L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (69 page)

“No.” She wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. “Maybe…I don’t know.”

“Did you have any conversation with him at the funeral?”

“Not really. He gave me money. Said he takes care of his own.”

“Do you know what he meant by that?”

“I didn’t know what to think. Maybe he knew Cait was there and thought he was paying me off? Maybe he figured we would have a hard time financially? He is Eddie’s family. Cait’s great-uncle.”

“And you didn’t think any of this should be reported?” He shook his head, his expression as incredulous as Jordan’s had been.

Anger tightening her throat, she pulled up. “I’m sorry, Luke. I did what I thought best for my child. If that means I’m a lawbreaker, then so be it.”

“I’m not standing in judgment.”

“Yes, you are. Both you and Jordan! But then I wouldn’t expect you to understand. If either of you had children of your own you’d know what I’m talking about. A caring parent will do whatever it takes to protect her child.”

Luke stared at her, his expression hard. She saw an undercurrent, something dark and dangerous simmering, which made the veins in his neck pop. He stood. Slowly. Deliberately. “Well, thank you for the parenting lesson. We’re through with this conversation.” He turned and walked down the hall.

She was still sitting there, stunned at his abruptness, when she heard a knock at the front door. She tensed. Had Luke heard the knock? No way was she going to the door. But as she sat there, the knob turned. Her heart raced. And then Jordan entered.

He looked surprised to see her.

“It’s you,” she said on a sigh of relief.

“A good thing, I hope.”

“Considering the alternatives, yes.”

“Where’s Luke?”

“He just left.” She pointed. “Thataway.”

Shucking off his suit jacket, Jordan came over and sat next to her. “Cait in bed?”

“A long time ago.”

“Did you and Luke talk?”

“We did. Until he got angry and stalked off.”

He frowned. “He got angry? Why?”

She stood, her own bottled-up frustration coursing rising. “During our discussion—which really wasn’t a discussion since I was doing all the talking—he seemed…well, like you, he seemed to be judging me for what I did. I got annoyed and told him I don’t think either of you have any idea what being a parent means. That’s when he left the room.”

Jordan bowed his head, pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. He’s got some issues.” His voice was so low she could barely hear him. “Five years ago he lost his son. The ordeal was devastating. It became too much for the marriage and he and his wife divorced because of it. I don’t think he’s ever gotten over either one.”

Laura dropped down next to Jordan. “Oh, Lord. I had no idea.” She leaned forward, hands over her face. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

“You couldn’t have known.”

She sat up. “I feel so horrible. I need to apologize.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that. In the meantime, I’ve got a couple more questions for you.”

Silent, she nodded.

“Do you know where Kolnikov grew up?”

“No.”

“Can you remember anything more about the people in the black car when you took down the license number?”

She looked away.

“You’ve got to help me, Laura. I need to know everything. Even things that don’t seem important to you.”

The sharpness of his words went right through her.

“We’re on the verge here. The car belongs to the Belzar Corporation. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“The president of the Belzar Corporation is Nicholas Stanton. I believe he’s the same guy you met with Kolnikov.” He pulled out Stanton’s photo.

She pulled back, astonished. “What does it mean? Why would he be following us? Why would he—”

“He works for Frank DeMatta. I think we know what it means.”

She slumped against the back of the couch. “Oh…my…God.”

Jordan’s gaze locked with hers. “What?”

“Alysa,” she whispered. “It was Alysa who got out of the black car.”

She saw his jaw twitch. He jerked to his feet, every muscle in his body rigid. “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”

She looked away, then back again. “No, I didn’t. I thought she might be hooking again. I wanted to work it out with her. I thought when I got the license number, you’d find him and I could get a restraining order. Then both the stalking and Alysa’s problem would be solved. I had no idea he worked for anyone, much less DeMatta.”

The hardness around his eyes softened, as if understanding, but it took a moment before he asked, “What made you think she was hooking?”

“That night, I suspected something wasn’t right and I went after her. I parked near the place where she said she was going. A strip mall. Some other girls were standing on the sidewalk and at first I thought they were just hanging out. Then a car pulled up and one of the girls got in. Then it happened again and I realized what was going on. When the black car pulled up and Alysa got out, I was stunned.”

“Did you talk with her?”

“Uh-huh. But not right then. I told her I’d seen her. She said she’d been devastated over her parents’ rejection and thought it didn’t matter what she did anymore. But she realized later she’d made a mistake and she was only hurting herself, not them. I think she’s back on track.”

Jordan shook his head in what seemed to be more disapproval. “But we know differently now.”

Damn it. She was tired of his judgments, tired of finding herself in the wrong all the time. She stood. “I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my decisions. The fact is, in my line of work I come across illegal activities all the time and I’m bound by the laws of confidentiality. I have to make decisions, and as long as I don’t believe a person is a danger to herself or others, I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. So stop judging me.”

