On Best Behavior (C3) (44 page)

He finally slid into the seat across from her. “Did
that
…really happen? Did my dad force a gun in my hands?”

She stroked her chin. “I don’t know for sure. From your reaction, and Grant’s reaction, it seems likely, though.”

“Did I…” His voice grew softer. “Did I kill that guy?”

“I don’t know that either. I do know it wasn’t your fault—you were just a child. But that’s not the point now.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Then what
is
the fucking point?”

“The point is that
you
are not an evil man!” she shouted. “Everything you’ve done—the alcoholism, the child abuse, the crime—it’s all understandable. It’s not excusable, but it’s understandable. You parented like your father showed you. You didn’t know there was a different choice.”

“There
was
no choice! I had to take care of my family. They needed me. Look what’s happened since I’ve been stuck in here. My
family!
Fucking destroyed!”

“There
is
a choice now,” Sophie said. “There’s a choice involving your family.” She stared into those deep eyes. “Choose good…Choose
love
. Don’t let your father’s actions keep destroying you. Tell me how to help Grant.”

He slouched in the chair, no longer possessing the gravitas of a mafia don. “I already told you I don’t know where Grant is.”

“Mr. Barberi.” She leaned forward and grasped his hands. “I love Grant…so much. I want to marry him. Please. I know you can help us. You’re the leader of this family, and you can do this. It’s not too late.”

He held her gaze for a moment before pulling his hands away. “Fuck.” He stared at the mirror on the far wall. Her heartbeat thrummed—each passing second of silence like a thread of Grant’s life unraveling, her connection to him more and more distant. Maybe it
was
too late for Grant’s father. Maybe he’d been in prison too long to ever feel love or empathy again.

Finally he turned back to her. “Okay.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was approached tonight after chow. The Russians want money or they’ll kill Grant.”

Jesus
. Chills bloomed up her spine, and she snuck a glance at the mirror. “I thought visiting hours ended a while ago.”

He didn’t respond.
Oh
. The Russians had contacts in the prison.

“But even if I wanted to buy his freedom, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have that kind of money anymore.”

Her shoulders slumped, but then she sat up. “Wait—my father will put up the money.”

“Your old man’s got two million dollars?”

“Um…”

There was the sound of a key in the lock, and Marilyn burst in the door, quickly shutting it behind her. “Hello, Mr. Barberi.”

She grunted and gripped the doorknob. Sophie realized someone else was trying to get into the room. Frantic knocking ensued, and Marilyn rolled her eyes, then wrenched open the door. “Officers,” she hissed at Jerry and the CO, “let the women handle it.” She closed the door in their faces and sat next to Sophie.

“Mr. Barberi, thank you so much for meeting with us. You remember I’m Detective Marilyn Fox, Chicago PD?”

Sophie caught the suspicion in Enzo’s eyes. “She’s the detective who found Logan’s body,” she said. “She’s helped Grant and me so much.”

Marilyn leaned in. “Mr. Barberi, I understand there wasn’t any love lost between your family and the Russians. Do you want to destroy their organization?”

He eyed her, his face pale and tired. “I don’t care what happens to them.” His eyes locked on Sophie’s. “I just want to get my son back.”

Thank you
, she mouthed. She smiled at him as tears spilled down her cheeks.

24. Congest

“W
HY
H
AVEN’T
T
HEY
C
ALLED
?” Ben cried. He ran his fingers through his mess of scruffy brown hair.

Sophie opened her mouth to formulate a response, but Marilyn beat her to it, patting his shoulder. “Agent Bounter will call soon. It’s hard to wait, I know.”

The understatement of the year
. Sophie glanced around the interrogation room. Everyone seemed as anxious as Ben. Next to him, at the head of the table, his mother, Ashley, stared down at her lap, guilt emanating off of her. Across the table, Marilyn fidgeted constantly, and Jerry sat still as a stone. Her father sat next to her, but he kept his back to her as he talked with about the tenth construction contractor he’d called, pumping each man for information about the Russians. He again seemed to be coming up empty. Agent Thompson stood by the wall with a helpless expression, frowning occasionally at his cell phone, which remained silent in his hand.

And she knew she wore her emotions on her face as well. She wasn’t just anxious; she was terrified.

Ben turned to her, the circles under his eyes now darker and hollowed. “Grandpa said he’d talk to the guy at Gurnee tonight, right? Pretend he wanted to pay to get Uncle Grant back?”

“Yes, Ben.” He’d asked that question several times, but she couldn’t be irritated. She was barely holding it together. What must this wait be like for a teenager?

“Mr. Barberi did speak with another prisoner a couple of hours ago,” Marilyn said. “As far as we know, the other prisoner set up an exchange between the Russians and someone they think is the Barberi representative—but will actually be thirty FBI agents.”

“But how’d the prisoner get word to the Russians?” Ben wondered. “They’re not allowed to make phone calls this late, right?”

“We’re guessing the other prisoner paid off a CO to call the Russians for him. Like I said, the place is corrupt.” Marilyn’s eyes blazed.

“They better catch that dirty guard, whoever he is,” Jerry grumbled.

“They will.” She patted his hand absently.

Ben’s fingertips drummed a dirge on the table.

“How ’bout you lay down in that corner?” Sophie suggested. “I’m guessing you didn’t get any sleep last night. You look exhausted.”

“As if I could sleep right now!”

Ashley looked up, mascara streaks down her face. “Ben, honey, Sophie’s right. You should get some sleep. Or how about some food?” She pointed to the plate of untouched bagels on the table.

