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Authors: Janice Cantore

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Visible Threat (20 page)

BOOK: Visible Threat
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54

M
AGDA WAS GLAD
Anton had suggested they go straight to the police station because she wasn’t sure how to go about contacting the police. She knew time was of the essence, but she’d had so little contact with American police, she didn’t know who would take her seriously. She’d thought about dialing 911, but the first time she’d called 911 was the day she’d come home to find Anton beaten and tied up. The only other time she’d hit the three digits, she’d tried to report a traffic accident and been put on hold for twenty minutes. That wait just wouldn’t work right now, especially given Simon’s odd phone call. And Magda wanted to be certain that the police understood she was not overreacting or imagining danger. She didn’t think she could get her point across to a faceless operator on a phone line without sounding hysterical.

Without further delay she and Anton jumped into his car. While he drove, Magda dug through her purse for the cards the two detectives who’d visited her shop had given her.

They arrived at the station in ten minutes, and together
she and Anton walked into the downtown lobby. Preceding them into the station was a uniformed police officer escorting a handcuffed prisoner, presumably to jail. Magda watched them pass through a door marked Authorized Personnel Only, and her courage faltered. Would that be her after she told the detectives what she knew?

She squeezed Anton’s hand and drew strength from his presence. Stepping up to the counter, thick bulletproof glass separating her from the uniformed individual seated on the other side, Magda cleared her throat.

“Can I help you?” a young Asian man wearing the uniform of a police service assistant asked. His name tag identified him as G. Wang, and his voice sounded tinny through the speaker in the glass.

“I must speak to either Detective Jack O’Reilly or Detective Ben Carney. It’s urgent.” Magda leaned forward for emphasis.

The young man’s expression never changed. “And what is this regarding?”

“They’ll know when you tell them it is Magda Boteva asking for them.”

G. Wang looked bored but picked up the phone and called for the detectives. After a moment he hung up. “Sorry, neither one of those detectives are in today.”

Magda hadn’t considered this possibility. She had no idea who else to talk to, which detectives she could trust. G. Wang looked around her, his expression saying clearly that she’d been dismissed and he had other people to help.

“Wait.” Anton spoke up from her right. “Is Detective Darryl Welty available?”

Magda remembered the name as that of the detective who had handled the break-in of their house. The time Demitri had sent his message by beating and humiliating Anton.

Wang frowned and picked the phone up again. This time when he hung up, he actually smiled. “He’ll be right down. Please have a seat.”

Magda couldn’t sit. She paced until Darryl Welty stepped into the lobby. A tall man with thick brown hair and brown eyes, he smiled, and Magda knew they were doing the right thing.

“What can I do for you two?” Welty asked.

“Detective Welty.” Magda took a deep breath, wringing her hands. “The two women on the news
 
—the officer’s mother and the girl, the ones who were kidnapped
 
—I know who took them.”

55

A
COUPLE MUGS
of coffee helped Brinna shake the groggy feeling she’d awakened with.

Chuck phoned a few minutes after she’d left her message. While he’d had nothing to report about her mother, he did say that things were moving forward in the investigation
 
—a good sign as far as Brinna was concerned. When things stalled out and leads dried up was when there was cause to worry.

The man who’d killed himself when they entered the house was as yet unidentified. The girls knew him only as Sergei. And besides Demitri, the girls could only give them two other first names: Simon and Gavin. Chuck promised composites and BOLOs within the hour. The house itself might eventually lead somewhere, Chuck said, if they could trace a buyer or broker.

“The house is owned by a corporation,” he’d told her. “It’s most likely a cover, a dummy business, but we’ve found three other properties owned by the same company, in three other
counties. Judges are signing search warrants as we speak. We’ll find your mother, Brin; I promise.”

Brinna sighed, wanting to believe that her mother would be found soon and fervently hoping she was still alive.

After tiring Hero out, Dave shared a cup of coffee with Brinna and Maggie. He and Maggie chatted quite amicably. Brinna stayed out of the conversation using the excuse of being preoccupied by the situation with her mom.

“Here’s my number,” Dave said to Brinna as he stood to leave. “Call me if you need anything, anything at all.”

“Thanks, Dave. I appreciate all that you’ve done.” Brinna walked him to the door, truly grateful he was so helpful, but for her own peace of mind, and Maggie’s chances, she needed to be clear with him. “I guess I should probably tell you that I’m kind of seeing someone right now.”

