. I can handle this.”

“It's not because you're a female. It's not because I think you're weak. Nobody should have to handle this alone.”

His words reverberated down her spine to every nerve ending in her body. She'd always been able to tough it out before. This should be no exception. As much as she wanted to give in to his offer, she fought against it.

She had to do this alone. The one thing she'd learned over the course of her lifetime was relying on somebody else to be there for her left her feeling way too vulnerable.

“I can do this. If it'll make you feel better, I'll call you if anything changes and you can come to my rescue.” She tried to minimize the situation, but knew her voice sounded strained and weak. “Besides, at this late notice and with half the department down with the flu it would be hard to find somebody to cover for you.”

He swore softly. “Call me every hour. I need to hear your voice and know you're doing okay.”

“Thanks, Landry.” She didn't dare risk saying anything else. Especially when everything in her traitorous mind wanted him to be there with her.

Instead of lingering on what that meant, she called the lieutenant, relayed what happened and asked for police protection for Lou. He agreed without even a hint of hesitation.

As the gravity of the situation pressed down on her, she began to pace the room, if only to expel some of her excess energy. She stuck her hands in her pockets to feel the soothing texture of the cloth as she waited and worried.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a doctor emerged from the double doors. “Detective Sanchez.”

Isabella nervously followed while the doctor led her to a makeshift area between two curtained rooms. “Is he going to make it?” She couldn't wait any longer. The doctor was taking way too long to get to the point.

“He's stable for now, but he's being transferred to surgery so we can patch up the hole in his liver. He sustained a shot through his thigh as well, but that passed through. He's young and appears relatively healthy, but with massive trauma like this you never know.”

“If he's conscious, I'd like to see him.”

“He's not up for answering any questions, Detective.”

“It's not like that.” She shook her head. “He's my cousin. He needs to know I'm here.”

The doctor hesitated for a few second before acquiescing. “Follow me. You can see him for a few moments.”

He looked so young and vulnerable and deathly pale. They'd cut off his bloody clothes and his body was covered in a sheet just below the waist. They'd somehow stopped the flow of blood at least temporarily.

Isabella fought against reacting. Instead, she worried the scrap of cloth within her fingers while thoughts of revenge simmered low in her belly.

She'd seen more trauma victims than she cared to think about, but this was much more frightening. Dealing with life and death each day, she had to learn to numb her feelings or risk going absolutely crazy. She didn't feel so numb at all when she looked at Lou.

She grasped his fingers, felt the warmth of his skin, and a sliver of hope shimmered inside. “You're going to be okay, Lou.” She knew people said this every day to loved ones and they still died. But somehow she had to believe this would be different.

His eyes fluttered to a half open position. “Bella…get Cynthia and Junior.” Without another word he closed his eyes.

She clutched his fingers tighter. “You need to tell me where.” Tears of frustration hung on the fringes of her lashes. “I—”

The doctor touched her shoulder. “We need to bring him to surgery. I'll come see you as soon as we're out.”

Isabella drew in a breath and tried to tamp down her anger, her fear, her overwhelming sense of powerlessness. Lost in thought, she didn't know how long she'd waited, or even what was going on around her, until the doctor reappeared in front of her. Once again, she led her into the same private area. “The operation went okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “I'll be honest with you, Detective, his odds aren't good.”

“What do you mean?”

“His liver suffered a lot of damage.”

“Doesn't that organ regenerate itself or something? How about a transplant?”

“Yes, it does regenerate itself, but it takes time. And he is too sick to consider a transplant.”

“What do I do?”

“Get in touch with his immediate family and make sure they get here.” She didn't add
before it's too late
, but she might as well have.

How could she do that? Despite being a detective, she hadn't been successful in accomplishing that for the last couple of weeks. What were the chances she'd be successful now?

She called Landry and gave him an update. “Any ideas?” Her mind felt distracted, unable to focus. All she could picture was Junior's sweet chubby face. She squeezed her eyes shut to blot it out.

“I suppose you've already tried Cynthia's relatives.” Landry's voice brought her back.

“Her family is pretty lowlife. Half of them are in jail. The other half live in Mexico.”

“Friends?”

“The only friend I ever saw spent time in Stateville with my father. Sergio, who has likewise vanished.” The name slipped out of her mouth like a curse. While she never trusted the guy, she couldn't help but think about the possibilities. None of them were good.

“Not as of about an hour ago. They found his body with a gunshot wound to the head, dumped in an alley on the south side.”

She swore softly.

“Do you want me to check out early and swing by the hospital?”

“No. I can handle this alone.” She pushed the button before he had a chance to say anything more.

Her temper simmered with each pass she made inside the small waiting room as she thought hard about what to do next. Finding Cynthia and Junior would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But she needed to do something that could make her believe she could take control of the situation.

Once the thought settled inside, she barged out the door. Maybe this was really why she didn't want Landry near. She didn't want him to stop her.

The drive to Schmidt didn't take long. What she was doing was stupid and idiotic…and juvenile. Intellectually she knew that. That didn't mean she would stop. Somebody had to be held accountable for what happened to Lou, and everything stemmed back to Schmidt Packaging.

Right now, she wanted to be unreasonable. She wanted to intimidate and scare and do all those things she wasn't supposed to do. She was hurt and frightened and wanted somebody else to feel the same way.

She got out of the car and stalked up the front walkway. After yanking open the door, she knocked on the glass partition.

The not-so-friendly receptionist stayed behind the bullet-proof glass and gave her a tight smile. She slammed her badge against the window. “I want to see Jonathan Schmidt. Now.”

Adrenaline surged like water from a fireman's hose inside her veins. She barely held on to her temper while she waited. A more productive use of her time would be to try to find Cynthia and Junior, but until she confronted Schmidt she couldn't think straight enough to go forward. She needed answers.

Taking her anger and frustration out on the real perpetrator of this mess felt like the right thing to do right now, even if doing so could potentially cost her her job. She huffed out a breath and turned to see Jonathan Schmidt opening the door to greet her. He had that same phony smile on his face.

“I'd like my tour now.”

“I need a little more notice.” A nanosecond break in his façade appeared before he gave her his million-dollar smile once again.

“Why? What are you trying to hide?” She muscled her way past him into the office section and headed toward the factory part of the facility. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the receptionist looking to Schmidt for direction. “I want to know what you do here.”

“As I told you, Detective, we produce packaging supplies, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Bull. I don't believe a word you say.”

“Really, detective, it's a rather boring business. If not for the family legacy issue, I would have pursued something much more interesting.”

“If you're not trying to hide anything then why is it that my cousin, Lou, worked here and was laid off, even though you told me you've never had to do that? Why do you have a string of gangster wannabes frequenting your establishment? Why do you hire convicts?” Her mouth stopped working momentarily as she tried to get her brain in sync.

“I didn't realize Lou was your cousin.” He shook his head. “Truth is, I didn't lay him off. I had to fire him for stealing, I'm afraid.”

“Liar.”

“Relatives. It's a tricky business. I can see why you'd want to believe the worst of me, but I'm not lying to you.” He gave her an I'm-so-sorry-your-cousin's-a-loser smile.

“What did he steal, a cardboard box? Come on, if there's nothing valuable here, what could he possibly want to steal?”

“He stole money from one of the ladies in the office. She had just cashed her paycheck and Lou was found going into her purse.” He shrugged like he was trying to show some kind of compassion. But she didn't buy it for a second.