Oddly, he smiled. “I’m not. Com’on, let’s sit.”

Her agitation was too great. “I don’t want to sit.”

“Okay. Then we’ll both stand.” He stepped closer and said softly, “Here’s the deal, I’ve found connections between the car, Kolnikov, your ex and some other things I can’t mention. Now you’re saying there’s a connection between Alysa and one of DeMatta’s men. That’s huge. Every single piece of information is important here. Don’t you agree?”

The air left her lungs. “Yes, of course.” For the first time she fully realized how what she’d been doing had only made things worse. And the fact that she knew more about Anna might be important, too. She didn’t know how, but if it could be… “Now that I know what’s involved, everything seems important.”

“And so is what we do from here.”

“What’s that?”

He shook his head. “I’m still figuring it out.”

Laura took a deep breath. If she told him about her past, he’d probably never want to speak to her again. But wouldn’t it be best, anyway? And if there was something, anything, he might think was important…anything that might help make them safe again, give them a normal life, it would be worth it. “There is something else.”

He clenched his hands and squared his shoulders. “Tell me.”

She couldn’t look at him anymore. “I didn’t think this was related in any way, but since I’ve been so wrong about everything else, I’ll let you be the judge.” She turned, kept looking down. “I was a runaway once myself. I lived on the street for a while supporting myself—any way I could. One night I got arrested with…a client… along with some of Anna’s girls and she took me in. I wanted to work for her, but I was only fifteen so she wouldn’t let me. Except to clean her house. That’s where I first saw Eddie. He came to her place every week. I didn’t know what he was doing and the only communication between us was an occasional hello. Later, I—I became pregnant, and when my boyfriend split, Anna let me stay with her. She took me in, no questions asked.”

He raised his head. Stared at her with blank eyes, waiting for her to go on.

“I planned to give the child up for adoption, but I had a miscarriage. When I was feeling better, I contacted my father and made arrangements to go stay with him. I didn’t meet Eddie again until I was in college.”

Jordan looked at her as if she were a stranger, confusion and disbelief in his eyes.

“I didn’t say anything because it’s in my past and none of it seemed to be important…except that I knew Anna and I want to see her killer brought to justice. That’s why I agreed to tell you anything in the first place. I had no idea how much trouble talking to you would bring me and Cait.”

His mouth formed a thin line. “And if you’d known, would you have said anything at all?”

Jordan’s animosity radiated through the room. Just looking at him made her chest hurt. What else could she say? Nothing would make this any better. Tears welled, but she blinked them back and took a deep breath.

“I can understand if you despise me. I’ve done things you find unconscionable. But I’ve never claimed to be anyone other than who I am. I haven’t done terrible things to anyone except myself.” She took a quick breath. “I also don’t expect you or anyone else to understand.”

Jordan, his back ramrod straight and his expression unchanged, seemed impervious to anything she’d just said.

He didn’t even want to acknowledge her. And there was nothing she could do to fix it.

The heartbreaking realization sinking in, she raised her chin. Looked directly at him. “So, what do you think we should do now?”

He looked at her now, his eyes dark with emotions she could only imagine. Anger. Disappointment. Hate.

He threw up his hands. “I have no idea.”

“Well, I have some.”

Laura turned at the voice. Luke.

Jordan pried out his next words. “Any and all ideas are welcome.” He glanced at Laura, then back to Luke and said, “Later, when we’re alone.”

Something in her chest seized. He didn’t trust her enough to even include her in the discussion. But how could she blame him?

“You’ll be alone now. I’m going to bed.” She started to walk away, then stopped, directing her comments to Luke. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I made an assumption and I feel like a fool because of it. I’m truly sorry.”

Luke didn’t breathe a word but nodded his acknowledgment. Then, with what little composure she could muster, she fled the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY

AN HOUR LATER
, Jordan had shucked his suit and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. Laura had dropped another bomb on him. Oddly, he could understand why she’d kept the information about Caitlin being at her father’s a secret, especially when her ex was supposed to be protected. But the rest of it hit him on a personal level. She wasn’t the person he believed she was.

She’d been going to give up her child. The only reason she hadn’t was because nature stepped in. He snatched his leather jacket from the front closet and yanked open the front door.

Luke’s voice stopped him. “You got a plan?”

Jordan turned. “I have to talk to some people.”

“To see if their stories gibe?”

“Something like that.” Jordan glanced at the clock. “You okay here for an hour?”

“I’ll hold down the fort, but when you get back, we talk.”

“Sure.”

As Jordan headed for his car, a stiff sea breeze blew in from the shore, and he breathed it in deeply. He had to have a clear head, stay focused on the job, not on his personal life—not on how Laura was a chameleon, how she’d fooled him. What might she spring on him next?

