L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (53 page)

His friend’s divorce only confirmed Jordan’s beliefs about the hopelessness of marriage. If a love like Luke and Julianna’s couldn’t hold a marriage together, nothing could.

The only thing that had kept his parents together for forty years was money. And seeing what marriage could do to two people, why bother? Particularly when he was such a lousy judge when it came to weeding out the women who were only interested in his money. He wasn’t going to get burned again.

“So what now?” Luke asked. “You got another lead?”

With the game over, they headed out the door together and walked to the side of the building where their cars were parked.

“I need information from Laura Gianni and I’m going to get it.”

“For what it’s worth,” Luke said as he reached for his car door, “she’s a tough lady. I don’t think you’ll get anything from her she doesn’t want to give.”

Jordan smiled. “I’ve got a hundred-dollar bill on it.”

Luke stuck out his hand. “You’re on, bud.”

They shook on it and Jordan waved Luke off before he headed for his own ride. Clicking the remote, he opened the door, slid inside the SUV and started the engine.

Thirty minutes later he was turning the corner toward his town house in Brentwood, a gift to himself after he graduated Wharton Business School. The property was a good investment, even if his parents didn’t think so. No big surprise. They seldom approved of his choices.

They’d expected him to invest the trust money he’d received from his grandfather in their multifaceted family conglomerate, Avecor, as his younger brother, Harry, had. But it hadn’t worked out as they wanted. His decision to join the police force after earning his MBA had been another bone of contention between Jordan and his parents.

But after thirty-five years, he didn’t give a damn anymore if anyone approved of what he did. He was tired of trying to be the best, trying to prove he was good enough and that he really did belong. Though he loved his adoptive parents dearly and had always wanted to please them—he had to live with himself.

He pulled into the garage next to the Jag he rarely used, walked inside and went through the ritual: keys on the granite countertop, jacket on the back of a chair, over to the fridge. He wasn’t particularly hungry after the buffalo wings at the bar so he grabbed a beer instead.

In the so-called media room, the L.A. Times was still on the end table next to his favorite chair—a well-worn, black leather lounger that every woman who saw it hated. Aside from the chair, table and the LED TV, the room was empty. His living room had only been recently decorated because his mother couldn’t stand seeing it with no furniture.

Sitting, he turned on the news. Same old, same old. He shuffled through the paper and pulled out the crossword puzzle. It didn’t hold his interest, either. He kept coming back to Laura Gianni’s big green eyes and how they’d sparked with recognition when he’d mentioned Anna Kolnikov.

He picked up the phone on the table, pulled a note from his shirt pocket with Gianni’s phone number on it and punched it in. He’d rather stop by, catch her unexpectedly. He worked better with people when they didn’t have a chance to prepare a stock answer. But it had been impossible to talk to her with so many people around. She might even be more receptive if she could pick a time and place that worked for her.

“Hello.”

He recognized her distinctive voice immediately. A sleepy voice. Sexy. “Laura Gianni?”

“Who’s calling?”

“It’s Detective St. James. I’d like to talk to you again.”

“I don’t know anything more than I told you already.”

“I understand. I had some other thoughts about this case, other questions I need to ask.”

“Well, I don’t understand why. I run a shelter for runaways. I counsel them. I don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you, and I have no time to be answering questions I’ve already answered.”

He’d seen her dedication to her job, how fiercely protective she was of both her daughter and the girls who stayed at the shelter. He admired dedication. In his job he saw too many mothers who didn’t give a rat about their kids. Mothers who abused their children or gave them away as if they were garbage. His own biological mother had done the same.

“We could meet somewhere other than the shelter if you’d like,” he added. The silence on the other end went on so long, he thought she might’ve hung up. “It’s important.”

She finally said, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t have the time. And I really must go now.”

The next thing he knew he was listening to the dial tone. What the— He couldn’t remember the last time someone had stonewalled him, and he felt stupid he’d allowed her to do it.

But then, her refusal said a lot. His questioning made her nervous. Scared her, maybe?

Well, whether she had time or not didn’t matter. He was going to see her…and the when and where would now be up to him.

And Luke was going to be out a hundred bucks real soon.

