Fractured Page 17

  “He didn’t tell us about you until much later because…well…you know.” The woman shook her head as if Isabella would know what she was thinking. “By then it was too late.”

  Finally, she found her voice. “Are you my aunt?” Given her age, it was the only thing that made sense.

  An attractive woman with perfectly curled hair framing her face, she had intelligent eyes that held Isabella’s gaze without a lick of hesitation. When the woman smiled, dimples broke into her cheeks, making her seem more cheerful than somber, at least momentarily.

  Finally, the woman nodded. “I’m Carmen Samuels.” She didn’t bother to hold out her hand, instead crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  Isabella didn’t take the gesture personally. Maybe her own reserve was an inherited trait, if this woman’s leeriness was any indication.

  “It might not be too safe to advertise the fact that you’re a part of the Samuels family.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabella struggled with a war of emotions. At some level she wanted to know this woman. She wanted to press her for details about all those years she’d missed and to see if maybe she knew about that elusive secret. But at the same time Isabella was afraid of what she might hear. She knew from experience that sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.

  “That’s the way things are.” Carmen nodded and turned to leave. “He didn’t kill those people.” She shrugged. “But that’s all water under the bridge, as they say. Everything that was good and noble, he did because of you.”

  “But that’s the thing, I don’t know him at all. I have very few memories.”

  “It might be better that way.” Carmen patted her hand in a gesture that seemed grandmotherly, despite her youth. “Remember that he loved you and your mother more than anything.”

  “Did he have a thing for cinnamon gum?” She blurted out the question to satisfy her own curiosity as well as pick up some pieces of her memories.

  Carmen smiled and nodded. “He used to buy those giant double packs. Mom used to say he bathed in it.”

  She grasped Carmen’s sleeve as desperation suddenly shot through her. She wanted more information. She needed answers. She needed some sense of direction. Once this ghost of a father had resurfaced he didn’t seem to want to let her mind rest. Even for a second. “Was he friends with Jacob Lacey? Was my father a gang member?”

  Carmen suddenly looked weary. “Yes to both your questions. But it’s much more complicated than that.”

  “I need to know.” Her voice squeaked as a lump formed in her throat and her chest constricted.

  “The less you know the better off you’ll be.” Carmen turned to leave.

  “You know I’m a cop.” It was her pat answer when faced with obstacles. This time it didn’t seem to fit.

  “Don’t think that makes you immune.” Her smile was disparaging. “I moved to New York and changed my name, but still feel like I have to look over my shoulder most of the time.” She hesitated. “Don’t trust anyone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The only response she gave was to grasp Isabella’s hand and smile before turning to walk towards the taxi. As much as she wanted to know what Carmen had to say, she couldn’t force her. Not today. Maybe not ever.

  But she couldn’t give up. “If you ever want to talk, call me.” With that she handed Carmen a card where she’d scribbled her personal cell phone number.

  “It was good to finally meet you, Isabella. Take care.” With that she got into her taxi and it sped away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  All sorts of fragmented thoughts flitted through Isabella’s brain once she arrived at work later that morning. Going to the gravesite and meeting her aunt hadn’t resolved any burning questions. They’d only intensified her curiosity.

  After a couple of hours of completing long-neglected paperwork and searching in vain through the databases for anything on Schmidt Packaging, she made her way downstairs to the archives room. Nobody in their right mind went down into this area unless they had to, so the place was like the inside of a tomb. Dank and musty, it no doubt contained all the dust-borne pathogens known to man.

  The files were listed chronologically, then alphabetically according to year. Trepidation tickled her spine. Finally, she spotted was she was looking for.

  Yanking out the file, she moved closer to the light to examine the contents. There was a mug shot of her father stapled to the front cover. She ran her fingers over the worn dated photo, hoping that she’d spot something in his eyes that might help her with some answers. Instead, he looked like every other punk kid who got arrested: full of attitude.

  A niggling doubt hung steadfastly in her mind. She could no longer sweep the memories under the rung.

  She sucked in a breath, cleared her mind and started to read. ‘Suspect was picked up on the fifty-nine hundred block of Loomis in connection with a robbery.’ He was arrested and later released when the victim refused to press charges.

  Could be the victim couldn’t ID him, or there wasn’t enough evidence to support a conviction, or there was some kind of intimidation involved that forced the victim to back down. If her father was best buds with Jacob Lacey, the intimidation thing would be the front runner for an explanation.

  But then she thought about Carmen’s insistence of her father’s innocence. Sure, the woman was family, but there seemed to be much more than family allegiance in her protest.

  She was anxious to find the file relative to the murder case. The cop in her wanted to see the chain of evidence, how it all happened and who did the investigation. She went back to the row of files and looked for the other file.

  It was nowhere to be found. But who would take it, and why?

  * * *

  “How you doing, beautiful, outside of your serious lack of judgment and bad taste hooking up with Taylor again?” Jonas leaned against her desk.

  Isabella shook off her melancholy memories and smiled. “It’s like a science experiment. Sooner or later he might grow on me.”

