Sixteen: Protecting Judy

Claire gripped Roger’s arm. “Now the boss of a hired killer knows that Judy’s a witness to a murder. It’s no longer a question that Petrov will target Judy, it’s a certainty.”

“But she didn’t witness the murder,” Roger said, “only Petrov getting off the lift.”

“That puts Petrov at the scene,” Claire replied through gritted teeth. “That may be all he needs to justify killing her. Leon said Petrov never leaves a witness alive that he doesn’t trust to keep quiet. And I bet that’s what the two of them were arguing about at the reception. Petrov wanted to kill Judy, and Ivanov was telling him to hold off, that maybe Judy didn’t see him. Now Ivanov knows she’s a threat.”

Judy looked confused. “What are you talking about? Who’s Petrov? What do you know that you aren’t telling me?” As she blurted out the questions, her expression changed to red-faced anger.

“We didn’t want to worry you until we had confirmation from the sheriff’s office. But now you’ve given us our own confirmation, and it’s time you knew.” Claire told her what Leon had found out about Petrov being an enforcer for Ivanov.

She laid a gentle hand on Judy’s arm. “There’s more, honey. I just overheard Gregori Ivanov pressuring Nick to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

Judy glanced around. “Nick’s here? Where?”

“He was out on the balcony. I don’t know where he is now. But do you hear what I’m saying? It was obvious from the conversation that Nick knew what his father was doing.”

Eyes wide, Judy shook her head. “Maybe he couldn’t do anything to get his father out, but Nick would never work for organized crime.”

“He seems to be resisting,” Claire said, “but he’s boxed in, and I think it’ll be hard for him to get out. The mob’s already killed his sister.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m almost positive Petrov did it. I just don’t know why.”

While Judy gaped at her mother, Roger said, “There’s Detective Silverstone. I’ll go get him.” He crossed the ballroom to where the detective stood with a woman in a long turquoise dress, whose face matched the photograph on Owen’s desk.

“If what we discovered isn’t enough for Owen to get protection for you,” Claire said to Judy, “we’re leaving tonight and we won’t be going back to Colorado Springs.”

“Isn’t that a little extreme?”

“Not when a mob enforcer is gunning for my daughter,” Claire said fiercely. She realized her fingernails were digging into her palms and unclenched her hands.

“I’m not leaving Breckenridge without talking to Nick first.” Judy wiped her hand across her brow. “This is all too unreal for me. Here we are in the middle of a ballroom party, and you’re talking about mob gunmen. I can’t believe this is happening to me, to Nick’s family.”

The string quartet launched into the “Blue Danube” waltz, and for a surreal moment, Claire felt as if she were on a doomed ship sailing toward disaster.

Roger returned with Silverstone. The detective looked distinguished in a black Western suit coat with black suede yokes, bolo tie, and silver-banded black cowboy hat.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Owen.” Claire held out her hand. “I was hoping to meet your wife.”

“She doesn’t like getting tangled up in police business, especially when it’s one of our rare nights out.”

Claire glanced over and saw his wife watching them with a slight pout on her face. The woman turned away and addressed the couple she was with. “Sorry about that, but this is a matter of life or death—Judy’s.”

Owen looked at Judy. “Your father told me you ID’ed the skier in black.”

“Yes, I saw him at the Continos’ house on Friday.”

“Viktor Petrov,” Claire added. “The enforcer I told you about.”

“Could you pick him out of a lineup?” Owen asked Judy.

“Oh, yes.”

“Would you be willing to testify to that, if this goes to trial? Remember you could be in danger from the Russian mob if you do.”

Claire gasped.

Judy glanced at her mother then squared her shoulders. “If I can help put Stephanie’s killer behind bars, yes I’ll testify.”

Anxious to know more about the man Judy might face in a courtroom—if she made it there alive—Claire asked Owen, “Did you find out anything else about Petrov?”

Owen nodded and sipped his beer. “Your contact’s information checked out. Denver PD’s got a two-inch file on him, mostly speculation and circumstantial evidence, a few minor convictions. They know he’s done more, a lot more, but it’s been impossible to get testimony against him. They were curious how I knew he was in the country, since they still had him pegged in Chile.”

