Chapter 22

The tower of files now covering his desk gave him a headache. Jake grunted at the boatload of paperwork he’d acquired. He needed to get his case reports done and handed in. It bothered him some that he’d put Stack in McGuire’s line of sight, but he trusted McGuire to withhold judgment until all evidence was presented. McGuire would throw Stack to Internal Affairs for a full investigation if he found documentation pointing to his corruption. Jake’s gut told him Carl Stack was as dirty as they came. An experienced investigator doesn’t ignore a case unless he wants to. Decision made, Jake pulled all of Stack’s physical case files himself for the last six months, heading off any talk that would have resulted from requesting them through proper channels. Tonight, over a beer, he’d review them.

He didn’t leave the office until eight o’clock. It hit him on the way home that he hadn’t called Kyra as promised. He speed dialed her as he drove. The call went to voicemail right away. After leaving a message he dialed Mia’s number.

“Hello?”

“I see you called this morning.” Controlled—that’s what his voice sounded like to him. He wondered if it sounded that way to her.

“I did.”

“What do you need?” Nice, Jake.

“Can we set up a date to talk?”

“Ah…has anything changed?” With gut clenched, a rush of nerves overtook his entire body. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel while his other hand pressed the phone closer to his ear. A sharp inhale filled his ears. Jake waited her out while his stomach rolled like a sea in a hurricane.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he said.

“Can we meet and talk?”

“If nothing has changed, why bother?” It struck him that he was being a hard-ass. Why? He couldn’t say, it baffled even him.

“I didn’t say it hadn’t.”

It isn’t like Mia to play games. What’s she up to?

“Jake?”

“When?” Mia’s tactics hardened his heart instead of softening it. Call him a bastard, but he wasn’t giving an inch. For a whole freaking month he couldn’t get her off his mind. Was it Kyra? The look on her face this morning had torn him apart. He’d never meant to hurt her. Hadn’t he warned her he was screwed up? It was the reason he hadn’t promised her more. Was it an excuse to keep his distance?

“Tonight or tomorrow?”

“It’s been a long day. I walked in the door minutes ago. Why don’t we do this Monday night?” He didn’t remember if he’d made plans with Kyra for tomorrow and he wasn’t going to cancel on her if he had.

“You have plans with Kyra tomorrow?”

“I’m not going there, Mia. Do you want to meet on Monday night or not?”

“Yes.”

“Seven thirty. Do you want me to come to your place or do you want to come to mine?”

“I’ll be in the area Monday, why don’t I come to your place.”

Jake hung up. Tried Kyra’s number again. The phone echoed in his ear as it rang. Was she ignoring him or out? And if so, with whom?

* * * *

Kyra hadn’t been to the casino in over three weeks. She’d used super-human control to ignore her urges to go, but tonight they had won out. The machine she loved was occupied. She scanned over several others until she picked a new one and stuffed her money in. For some reason, she didn’t get the normal rush. Her mind was on Jake and that bitch Mia. Why couldn’t she leave Jake alone?

She slammed her palm on the spin button. As wheels fell into place, she didn’t get the old thrill as the three red sevens appeared across the screen. Bells clanged as the machine announced she’d won the jackpot. Wasn’t it always the way? You won when you didn’t need the money. No excitement. What was wrong with her? Her adrenaline spiked now when she was with Jake. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

The phone vibrated in her pocket. Taking it out, she saw Jake’s number and pressed the ignore button. She wasn’t interested in what he had to say. He didn’t want to continue their relationship, she was sure it was the reason he was calling. She played while she waited for her message light to come on. When it did, she hit play and listened. He apologized for not calling today and explained he’d only gotten home from work a short time ago. He asked if she wanted to do something tonight or tomorrow. Well, at least he didn’t break up with her on the phone. Tomorrow wasn’t good. She had Trevor all day. She’d planned to take him to the beach.