“I think I got that.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Still never hurts to have another friend.”

“No, it never does.” Brinna returned his smile and shook his hand. When she closed the door and turned to Maggie, her friend was holding her thumb up.

“That was nice, gentle.”

“He is a nice guy.”

“That he is. But he’s not Jack O’Reilly.”

Brinna nodded. “I know you don’t care for Jack, but I think he’s proven he’s not the nutcase that you used to think he was. And he and I connect. He’s told me he’s ready to move beyond his wife. But I don’t want to have this discussion right now. It’s Mom I’m worried about, not my love life.” She looked away as her eyes filled. “With every missing
kid, I always trust my instincts. But now that it’s my mom, my instincts aren’t telling me anything.” She wiped her eyes with her palms and stood.

“A lot of good people are on the case.”

“I know, but I have to do something,” she said, moving to the living room to pace. “I hate sitting and waiting. It’s not raining today.” She flung an arm toward the front window. “I could use Hero to search.”

Hero sat up expectantly, watching Brinna’s every movement.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Maggie offered. She’d followed Brinna into the living room and stood leaning in the archway that separated the two rooms. “But just what do you want to search?”

Blowing out her breath, Brinna threw her hands up. “I don’t know! This is so frustrating.” She faced Maggie with her hands on her hips, a frown creasing her features. Just then there was a knock at the door.

“What now?” Maggie asked.

Brinna went to the door. She opened it, and there was Jack with a young girl. Brinna gaped. It was Gracie Kaplan, the girl with the case of hero worship.

“Hi.” Jack smiled. “I don’t know if I’m glad to see you up, ’cause it sure looks as though you didn’t get the sleep you needed.” He rubbed his chin. “Anyway, I’d planned to stop by and see if you wanted to go to the station with me. I figured you’d need to be doing something instead of sitting around.” He looked down at Gracie. “When I got here, I found this young lady loitering in your driveway.”

Gracie shot Brinna a pained expression. “I wasn’t loitering,” she protested. “I came by because I want to help. I heard about your mother and the lost girl. I wasn’t sure if I should knock or not.” Her blue eyes were earnest, and Brinna understood her desire. But she had no idea how to nurture it.

Brinna brought a hand to her mouth and studied Gracie out of the corner of her eye.
How do I encourage the girl without letting her see how helpless I feel?
she wondered.

“I’d love your help if I had something for you to do,” she said after a minute. “For starters, you both can come inside. Maybe all of us together can think up a game plan.” She stepped aside and Jack and Gracie walked in.

“Is it true your mother was kidnapped by gangsters?” Gracie asked.

“Uh . . .” Brinna thought carefully before she spoke. She remembered being that age and hating it when adults talked down to her, so she decided Gracie would be treated like a grown-up. “That’s the best theory we have right now.”

Gracie regarded her with a solemn expression. “I know how I would feel if someone took my mom. Even if you just want me to make you lunch, I will do that.”

The girl was so serious, so committed, Brinna couldn’t help but smile. “I appreciate that; I really do. Right now we’re good, and I think this situation might be a bit too dangerous for you to get involved in.”

“Could you use some moral support?”

“Yeah, I can always use that. But do your parents know that you are here?”

“I told them I wanted to help you.”

“That’s not a whole answer.”

Gracie looked away. “Maybe I could have been more specific.”

“The best support you can give me is to call your parents and let them know where you are and make certain it’s okay for you to be here; got it?”

“I guess.”

Maggie stepped up. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend and then we’ll call her parents.”

“Thanks, Mags,” Brinna said. “This is Gracie Kaplan. She’s the girl who took photos of Henry Corliss. Gracie, this is Maggie Sloan.”

“Oh,” Maggie exclaimed, “the little hero. How nice to meet you.”

“I’m not a hero. Brinna is the hero,” Gracie gushed. At the sound of his name, Hero got up to sniff the smallest new arrival. “Are you an officer too?” she asked Maggie as she scratched Hero’s head.

“You kidding? I taught Brinna everything she knows.” Maggie winked at Brinna, then directed Gracie to the couch and the phone on the table next to it.

Brinna turned her attention to Jack. “What were you going to do at the station?”

Jack sat in her recliner and shrugged. “I don’t know
 
—answer the phones, look through reports. I just hate waiting.”

