Chapter 27

Kyra pulled off the road for a while on the way home because she was trembling all over. Once she got home she downed two shots of vodka. Still it didn’t quiet her fear. The pressure behind her eyeballs felt as if they’d pop out of the sockets. She inhaled deeply, but the sensation clung to her as if Phil’s fingers continued to squeeze the air, the very life, from her lungs. God, he’d kill her for asking a simple question. The urgency, more than ever convinced her she had to tell Jake about Phil. But the idea of going to jail held her back. Besides, what if Phil went after Trevor? Prison, if it insured that Trevor was protected, was a small price to pay for her son’s life she decided.

The realization hit her hard. Tom was right. She didn’t deserve custody of her son. If she gave Jake Phil, then she’d have to tell him what she did for Phil and end their relationship. Did it matter? After tonight, she’d lose Jake’s respect and he’d run back to Mia. Kyra clenched her stomach as tears ran down her face. How did her life get this far out of control? She’d thrown the man she loved into the arms of another woman. And this wasn’t about Jake, it was about keeping Trevor safe.

It was for the best if she upped and disappeared with Trev. He’d adjust to the new location after a while. It would be the best thing for him. And her bastard in-laws, wouldn’t they be smug about it? I told you, Tom, she wasn’t worth it, but did you listen? Oh yeah, one more reason to disappear. With close to three hundred thousand dollars she’d be able to handle anything that came her way. She’d have her choice of places to relocate. She’d go into the Witness Protection Program after she testified against Phil and disappear.

She’d need to plan. On her next weekend visit, she and Trevor needed to disappear into the vast lands of the Midwest. Was it fair to Trevor to uproot him from all he knew? But wasn’t it best for a child to be with his mother? Tom had become dangerous since she left him. She should leave the country to be safe. She’d get Trevor a passport. They’d both need fake ones anyway. Untraceable ones. Which one was better or safer for Trevor—Witness Protection Program or leaving on her own? She wished she could ask Jake.

Was he sleeping with Mia tonight? It burned a hole in her as she envisioned it. She had no claims on him, but he’d become her new obsession. Though fun, it was no better than her gambling.

Up early, she dressed in a sleeveless turtleneck and paired it with a light jacket. Phil had left slight bruising on her neck. She dragged herself into work. Kyra walked into the office, bypassing Dina without a word, and sat down in her chair. A few minutes later, Dina came in with a cup of coffee and placed it in front of her.

“Thanks. I didn’t sleep last night. I’m going to lock myself in my office to get some rest.”

“Jake’s seeing the other woman?”

“Dina, I can’t speak about it,” Kyra said, on the verge of tears.

“I overheard everything yesterday. If you need to talk about it or want to get a drink after work, I’m here.”

“Thanks for being a good friend.”

Around three o’clock, Phil called. “Kyra, I’m sending the undertaker over now. He should be there in an hour.”

Crap! Nothing like giving someone notice, but another one hundred grand will help me and Trevor disappear. “Phil, this means it won’t be finished until after seven. If any of my trustees stop in, they’ll question why I’m processing this late.”

“It can’t be helped. One hour.” He hung up without waiting for her reply. Kyra wished someone would off Phil.

* * * *

Around five a.m. Jake decided sleep wasn’t happening. He needed a shower to clear his head. With bagel and coffee in hand, he headed into the station. First thing he did was check his emails. Damn, no fingerprint results from yesterday’s search. After leaving the lab a voice message he panned through the rest of the emails. One from Louie on the Wade case caught his eye. Jake switched gears from Missing Persons to Homicide. Cripes, my head’s crowded.

Louie had stopped in unexpectedly yesterday on Mrs. Wade and caught her with Wade’s best friend. The friend Wade was drinking with on the night he shot himself. The same friend who, according to his statement, left Wade at the bar drinking and alive. Louie’s conclusion agreed with Jake’s—it looked like both the wife and the friend had killed Wade. Jake made notes on the printed report for Louie to check out the life insurance policy, including the beneficiaries. Plus, he wanted Louie to investigate Mrs. Wade’s alibi more thoroughly. Another interview with the wife and the friend, Kevin Long, after Louie dug up that information might be the key to unlocking this case. At least something was popping on one of his cases.

He put aside the Wade file and took out his file on Church. After reading both his notes and the lab reports, he read Louie’s. He put his feet up on his desk and closed his eyes to let the information ruminate. The number one clue to the case was Stack’s lack of action. He didn’t like looking at another cop, but there were some who acted like they were above the law. His brothers in blue pissed him off sometimes. They’d make Jake the target of their anger if he locked up Stack. He didn’t want to put Stack in front of IA until he was sure, but it rang ninety-nine-point-nine percent in his head that it was. Jake slid his feet off of his desk. He grabbed his phone and pressed in Shamus’s extension. He was surprised when his captain picked up instead of his voicemail.

“What’s up, Jake?” McGuire asked.

“I’d like to take you for coffee this morning, or lunch today.”

