Matthew kept his attention on the road. Since yesterday’s car chase between Evergreen and Enumclaw, there had been no sign of a car tailing them, which eased his mind greatly. Riley hadn’t spoken since leaving Gilmore over an hour ago. He had major reservations about leaving Aleksa with Dena but hoped since she’d kept Jeremiah safe for two years, she would keep Aleksa well protected until they returned.
The image of Riley standing beside her son’s bed and whispering that she loved him touched his heart. It had to kill her to leave him again. This horrible nightmare brought on by Matthew’s half-brother must seem unending to her, like it did for him.
“Are you okay?” Riley’s voice drew him away from the past.
“Yeah.” He rubbed his palm over his face. “Just thinking.”
“Oh. Something you want to share?”
“No. Definitely not. We have enough on our plate dealing with our current situation.” His mind drifted to what Riley had told him last night about his father and what he’d said before killing her husband.
“Do you know yet what your father meant when he said, ‘You still think this is about a computer trail?’” she said, as if reading his mind.
“I haven’t a clue.” Telling her his first impression would only upset her more. Last night after she’d shared what had happened to her husband, Matthew had stayed awake for well over an hour.
“And why in the world didn’t I remember until last night? I mean, for years I’ve replayed what happened in my mind, or thought I had. I knew every detail of the van: a custom-design Mercedes-Benz Sprinter. I remember the kind of gun Petruso used: a Ruger with an SR suppressor. I remember the sickly smell of lemons and vinegar in the vehicle. Why did I blot out what Petruso said before killing James?” She squinted, and tiny lines formed beside each of her eyes.
“Give yourself a break.” He couldn’t stand to see her like this. Riley was a self-assured woman. Watching her doubt herself did not compute. “You had been through the horrible shock of seeing your husband murdered. Anything said just before may have been too much to comprehend. People who have been through bad car accidents sometimes blot out what happened seconds before because it’s too much for them to handle.” His mind leaped to the last time he’d seen his father. He only wished he could forget what he’d witnessed. But if he had forgotten, he never would have had the loving and respectful relationship he’d developed with his mother after that.
Riley shrugged. “You’re right, I guess.”
He thought of another reason. “Or . . . you probably dismissed it as unimportant since you didn’t trust my father and had no reason to think he would tell the truth.”
“I suppose you’re right. But I’ve been trained to check out every lead no matter how small or who it takes me to. No! That’s not it. I just didn’t remember, which doesn’t make sense.” Though she sat in the seat, she curled her legs up until her knees were at her chest, as if to shield herself.
“Okay, put aside why you forgot. You remember now, so try looking at it as though you didn’t even know James and pretend my father said that about someone else. What would your first thought have been?”
She tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “I’d say that person could have been working for Petruso.”
There. She’d come to what Matthew had feared. Now the hardest discussion lay ahead of them. “What would you do next?”
She lowered her legs, setting her feet on the floor. “I’d look at everything James had been working on.”
“How far back?”
“Since going to work for the FBI.” She covered her mouth like she couldn’t believe she’d said it. And then she couldn’t hold back and broke down. “How could James be a traitor? I mean, I lived with him. I would have known.”
Matthew had to say something to give her hope. “Maybe he wasn’t. Didn’t you say James tracked down Petruso?”
“Yeah.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “He’d hacked into another mobster’s computer and found a trail that led straight to Petruso. He had been the big fish we’d been trying to reel in for years.” She took a deep breath. “However, the problem was . . . when the agents arrived at the place where James told them Petruso would be, he was gone, but not all his men. A firefight ensued. Some of them were killed. After that, Petruso must have hired a computer genius who put up a strong firewall. But your father lost some of his men because of James putting the FBI on his tail.”
“If—and this is a big ‘if’—but if James worked for him, Petruso probably still saw it as betrayal.” Matthew took his eyes off the road to steal a glance at her.
“And that must be why your father said, ‘You think this is about a computer trail.’ Vengeance on James for sending the FBI after him and killing his men. But if James worked for him, why go back to LA at all?” She finger-combed her hair away from the side of her oval face, staring at Matthew like she hoped he’d tell her she was wrong, but he couldn’t.
He didn’t know. He tore his gaze from hers and looked ahead at the highway.
“Or maybe James thought he was safe because Petruso got away.” Her voice grew soft as though she’d shared a top secret. “Several times, I tried to talk him into moving across the country, changing our names. But he always dismissed it.”