  “Now that you mention it, he is a little moldy at times.” He guffawed and perched his butt on the corner of her desk. “Seriously, Sanchez, how are you doing? Is that arm still bothering you? You’ve got to be more careful. Like I keep telling you, it’s a jungle out there.”

  Jonas was closer to fifty than forty. Most guys his age were thinking about retirement, but he had a hellion of a teenage son that was constantly in and out of trouble. The poor guy spent a ton of money on the kid, including sending him to military schools, paying lawyer fees, psychiatric bills and everything else under the sun. On top of that, he’d divorced his first wife about eight years back and lost a bundle of money on the divorce settlement then hooked himself up with a trophy wife who was fifteen years his junior. Rumor had it she had expensive taste. Since Jonas volunteered for overtime on a consistent basis, she had to believe all she’d heard was true.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve had a string of bad luck lately, but I’m sure things will turn my way soon. Besides, I always told you I have that lucky horseshoe up by butt. I’ll be fine.”

  “Especially with that stellar partner of yours, right?” He pointed to the desk next to hers and shrugged.

  “Matthews is in the field. Unfortunately,” she glanced at her arm, “the doctor would only clear me for desk duty.”

  “Out in the field, by himself? Why do I think there are a couple of ladies involved?”

  Jason Matthews’s work ethic—or lack thereof—was legendary. “But only if they’re hot.” She chuckled. Jason left a lot to be desired in a partner, but since she hated having one, it worked perfectly for them.

  He brought his voice down to a whisper. “Any news on who got to your father?”

  After her encounter with Carmen earlier and what she hadn’t found downstairs, she bristled at his choice of words, despite her relationship with Jonas. “I guess the good news is it doesn’t seem like anyone believes it was me. Other than that, none that I kno
w of; although to be truthful I’m sure I’d be the last to know. That Fed guy actually asked me to help with the murder investigation, but of course doesn’t give me squat in terms of what he knows.”

  Jonas scratched his head. “That seems like a weird thing for a Fed to ask. Did he say why?”

  “Didn’t give me a reason. I suspect he doesn’t care if the crime gets solved.” She shrugged. “And the truth is, neither do I.” Even though she said the words, she wasn’t convinced she actually meant them.

  “It’s hard to go full speed when you know the guy was a hardcore murderer.”

  “Exactly.” Still, a smidgen of doubt crept into her as Carmen’s words rang inside her head. She needed to find that file. “Out of curiosity, if I can’t find my father’s file in the archives, do you know where it could be?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Old files go missing all the time. Maybe that Fed guy took it.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” She mulled over the idea. “Except aren’t you supposed to fill out one of those forms and put it in place of the file.”

  “He’s a Fed. He probably thinks he can break the rules.” Jonas seemed a little distracted.

  Before they could discuss anything further, Landry walked up. “Trying to steal my woman, Jonas?”

  “Hey, I need another female in my life like I need a hole in my head. Between my ex-wife and my current one, I’ve got more than enough to handle.” Jonas smiled. “But I got to admit she’s pretty darn cute, even if she’s got a stubborn streak a mile long.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Landry answered.

  “Hey, fellas, I’m in the room, remember,” she chimed in. “Besides, I’m not stubborn, I’m willful. That’s what my grandfather used to say, anyway.”

  They both laughed. Jonas rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Remember to take care of yourself. I didn’t nurture you through this hellacious process to see something bad happen to you. And remember—”

  “It’s a jungle out there,” they said simultaneously and laughed.

  Landry pointed his thumb at Jonas. “This guy’s like a broken record. I swear they should give me combat pay for staying in the same squad car with him.”

  She shooed them away. “You two stop wasting my time and get to work.”

  Landry winked at her and smiled before he turned to leave. Jonas followed suit.

  It was unlike her to leave before eight at night. But by around six, exhaustion tugged at her. The doctor had warned her to only work half days for the first week. Considering she’d spent the morning at the cemetery, she’d already put in more than a full day.

  While the parking lot was lit, dark surrounded the perimeter untouched by the lights. She brushed off the abnormal bout of paranoia as she hit the remote for her car and settled in. But as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the side street, a prickle started at the base of her skull and tingled upwards. She checked her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed.

  Nothing. Still, as cautiously as possible, she removed her gun from the holster and rested it on her thigh. Seconds later she recognized the source of her discomfort, slammed on the brakes, and turned around, gun clicked and ready.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Lou, you scared the crap out of me.” Nerves pulsed and rattled up and down her arms and legs while her breath came in spurts and fits. Right now her whole body was on adrenaline overload. She needed to gain control. After engaging the safety, she re-holstered her gun.

  “Keep driving,” he whispered from his crouched position in the back seat. “Don’t look back in case somebody’s following you.” His voice sounded shaky.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over.” Between the darkness that had settled in and his plea, she couldn’t tell if he’d been hurt in some way.

  “I can’t say. For all I know, they might have bugged your car.”

