Chapter Twenty-Four

 

Jack paced in the hospital’s waiting area, his cell phone to his ear as he spoke to T.J., who was handling the scene back at the cabin. Every time the door to the pediatric wing opened, he looked up to see if Gemma was coming out.

She’d been checked and cleared in the ER, but they were keeping Dana in for observation.

“How’s Dana?” T.J. asked.

“Physically, the doctors say she’s all right, but she hasn’t said a word. She seems afraid to let Gemma out of her sight.” Had the trauma been too much for her? “The doctors plan to keep her overnight for observation. I think Gemma plans to spend the night, too.”

“And what about the aunt? Any word?”

He’d already checked on Sylvie, who had a room on another floor. “The doctors still have her sedated and resting, they believe she’ll be up to questioning by tomorrow.”

“Good to hear.” T.J. cleared his throat. “You know you had no choice.”

Jack didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He’d taken the shot because he’d had to. It didn’t make it any easier dealing with the fact that he’d taken a life. “I know. Thanks for the back up.”

“Any time, partner.”

Jack’s lips curved. There was something likeable about T.J.’s cocky attitude. “What’s happening on your end?”

“The body’s been removed and we have an ID. His name is Tad Mason. He’s from a small town outside of Portland, Maine, but about ten years ago he left the state. Get this, he was questioned in high school over the death of one of the cheerleaders.” T.J. paused. “She was raped and strangled. Apparently, Mason was questioned along with others, but no evidence was found to tie him or anyone else to the murder and the case was never closed.”

“Looks like that will change.” Jack said, as the door swung open. A nurse exited and he resumed his pacing.

“We’re still digging up background.” T.J. continued. “Our boy likely has a few more bodies buried in his background. One thing, though, when I spoke to the detective up in Maine, according to the records, the reason the police looked closely at Mason was that he had a history of instability.”

“What about family?” Jack asked.

He heard noise in the background as T.J. spoke to someone. “Sorry. As to family, mother died when he was a kid and father passed away ten years ago, around the time Mason is said to have left the state. Father was a preacher and had a reputation for being strict with his son.”

That probably accounted for Mason calling the victims sinners, something Gemma had mentioned in her initial statement at the cabin. “Good work,” Jack said. “Keep me posted if you learn anything else.”

“Will do. Take care of your ladies.”

Jack hung up and stared at the phone before putting it in his pocket. His ladies. Two words that packed a lot into them.

As much as he cared about Gemma and her family, he had too much baggage at the moment to pursue any kind of relationship. IA was still breathing down his neck. He’d seen what it had done to his mother when his father had been under the IA microscope. Given how traumatized Dana was, he wasn’t about to add to it by drawing her into the circus that was likely to surround him once news of IA’s investigation got out.

He was cynical enough to believe that it would get out, despite the supposed discretion of the investigators.

He really was a fool to be hanging around here like this. But he couldn’t make himself leave until he knew all was well.

The elevator dinged and his dad and an older version of the Stan Moretti he recalled from the man’s days of partnering with his father hurried over to him.

“What are you two doing here?” Jack asked.

They both looked grim and Stan couldn’t stand still. His eyes darted around the waiting area. Jack’s father seemed only a shade more put together, but even he fidgeted.

“We heard what happened,” his dad said. “How are they?”

“As well as can be expected.” Jack paused. “Is that why you’re here?”

His father glanced quickly at Stan before returning his gaze. “Stan has a plan. We’ve discussed it from every angle and this has the highest chance of success.”

Jack did not have a good feeling about this, whatever this was. “What exactly is this plan?”

“I told you he wouldn’t go for it,” Stan growled, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. He half turned as if intending to walk away.

“Give him a chance,” his dad said.

Nothing further was said as Gemma came out of the pediatric wing. She had shadows beneath her eyes and, as she walked to him, her step lacked the vitality that he’d come to expect in her presence.

“How’s Dana?” he asked.

“She isn’t talking.” Gemma blinked and moisture pooled in her eyes. She brought her hands up as in prayer to her lips and then lowered them. “It’s like after the accident. She’s completely retreated. What if she refuses to come out of her shell? How do I help her?” She sniffled and wrapped her arms around her middle.

He reached out and brushed away a lone tear that fell down her cheek. “You’ll do what you did last time. Be there for her. Give her the love and guidance she needs and as much time as she needs. She’s a brave little girl. She’ll bounce back.”

Gemma nodded and sent him a misty smile.

“That wasn’t an accident,” Stan said, causing Gemma to jerk around.

Her eyes widened. “You’re the waiter. You gave me that message.”

Stan stuck his jaw out. “I wanted you investigating. You’re a good reporter and you get to the truth. The truth is the Chief is a corrupt bastard who tried to kill me.”