“You didn’t tell them about Leon, did you?”

“No, I said an eyewitness spotted him at a private gathering up here in Breckenridge.” He raised a brow at Claire. “The same eyewitness who spotted the illegal money transfers on Contino’s computer. They’re beginning to wonder what sort of witness you are.”

“I hope Denver PD’s not suspicious of me.” Seeing Owen’s smile, Claire realized he was joking. “Did they find anything on Anthony’s computer?”

“Not yet. Ivanov’s files had been deleted, but Contino didn’t reformat his disk, so the computer geeks think they can reconstruct at least some of the contents. In the meantime, Denver PD’s sending a couple of officers up here tomorrow morning to work with me. Maybe this time we can construct a solid case against him.”

Claire put her hand to her chest. “Thank God. I will feel so much better with that man locked away.”

“Unfortunately, we haven’t the foggiest idea where he is now. No one’s seen him since Friday. And the Continos don’t know him. When I interviewed them today, they said he came to the memorial service with Ivanov, who they claim is only a client of Anthony’s.”

Roger frowned. “Angela seemed pretty friendly with Ivanov when we saw him at the house Thursday.”

“She said she’s politely friendly to all of Anthony’s clients, which is good for business,” Owen replied. “She truly seemed to know nothing about her husband’s work, but I think Nickolas is holding something back. He knows more than he’s telling me.”

Shaking her head, Judy stepped back, but Roger stayed her with an arm around her shoulders.

“Yes, he does,” Claire said. “Ivanov is pressuring him to join the mob. I told you about the conversation Ivanov and Anthony had regarding Nick on Saturday. Tonight, I overheard another one between Ivanov and Nick out on the balcony.”

Claire relayed the details of the conversation to Silverstone, concluding with, “That’s why Roger asked you to come over. We have proof now that Judy’s a target of Petrov. We think Petrov wanted to get rid of her before, and Ivanov stopped him. Remember the argument they were having at the Continos’ when they were staring at her? She needs protection, and now.”

Owen studied Judy. “She may be our only means of flushing out Petrov.”

Claire jammed her fists on her hips. “Oh, no. You are not using my daughter as bait to lure in a killer. I forbid it.”

Judy’s eyes flashed. “I can make that decision for myself.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking of making yourself a target. He’s a crack shot.” The terrifying image of her daughter lying bloody and dying clashed in Claire’s mind with those of Stephanie and Boyd. She hadn’t been able to save them. She couldn’t bear to see her daughter die, too.

“Give me some credit, Mom.” Judy placed her hands on her hips, an exact mimicry of Claire’s earlier action. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not a child anymore. You can’t forbid me to do anything.”

Claire felt as if she had been slapped. Anger and fear warred for control of her tongue. Her mouth flapped open and closed like a fish tossed out of the water.

Owen and Roger took a step away from the battlefield and shot arched looks at each other.

Claire took a deep breath. I will not shout at my daughter in the middle of this crowd. I will not shout . . . Fear and reason finally won out. “Judy, I’m your mother. My instinct to protect you is natural and impossible to squelch.”

Judy glared at her mother. “You can’t protect me from life itself. It’s time to let go. I’ve got to learn how to protect myself.”

With tears brimming in her eyes, Claire reached out. “I don’t want to lose you. Ever. Can’t you see your death would break my heart?”

Judy surveyed the people nearby, some watching them surreptitiously. “You’re making a scene, Mom.” She hesitated then opened her arms to Claire.

Claire hugged her daughter fiercely. She murmured in Judy’s hair. “Sorry, honey. Sorry for being such a mama bear.”

Judy sighed. “Put your claws away. This cub’ll be all right.”

“Oh, God, I hope so.” Claire glanced at Owen. “What do we do now?”

He rubbed his chin. “I’ll get the evening patrols busy looking for Petrov. I’ll look for Ivanov here, and see if he’ll lead us to Petrov.”

