Lethal Journey (2 page)

The car slid a
half circle and spun out of control. A massive tidal wave of water
washed over the roof.

Her father
clutched the dashboard with both hands. “The tree!”

She yanked the
steering wheel hard to the left.

Wood
splintered. Metal buckled, squealed and cracked. The air bag struck
her body like a fist, and smacked her head against the side window.
She pushed at it, viciously. With every move, fiery pain shot
through her face and down her neck. The sickening sweet stench of
gasoline and smoke filled her nostrils. Her head clouded.

Lauren heard
her own voice, pinched and muffled, cry out. “Dad!” until her words
drifted into silence.

Earlier that
day...

Buff Stud
Looking For Slender Goddess.

Get Real.
Lauren
leaned forward in the leather chair, sipped her Chamomile tea, and
searched the personal ads on the Heavenly Dates web site. From her
previous visits, familiar faces cluttered the screen. Page after
page she explored. Blue eyes the color of a bright summer morning
stared back at her.

She clutched
her cup of tea with both hands.

Professional
Race Car Driver Seeks Intelligent, Independent, Slender Woman.
Thirty-three year old male, six-foot-one, one-hundred and
eighty-five pounds, muscular. Enjoys white water rafting, traveling
and skydiving.

Again, her gaze
wandered over the man’s youthful face and broad smile. She read the
small print below the picture.

Not interested
in marriage or children. Only a companion.

In other words,
just sex. She slammed the cup down on the office desk, tea splashed
across the Yankees sweatshirt she wore.

The chime of
the grandfather clock from the living room forced her back to
reality. She closed the laptop lid, and ran to the bathroom to
prepare for dinner at the Four Season’s with her father.

With ease, she
twisted and tucked her long chestnut colored hair to create an
elegant up-do. Rays of light reflected down from the Pueblo design
fixture high above the oval mirror. Hidden within the antique
makeup tray, she found her lip pencil and lined her lips. Next, she
added her favorite shade of hot pink lipstick to enhance her fair
skin. Midnight black mascara over her lashes, and her makeup was
complete.

After hunting
through the walk-in closet, she pulled out a classic black dress
she’d bought last week. Perched on the edge of the canopy bed she
dressed, and then slipped on three-inch black heels, careful not to
snag her stockings.

Six long chimes
from the clock blared through the house.

Her gaze darted
to the dresser. Dozens of perfume bottles, atomizers and Victorian
powder boxes covered the cherry wood top. She chose a fragrance,
dabbed a little behind her ears, down her neck and inside both
wrists. A rich bouquet of roses, sweet powder, and lily of the
valley surrounded her.

Lucy
barked.

Lauren smoothed
her dress over her hips and quickly checked herself in the mirror
before heading into the hallway.

“It’s okay,
Lucy.” At Lauren’s words the chubby dog stopped barking and
sat.

Through the
living room bay window, Lauren watched the black Jaguar pull in the
driveway and park. Before her father had a chance to knock, she
flung the door open and smiled at him. He was dressed in a charcoal
gray suit and crisp white shirt. He carried a bouquet of long stem
yellow roses.

“For me?”
Lauren asked.

His eyes lit
and he handed her the flowers. “Happy birthday, babygirl.” He
patted Lucy on the top of the head.

The dog wagged
her tail and bounced up and down, determined to play.

“My favorite.
Thanks.” Lauren kissed his cheek. “Come on. I’ll put these in some
water.”

As she leaned
against the kitchen counter and unwrapped the flowers, her father
stood in front of the oak French doors that led to the cobblestone
patio. She left the roses on the counter and pushed open the patio
doors.

Her gaze
wandered over the lavish green lawns with gardens scattered
throughout. “My pride and joy.” Parasol lights lit the huge lawn,
abundant spotlights illuminated the multi-hued gardens.

“Incredible.
Did you add more roses? Those huge yellow ones over there?” He
pointed to the oval garden on the left of the patio.

“Yeah. Sun
Flares. They smell like licorice.”

A grin crossed
his lips. “Hey, remember your tenth birthday?”

Of course she
did. Every birthday since her brother Jamie died, her father made
each birthday count. Grown up fancy dinners at ritzy restaurants,
extravagant gala parties and trips around the world.