It upset him to toss Stack in front of his captain, but there was no choice. A dirty cop made the job more difficult for the honest ones. Jake understood better than most, he’d taken a lot of shit over the Miller brothers’ deeds.

“Is this about what we discussed yesterday?”

“Yes,” Jake said, as he made notes.

“There’s no mistake?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent positive, but I want to bounce it off of you. I’m not ready to make it official yet.”

“We’ll go after roll call,” Shamus said.

After he hung up Jake turned toward his window, put his feet up on the casing, and closed his eyes again. He ticked off the steps required to prove or disprove Stack’s innocence. It drained his energy. Stack threw open his door, jolting him back to the present. Jake turned from the window and studied the man. Stack was looking for a fight. His body language signaled his attitude long before he opened his mouth. Carl looked like he’d slept in his suit.

“Yes, Carl?”

“I’m going to close the door, Lieutenant.”

Jake nodded. “What do you need?”

“I want a damn explanation of why you’re interviewing people behind my back and working my case. What gives you the right?” Stack asked, a blood vessel pounding at his temple.

Oh yeah, here we go. “I spoke with the people you didn’t bother to talk to.”

“Like Mrs. Church? The poor woman has enough stress with her son missing and now you’ve added to it by barging in on her and giving her false hope.”

“False hope. You think he’s dead?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t find a trace of him. No one I spoke to has seen or heard from him in three weeks.”

“I don’t see any interviews in your file?”

“Because they’re in my briefcase. I planned on going back around to reinterview everyone, but I can’t find them either.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as odd, Carl?” Jake hadn’t broken eye contact with Stack.

“Why are you working my case?”

“It’s standard procedure when a lieutenant takes over a department to review all cases, Carl, and give his attention to ones he finds that aren’t being handled according to procedure. This one wasn’t.”

“How so?” Jake gave Stack credit for reining in his temper.

“The usual trail of an investigation isn’t detailed here. An empty case folder except for a single call sheet. There are no lab reports, no evidence that a CSI team had been called in. There are no interview records in the folder either. That’s why.”

Stack took an unoffered chair as he folded his hands over his bulging belly before he spoke. “Lieutenant, this guy’s been reported missing before. If you checked my notes, you’d see he gets involved in poker games around the state and doesn’t know when to call it quits or contact his family. His mother’s jumped the gun three times in the last three years.” Stack smiled. It reminded Jake of a teacher talking to a slow student. Well, Carl, you don’t know me. Though it might’ve been fun to play with Carl for a bit, Jake decided this situation needed a head-on-collision approach.

“I saw your notes, which were inadequate by the way. You didn’t follow procedure.”

“I’m frustrated—investigating Church takes time out from my other cases, from people who are really missing and require action. I did interview his gambling buddies. They believed he’d caught another game he’d been carrying on about. A high-stakes game.”

He’s good. He’d missed his calling. Stack was an excellent actor. “I understand frustration, but procedures are in place to not only protect the public, but to cover our asses. By not following regulations you lost valuable time in the recovery of this person. It looks like this time he’s actually missing. And where was this game supposedly held?”

Jake studied Stack as he searched for an answer. “His fellow gamblers said Church never told them. I’d be glad to take the case back and check again all the usual spots where he plays to make sure he’s not off on a winning streak.”

“Good idea, but we’ll work it together, and from different angles. You pursue your angle. I’ll follow the evidence—it’s pointing to a grab.”

“What evidence?” A bead of sweat ran down Stack’s cheek. Carl swiped at it with irritation. Good, he’s losing his cool.

“Some kids in the neighborhood saw him escorted from his house by three men.” Jake withheld Mrs. Standish’s name.

“When did they come forward?”

“They didn’t.” Jake wasn’t giving anything away. He wanted Stack to ask.

“They didn’t? Then who told you they saw something?”

“Because I canvassed the neighborhood and found witnesses.” It’s called doing your job.

“Lieutenant, you sure they’re not pulling your leg?”

“I didn’t get where I am today by being gullible. I’ve more than paid my dues on the street, Carl. I’m absolutely sure? Yes, as sure as I sit here. This case was mishandled.”

Carl jumped up, banged his hand on the desk and pointed a finger in Jake’s face. “You put that in my file and I…I’m going to the union…to my rep. You can’t take a case from me, you arrogant bastard. If you’re looking for a fight, Lieutenant, you’ve got one.” Now we see the real Carl Stack.

“I’m reserving action and judgment until we resolve the case. You’re dismissed.”

Stack stood there with his mouth gaping. He started to talk, stopped, then regrouped. After a few moments Stack started speaking in a quieter voice—Jake assumed he did it to cover his outburst. “I’m not looking for a fight, but I won’t back down either.”

“You’ve been dismissed, Detective. And, Carl, I don’t take insubordination from my men, let that be your first and final warning.”

Jake watched Stack storm out of his office. He’d tipped his hand on purpose to put things into motion. Stack’s next move was crucial. Jake had to pay careful attention before he chose a course of action to proceed against Carl.

Moments later Louie walked into his office without knocking. “What was Stack doing here?”