Within the hour, he pulled up at Vincento’s. This time there were more than a half-dozen cars in front. Either the place was busy or the mob was having a conference. He should be wary about going inside, but instead he felt numb.

The place was filled to capacity, mostly neighborhood types. The mouth-watering scent of garlic teased his olfactory glands. Italian music—someone singing
Volare
—and a cacophony of voices filled the air. He spotted DeMatta and Stanton immediately at the same table in the back. As he headed toward them, he heard nothing but his heart drumming in his ears. No fear? Yeah, right.

Reaching the table, he spoke directly to Stanton. “We need to talk privately.”

DeMatta’s face pinched. “Whatever you got to say, you can say it right here.”

Ignoring DeMatta, Jordan directed his words to Stanton. “Either we talk privately here or I take you downtown. Your choice.”

Stanton glanced at DeMatta, who nodded.

“Out front,” Jordan said, motioning with a tip of his head and together they walked back through the restaurant, heads turning to look at them as they went outside.

Stanton was taller than him by a couple of inches and probably had a few pounds on him, as well. He looked to be in great condition and Jordan hoped this didn’t develop into anything ugly. In any case, he was prepared.

“What can I do for you, Detective?”

The guy had manners, sounded well educated, at least if his diction had anything to do with it. For a guy from New York, he had no accent whatsoever. “You can answer some questions.”

“If I can.”

“What were you doing with the kid from Victory House in your car last week?”

“She needed a ride. I gave her one.”

The guy never flinched, never hesitated, never registered emotion of any kind. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Prove it.”

“I intend to.”

“Is that it?”

“Tell me about your relationship with Anna Kolnikov.”

He saw something flash in Stanton’s eyes, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Concern? Not likely. Recognition? Maybe.

“I told you, I don’t know the woman.”

“Did you use your hometown connection to gain her trust?”

Stanton crossed his arms. “Whatever you’re getting at, Detective, either say it or get the hell out of here.”

“You were observed at Kolnikov’s place on several occasions. And the two of you were seen at a restaurant having dinner.”

He shrugged. “So, okay. I met her a couple times and had dinner. That’s no crime.” He smiled at Jordan, almost as if he were playing a game of chess and he’d made a strategic move. Now it was Jordan’s turn. “Are you done?”

“Two words,” Jordan said. “Belzar Corporation.”

Lines formed around Stanton’s mouth.

It was a bluff, but it was all he had. Planting the idea they had more information than they did was all he had.

“That’s it?” Stanton asked.

“For now.”

***

Laura hit the bed
emotionally exhausted. So many thoughts raced through her head, she could go crazy. What was Alysa’s connection to one of DeMatta’s thugs? It didn’t make sense. Unless the guy was setting up another business like Anna’s. Or maybe he was trying to get to her and Cait through Alysa?

She shivered as a cold chill ran through her.

Was it DeMatta who’d killed Eddie? Or did he just happen to be there that night? Had he sent one of his thugs to do the job and he came by just to be sure? Or was it someone else altogether? Eddie certainly had his enemies. So, how would she ever know?

Maybe she’d never know. But one thing Jordan had said stood out above the rest. If someone wanted to hurt her or Cait, he hadn’t made an effort to do it.

Luke had had the same negative reaction to her story as Jordan, and now she almost regretted that she’d said anything. Mostly she couldn’t shake the devastation that lingered since she saw the look of shock and disgust in Jordan’s eyes.

In a way, she was relieved she’d told him everything. She didn’t have to carry all her dark secrets alone any longer. What would come of it all was the million-dollar question. And in the end…she knew she trusted Jordan would do whatever he could to protect them. And just maybe, she and Cait could someday live like normal people.

It was 5:00 a.m. when Laura awoke. She rolled over in bed and wrapped the sheet around her. Another day of interminable waiting. Waiting and wondering what was going to happen next. God, she was so tired of it.

She elbowed to a sitting position in bed, reached over and turned on the lamp on the night table. Sitting there, she noticed for the first time a photograph on the chest across from her. She slipped from the bed and took the photo back to look at it under the light.

It was Luke with a beautiful dark-haired woman and a child, a towheaded boy about four years old. The same age Caitlin had been when her father died. A pain twisted in Laura’s chest. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must’ve been for Luke to lose his son. How awful for anyone to lose a child. She set the photo back on the chest, her heart aching for Luke and the family he no longer had.

Or was it for the traditional family she’d wanted and never had.

Was there ever a time when life might’ve been different?

No, there was no going back. We are who we are. And maybe life hadn’t turned out exactly as she wanted, but she had a beautiful daughter and her life was full. That should be more than enough.

Three years ago, she’d made a necessary decision. And that decision had changed her life. Right or wrong, she didn’t know. She’d felt helpless for so long. But Jordan’s words came back to her, “You can go to the police.”

Yes, she could go to the police and tell them everything—in fact, she had to. But not before she had assurances that Caitlin would be safe.