“Jesus, Mom! You look like a freaking raccoon. Stop crying!”

Ashley swiped at her cheeks.

“Agent Thompson, can you get some tissues?” Sophie asked. She worried he would find that task beneath him, but he actually looked relieved as he bolted out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Ashley murmured. She sniffed. “I’m so sorry for bringing that awful man into our lives, Benji.”

He looked away. “I already told you it’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is!” She was about to say more when Agent Thompson returned and handed her a box of tissues. She plucked a few and scrubbed her cheeks. “I never should’ve trusted
Hans
.” She looked down. “I should’ve known he wasn’t interested in
me
.” She dabbed under her eyes, which had filled with tears again.

“Ashley…” Sophie searched for the right words. “You’re a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart. Don’t give up.”

She cried harder.

“I know how frightening it is to trust again.” Sophie felt her father’s stare and glanced over to find he was off his phone. She swallowed. “It’s
so
uncomfortable. But you’ll find love with a good man. You deserve more love in your life.”

“How can you say that?” she asked. “After I risked Ben’s life by being so stupid? What if Grant
dies?
It’ll be my fault!”

Sophie’s heart hammered. Grant wouldn’t die…Grant
couldn’t
die. She took a deep breath. “Grant was aware of the risks of going undercover. But he felt he had to do it, to honor his mother’s memory. He loved his mother, and he didn’t want the Mafia hurting anyone like her again.” She gestured to Ashley’s son. “Ben’s like his uncle that way. Of course he didn’t say anything about the threat to Grant’s life, because he was scared they’d kill you. He loves you.”

Ashley turned to Ben. “I love you so much. I’m gonna be a better mom to you, okay?” She reached out, and Sophie exhaled when Ben accepted her hug.

You’re already a better mom, Ashley.

Her father patted her hand and smiled at her. “I’m glad you took the risk to trust again, Soph.”

Her upper lip quivered. “Me too, Dad.” She blinked away her tears. “Do you…do you think Grant will be okay?”

“I do.” He held her hand. “Grant’s a fighter. He certainly fought
me
hard.” She managed to smile at his grumpy tone. “He fought for you.”

She sniffed and nodded.

“And
you
fought for Grant.” Her father’s eyes squinted like they did when he was mad at her, and she held her breath. “I was so ticked at you for going to Gurnee, and you didn’t listen to me…But you did it, Sophie. I don’t know how you convinced that bastard to save Grant.”

She shrugged. “Well, Enzo is Grant’s father. I knew he couldn’t be all bad if he produced a son like Grant.”

“How’d my daughter get so damn smart?”

It certainly wasn’t reading accounting textbooks
, she wanted to retort. Instead, she said, “She takes after her parents.”

“Thompson.” The agent answering his phone brought all eyes to him. He listened for a few seconds, then broke out in a huge grin. “They have Grant!”

Sophie shot out of her chair and ran to Ben. He leaped up and hugged her, and they circled around as he laughed and she cried happy tears.

“Sophie.”

The agent’s voice halted her celebration. “Yes?”

“Bounter wants you to meet him at the hospital.”

Her smile vanished. “Did he get hurt in the exchange?”

Agent Thompson shook his head. “It’s Grant. They’re rushing him to the hospital.”

Her shaking hand covered her mouth.

***

Northwestern Memorial Hospital
. She hadn’t walked these halls since she’d been a patient last August—a gunshot victim.

She shivered as she followed Agent Thompson’s brisk steps. “Where did they take Grant?”

“The ER.”

“What
happened
to him?” she asked through a tightening throat. “Tell me!”

He waited for her to catch up. “He has multiple injuries—that’s all I know. Apparently the Russians roughed him up.”

When they rounded the corner, she identified Bounter standing next to another agent. “Agent Bounter!”

He handed his coffee to the other agent and scooped her up in a surprise hug. She closed her eyes as he enveloped her in his arms.

“That was a tough one, Sophie, but we did it,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got most of those bastards locked up now. When they realized we were feds, not Barberis, you should’ve seen their faces. It was like the return of the Cold War.”

“Excuse me, ah, it’s great you busted the Russians, but how is
Grant?”

“Oh, sorry. They’ve taken him for tests. CT scans, I think?” He looked over her shoulder at Agent Thompson. “Ms. Fredrickson and her son are secure?”

“Yes, sir,” Thompson said. “How’s John?”

“In surgery,” Bounter answered.

Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but asked, “Who’s John?”

“Another agent.” Bounter’s rubbed his hand over his face. “He got shot a few times in the exchange, but he’ll be okay. Better than Mullens, anyway. He’s in the morgue.”

Sophie’s eyes bugged. “Did
Grant
get shot?”

“We don’t think so.”

“You don’t
think
so? Why does he need CT scans?” Her voice trembled. “What’d they do to him?”

“They knocked him around a bit,” Bounter admitted. “He’s, ah, he’s a little bruised.”

Two orderlies rolled a hospital bed around the corner and swung it toward her. The patient had a gauze bandage wrapped over the top of his head and under his jaw. He had buzzed, black hair, and his feet stretched to the very end of the bed beneath the sheet. As the bed wheeled closer, she felt stirrings of nausea and her lips parted in horror. “A
little
bruised?” She raced to the bed and clutched the metal rails, looking down at Grant’s battered face. His beautiful, destroyed face.

His eyes opened as she whimpered. Thank goodness they hadn’t hurt his crystal blue eyes. He croaked out a word that resembled her name.