Jack immediately zeroed in on that statement. “Do you have any proof?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Jack’s dad said. He looked at Gemma and held out his hand. “I’m Bill Donahue, by the way, and that’s Stan. Stan Moretti.”

Gemma shot Jack a surprised look before holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Donahue. I’m glad you’re okay. Jack was worried.”

His dad had the grace to show embarrassment. “Wasn’t about to put my only son in danger.”

Jack’s blood pressure rose. “I’m a cop. And what about mom? Was it okay to put her in danger?”

His father got that mulish look in his eye that Jack recognized. “Your mother supported my decision.”

“You should have come to me.” He couldn’t believe that his father, who had taught him to respect the law, had decided to play sidekick to the Lone Ranger. Jack didn’t trust Stan Moretti. The guy was twitchy and Jack would bet that his main concern would be to protect Stan Moretti and nobody else. The fact he’d dragged Gemma, a woman responsible for a small child, into this deadly game further lowered him in Jack’s book. It really didn’t help that his father was also part of this plan.

Gemma laid a hand on Jack’s arm, her touch instilling a modicum of calmness into the anger that had begun to churn his stomach. “Why doesn’t someone tell me what’s going on? I take it that you’re not dead like the reports stated.” She directed her question to Stan.

Stan’s hand closed into a fist. “Not for want of trying.”

The elevator dinged and an orderly and nurse exited. Jack jerked his head towards the corner where a group of chairs had been arranged. “Let’s take it over there.” Gemma sat, but his father and Stan continued to hover a distance away. “Sit down both of you, before we draw attention.”

Reluctantly, they came over. Jack took the chair with the back against the wall. Stan dragged a second chair in a similar position, so that he had a view of the elevator and door to the pediatric unit. His dad frowned and half turned his chair, so as not to have his back to the room. Gemma was the only one who slipped into her seat without care.

Once they were all seated, Jack ordered them to start at the beginning.

His dad looked over at Stan. “Why don’t you go first? You put it all together.”

Stan drummed his fingers against his knee. “Sixteen months ago, Rob—Rob Rob Kowalski—crashed his car. They said he had a heart attack.” His fingers drummed a little faster. “I didn’t think much of it. The guy had a heart problem, so it made sense. Then months went by.” He curled his fingers into a fist. “One day I noticed this guy hanging around. It happened enough times that I started varying my routine to see what he’d do.”

He paused, his expression hard. “Things got quiet. I didn’t think anymore about it. I drove up to the lake to do some fishing. I got a boat up there. It’s nothing fancy, more like an outboard motor on a rowboat. Anyway, I packed a few sandwiches and took the boat out onto the lake. I was halfway through lunch when this big cruiser came bearing down on me. I tried to start the engine, but the damn thing sputtered and died. I was a sitting duck.”

“So, what did you do?” Gemma asked. She was leaning forward, interest shining in her eyes.

Stan thumped his leg with his fist. “What do you think? I yelled and waved at them to change course. I figured it was a bunch of drunk college kids or something. And when that didn’t work I jumped before the cruiser hit.” Stan blew out a breath and his face was pale.

“I’m a good swimmer and I work out. I swam deep and far. When I came up for air, I was ready to curse the idiots.” He looked over at Jack’s dad and then he gazed at Jack. “Except there was only one guy in the boat. He must’ve thought I was in the wreckage or something, because he leaned over, pulled out a semi-automatic and shot into the water. That’s when I realized that it was no accident and that someone was gunning for me.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police, and where have you been all this time?” Jack asked. He wasn’t sure he bought Moretti’s story. Moretti’s accident had happened nine months ago. What had he been up to all this time?

Stan scowled. “After what the department did to me, you think I’d trust them? Besides, I recognized the guy. He did occasional work for the Chief.”

“Then what?” Gemma asked.

“Then I laid low. I wanted everyone to think I was good and dead. But I couldn’t access my bank accounts or nothing, so I worked jobs under the table and made plans.”

“Did you contact Frank Hurley? Because he took a tumble down the stairs six months after your accident.” Jack felt disgust for the whole story. Stan and his pals had abused the badge and had been dirty. They’d sowed the seeds of poison that had led to the death of two of them, and possibly Gemma’s mother and sister. It’d also put his father and mother in danger. The rot went deep.

Stan hunched inwards. “I sent Frank some messages. I didn’t dare show my face. I was supposed to be dead,” he said defensively.

“He might be alive if you had.” Jack said.

Stan half rose from his chair and then sank down. “You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I called your dad? I took a chance on letting him know that I was still alive. But it was a good thing I did.”

Jack’s dad nodded. “I couldn’t believe it was Stan at first. I attended his funeral. But then I listened to what he had to say. It seemed crazy.” His dad ran a hand through his thinning silver hair. “Just like Stan, I noticed a guy following your mom. It happened a few times and made me nervous. I had your mom pack two bags in case we had to run.”

