Breaking Bad (8 page)

CHAPTER TEN

“I
think I should go incognito,” Stevie called to Jack, who was in the shower with the door cracked. “You know, wear something that won’t call attention or scream cop. Maybe add a wig. How about blond?”
Or short brunette like the victims?

“Not a bad idea,” he called back.

Standing in her walk-in closet, wearing only a pair of black lacy thong underwear and matching demi cup bra, she scanned the racks for the appropriate attire. She had a few wigs from an undercover prostitution sting she’d been part of a few years ago. She wanted to slip under Spoltori’s radar, especially if she managed to get an invite into his dungeon. He’d run if he recognized her.

“I like what you’re wearing,” Jack’s husky voice said from behind her.

She started and turned to find him leaning against the bathroom doorjamb, holding a damp towel low around his hips. The indent of his stirring cock was plainly outlined against the white cotton. Jack Thornton had one amazing body. He was tall, six three, two hundred and maybe thirty pounds. His musculature was long, lean but heavy, and clearly defined. The dark hair on his chest was just short enough not to hide his definition, and she loved the way it trailed down his belly to nest around his generous endowment. The way he was right now, damp from his shower, his short hair pushed back…Well, he was decidedly the most fuckable man on the planet.

The itch that had been scratched was starting to bother her again. With a will of their own, her eyes dipped again to his thickening penis.

Placing her hands on her hips, Stevie fronted him off. “You’re not behaving.”

“I can’t control that guy,” Jack defended inclining his head toward his rabble rouser. “Not around you, especially when you’re strutting your stuff under my nose.”

“Strutting my stuff?” she asked incredulous, then pointed at his rising towel. “Put a leash on that thing, Jack, or it’s going to get you into big trouble.”

“It’s already gotten me into big trouble,” he said, sauntering toward her.

She was having none of it. If he touched her, as wound up as she still was from what had happened in the garage, she’d end up on her back with him buried so deeply inside of her she wouldn’t want to move. They had a job to do and she had a heart to protect. She backed deeper into her closet. “Don’t. You promised.”

“I don’t remember making any such promise.” He stopped, but his eyes raked her from head to toe and back again and again. “You make it extremely difficult not to think of you in my arms, Stevie.”

She could say the same thing, but that would give him more ammunition. Just because she had forgiven him didn’t mean her heart didn’t still ache. Jack was it for her. She knew it just as plain as the sight of him standing front of her. Only problem was that he didn’t feel the same way. Hell, was he even capable of a monogamous relationship? Doubtful. If he was, despite everything that had happened between them, she still wanted to be that girl.

Dream on.

“I have an easy fix for that. Every time you think of me in your arms, underneath you, on you, around you, imagine it’s one of our vics. It takes the sting out of the lust real quick.” She turned and stood up on her toes as she reached for a plastic-wrapped suit on the top rack in the back corner of the closet. Jack wolf-whistled.

She smiled, knowing he couldn’t see her expression, but sternly said, “Stop harassing me, Thornton.”

“Stop looking so fuckable and I will.”

When his arms slid around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, and his nose dipped into her clean hair as he softly inhaled her, Stevie resisted her body’s natural inclination to lean back into him. She turned around and, despite their state of undress, she considered his request. “Really? Are you that much of a pig?”

He grinned and rubbed his nose across hers. “I’m only a pig around you.”

“Well stop.” She pushed off him and turned back to grab the suit and stopped mid reach when Jack asked softy, “What if I don’t want to?”

She turned back to him and scowled. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Jack. I’ve asked you nicely, several times, to stop, but you use our attraction as a weapon to get what you want. I want you to shut it down.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes and turned back for the suit again. “Because I don’t want my heart broken again.”

“What if it won’t be?”

Pulling the suit against her, she turned slowly. “You can’t make that promise.”

“I can promise to try.”

Stevie inhaled sharply. “What are you saying?”

“That I want permission to sexually harass you.”

“And—?”

“I’ll promise to try and not break your heart.”