“How could I
forget England? Stately homes, castles and abbeys, wandering
through the lush countryside and those impeccable gardens. That’s
where I got my inspiration. I’d love to go again.”

Her father
smiled. “Ever thought about getting into the landscaping
business?”

Lauren laughed.
“No thanks. I’ll stick to being a prosecutor like you.”

A gust of hot
humid air brushed against her face. To the west, dark storm clouds
built over the city as muffled thunder rumbled through the thick
night air.

“We’re in for a
good storm by the looks of it.”

“I think you’re
right,” her father said.

She patted him
on the shoulder and walked back to the counter to cut the roses.
“Take a look at the living room. I finally finished redecorating
last weekend.”

From the open
concept kitchen she watched him look around the room. Honey faux
finished walls warmed the room, cherry wood floors glistened with
polish. A mixture of antique and contemporary furniture upholstered
in faded tapestries occupied the space.

“Wow. You’ve
been a busy girl. Looks great.”

“I got rid of
those sage green walls.” She arranged the flowers in the lead
crystal vase and placed the vase on the kitchen table. “That damn
green made the room look like a stick of rotten celery.”

Her father
smiled. “My talented daughter. District attorney, Harvard grad, no
less. Gardener and now interior decorator.”

She studied him
unnoticed in front of the stone fireplace with a photograph of
Jamie in his hand. His body slumped forward against the mantel. Her
heart skipped a beat. He lowered his head and cleared his throat
then stroked the outline of Jamie’s face.

Inner
torment gnawed at her heart and her mother’s voice blared through
her head.
I
hate you.
“Dad?”

He turned. “How
long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

“You know this
is my favorite picture of the little guy. I see so much of your
mother in Jamie, her fine blonde hair and round blue eyes.

Lauren
shivered. Thank God, she didn’t look anything like her mother.

“How can you
still miss her? It’s been over twenty-five years.”

“I can’t
explain it. I just do.”

“I certainly
don’t,” Lauren snapped.

Her father drew
a deep breath. “Put the past where it belongs, Lauren. Today's
special. It’s your birthday.”

Her
thirty-first birthday. A day of celebration. But memories and
emptiness surrounded her. A void in her heart, an empty place at
the dinner table. Everyday growing up she’d pray her mother would
die of old age in Woodhills State Psychiatric Hospital. Lauren
would never forget Jamie, or the woman who killed him.

Lightning burst
across the night sky. Wind whipped through the trees.

She pulled the
French doors closed. “We’d better get going.”

Lucy ran to the
front door and sat at Lauren’s feet.

“Sorry. You
can’t come with us. You be a good girl while I’m gone.” Lauren
pointed to the doggy bed.

Lucy barked
once and went and laid down.

“Want to
drive?”

“The Jag?”

“Sure why not?
It’s your birthday.”

She snatched
the keys from his hand. “Ready?”

“Let’s
celebrate.” The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice.

* * * *

An hour and
half later, Lauren’s father escorted her through the towering front
doors of the Four Seasons Restaurant.

At the top of
the stairs, she glanced around the room filled with the upscale
crowd. Actors, wannabees and the wealthy. Some familiar and some
not. Of all the restaurants in New York, this had always been her
favorite. She loved the extravagant décor—walls covered with a
fortune of fine art and decorated with hard-to-find collectibles.
As she walked past the white marble pool the soothing sound of
water engulfed the main dining room.

“Good evening,”
the waiter said. “Would you like to hear this evening’s specials?”
He quickly filled the crystal water glasses.

“No thanks. I
think we’re ready to order.”

“Dad, I’ll have
my usual.”

“Okay. Let’s
start with a bottle of Corton Pougets 1995.”

“Excellent
choice, sir.”

“For our
appetizer, we’ll have the Scottish salmon roll and some Osetra
caviar. Miss Taylor will have the Dover sole with lemon sauce. I’ll
have the filet mignon, rare, with grilled portabellas.”

The waiter
nodded. “Very well.”

When the wine
arrived, her father raised his glass in salute. “I propose a
toast.”

She raised her
wine glass to meet his.