“I’m not going to discuss personnel with you, Louie.” Jake was aware his door was partially open.

Louie stared at Jake, shrugged, and changed the subject. “You get my report on the Wade case?”

“I did. I agree with your findings.”

Jake handed Louie a copy of his printed report, with his notes and directions on it.

“Did you arrange a follow-up interview with both of them?”

“I’m interviewing them together today.”

“Good, but read my notes before you do. I’m sure you’ve already got the insurance information. Make me a copy of it and nail down the wife’s alibi—then we’ll reinterview them. Let’s see who breaks into a sweat first.”

“I already started the process on the life insurance policy. I’ve booked the interview room for noon.”

“Push it out to later in the afternoon. This gives you more time, plus it gives them each more time to sweat the details.”

When Louie left his office, Jake typed up his notes on the meeting with Stack. He printed out a copy to hand to Shamus over coffee. The meeting told Jake two things. One, Stack wasn’t stupid. He clued right in to why Jake had taken the case from him. And two, he knew how to cover his ass. Jake needed to find the other complaints and review dates and times of the reported disappearances. He opened the Church file, reread Stack’s notes. What was he missing? Stack hadn’t listed the dates of the other reported disappearances. It’s time to dig out the buried information on other cases Carl might’ve let fall by the wayside. Time he didn’t have. If he had to, he’d reinterview Mrs. Church.

* * * *

Stack knew Carrington was an ace investigator. It took all the control he had not to lose it at his desk. Sweat dripped down his back as he tried to figure out his next move. He had to be sure Carrington was able to put his hands on the old files. He took blank complaint sheets from his drawer and loaded them into his briefcase before he headed out on the pretense of following up on a case. Instead he headed home. At his kitchen table with the complaint sheets, a calendar, and a tall glass of gin and tonic in front of him, he got to work. He was more afraid of Phil Lucci than he was of Jake Carrington. The lesser of two evils—Jake might destroy his career, but Phil owned his life.

The more he drank the more courage he found. He’d find a way to disgrace Carrington. Bring him up on charges. I’m sure the Miller boys would help me out. His thoughts amused him. He needed to pull it off and raise his worth in Phil’s eyes. Leverage was the key. The information he supplied Phil on each case or helped make disappear meant more cash for him.

How to do it and come out of this clean? He slapped his head as an idea entered it. He’d ask Phil to have one of his women file a complaint and make sure Carrington was the investigator. Then have the woman file a sexual harassment charge or claim rape against the lieutenant. That ought to tie him up for a while. Stack laughed as he fixed himself another drink. The idea of that arrogant bastard defending himself amused Stack through his third drink. Without thinking, he picked up his home phone and called Phil.

“Hello.”

“Phil, it’s Carl.”

“What number are you calling me from?”

“I’m home, don’t worry.”

“You stupid bastard, are you drunk?” Who is he to talk to me like that?

“Nobody’s going to trace my phone. I have an idea about how we can stop Jake Carrington from interfering in our business.” Stack rubbed his ear. The bastard had slammed the phone in his ear. Anger spurted out of every pore. Who did he think he was?

An hour later, on his way to sober, Stack had to take a chair. His head spun, his stomach heaved—he’d called Phil—and on his home phone, no less. Jesus, he was losing it. Not only did he give Carrington ammunition, he’d made Phil Lucci mad. The last thing a person wanted to do was make Phil Lucci mad and me being a cop didn’t matter to Phil. How do I fix this? I’ll leak the information I have, then if he whacks me it will lead right back to Phil. Calm down. I’m privy to Lucci’s organization and where all the bodies were buried. Somehow, that didn’t settle his nerves.

Nothing ever went right in his life. His wife had left him. His kids didn’t talk to him and his girlfriend had called him a pig and dumped him last week. Now he’d aggravated Lucci and his nice, easy job looked like it was going away. What should he do? Cash in his bonds and take off. Hell, why should he let Carrington scare him?

Stack’s bravado didn’t last long. He poured himself another drink for courage, this time more gin than tonic.

* * * *

“Angelo, get in here,” Phil shouted.

“I heard. Stack’s becoming a real problem. We need to take him out now.”

“Agreed, how do you want to do it?”

“I have a few ideas, give me a half hour to set it up.” Angelo said.

“I’m playing with several of my own, but nothing smart.”

“I need to make a few phone calls. Let’s discuss it after I do some research.” Angelo left the room.

Phil sat at his desk, steaming over the new developments. Though he knew this screw-up had nothing to do with Kyra, it all seemed to lead back to her and her cop. It’d best if he got rid of Stack and Kyra together or did he need to stagger them? If he did this right, he’d be able to lay the blame for Kyra’s death on her husband and Stack’s on Carrington. Phil smiled. A different scenario for each played out in his head. He’d wait to see what Angelo came up with before he presented his ideas on the subject. Oh yes—he rubbed his hands together and smirked—those two disposals would bring him immense joy. What a shame to waste a woman like Kyra, though—he’d get a little taste of her first before he did the deed. Show her what she’d missed out on by choosing the cop.