Shocked, her jaw dropped. Was this his attempt at a relationship? Did she even dare? Not if she didn’t want to lose her heart forever.

Laughter burst from her. “Oh, Jack, that’s so sweet of you, but I’ll pass.”

She strode past him and said, “Your shirt’s in the dryer on fluff. Hopefully that will get the sex smell out of it. Hop to it, we have a killer to catch.”

As she headed to the half bath down the hall to dress, Jack yelled, “Be careful what you ask for, Cavanaugh, you might get it!”

“Promises, promises.”

Twenty minutes later, dressed in a navy designer suit, short brunette wig that Jack didn’t care for, brown contacts, and spiffy leopard print glasses, Stevie got behind the wheel of her GT500 Shelby with a grumpy special agent riding shotgun. They headed north on 680 to the affluent township of Danville and Spoltori.

She glanced at him and inwardly smiled. If he wanted a relationship he was going to have to work for it. “Stop pouting, Jack.”

“I don’t pout.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“A guy has the right to be frustrated.”

“Not when he pulled the crap you pulled. Move on.”

He pulled out his cell as it vibrated and read the text, then said, “My man on the inside said the place is hopping.”

“Better to blend in.” Excitement fluttered in her belly. She was going to get an up close look at her killer.

“We go in separately. Together we’ll attract too much attention and we won’t be able to cover as much space,” Jack said.

“Is the mayor in attendance?”

“Yes. My man, Ryker, gave the mayor’s detail a heads-up not to give you away.”

“Good.” They didn’t need the mayor asking her in front of the killer how the case to arrest him was going.

“We keep a low profile and look for middle-aged women that fit Spoltori’s type. We get names and, if possible, pictures.”

“I want DNA,” Stevie said. Having it sooner than later wouldn’t bog down an arrest.”

“Don’t get that close to him.”

“I hadn’t planned to, but if he touches anything and sets it down or throws it out, I’m grabbing it.” She pointed to the glove compartment. “There’s an evidence bag and gloves in there; would you pull them out and put them in my purse?”

As Jack did so, he asked, “What kind of office staff does Spoltori have and are there any other advisors in his office?”

“He has a secretary, Joan Schillner. She was his alibi for each killing.”

“That screams bullshit.”

“She swears they were at the office working late those nights.”

“Any security cameras to back that up?”

“None. He was smart, Jack; he set up shop where he couldn’t be watched.”

“Who interviewed her?”

“Oliveras. Again, I stayed back when Spoltori became our main suspect. My gut kept telling me not to reveal myself to him at this stage of the game. I’d never get an invite into his dungeon if he knew I was a cop or suspected I was anyone other than who I made myself out to be.”

“You’re not going into anyone’s dungeon, not even for a conviction.”

Stevie ignored his bluster.

“Your ex-partner Oliveras is a joke. I want more background on Schillner. Maybe Spoltori has something on her. I’ll take a crack at her tomorrow before we head to the airport.”

“Airport?”

He grinned and looked at her. “Didn’t I tell you? We’re flying to DC tomorrow night.”

“No, you didn’t tell me!” she said, excited. That he had made it possible for her to travel back East for more on the case pushed Jack’s stock up a few points.

“Spoltori’s aunt is there. Then we’re driving to Baltimore and meeting with the detectives who had her daughter’s case. I also have a meeting scheduled with the ME to go over the autopsy.”

“Captain Russo is springing for my ticket?”

“Yes, but the agency will spring for your room and ground transportation.”

“Two rooms.”

His smile faded, but he nodded. “Two rooms.”

Several moments later they pulled up in front of the swank Blackhawk Country Club. Stevie flashed her badge and waved the valet off when he came for her keys. “Official business, leave it where it is.”

“I love it when you’re bossy,” Jack said coming around as she stepped up onto the walkway. He reached out to take her elbow, but she shook her head.

“If you hadn’t been such a jerk, I’d have shown you just how bossy I could be.”