“If Ivanov’s not still at the party,” Roger said, “you might find him at the Hilton. That’s where Angela said he was staying.”

“I know. She told me, too.” Owen pulled out a cell phone and tapped it in his hand. “And I’ll get an officer assigned to guard Judy. In the meantime, you three stay together in this ballroom. Don’t even leave to use the restroom until I return.”

“But I need to find Nick,” Judy said.

“Let him find you.” Owen shot a worried glance across the room at his wife. “Now, to break the news to Faith that I’ve managed to ruin another of her social evenings.”

As he strode off, the master of ceremonies announced that the evening’s program would begin, and people should find seats. The sounds of shuffling footsteps and scraping chairs surrounded Claire.

She motioned for Roger and Judy to follow her to a table near the back of the room. After they sat, Claire said to Judy, “If Nick’s looking for you, he’ll find you here. So will Petrov, but hopefully he won’t risk harming you in front of hundreds of witnesses.”

Roger glanced at the bar. “I’m tenser than a tax dodger being audited by the IRS. I need a drink. How about you two?”

With her head pounding and her insides twisted into knots, Claire realized she needed to release some of the pressure boiling inside her. “White wine for me this time.”

Judy gave a nod. “Me, too.”

While Roger went to fetch the drinks, Judy said, “I still find it hard to believe that a Russian mobster is out to gun me down. The whole story is too surreal. This isn’t the wild, wild West, you know.”

Claire leaned forward, anxious to convey the seriousness of the situation. “You’re a witness to a mob killing. How many times have you read in the paper about a witness mysteriously disappearing before the trial of an important criminal?”

“I’m not stupid. Deep down I know there’s a real danger, and that’s got my stomach in knots. But you’ve got to admit this whole situation is freaky. And why aren’t you and Dad worried about yourselves? You saw Petrov at the Continos. You know who he is, too.”

“Yes, but you’re the only person left alive who can put him on the ski slope when Stephanie was killed. Believe me, he’ll stop at nothing to keep you from testifying against him.”

Judy’s gaze had left her mother’s face, along with her attention.

Damn, how can I convince her to take care of herself if she’s not even listening? Claire turned to see what Judy was looking at and spotted Nick striding toward them, his lips clamped in a tight line, his eyes strained. He wore the same dark blue suit he had donned for Stephanie’s funeral.

Judy rose as he approached, and the two clasped each other in a desperate hug. Wordless, they both seemed to struggle against tears as they buried their faces against each other’s shoulders.

Claire tried not to stare at them. She listened while the emcee recited a long list of sponsors to thank.

Finally, Nick pulled away to look at Judy but continued to hold her in his arms. “I missed you.” He gently caressed her hair. “I needed you.”

“Oh, Nick. Me, too, but Mom and Dad made me stay away yesterday, and you were tied up with Detective Silverstone today.”

Nick shot a sharp glance at Claire. “They made you stay away?”

Claire jumped in before Judy could reply. “We thought you and your mother should have some private time to grieve, Nick. I’m sorry if we made an error in judgment.” She threw a “keep your trap shut” look at Judy.

He took Judy’s hand and started to pull her from the table. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

Judy pulled her hand out of his. “I can’t.”

Claire took advantage of Nick’s startled paralysis to urge both of them to sit. “Judy, Roger and I need to stay here, together, until Detective Silverstone returns. You two will have to talk here.”

“What?” Nick glanced at Judy, who nodded miserably. “What business does Silverstone have with you?”

Before Claire could respond, Judy said, “He’s arranging for me to have a cop babysitter.”

Nick looked from one of them to the other. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Petrov,” Judy replied. “I saw him on the ski slope before Stephanie was killed.”

“Who’s Petrov, and what does he have to do with Stephanie’s death?”

“He’s that ferret-faced man who was with Ivanov at the reception at your house. I saw him get off the T-bar and ski down right before Stephanie was hit.”

Seeing a frown of disbelief cross Nick’s face, Claire added, “Silverstone has positive information that Petrov is Ivanov’s enforcer.” She laid a sympathetic hand on Nick’s arm.