Tonight, if there wasn’t any traffic, she’d be home in an hour and fifteen minutes. Had he talked to Mia yet? Kyra decided to call him in the morning. It wasn’t good to be available every time he called. Easy, conflict resolved. She played for another half hour. Boredom set in before long. She cashed out, then headed home earlier than planned.

Her life had changed. Should she thank Jake or blame him? It wasn’t long ago she’d break out in a sweat if she didn’t go to the casino. Now it held no draw. Or was it Phil and his corpses that had turned her off to gambling? How many bodies before she got caught? She’d never be able to develop a long-term relationship with Jake while she continued to burn bodies for Phil. A lightning bolt slashed through her head as a headache formed.

* * * *

Weary, limbs heavy, mind zinging around like a tornado, Jake jumped into the shower, washing away the day’s stress. He’d head over to Kyra’s now that he had his second wind. How ironic was life—he, the player, being played. Never before had he wanted a long-term relationship, and now he wanted one with two women. Different in appearance but the same in their core where it counted. Good-hearted women. Kyra had snuck up on him. It’d been a mutual attraction. A distraction, she called it. He was looking for a friend and found much more in her. Warm, compassionate, funny, a wonderful lover with many secrets. He didn’t detect a mean bone in her body. Kyra’s lack of faith in him, along with her friendship with Phil—if that’s what it was—held him back. If she lied, and she worked for Phil, his career was in the garbage. Even if she hadn’t lied, his instincts told him she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. And if she was such a big gambler why hadn’t he witnessed it? Had she given it up? How deep was she into the mob? That was a conversation he still needed to have with her.

Then there was Mia. In an instant she’d stolen his heart, set it ablaze, then a second later she’d ripped it to shreds. Could he forgive her? What changed her mind? Her temper seemed to match his—was that good or bad?

He’d have to pick one, but who? When and if push came to shove? It was Mia. Murder was much easier to figure out than women.

He climbed out of the shower, dried off and picked up his phone to check for new messages. Damn, Kyra hadn’t returned his calls. With his finger poised over the redial button, he debated his course of action then tossed the phone on the bed. An in-person visit was called for. He dressed. He had to try to convince Kyra he wasn’t out to hurt her, he only needed time to sort through everything. The clock on the nightstand burned the time into his brain in big red numbers: 9:00. Not too late for a Saturday night visit. Hunger pangs reminded him he hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner today. He made a quick sandwich, turned out the lights, and headed to his garage. The bell interrupted his steps as he walked through the connecting door. Did Kyra have the same idea he had? He walked to the front door and looked out the peephole.

What the hell?

* * * *

Seven o’clock on a Saturday night and Phil didn’t have any plans. Kyra invaded every one of his waking moments. He hadn’t talked to or seen her for over a week. Tempted, he stopped short of knocking someone off to see her. How bizarre was that? The girl wasn’t interested in him—but he found her intriguing. He’d call her on Monday because he didn’t want to seem pathetic. Why should he tell her he was alone on what people called ‘date night’? Was she out with the cop? His cell phone rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Carl Stack.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“We have a problem. We need to meet now.”

“What kind of problem?”

“I don’t want to discuss it on the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

“No, not here.” Where? He racked his brain, then chose. “There’s a pizza place on Route 2 before Foxrun. We’ll have privacy there. One hour, Carl.” Phil slammed down the phone. Damn idiots, can’t anyone do their jobs right? This had to be about Kyra’s cop. Why did Carl sound scared? Well, there’s one way to find out. He reached for his intercom, hit Angelo’s extension.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, walking into the library.

“Carl asked for a meet. The little shit sounded scared. We’re going to meet him at Bruno’s place in an hour.”

“Is Carrington on his back?”

“He didn’t say. Carl doesn’t scare easy—something’s up.”

Cheered at the need to do away with Carrington, Phil leaned into the chair. The library was his favorite room. High-back chairs cushioned for comfort were upholstered in burgundy and blue. The reading lights sat on the tables by the chairs to illuminate the books he loved. And the blazing fireplace kept him warm on a cool night. In prison, he’d learned the benefit of reading. They’d helped him keep his sanity and taught him much. Angelo had no penchant for books. He preferred those stupid video games.