Jack scowled, but left the comment alone. As they made their way back toward the Grand Ballroom, they were met by a tall golden haired Adonis in a dark suit who made eye contact with Jack first, then gave Stevie a slowly appreciative but oddly inoffensive appraisal. He indicated they should follow him to a private area just outside of the entrance so as not to be overheard by bystanders.

“You must be the infamous Detective Cavanaugh,” he said, smiling and extending his hand. “Special Agent Flynn Ryker.” Stevie smiled brightly when she detected Jack’s scowl.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Special Agent Ryker.”

His hands were big and warm and neatly manicured. No denying their strength.

“Please, call me Flynn.”

“Okay, Flynn, now that the intros are made, give us an update,” Jack said roughly.

Flynn handed Jack and Stevie minute earpieces. As they placed them, Flynn started, “Our boy is flying solo, but sticking close to the mayor’s entourage. There are several women who fit the victim profile. As of yet, he hasn’t cut one from the herd. But several are vying for his attention.”

As Stevie inserted the earpiece, she told them what she knew about the mayor. “Mayor Dyer is very popular with Oaklandites. He’s well connected in all the surrounding Bay Area counties. Lots of wealthy supporters with lots of money to grease his political wheels.

“I know the mayor personally; he and my father were fast friends since their Cal days. He spent many a day and hour at our Piedmont home. He’s smart, hardworking, and political.”

“He sounds like the perfect candidate,” Flynn said.

Stevie sighed. “Not quite. I know the mayor has a bit of a straying eye.”

“Did he hit on you?” Jack asked.

“No, but about a year before my father died, Donald was at the house without Claire, his wife, and Dad was laying into him about keeping it in his pants if he wanted to be governor one day.”

“No specifics on who the mayor was dallying with?” Flynn asked.

Stevie racked her brain. “No, it was a generalization. I had the feeling it wasn’t specific to one woman in particular but women in general, as if he’d had more than one or two affairs.”

“Let’s keep an eye on that,” Jack said. Then, “Stevie, since Ryker and I look like the feds that we are and you don’t, go ahead of us. I don’t want us to be seen together and blow your cover.”

As she entered the ballroom she was nudged by two men who had had a few too many. Moving out of their way she progressed deeper into the room to get the lay of the land. Roughly forty plus, twelve top tables. The room capacity was five hundred fifty. Multiply that times the fifteen-hundred-dollar-a-plate entry fee; she whistled. Nearly a million dollars. That was some serious bank.

“Excuse me, miss, but I couldn’t help but admire your suit. I’d love to know where I could buy one for my girlfriend.” The voice was deep with a sinister edge to it. The hair on the back of Stevie’s neck spiked when her brain registered who it was that spoke.

Slowly she turned and looked Mario Spoltori straight in the eye.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S
tevie leashed her shock at the man’s audacity while ignoring the way her skin crawled. Spoltori’s appearance was either highly coincidental or by design, and Stevie didn’t believe in coincidences when it came to murder.

Spoltori smiled down at her, the creases around his pale blue eyes deep. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was genuine. She wasn’t fooled. The man was a sociopathic killer. Stevie smiled back. “You have good taste. This is Valentino.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “That sounds expensive.”

“It is. This is two seasons ago, but still a classic. It set me back a few thousand.”

He smiled again. “My girlfriend is worth it.” Then he shook his head and said, “Where are my manners? My name is Mario and I promise I’m not a crazy stalker.”

Stevie took his hand and shook it, finding it warm but damp. “My name is Stephanie and I promise I’m not one either.” They both laughed and for one millisecond, Stevie wished Jack and Flynn were flanking her in the presence of such evil. That they were out of view didn’t mean that she was out of theirs, but . . .

“I’d be happy to ask the buyer from the little boutique I bought this from if she can track down another one.”

“I’d really appreciate that.” Spoltori slid his hand into his suit breast pocket and withdrew a card, handing it to her. “My cell and e-mail, either one works.”