“That scum brought Stephanie’s killer to our house?” Nick’s face went red and his hands tightened into fists.

“We have worse things to worry about,” Claire said. “Remember, Judy saw Petrov on the slope.”

Nick stared at Judy. Claire could see the wheels turning in his mind, and the moment when he reached the awful conclusion that rocked him back in his chair as if he had been punched in the gut.

“Oh, shit.” Eyes wide with fear, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Double shit.”

The emcee’s voice sounded on the speakers, “—and the most important person we have to thank is Anthony Contino, who was tragically taken from us on Friday. Here in his place to accept his award for outstanding volunteer of the year is his son, Nickolas Contino.”

A round of hearty applause broke out. The emcee spotted Nick and signaled for him to come forward. People began to stare at him as he sat immobile.

Judy shook his arm. “You need to go up there, Nick.”

He grabbed Judy’s hand. “I have to talk to you.”

With tears glistening in her eyes, Judy said, “I know. But right now, you’ve got to accept your father’s award. Go.”

Nick finally seemed to notice the people applauding around him. He flushed and stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He approached the stage, fumbling for an index card in his jacket pocket. He dropped it, then picked it up again, moving slowly as if still dazed.

Roger returned with the drinks and handed them out before he took his seat. He watched Nick’s awkward progress toward the stage. “Is he going to make it through this ceremony? He looks kind of shaky.”

Claire took a hefty gulp of her wine. “He’s got more than grief working against him. Judy just told him she saw Petrov on the ski slope the day Stephanie was killed. He’s still absorbing the impact.”

“Shit.” Roger glanced at Judy, but she was focused solely on Nick, as if willing him from afar to make it through the emcee’s praise of his now-dead father and the short speech Nick would be obliged to give. “Double shit.”

Claire couldn’t help her wry grin. “Precisely what Nick had to say on the subject.”

Owen returned to their table and leaned over to whisper to them. “I’ve got two patrolmen scouring the premises for Petrov and Ivanov. No sign of either yet. As soon as the patrolmen finish, they’ll report to me here.”

He slid into the chair Nick had vacated. “One of them, Officer Ramstead, will take the first watch over Judy. There’re a few things I should go over with you three.”

He glanced at Judy then followed her gaze to Nick on the stage. With hands tightly clasped, the young man stood next to the emcee rattling off his father’s contributions, in time and money, to the Summit Foundation.

“We won’t be able to tear her attention from Nick,” Claire said. “Tell us, and we’ll make sure she hears it later.”

Owen cleared his throat meaningfully then looked at the two of them. “Ramstead, and whoever takes his place in the morning, should stay in the same room with Judy at all times. We can make an exception when she’s in the bathroom. No windows in there, I presume?”

“Not in hers,” Roger said.

“Good. I plan to sit outside your place in my cruiser tonight, after I check for Ivanov at the Hilton.”

“I hope your wife’s not too upset about that,” Claire said.

Owen rolled his shoulders, as if his jacket was binding him. “She’ll get over it. This kinda stuff comes with being a cop’s wife. I’ve arranged for someone else to drive her home. I need to be at your place. If Petrov makes a move for Judy, I think it’ll be tonight.”

Claire sucked in a breath.

“Keep her inside and away from the Continos’ house.” Owen glanced at Judy. “I know I’m asking a lot.”

“Yes, you are,” Claire replied, “but we’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. What will you do if you can’t find Petrov?”

“We’ve already got an APB out for him. I hope we flush him before he escapes back to Chile.”

“At least in Chile, he’d be away from Judy,” Claire said.

Judy leaned forward, her shoulders tense. Nick had started his acceptance speech.

A Summit County patrolman in the familiar black and green-gray uniform approached Owen and whispered in his ear.

“No luck yet.” Owen stood. “Let’s go.”

Claire stood with him. “Judy won’t want to leave before talking to Nick.”

Owen frowned. “Tell her to call him later. With Petrov on the loose, I’m nervous about leaving her out in an exposed area any longer.”