“Happy birthday
to my beautiful daughter. You have brought me so much joy these
past thirty-one years. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” While
she sipped her wine, he pulled a burgundy box from his inside
breast pocket and slid it across the table.

“What’s this?”
The look on his face reminded her of how his eyes would beam bright
with joy at her and Jamie when they opened their Christmas gifts.
Intrigued, she popped open the box. Diamonds shimmered in the
candlelight.

“Dad, it’s
gorgeous.”

“A little
something I found on Fifth Avenue. Do you like it?”

Lauren smiled
and clasped the white gold bracelet around her wrist. “Of course I
do. Thank you. It’s beautiful.” She started to nibble on a bread
twist and noticed her father yawn. “Tough day?”

“Yeah. I spent
most of the afternoon reading through my old files on Valdina.”

“You should be
the one taking him on again. You’re still the Deputy District
Attorney.”

She never
forgot the look of disappointment in her father’s eyes when the
decision came down ten years ago.
Not guilty of murder.
With lots of money tucked away and dozens
of associates bought and paid for, Gino Valdina’s “friends” would
gladly take the fall for him. Anytime. At any cost. And
had.

“You know
that’s not possible. The farther I stay away from the case the
better. We don’t want to give Ricardo Pinstronna any excuse to ask
the judge for a mistrial. The guy is the true meaning of a
slime-ball. He gives lawyers a bad name. Did you know he defended a
dozen of Bonanno’s crew in the eighties and won?”

“I didn’t know
that. Well he’s not going to get his client off this time.
Valdina’s claim that someone broke into his house while he was out
of town and slaughtered his wife for revenge doesn’t wash. I’m sure
he has enemies, lots of them. Being head of New York’s oldest and
most influential Cosa Nostra for over thirty years, no doubt there
are people lined up waiting to take him out and anyone he’s
connected with. The evidence doesn’t lie.” Lauren paused and took a
sip of her wine before continuing. “Gino killed Madelina in cold
blood. She was fed up with his ‘goomatta’ and demanded fidelity in
their marriage. When he refused to give up his long-term mistress,
Madelina took matters in her own hands and filed for a divorce. Not
something you do when you’re married to the mob. When you’re a
Mafia wife you’re “owned” for life. I’m confident the state will
prove their case.”

“And I’m
confident my brilliant and beautiful daughter will nail the
bastard’s ass to the wall.”

She hoped he
was right. “We’ll get him.”

Her father
leaned back in the chair. “Troy said he wouldn’t be surprised if
Pinstronna wants to make an eleventh hour deal.”

Troy Granger.
Assistant District Attorney. An attractive playboy known throughout
the state of New York. Even his name made Lauren’s skin crawl. She
detested the man and the feeling was mutual. To fuel the fire even
more, her best friend Amanda Richmond had become Troy’s recent love
conquest. The thought of Amanda and Troy vacationing in the Bahamas
almost made Lauren sick.

Lauren put the
linen napkin on her lap. “I couldn’t care less what Troy thinks.
He’s not running this trial. There won’t be any deals. It’s all or
nothing.”

“That’s my
girl. You sound very much like your old man. Hey, look. Here comes
our dinner.”

“Great, I’m
starved.”

After the
waiter put the salmon roll and caviar on the table, they dug
in.

When their
entrees were served, Lauren pushed the green beans to the side of
her plate and took a bite of the sole. Across the room a waitress
snapped a picture of a young couple cuddled together in a booth.
The man looked deep into the woman’s eyes, and then seductively
kissed the woman’s cheek.

“Dating anyone
these days?”

The fork
slipped from between Lauren’s fingers and fell to her plate with a
clang, but went unnoticed due to the festive hum of the restaurant.
“What?”

“Dating
anyone?”

She swallowed
hard. “You know I haven’t dated much since—”

“Eric?”

“Yes, since
Eric. Do we have to discuss this tonight?”

“I’m just
concerned. You don’t seem to have much of a social life.”

“Come on, you
make me sound like a nun. I don’t have much free time these days. I
volunteer every Saturday at the Humane Society. The Women’s Law
Association meets every other Tuesday and my days are pretty full
with this case.”