She rolled out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweats. Everything was still when she opened the door. Still and dark, except for the sliver of moonlight that shone through the small window above the front door. From the top of the stairs, she could make out Jordan’s form on the couch, one arm over his eyes. She tiptoed down the stairs and stole across the room, careful not to make any noise. But just as she reached the end of the couch, she felt a hand grab her wrist.

“Going somewhere?” Jordan’s voice…so soft she barely heard him.

“To the kitchen,” she whispered back.

“It’s very early.”

“I know. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Okay, but don’t make any noise.” He turned away from her and jammed a pillow over his head.

In the kitchen, she found a glass, poured herself some milk and then sat at the Formica table in the middle of the room. The 1920s stove and the old glass cabinet doors made her feel as if she’d been transported back in time. No renovations here…which was probably a good thing. Renovations would’ve spoiled the essence of the room. Luke didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be decorating anything, much less doing a retro look, so she had to assume someone else had a hand in it. His ex-wife, most likely.

She noticed a pile of dirty dishes in the old cast-iron sink, got up and started to run some water. A noise behind her caused her to whip around so fast, she dropped the cup in her hand and it clattered against the tile counter. Her hands shook as she fumbled to keep the delicate cup from falling to the floor.

“Sorry if I scared you. I thought you heard me coming in.”

She leaned against the counter, her pulse beating in her throat. “I guess I was preoccupied.”

“That looks good,” he said, indicating the milk on the table.

“I’ll get you some.” She went to the sink and washed out a glass. “I think your friend needs a maid.”

“Maybe. Guys aren’t the greatest housekeepers.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll bet your place is neat as a pin.”

His mouth lifted at the corners but didn’t quite make a smile. “You’d be wrong.”

After she poured him some milk, they sat at the table, silent, as if there was nothing left to say. But she did have something to say, and she wanted to get it all out there.

“I know what I told you before was probably a shock. I’m sorry about that. But I can’t change the past…and I’m proud of what I’ve done with my life. I’ve also come to realize you were right. I can’t go on like this. And if you can make sure Cait and I are protected, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything.”

Thoughtful, Jordan lingered over his glass of milk. Finally he said, “There was a time when I thought going to the police was the best thing to do…but—”

“But what?”

“I still think it’s the right thing to do, but it might not be the safest thing to do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, and I can’t tell you anything more, except that we have to work this from another angle.”

“Because?”

“Because I’ve found out some things that need to be kept quiet until we have hard evidence. If you go to the police, it’ll become public information, a feeding frenzy for the media.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Wait.”

“And what happens while we wait?”

“I’ll work on it.”

“Fine. But I’m going to wait at home.”

He did a double take. “Excuse me.”

“I believe you were right. If someone really wanted to hurt me or Cait, he’s had plenty of opportunities. Since he hasn’t, he must have another agenda.”

“Maybe so. But since we don’t know what his agenda is… I think it’s too dangerous to take that chance.”

“I’m going back to the shelter later today. I’m tired of running, letting this person pull all the strings. This has to stop. If you want me to go to the station and tell them everything, I will. If I can do something else, tell me what.”

He rubbed his chin. “If you insist on going back, maybe you can talk to Alysa. Find out what she was doing with Nick Stanton.”

“I already talked to her about it. I don’t think she’ll tell me anything new, but I’ll ask.”

“If it doesn’t work, then I’ll talk to her.”

“Do you have any other plans?”

“I’ll need to make sure you and Cait are well protected. I know a few people.”

“And other than that?”

“I’m working on it.”

***

Jordan hated that Laura had decided to go back to the shelter, but she was stubborn and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. And if he couldn’t convince her, the least he could do was make sure she had protection. He checked his watch. Was it too soon to call? She’d only been back home an hour.

“Hey, buddy.” Luke came over and slapped a printout on Jordan’s desk. “Something for you.” He glanced at Mary Beth. “From you know who.”

Jordan scanned the paper. Apparently Mary Beth had done more research on Stanton, research he hadn’t asked her to do. Was she trying to ingratiate herself? Or find out more about what he was doing? The second he thought it, he felt foolish. Sheesh. Now he was second-guessing the admin assistant. As if she could be a mole. Stupid.

He glanced at the printout. No history from the time Stanton left New Paltz, when he’d have been about twenty-two, until the time of his incarceration at Attica in 2012. Ten years missing.

He shoved back in his chair. Stanton’s history was probably the most insignificant piece of information on the case. All he really wanted to know was if he was the guy DeMatta hired to take out Kolnikov and later Valdez. For DeMatta to have been at Eddie Gianni’s on the night of his murder, it was possible the mobster even managed a few hits of his own.

He needed to start from the beginning, draw a time line. He picked up the Kolnikov file one more time, scanning the list of personal effects. One tiny shred of evidence could make the case—the right piece of evidence.