Roger went over to Judy and whispered in her ear. When she shook her head vigorously, he pulled her up out of her chair with a firm hand on her arm. “You can call him after we get home.”

“But—” Judy’s gaze remained on Nick as they escorted her out of the ballroom.

He stumbled on his words as he watched them go.

Claire caught his attention and mimicked putting a phone to her ear while mouthing, “She’ll call you.”

_____

When they reached the parking lot of their townhouse, Claire scanned the area, nervously checking for any signs of a lurking Russian hit man. As if there would be any.

Owen pulled his cruiser into the space next to theirs, and Officer Ramstead parked his at the end of the block. The two men got out of their vehicles and approached Roger’s car.

“Stay here until I can check the place out.” Owen held out his hand to Roger. “House key?”

Roger handed Owen his keychain and showed him which key was for the door.

Owen turned to Ramstead. “You watch the front door and the Hanovers.” Owen drew his gun out of a holster hidden under his suit coat and entered the townhouse silently.

Claire, Roger, and Judy huddled together in the cooling car, with Ramstead standing guard and puffing clouds of condensation in the brisk night air. A few minutes later, Owen waved to them from the doorway. They climbed the steps and went inside.

Before Claire could say anything to her, Judy grabbed the phone and punched in a phone number, tossing her coat on the floor as she waited for the rings.

“Mrs. Contino, this is Judy. Please ask Nick to call me as soon as he gets home. It’s important. And, Mrs. Contino, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I want to help—” She listened for a while, as tears came to her eyes. “Yes, I understand. Goodbye.”

She grabbed a tissue to wipe her eyes. “Mrs. Contino can barely talk, she’s so choked up. I wish I could do something.”

Claire rubbed Judy’s back. “So do I, honey, but grieving is a long and difficult process. We can’t go through that for her. Or for Nick.”

“But I could be there when he needs to talk. If you’d let me.” She ground out the last four words.

“We feel for Nick, too,” Claire said. “But our first concern is your safety. How do you think Nick would feel if something happened to you?”

And if keeping Judy safe means breaking up her relationship with Nick, then by God, I’ll do it, no matter how much it hurts her.

Judy eyed her mother suspiciously, as if she had heard Claire’s thought. “I need to go to the bathroom.” She frowned at Officer Ramstead. “So you’re to be my shadow, right?”

He cleared his throat and glanced at Owen. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m going downstairs.” She turned and walked to the staircase.

“She’s not mad at you,” Claire said to the officer, “just that you need to watch her.”

“I understand.” Ramstead hurried down the stairs after Judy.

“If you’re all set here, I’ll head over to the Hilton,” Owen said. “I’ll keep Ramstead posted via his police radio and be back as soon as I finish there.” He opened the door, made sure the lock was set, then closed it behind him.

Claire collapsed on the couch, too wrung out with tension to even remove her coat. She just unzipped it and threw it open. Her stomach growled, notifying her that one glass of wine did not constitute dinner. She glanced at her watch. A few minutes after eight o’clock. “Have we got anything to eat?”

Roger shot her a surprised glance from the kitchen where he had been pouring himself a glass of water. “You didn’t get enough to eat at the party?”

“I didn’t get anything to eat there, and I don’t think Judy did either.”

Roger opened the cupboard doors. “Raisin bran, tortilla chips, microwave popcorn, baked beans—”

Ugh. Beans. “How about popcorn?”

He put a bag in the microwave oven and brought Claire a glass of water and the ibuprofen bottle.

“Thanks, honey, for knowing exactly what I needed.” One of the benefits of being married for twenty-six years. Claire downed the pills, then dug into the popcorn when Roger brought over the bowl.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, making Claire jump and spill the remaining popcorn.

Roger went to the door. “Who is it?” He waited then opened the door.

Nick stepped inside, his eyes dark wells of sadness, and nodded at Claire and Roger. “Mrs. Hanover, Mr. Hanover. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that Judy got involved in our troubles. I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Even if it means leaving her? “We need to have a long talk, Nick. It’s our right to know exactly what’s going on, for Judy’s sake.”