Matthew wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right and she’d awaken soon from this horrible nightmare, but again, he couldn’t. “Don’t worry about it. Once we reach LA, you can tell Tony. I’m sure the two of you will be able to come up with a better theory as to why. And you can talk to some of the people who worked with James, get an idea of what he’d been dealing with. Hold off labeling him as a traitor until you have all the facts.”
“Wish I could call Tony now.” Her hand rubbed the center of her chest.
“I do too, but do we really want to risk Hadeon finding out where we are?”
“No. Of course not. Knowing I’m a former FBI agent, the mafia is probably somehow monitoring all the Bureau’s calls. Even a call from a burner phone can be tracked through GPS.” She fingered her chin, deep in thought. “If we drive straight through, we should reach LA by tomorrow morning. It’s just so frustrating sitting in this car, unable to do anything.” She slouched in her seat. “What will Tony and Chief Armstrong think of me suddenly remembering key information I should have told them years ago? With every minute, this gets worse and worse.”
“Stop. There’s no need to torture yourself. Sit back and try to think about what we should do once we reach LA.”
She took a deep breath. “Have I told you how much I hate road trips?”
“Yes.”
“But did I tell you I’m a royal pain unless I’m driving?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. I’m driving as far as Salt Lake, then you can take over.” Matthew wasn’t going to argue about this. The woman needed to cool her heels and rest.
* * *
Matthew had driven well past Salt Lake City, where he’d promised to switch and let Riley drive, but fortunately she’d drifted off. The poor woman had stewed and rehashed her husband’s death a million times, and then, from sheer physical and mental exhaustion, she’d fallen asleep. So he’d pushed on, heading to St. George. He thought they could catch a bite there, and he’d let her take the wheel.
His mind drifted to that horrible day when he’d been just sixteen that had changed his life forever. Perhaps he should revisit what had happened. He glanced at Riley. Little snores issued from her parted lips. She’d had the courage to face her past, or at least part of it, and because she had, she’d discovered a new lead. He needed to do the same. The contention between Riley and her son reminded him that was where his nightmare had begun: contention with his mother. He let the past wash over him.
He rummaged through his mother’s bureau to steal money to buy beer and party with his buddies. He found money and a letter hidden in her jewelry box. He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the handwritten note from his father.
Olivia,
I’ve done what you’ve asked and stayed away, but you must know how much I love you. I long to be with you and our son, the son I love more than life. Yet I have learned the wisdom of your words. Katerina has become suspicious, and I dare not write you again. Please be assured I will always find a way to safely and securely provide for both you and our son through my man, Taggart.
Love,
Maks
Matthew stormed through the house until he found his mother in her atrium, caring for her precious plants. The stifling heat exacerbated his irritation. “What is this?” He shoved the letter at her.
She glanced at the paper in his hand but didn’t seem surprised or upset. She didn’t even set down her watering pot. “Why were you going through my jewelry?”
“That’s unimportant. You’ve kept my father from me!”
She sank down on the white iron bench and set the watering pot on the ground near her feet. “I kept that letter so someday you would know your father loved you. But, Matthew . . . son . . . your father can never be with us.”
“He wants to. You won’t let him.”
“When I first met your dad, I had no idea what kind of work he did or that he was married. All I knew was he had plenty of money and seemed very successful. After several months, though, I learned about his horrible business and that he had a wife. By then, I was expecting you. I regret ever getting involved with him, but I don’t regret having you.”
“You’re lying. You’re keeping me from him. He wants to see me.”
“No, son. He doesn’t. Not really. He has another family.” She reached to touch his cheek. Matthew jerked away and fled to his room, locking the door. He quickly packed a few things and escaped out the window. On the letter’s envelope was an address in California. He bought a bus ticket with the money he’d taken from his mom’s jewelry box and made the long two-day journey south.
Reaching the small beach town of West Bay, he walked by the front of the seaside bungalow where the address had led him. A black limo, which looked out of place in the driveway, made him nervous. A man stood guard at the front door, reminding him of Syman, his father’s henchman. Syman had kept him from his father. If his father was here, this man would do the same thing.
Matthew pretended he was a passerby, but when he walked around the corner, he doubled back, hiding behind bushes and shrubs until he came closer to the side of the house, where he could see a back entrance.