“You sound like an echo,” Maggie said. “Brinna said the same thing a few minutes ago.”

Gracie was punching in a phone number.

Brinna looked at Jack and nodded toward the kitchen. He followed her there.

“Did Chuck tell you what they found out about the house in Hawaiian Gardens?” she asked.

“Actually, Ben called me. He’d been out there with them all morning and was on his way home to get some sleep. The entire operation has been taken over by the Feds.”

“Something has to come of the search warrants.” Brinna pulled out a kitchen chair and sat, wishing she could hit something, but one broken wrist was enough. She did feel somewhat calmer now that Jack was here. He always seemed to stand on even ground, no matter what was swirling around him. She wanted to ask if he was praying and if he thought God was listening. She certainly hoped that he was.

Just then her cell phone rang. When she said hello, the voice she heard on the other end nearly made her drop the phone. She felt her face blanch and stood up from the chair so fast it fell over backward with a loud crash.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Brinna, it’s me. I don’t have much time. You have to listen carefully.”

“Wh-where are you?” Brinna stared at Jack and pointed at the phone. He moved next to her, leaning with his ear toward the phone.

“I can’t tell you that.”

Jack held one hand up as he pulled out his cell phone and stepped away. “Stall.”

In the background Brinna heard a man with a heavily
accented voice declare, “She’s got a gun to her head. That’s all you need to know.”

“I need you to tell me . . .” Rose spoke again, pausing briefly, and Brinna could hear the man telling her what to say. “There was a man at the house the police found, where the girls were. Where is the man now, and what has he told the police?”

Brinna frowned, covered the receiver with her palm, and mouthed to Jack, “What should I say?”

He motioned for her to keep talking.

“Mom, I don’t understand. Are you okay? Is Ivana okay?”

“Just answer the question, please, Brinna Marie. It’s important.”

Brinna sucked in a breath. Her mother had used her middle name. She hadn’t heard that in years, and then she’d only done it when Brinna was in big trouble. “He’s dead, Mom. The man in the house shot himself before we got inside.”

Her mother repeated the message, and the connection ended.

“Mom? Mom?” Brinna looked at Jack and held the phone up. “She’s gone.”

Jack shot her a look, listening carefully to whomever he was talking to on his cell phone.

In the archway Maggie and Gracie stood watching Brinna. “That was your mom?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah. She didn’t say much.” Brinna righted the chair and sat, fearing her weak knees would not hold her up much longer. “At least I know she’s alive.”

Jack shut his cell phone, and everyone turned to face him.
“I just spoke to Darryl Welty. Remember the shopkeeper? Magda?”

When Brinna nodded, he continued. “She’s in his office. She says she knows who has your mother and where she might be.”

56

A
STRING OF CURSES
erupted from Simon when he heard Brinna’s words about Sergei. He ripped the phone away from Mrs. Caruso and threw it across the room. Ivana cringed, certain this was the end for her and Mrs. Caruso.

“I don’t believe them! They killed Sergei. Lying police. Lies, lies, lies,” he ranted.

Ivana stood, rooted to the spot with fear, wringing her hands.

Finally he shoved the gun in Mrs. Caruso’s face and pointed to Ivana. “Get back over there. I must think.”

Mrs. Caruso moved to where Ivana stood, and the pair held hands. The other man began speaking in Bulgarian, and Ivana listened and watched, transfixed.

“We must call for help now,” he insisted. “If they killed Sergei, we are next.” He waved a hand in Ivana’s direction. “Just kill them and let’s go, now!”

“No!” Simon screamed. “I will not run. Animals run.”

“You are a fool. They will slow us down.” The man pulled
a cell phone out of his pocket. He turned away from Simon and headed for the door.

“Gavin,” Simon called, “don’t. I’m warning you.”

Gavin ignored him. He reached the door, and Simon raised the gun, yelling one more warning.

“Stop now!”

Ivana gasped and cowered against Mrs. Caruso.

Gavin opened the door. Simon fired. Ivana screamed. The gun’s report was deafening.

Gavin slumped against the doorframe and dropped the phone. His eyes were wide with shock. He tried to pull something from his pocket.

Simon fired again.

Ivana buried her face in Mrs. Caruso’s shoulder, not wanting to look at the dead man or the gun in Simon’s hand . . . now pointed at her and Mrs. Caruso.

BOOK: Visible Threat
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