Looking even more miserable, Nick jammed his hands in his pockets. “Can I talk to Judy first? There are some things I need to say to her in private.”

So, maybe he does realize he has to leave her.

“She’s downstairs,” Roger said. “But a policeman’s with her. Unfortunately, he has to stay in the same room.”

Nick grimaced.

Claire’s heart went out to the young man. “I’m sure he’ll keep whatever he overhears to himself, Nick. Go on. She’s anxious to see you, too.”

Head bowed, he clumped down the stairs.

Claire knelt on the floor to pick up the spilled popcorn.

Roger bent down to join her. “Actually, he seems like a nice young man.”

“Stuck in lousy circumstances, unfortunately.” Claire tossed a handful of kernels into the bowl. “Circumstances I don’t want Judy involved in.”

Roger glanced down the stairs, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If only there was some way . . .”

Claire sat back on her heels. “I don’t see how it’s possible. The Russian mob is worldwide. If they want Nick, they can reach out and grab him wherever he goes. He’s stuck. His father made damn sure of that.”

She pursed her lips. “But Judy isn’t stuck. Not yet. No way is she going to be the wife of a criminal.”

Shaking his head, Roger dropped the last popcorn kernels into the bowl and brushed off his hands. “It’s a damn shame.”

As Claire rose with the bowl, a whooshing sound downstairs froze her in place. “What was that?”

His brow furrowed, Roger said, “I don’t know.”

Claire stood and called, “Judy!”

No answer.

“Nick? Officer Ramstead?”

Nothing.

Roger’s gaze darted around the room, then he dashed for the fireplace and grabbed the poker. “All I could think of,” he whispered to Claire.

He motioned her to get behind him as he slowly made his way down the stairs, hugging the wall.

Claire followed. When they reached the bottom step and turned, she craned her neck to see around Roger’s head and shoulders.

The back sliding glass door stood wide open. A frigid breeze slapped the vertical blinds against each other.

“Did they go outside?” Claire asked. “Where’s Officer Ramstead?”

A toilet flushed and the two turned toward the bathroom. The door opened and the policeman stepped out. He looked around. “Where’d they go?” Then he spied the gaping sliding glass door. “Crap.”

He ran out and around the side of the townhouse. The roar of an engine turning over filtered in through the open doorway. Soon Ramstead returned, chest heaving.

“That was a Range Rover with the two of them in it. I couldn’t catch them.” He bent over and leaned his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Why’d you let them out of your sight?” Roger asked.

“The two lovebirds were so engrossed in whispering to each other, I decided to take a leak. Never thought they’d bail on me. I was supposed to keep someone from getting in, not her from getting out.” He groaned and stared at Claire. “What the hell do they think they’re doing?”

“How should I know? I can’t believe they would do something this stupid. All we can hope is that they went to Nick’s house.” And that no one followed them.

Anxious to get Judy back under police protection, Claire pointed to the radio on Ramstead’s belt. “Can you contact Detective Silverstone on that?”

He keyed the radio. “Ramstead calling Silverstone.”

“Silverstone here. I’m almost there. Hold a couple of minutes.”

Ramstead tried to raise him again, but got no response.

Claire shivered. “Roger, could you close that door?”

As Roger slid the sliding glass door shut, the front doorbell rang.

“That must be Owen.” Claire ran upstairs, fear gnawing at her brain and jumbling her thoughts. What if the kids didn’t go to Nick’s house? What if they couldn’t be found until it was too late?

“Check first before you open it,” Roger called as he and Ramstead clomped up the stairs behind her.

“That you, Owen?” she asked through the door.

“Yes.”

Claire opened it and ushered him in. “Thank God you’re here.”

Owen’s eyes went wide. “Why? What happened?” When he saw Ramstead climbing the stairs, Owen repeated, “What the hell happened?”

“The gal and her boyfriend took off.” Ramstead slumped onto a kitchen stool.

“We think they’re on the way to Nick’s house,” Roger added.

Owen slapped the kitchen counter, startling Claire. “Damn idiots. Petrov’s even more likely to find her there.”