No one stood guard there, so he leaped over the fence, sprinted to the house, and leaned up against the building. Through an open window, he heard what sounded like fighting, not verbal but knock-down, drag-out fighting. Fists meeting flesh. Grunts and groans.
Matthew had to see inside. Slowly, he took a chance and peered into the window. A man the size of a wrestler was beating another smaller guy, whose face was bloody and swollen. Matthew’s father, dressed in a designer three-piece suit, watched the brawl with judgmental eyes as he stood in the small dining room.
The giant took hold of the little guy’s throat and said in a thick Russian accent, “Boz azked you queztion. Did boy com here?”
“No.” The bruised and bloody man pleadingly looked at Matthew’s dad. “I swear. I’ve covered for you in every way. Married her so the child would have my name and not yours. I’ve stayed away from them. I haven’t seen the boy. Don’t know where he is.”
So, his father knew he had run away. Matthew didn’t know what to do. Should he go in and stop them from beating the guy? What would his father do to Matthew? Would he beat him too? His dad methodically took off his jacket, folded it, and laid it on the arm of a chair. Straightening his vest, he pulled out a gun and, without warning or saying a word, shot the man point-blank.
The horror of actually seeing someone’s life come to an end made bile rise in Matthew’s throat. The man had died because of him. If he didn’t leave, he’d throw up right here and they’d find him. He took off running and ran until he thought he’d drop. With each pounding step, his thoughts returned to his mother, to what she’d said: “I learned about his wife and his horrible business.” Matthew should have never doubted her. Why had he? Why had he blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in his life? He knew. He’d thought she’d kept his father from him.
And she had, but for all the right reasons.
Riley stirred, wiping sleep from her reddened eyes. “Where are we?”
He’d been so caught up in memory that he couldn’t recall what the last road sign had said. And then he remembered. “We’re just past Cedar City. We’ll be coming up on St. George soon.”
“What? I thought we were switching at Salt Lake.”
“You’ve been asleep for quite a while.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her straighten in her seat and flip her long hair over her shoulder, away from her finely sculptured face. He’d noticed on the ferry when they’d first met how pretty she was, but since then, so much had happened. Here sat the woman who had saved his little girl’s life, the woman who put everyone else before herself. To take his mind off of his sudden awareness of her, he focused on the road.
“You’ve got to be exhausted.” She yawned.
“The last couple of days have been pretty grueling.” He glanced at her for a second. “But you needed the rest more.”
She chuckled. “Who made you my doctor?” She adjusted in her seat and flipped down the visor, checking in the mirror.
“I did when you fainted on the boat.” This time he wasn’t backing down. He wanted to know her health challenges. “Look, now that the kids aren’t here, it’s time you tell me what’s wrong with you and what those magic pills you pop into your mouth are really for.” He stole a glance at her. She sat there for a second, mouth open like she was thinking about what he’d said and deciding whether or not to become upset.
She cleared her throat. “This is hard for me. I don’t like talking about my condition. I haven’t even told Jeremiah everything.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t want him to worry. Poor kid lost his father. I didn’t want him to worry about losing me too. I don’t want him to see me as vulnerable and weak, which I’m not.”
“Riley, you’re many things, but you’re not weak.”
She grew quiet. In his periphery, he saw her wringing her hands like she hoped that would help her gain courage to say what needed to be said.
The silence grew longer, but he could be patient.
“Here’s the deal.” She huffed. “I don’t know if you know this, but when I shot your father, he shot me as well. Nearly killed me.”
“I heard you had been shot but nothing else. The FBI did a phenomenal job keeping the lid on how badly hurt you were.”
“They usually do. They weren’t sure how your father’s people would retaliate and if they’d keep coming after me or not. Anyway, the bullet did a number on my aorta. The doctors repaired it the best they could, but as a result, I now suffer from angina, and the pills I take are nitroglycerin. I also have a little device that keeps my heart pumping.” She said it like it was no big deal.
“A little device?” He took his eyes off the road to look at her. “You mean a pacemaker?”
“Yeah, for lack of a better word.” She leaned against her seat and folded her arms as though bracing herself.
“Why didn’t you retire?” he asked, focusing on the freeway again.
“Before James died, as a second job on the side, he had a small business he’d set up for extra money, and it was in heavy debt. He had to keep his business hush-hush while working for the FBI. They frown on people doing that. But since he worked mainly with computers, he thought he could get away with it. He hoped that if his business took off, he could retire early.”