“You should have called me. Why didn’t you?” His voice came out harsh, anger just below the surface.

His father winced and couldn’t quite hold Jack’s gaze. “I told you. I wasn’t about to put my only son in danger.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Your mom and I drove up from Florida. We’ve been staying in a motel on the edge of town under another name.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s close. That’s all you need to know right now. As soon as it’s over, which should be soon if Stan’s plan works, we’ll all be safe.”

“What is the plan?” Gemma interjected.

Stan and his dad glanced at each other quickly before focusing again on Gemma. Jack had a bad feeling about that look.

“It’s simple really,” Stan said to Gemma. “We want you to blackmail the Chief.”

***

She had to have heard wrong. “You want me to blackmail the Chief of Police?” Gemma shook her head in disbelief.”

“Forget it,” Jack said. “She isn’t about to put herself in danger. She’s been through enough.” He stood with his hands on his hips a thunderous scowl on his face. “What you two want to do is use her as bait, and it’s not happening.”

Gemma was grateful the small area outside pediatrics remained empty besides them because Jack didn’t appear to be holding back. She understood his concern. She had no desire to put herself in danger again either.

Jack’s dad appeared contrite in the face of his son’s opposition. “Stan and I discussed it. This makes the most sense.” He glared at his son. “Sit down, would you? You’re giving me a crick in the neck.”

Jack sat down slowly on the edge of the seat, his face a wooden mask. The throbbing she saw pulsing in his temple told her how angry he was.

“It’s like this,” Bill Donahue continued. “To the world, Stan is dead. If he tries to blackmail the Chief, the Chief will blow it off, while he sends someone after Stan to take care of the problem.”

Jack suddenly leaned forward. “You don’t have proof, do you?”

His father grimaced, while Stan’s face reddened.

“He’s dirty,” Stan said, once more punching his fist into his leg. “I’ve spent the last nine months investigating. What I’ve got is circumstantial, nothing that would hold up in a court of law.”

“A prosecutor isn’t going to bring a case against a highly respected member of the city without solid evidence,” Bill said.

Gemma had a glimmer of where they were going, but wanted it spelled out. “So how do I come into it?”

“You don’t,” Jack growled.

Stan swore, while Bill told them all to calm down. “Hear us out before you decide.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. Say it.”

Gemma glanced over when the pediatric door opened. Nobody looked in their direction, which meant Dana still slept. They also didn’t seem to pick up on the tension that weighed the air around her.

“You’re a reporter, and a respected one at that. When this story about the Wedding Veil Killer hits the news, and how you and your niece escaped him, people will be seeing your name and face everywhere,” Stan said.

Gemma felt herself color up at his words and she shifted in her seat. She put her hand out as if to stop the flow of words. “I’m not a hero and I don’t want that kind of attention.”

Stan snorted. “Get real. You’re a reporter. You know the drill. As long as the media can milk the story, they’ll be after you.”

Gemma clamped her lips shut. He was right and she knew it. Being on the other side of the fence, though, was a novel and not exactly pleasant experience. She would do everything in her power to shield Dana from the level of intrusiveness coming her way.

Jack reached over and took her hand, surprising her. The warmth from his palm flowed up her arm and she relaxed slightly.

His dad glanced at their clasped hands, but made no comment. “The time to strike is now, when your reputation is at the highest. You call Chief Williams and tell him that you have evidence tying him to Stan’s death and linking him to Rob’s and Frank’s too.”

“And why wouldn’t she go to the police with it,” Jack interjected.

“’Cuz she wants money.” Stan’s belligerence was nearly palpable. “Her finances are shaky and she wants to take her family away from the bad memories.”

“Nobody’ll buy that,” Jack said, his fingers tightening around hers.

She squeezed back lightly, needing him as an anchor, even as she prepared to disagree. “It might work.” Jack jerked, but she held fast to his grip. She turned to face him, ignoring the other two men. “If Chief Williams is behind my sister’s and mother’s death, I want him to pay. I also don’t want to worry that someday he’ll come after me for fear of what I might do or say.”

Jack’s expression darkened. “I’ll investigate and find the evidence.”

As much as she wanted to agree with him and turn down this crazy idea, she refused to hide away and let her sister’s and mother’s killer go free for lack of courage on her part.

“It’ll take time for you to investigate, and if the Chief gets wind of your efforts, he’ll be able to hide the evidence or do something worse. You’re already under investigation by IA. He could plant evidence to make you appear dirty and anything you dig up suspect.” His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. “You know I’m right.”

Jack didn’t pull his hand away, which Gemma took as a good sign. She turned back to the other two men. “All right, gentlemen, what do you want me to do?”

“Whatever it is,” Jack said with a clear growl in his voice, “I’m not going to like it.”