* * * *

Phil frowned when he walked into the restaurant. Carl Stack had beaten him there. He must have been on the road when he phoned. Stack stood with hand extended as Phil and Angelo approached his table. Phil took Stack’s sweaty hand but didn’t linger. After he let go of it, Phil wiped his hand on his trousers.

Phil didn’t ask Angelo to sit. He continued to stare at Stack as he took a seat across from him. Angelo walked to the back of the restaurant. After checking out the place, Angelo returned and took up a position by the front door.

A typical pizza joint. Old-world with red-and-white checkered tablecloths, empty Chianti bottles sporting candles with wax dripping down their sides, and an old jukebox on each table where for a quarter your favorite songs filled the place—nothing recorded after nineteen seventy.

Not standing on ceremony, Phil asked, “Okay, Carl. I’m here. What’s this all about?”

“Jake Carrington.”

Phil’s stomach dropped to his feet. If Kyra had betrayed him… “What about him?”

“He’s been assigned as my acting lieutenant for Missing Persons.”

“And?” Patience for this idiot was limited.

“And he’s reviewed all our cases and decided to work Church’s case because, and I quote, ‘I seem too busy to be working it.’ The bastard’s got a tough reputation, Phil. He’s a black-and-white guy, no gray. He gets results.”

“What caught his attention?” Phil was trying to look at this from a logical standpoint. Sweat poured down Carl’s face. “Carl?”

“That’s the point, I wasn’t working it. I was trying to let it cool off before going back to it and declaring the trail had gone cold.”

Phil didn’t respond as he stared Stack down. This Carrington fellow was smart, from everything Phil had heard about him. Carrington had probably figured out Carl’s involvement. Would the trail lead back to him, thus endangering him and his operation? For Carl’s safety, he hoped not.

“Were there any witnesses to the incident?”

“No. The missing person report was filed by his mother. When I put the file together who knew they’d give us a temporary lieutenant. Christ, he’s running two departments now. Where he finds the time is beyond me.”

“Is this the way you do everything, Carl? Half-assed?” Cops were either gung-ho or they were lazy shits who turned a blind eye for a dollar. He hated both kinds. “What’s he going to find?”

Carl shrugged. “I don’t know. Jake’s a good investigator. His close rate is eighty-five percent or better. If anyone can find Church, Carrington can.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Phil smiled.

“You asked me to—”

“Don’t go there.”

“But—”

“No buts. Start doing your job, and you shouldn’t have any problems with him.”

“I’ll ask, though it’s a longshot he’d give it back to me.”

“Well, it’s in your best interest to convince him to, if you understand my meaning. Make sure nothing comes back on me, or you and I will have a problem.” Phil nodded to Angelo. Ang came over to the table as Phil stood.

Stack started to stand. Phil leaned over and pushed him into his seat, then whispered into his ear, “Remember, I don’t know you or Church.”

Angelo scanned the parking lot from the doorway. When he was satisfied, he nodded to Phil. Angelo had the door of the limo open by the time Phil reached it.

“Is he trying to set us up?”

“No. He’s a screw-up. Now he’s got to deal with someone who takes his job seriously. What a small world. Stack may be the one who puts Carrington onto us, not Kyra. If he does, we may need to arrange an accident for him.”

“Is that wise, Phil?”

“Why, because Carl’s a cop? He’s dirty.”

“It doesn’t matter. If someone offs him, the cops will come after us with a vengeance.”

“Cops like Stack flip faster than any criminal. They understand how the system works and they’d sell out their mothers to save their own hides. Our job is to make sure he doesn’t flip, agreed?”

“Agreed. I won’t let it get that far. You seem calm about this new development.”

“I’m not, but it’ll give me a chance to see how Carrington operates. Then I’ll decide his fate too.”