***

Laura set the phone on the table, her hand trembling. Detective St. James unnerved her, so much so, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.

Within seconds, she felt as guilty as she had after talking with the detective earlier today. Anna had been a friend. But she couldn’t see how her personal feelings would be any help in solving Anna’s murder. And if Frank DeMatta was behind it, her life would be worth squat. Maybe Caitlin’s, too.

But, apparently, he didn’t believe she had nothing to tell. What other reason would he have for being so insistent? It’s possible he wanted information about the shelter’s former residents who had history with Anna so he could talk with them? If that was the case, he was out of luck there, too.

If it had just been about Anna, she might’ve agreed to meet him. But at his mention of DeMatta, every instinct screamed for her to run the other way. If DeMatta even suspected she knew he’d been at Eddie’s the night of the murder…and he found out she was talking to the police—it wouldn’t matter that she was talking to him about Anna.

She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but the detective’s words played again in her head. It’s important. She’d heard urgency in his voice. Emotion.

She’d worked with enough cops to know they had to keep a distance or the job would eat them up. Her job was similar in that respect, but she found it difficult to remain detached. When she got involved, she got involved. Maybe she and the detective were a little alike in that way.

Another thing…why was he investigating a case that had been closed for four years?

She sighed. She couldn’t let him get to her. She couldn’t. No matter how convincing he was. But her resolve didn’t make her feel any better.

Detective St. James wasn’t going to let it die. She knew it as well as she knew the twelve-step recovery program.

If she didn’t stop him, life would never be the same.

CHAPTER FOUR

Laura took Cait’s hand as they walked through the dry Bermuda grass toward the playground at Kenwood Park, a half mile from the shelter. The late afternoon sun shone through the ficus trees, casting dappled light on Caitlin’s face. A flutter of wind rustled the nearby palm fronds and feathered through Laura’s hair. Peaceful. A feeling she wished she had more often.

“I could’ve come by myself,” Caitlin grumbled.

Letting Cait walk home from school alone yesterday had been a big step. But there was no way she was ready to let her go to the park by herself.

“I know you could. But I like to come along. It’s a chance for us to have some time alone.”

“Yeah, but Jenny’s going to be here. I want to play with her. Can you wait somewhere where she can’t see you?”

Oh, boy. “Yes, but I’m going to be where I can see you. Over there.” Laura pointed to a bench half hidden behind a gnarled tree not far away. “But you can’t play until I put sunscreen on your face and arms.”

“Mo-om. It’s winter.”

“Don’t complain. The sun can be as treacherous in winter as it is in the summer. This is the warmest part of the day, and with your fair skin, you’ll be a crispy critter without protection.”

Caitlin skipped ahead, and as Laura walked closer, she saw a man sitting on the other end of the bench where she’d intended to sit. His bearing was familiar. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. What part of no did this guy not understand?

He sat slouched sideways, his left arm resting on the back of the concrete-and-wood bench. Wearing a heavy black sweater and jeans, he could’ve been one of the fathers watching his child at play.

Maybe he was. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe he did have a child he was watching?

As she and Caitlin came up behind him, he turned. His eyes lit with recognition and he scrambled to his feet. “Hi.”

“Hello. What a surprise,” she said facetiously.

“I remember you,” Caitlin broke in. “You’re Jordan. You came to our house yesterday.”

He smiled. “You’ve got a good memory, Cait.”

“I’m almost eight,” she said. “I remember lots of things.”

“Sweetie, I see Jenny over there. Why don’t you go play with her on the swings for a while?”

Caitlin crossed her arms and planted her feet apart. “I know what’s going on. You want to get rid of me so you guys can be alone.”

Laura pulled back in surprise and heat shooting to her cheeks. Caitlin shrugged and ran off toward the swings. Too embarrassed to call her back for the sunscreen, Laura decided they weren’t going to be here for long, anyway.

“I don’t know why she said such a thing. I think she’s been picking up a lot from the girls at the shelter.”

He smiled, one eyebrow arched.

Lately Caitlin had been asking all kinds of questions about the birds and the bees and why Laura never went out on dates. Jenny’s mother went out on dates all the time Caitlin had lamented more than once.
And
Jenny got presents from her mom’s friends.