“I’ll give her a call tomorrow.” Stevie took the card and carefully slipped it into her purse, then asked, “Are you a friend of the mayor’s?”

“Business associate. I manage his campaign funds.”

She glanced around the room as if she was gauging the bank accounts of the attendees, but in actuality she was looking for Jack and Flynn’s positions. They had split up, each flanking her at about fifty feet as they appeared engrossed in conversation with a fellow Dyer supporter. “At fifteen hundred dollars a plate, and the number of supporters here tonight, looks like you’re going to have a nice chunk of change to manage.”

“It would be chunkier if the food and venue were donated.” He looked out over the crowd before settling his cool gaze back on her. “Would you like me to introduce you to Mayor Dyer?”

“I’d love that. I’m a big fan.”

“This was a shitty idea, Stevie, beg off,” Jack said.

When Spoltori took her elbow and steered her toward the throng surrounding the man of the hour, Stevie couldn’t hold back the shudder that rippled through her. Maybe Jack was right. “What do you do, Stephanie?”

“I—” Stevie thought quickly. “I’m an adventure guide.”

Spoltori’s fingers tightened around her elbow as he pushed through the crowd. “Adventure guide? Interesting. What adventures do you recommend?”

“Mountain climbing, skydiving, white-water rafting.”

“Vanilla.”

“Vanilla is what most clients want. But I have a few that like a wilder adventure.”

“Oh?”

“I even have two that”—she hesitated, not wanting to come off too obvious, but decided to take the chance—“actually like to be kidnapped.”

“What happens to them when they get kidnapped?”

Stevie shrugged and smiled. “I can’t divulge that information.”

Spoltori’s eyes glittered. “I understand. I have a little side business that requires the same client discretion.”

Forcing a smile, Steve offered, “Maybe one day I can kidnap you.”

Spoltori’s eyes glittered like ice. “Or maybe I could kidnap you?”

“Don’t encourage him, damn it!” Jack growled in her earpiece. She ignored him. Spoltori was biting. She didn’t have enough to hook him. Yet.

“I’ve always been intrigued by my clients who swear by the rush they get from it. I might just take you up on it.”

“Given how you dress, I would never have pegged you for an adrenaline junkie, Stephanie.”

“There are two sides to every coin, Mario.” She looked up to him and gave him a flirty little half smile. “You might just be a little shocked by the woman lurking beneath this navy suit and how far she’s willing to go for a thrill.”

Spoltori flashed her a harrowing grin. Her body reacted with a hard chill she was unable to hide.

“I like the sound of that, Stephanie.”

“Do not offer to meet him,” Jack commanded.

As they approached the mayor, he happened to look up from a conversation he was having with an avid supporter. He smiled at Stevie, then quickly looked away as if he didn’t know her.

Once the intros were made, Stevie grabbed two glasses of champagne handing Spoltori one. To her surprise, he took it. She raised her flute to Spoltori.

“Here’s to designer suits and new adventures.”

“To new friends.” He clinked her glass and took a sip before placing his flute back on the tray.

The server’s lips tightened, and with his gloved hand he moved it to the far side of the full glasses.

As the server continued through the crowd, she watched Flynn approach him, spin him around so his back was to Spoltori, take the cloth napkin from the server’s arm and use it to remove the flute from the tray.

“I’d be honored if you sat at my table for dinner,” Spoltori said.

“Decline,” Jack said in her ear.

“I’d love to,” Stevie said, “but I have a client to meet in about”—she glanced at her watch—“an hour and I still have work to do before I meet with him.”

Spoltori’s lips tightened before he smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes not consistent with the expression. Despite his attempts at warmth, he was blizzard cold.

“Even if your friend can’t locate the Valentino, please call me.”

Stevie smiled. “I had planned to.”

She excused herself and slowly but purposefully walked away, knowing that Spoltori was watching her every step. Once out of his line of view she hurried to the ladies’ room, where she took the evidence bag from her purse and carefully transferred the card Spoltori had given her into it then put it back in her purse.