  “Who? The Feds?” She wanted to shake information out of him. So far on this journey she’d only been met with frustration on top of more frustration. “Lou, you need to give me some answers. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “I know, but it hasn’t been easy for me, either. I don’t know who to trust.”

  “You know you can trust me. I’ve always been there for you, Lou.” Somehow, some way, this madness had to stop. In order to do that, he needed to tell her what he knew.

  “I know, Bella, but things got out of control pretty quickly. Then it was too late to go back.” He gulped in a deep breath. She could feel terror emanating from him like the flow of waves in an ocean.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” She hated not being able to look at him directly.

  “I don’t know if I can. It’s all gotten so convoluted I’m not sure when it all started. First a Fed came asking about you—”

  “Malone.” That was the one and only constant she had in this picture. Malone had his hand in this somehow.

  He nodded. “He started asking questions about your dad and your grandfather.”

  That made her think what Malone told her was intentional. What did he want her to uncover? Was it the Lacey connection or something else? She hid her frustration and pressed on. “What happened to your job at Schmidt Packaging?”

  “Don’t know. One day I’m working there, the next I get the heave-ho without so much as an explanation.”

  “So they did fire you?” In the back of her mind she couldn’t help but wonder why Jonathan Schmidt lied to her. Now, in retrospect, she felt bad that she doubted Lou.

  “Of course. I didn’t lie about that.”

  “How did you get a job there in the first place?”

  “Sergio Valentine. He was a friend of mine from the neighborhood. He told me they were hiring.”

  “The guy seemed like a thug to me.”

  Lou clicked his tongue. “Even though he spent some time in jail and tried to act tough, he wasn’t like that.”

  “Anything weird going on there that you could tell?”

  “I wasn’t around that long.” He drew in a breath. “But after I left, things started to get really strange.”

  “How so?”

  “Your father started calling me from prison. And then I was pretty sure I was being followed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about it? Maybe I could have helped.” She couldn’t imagine Lou being in trouble and feeling too frightened to come to her about it. Ever since he was a little kid, Lou had come to her when he was in trouble. She felt like the big sister he never had. He had to know she’d have his back. Unless he knew this thing he got mixed up in was bigger than the two of them.

  “I knew how you felt about your father. Besides, I had to think about Cynthia and the baby. Look what happened to your mom.”

  “Wait a minute.” A combination of fear and apprehension skittered along her spine. “What do you mean? My mother was killed in a hit and run.”

  “No, she was killed. They got to her.”

  “Who? What are you talking about?” Lou seemed hopped up, nervous. Could she trust his ramblings, or was it fear and paranoia talking?

  “The Aces. Whatever you want to call them. They didn’t like the idea of your father marrying her because of your grandfather being a King, or something like that.”

  “What? That’s some kind of bull my father gave you. He never would have—” Why was it difficult to finish her train of thought? Was it because she naively wanted it to be true? Instead, she shook off the feeling and got to the point. “They killed my mother?”

  “Yep, and threatened you and your grandfather.”

  “My God. How come nobody told me this before?” This had to be hands down the most earth-shattering revelation to date. She’d only just come to terms with the possibility of her grandfather’s involvement and was now being hit with this.

  “Your father and your grandfather didn’t want you to know. Maybe they should have clued you in to some of this stuff, but I can’t say I blame them.”
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  “But how does it all fit together: my father, my grandfather, the death of my mother, Schmidt Packaging, everything?” While she was glad to see Lou, now she was more confused than ever.

  “I only know that something isn’t right, and it’s getting worse.”

  “Where are you and Cynthia staying? How can I get in touch with you?” Based on his behavior and what he’d told her, she was worried for him. She wanted to arrange protection, but knew he wouldn’t trust they’d be safe. Considering what she’d learned so far, she didn’t blame him. “Let me call the lieutenant. Maybe he can help out with this.”

  “I’m not saying he’s part of this, but he might have to tell somebody who is. I can’t take the risk. As it is we move every night, but I still feel like we’re losing the battle. I thought if I came and told you what I know you might be able to get this all cleared up so we can feel safe again.”

  “I’m glad you have such faith in me, but I’m spitting in the wind. As soon as I figure something out, another issue pops to the surface.” Like now. “Earlier you said my grandfather and father communicated. I always thought they hated each other.”

  “They wrote all the time. Your grandfather sent him pictures and updates about you. Before he died, he asked me to continue to do that for him, which I did, mostly by mail. But then like I said your father started calling me asking questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “Asking how you were doing, but then more about if I’d seen anything weird going on in the neighborhood or around the house, that kind of stuff.”

  “Did you know my father was coming here that night?”

  “No way. I didn’t know anything about him even getting out of prison. I only came back to pick up some money Cynthia had stashed in one of the cabinets. As I was making one more round of the place, I saw some guys in the alley. After the last couple of days, I decided to stay put until they went away. When I heard somebody upstairs, I thought it was you, but didn’t see your car in front. At that point, I was afraid to leave.”

  “Did you hear a gunshot?”