“What are you doing here?” Laura asked as they both sat. “Do you have a child over there? Or do you just like to hang out in parks watching children play?”

He leaned back, keeping his eyes on Caitlin. “No, I don’t have any kids. I’m not married.” He was smiling now. “And if I hung around parks watching children, I might get into a whole lot of trouble.”

His penetrating gaze caught hers. Steel. His eyes, a light steel-gray, were framed by long sooty lashes.

“So…if it’s not that, why are you here?” As if she didn’t know. As if it didn’t annoy the hell out of her. She didn’t like being tracked down. She didn’t like that he made her feel like a quivery teenager.

“I called the shelter and one of the girls said you were coming here. I decided it was a better place to talk, anyway. More private. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Interrupt?”

“If you’re meeting someone else or something.”

“No. You’re not interrupting.” But she wished he was. She didn’t want to be alone with this man. Or did she? She couldn’t seem to quit staring at him, his full lips and silvery eyes.

She pulled her gaze away and glanced across the playground to where Caitlin sat on a swing. God, she hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But then he was probably used to women staring at him with their tongues hanging out.

“She’s a cute kid.”

“Thank you. I think she’s pretty special.” She smiled, her love for Caitlin hard to disguise.

“That’s good,” he said, his voice deepening. “I see too much of the dark side in my job. One of the drawbacks, I guess.”

She nodded. “I know. But there’s always hope. Which is why I do what I do.” She settled back, more comfortable with the conversation. Probably his plan. Get her comfortable then go for the kill. Yeah, sometimes she was downright cynical. And most of those times she was right.

“I saw your van on the Boulevard the other night.”

Drawing back, she said, “Really.” But then, of course he would. They’d thought him a john…and he was scoping them out. Too funny. “We try to reach as many runaways as possible. Sometimes we’re successful, sometimes not.” She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees. Smirking, she said, “I saw you there, too, only at the time, I didn’t know you were a detective.”

“Ha!” He let out a burst of a laugh, leaning forward, elbows on his thighs. “You thought I was looking for some action.”

“It seemed that way. The car…”

“Ah, the studmobile. Not mine,” he said, gesturing in the direction of a charcoal-gray SUV parked on the street. “I’m more conservative. I use the department’s impound vehicles when I’m on a job and don’t want to look like the fuzz.”

Despite herself, she laughed. “Kind of ironic. You’re out there to arrest the same people I’m trying to save.”

He lounged against the back of the bench again. “I wasn’t arresting anyone that night. I was asking questions. But sometimes an arrest does help. I know more than one kid who’s gone into treatment and went straight because he’d been arrested.”

“But then he’d have a record. I try to catch them before that happens.”

His brow furrowed. “Juvy records are expunged after eighteen, unless the child is tried as an adult.”

“Their records are supposed to be expunged, but I think we both know that’s not always the case. Many times a kid’s juvy record comes back to haunt him.” She knew because she’d been turned down for a job during college for that very reason.

He looked at her, surprise in his eyes. “Unfortunately it happens sometimes. But I think, ultimately, you and I want the same thing.”

As she nodded her agreement, she saw a black sedan with dark tinted windows cruising slowly down the street opposite the park. She glanced to locate Caitlin. The two girls were laughing and playing tag with some other children who’d also come to play. When she looked back, the car was gone.

She had an overwhelming urge to grab Caitlin and run. But that didn’t make sense. Shaking it off, she asked, “What’s so important that you had to track me down?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, why?”

“You seem edgy all of a sudden.”

What could she say…that she was continually on watch in case someone discovered what Cait knew and came after her? She forced a smile. “I get nervous watching Caitlin go so high on the swings. I know I shouldn’t worry so much, but I do.”

His expression was hard to read, but he seemed to believe her.

“She appears to be a very capable child. I doubt you have much to worry about.”

“You’re probably right,” Laura said, relaxing against the bench. She liked being with him, which was silly because he was there on business. But at least she knew she was still capable of feeling something. “Okay. What questions didn’t you ask?”