“What was his small business?”
“Had something to do with programming. I didn’t pay much attention.” She grew quiet.
Matthew’s mind went back to their earlier conversation. “Do you suppose James’s small business was a cover for the work—”
“He did for Petruso. It’s looking like it, isn’t it? I can’t believe my James would work against the FBI for the Russian mafia.” Her cheeks flushed red.
“What if he had no choice?”
She cocked her head at his question.
“Hear me out. Maybe he started his small business, got in over his head at the bank, and my father learned about it. He could have shielded that he was Russian mafia and given James a loan. My father was a master at hiding what he really did.” His mother came to mind and how she’d been hoodwinked by the man. He glanced at Riley. “That would make James indebted to him. If that were the case, your husband couldn’t very well come to you for help. You worked for the FBI too. So James did a few little jobs for my father, which only got him deeper and deeper in. And what if James decided he couldn’t do it anymore and that’s why he guided the FBI to my father? If you think about it, it was a very brave thing to do.”
“I like that theory much better than others I’ve thought of.” Riley seemed open and more relaxed with the new concept to mull over.
Having met success, he continued. “Do you know the name of his programming business?” He treaded on her tender feelings, asking more, but this was too important to let drop. He had to see if his father had played some type of shell game with James’s records.
“Sonic Software or something like that. I left all his business papers with our LA accountant.”
“Okay, that’s another stop we make when we reach LA. It’s too bad you had to keep working to pay off James’s business loan at the bank.”
“Well, he didn’t have life insurance. And since my name was also on the loan, I’m liable to pay it off. Disability pays well, but not well enough. I sold the house in LA, which helped a great deal, but I still owe fifty grand or so, and with a teenage son to raise who will need college tuition, I took the sheriff’s job in the San Juans. I thought it would be easier on me and I could spend more time with Jeremiah. So far, that’s worked out great.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Matthew remembered telling his mother what he’d seen in that small beach house in California and how she too had put her house up for sale. She’d refused to take any more of his father’s money. His mother worked hard, sometimes taking two menial jobs to help put Matthew through college, but it had paid off when he’d sold his first painting. After he’d sold a few more, he bought her a condominium.
He was torn between bitter resentment toward his father because of all the pain he’d inflicted on not only his mother but now on Riley too and guilt because he was the vile man’s son. Add in his half-brother trying to kill them, plus the possibility that somehow James had been involved, and Matthew and Riley’s situation became a huge, ugly mess. He remembered one of Hadeon’s thugs had told him that his half-brother had sent Riley there for Matthew to take care of. “Who told you about the job in the San Juans anyway?”
“I Googled it. Chief Armstrong put in a good word for me, and it was a done deal. Why?”
“Hadeon’s thug told me my brother sent you to the island for me to kill. He wanted blood on my hands so I’d join the business. And if I didn’t, he’d kill me and my daughter. My mother had been the other woman Petruso had cheated with, so in Hadeon’s mind, she probably had to go no matter what. I don’t know how he managed to manipulate the search engine on your computer. Maybe that genius my father hired stayed on and works for Hadeon too. He could have played with your search engine.” Matthew stared ahead at the highway, rubbing his chin.
“The Russian mafia has been known to hack some fairly secure government sites.” Riley grew quiet, probably thinking that her husband may have helped the mafia do such things. She turned in her seat toward him. “I can’t stand it. Where are those burner phones? I have to call Tony.”
“No,” Matthew said softly.
“Come on.” Her intense look reminded him of Jeremiah when he would argue with her.
He tried to reason logically. “You mentioned Chief Armstrong. We believe Hadeon had a mole in the sheriff’s office, but what if he also had one in the FBI? Your Chief Armstrong put in a good word for you. He could be our mole. Did your husband report to him? Does Tony?”
She grew quiet like several of the puzzle pieces in this devastating predicament finally fit. “Yeah, James did, and Tony does. I hate doubting people I’ve trusted.”
How deep did this go? Matthew shuddered as he thought about what waited for them in LA. “To be on the safe side, let’s not call Tony. We’ll just show up and take it from there.”
“The kids!” Riley placed her hand over her heart. “I didn’t tell Tony where we were leaving them. But if the chief is the mole, he might figure out where they are. Armstrong oversaw the case against Dena’s husband. Jeremiah and Aleksa could be in trouble. I’ve got to call Dena.”