She thought he’d be happy she was willing to talk, but his expression turned serious and his gaze pierced right through her. Steady and searching, almost as if he could read her mind. Well, if he could, he’d know she was having thoughts that might embarrass both of them—thoughts that at once unnerved and excited her. Lord.

“So far, you’re the only person I’ve talked to who knew Anna Kolnikov, or at least the only person willing to admit to it.”

She tensed, clasped her hands tighter. If there was something she could tell him that would help him find Anna’s killer, she’d do it in a microsecond. But she didn’t know anything. Still, if she answered a few of his questions, maybe that would be the end of it.

“Did you know Kolnikov was a prostitute?”

Briefly, Laura closed her eyes. “I’d heard the rumor.”

“From your husband?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve been on the streets for the shelter since before we married. I talk to people. Word gets around.”

He nodded. “It’s a tough life out there for kids with no place to call home. Really tough.”

“Even worse when they want help and can’t get it. At the shelter, far too many times we discover the parents want nothing to do with their own flesh and blood. I had one of those today. It was heartbreaking.”

“Rejection stings. I don’t know why people have children when they don’t want them.” People like his biological mother, Jordan thought. But that was beside the point. He was here to get information.

“Laura—” he purposely used her first name to set her at ease “—the girls you’ve taken in over the years…do you know if any of them ever worked for Kolnikov?”

She frowned. “The shelter’s information is confidential.”

“I know. You’ll find I ask a lot of questions I shouldn’t ask.” He smiled amiably. “But it never hurts to try.”

She shifted her position on the bench, obviously uncomfortable now.

“Okay, getting back to the case…you mentioned that while your husband was in college he’d worked for his uncle.”

She nodded. “Before we were together.”

“Do you know if he collected money from Kolnikov?”

She wiped her hands on the thighs of her faded jeans—jeans he couldn’t help noticing showed off her soft curves. The red turtleneck sweater she wore complemented her fair skin and deep auburn hair. Luke was right. Stunning was the best word to describe her. And he was noticing too much for his own damned good.

“He was in real estate when we met. I don’t know the details of what he did for his uncle.”

“How did you meet?”

She took a moment, as if weighing her response. Jordan had a knack for reading people, and Ms. Gianni wasn’t very good at hiding her reactions.

“Is that important?”

“Probably not. But when I’m piecing things together, sometimes the information that seems the least important makes everything fall into place.”

“Eddie and I met at the university, but we didn’t date until after we graduated. I’d applied for some grants to run the shelter and had started looking for a piece of property. I discovered Eddie had gone into real estate. He helped me find Victory House. We got married a year later.”

Her gaze shifted to her daughter several times during the conversation. She was still tense. She said she was concerned about her child on the gym equipment, but the look he saw in her eyes was more than concern. “When did you first meet Ms. Kolni—”

Laura bolted to her feet and took off running toward the swings. He jumped up, scanning first the playground and then the peripheral area. The same black sedan was on the other side of the park now, the darkened windows rolled down just enough to see the top of someone’s blond hair. Or was it gray?

As Laura sprinted toward her daughter, Jordan jogged toward the car, keeping a low profile as he moved. The guy could be a father looking for his kid, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d get a plate number and call it in.

But before he could make out the numbers, the car sped away. He strode across the grass to where Laura stood talking to her daughter. “I’m sorry, Detective,” Laura said. “We’re leaving now.”

She held her daughter’s hand in a vise grip, but when she took a step to leave, the child didn’t budge.

“Mo-om. We just got here. I don’t want to go yet. And you’re hurting my hand.”

Laura released her hold. “I’m sorry, Caiti. I…I just think it’s best if we go now.”

“Can’t I play for a few minutes more? Please, please, please.”

Jordan glanced at Laura, then at the kid. “I was going to try out the swings, myself,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

“Pleeease, Mom.”

Laura’s gaze darted to the street and back again. “Ten minutes. No more.”

Jordan felt a small hand latch onto his. “C’mon, Jordan. Let’s go.”

He caught Laura’s attention. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded.

At that, Caitlin all but dragged him to the swings. “Can you push me way high?” She slipped onto a smooth canvas seat.

“Sure, but you have to hold on tight.”