“Flynn,” she said, “Meet me outside of the ladies’ room off the west doorway and hand me the flute.”

“I’m outside the door.”

Stevie poked her head out the door with an open evidence bag. Flynn dropped the flute into it and she sealed it.

“Got you, Spoltori,” she said triumphantly.

Once Flynn took the evidence, she ducked back into the ladies’ room and exhaled slowly. That was a close, creepy, and unnerving as hell encounter with Spoltori.

“Dinner is being served and Spoltori is seated up front at the mayor’s table,” Jack said, “With everyone sitting now, it’s easier to scan the room for possible targets. Another set of eyes would be nice.”

The bathroom door opened and in walked the woman who had spent the afternoon in Spoltori’s bed.

Her dark brown eyes looked right through Stevie. Snotty bitch.

The woman’s cell phone rang inside of her Chanel purse, to the tune of “Closer,” by Nine Inch Nails. She threw Stevie a look that said, beat it, my phone call is more important than anything you have to do here.

When Stevie moved to the sink to wash her hands so that she could eavesdrop, the woman moved to the far stall.

“Hello there,” she said in a deep, inviting voice.

The caller said something that made her laugh. “I am yours to command.” Then, “Don’t worry about him; he’s got his eye on some twit walking around in come-fuck-me heels.” The caller said something else that prompted, “I’d love to. I’ll see you then.” She hung up, pushed the stall door open, caught and held Stevie’s amused stare, then brushed past her like the Queen of Sheba.

“I think our next vic was Spoltori’s five o’clock today. She just walked out of the ladies’ room. Follow her.”

“Spoltori is eating dinner,” Jack said.

“Was he just on his cell phone?”

“No, but the mayor was.”

Disappointment swept through her as realization struck. Why was it so hard for a man to be faithful? “Damn him! I’ll bet my badge she’s meeting the mayor for a little tryst. Do we know who she is?”

“Regina Welsh, Senator John Welsh’s wife.”

Stevie whistled. “I don’t get it, but we need a tail on her and the mayor.”

“The mayor just got up and is making excuses,” Jack said. “Spoltori doesn’t look pleased.”

“Mrs. Welsh is heading back toward the pool,” Flynn said.

“Keep an eye on her,” Jack instructed. “From the looks of it, Spoltori is having serious private words with the mayor just out of view, to the left of the podium.”

“Do you think Spoltori knows? Did either one of you see him with Mrs. Welsh in the ballroom?”

“Negative,” Jack and Flynn said in tandem.

Stevie walked from the restroom back into the ballroom.

“What are you doing, Cavanaugh? You’re supposed to be gone.” Jack asked.

“I’m going to eavesdrop.”

“Be careful,” Jack cautioned.

“Always,” she whispered.

Approaching silently, she heard their heated words. “I’ve told you what would happen if you keep chasing pussy,” Spoltori spat.

“Just do what I hired you to do, Mario,” Mayor Dyer said, turning and coming face-to-face with Stevie. His face flushed deep red before he hurried past her.

Spoltori’s frigid eyes speared her where she stood. For the first time in a very long time, Stevie was actually in fear for her safety. “My client canceled,” she explained. “I thought I’d come back and take you up on the dinner offer.”

He shook his head moving past her. “Dinner’s over for me. Please excuse me.”

Stevie moved aside and simply nodded. When he was out of earshot, she said, “Spoltori is livid.”

“What did you hear?” Jack asked.

“Spoltori telling Mayor Dyer to back off the pussy, to which the mayor responded, ‘Just do what I hired you to do, Mario.’”

“I have a man on Mrs. Welsh. She’s in one of the pool cabanas.”

“Should we intercept them?” Stevie asked walking toward the back of the ballroom.

“We’re not the morality police, Detective,” Jack said.

“Spoltori just peeled out in his Beemer,” Flynn said. “We have a man on him.”

“Morality police or not, I want to talk to Mayor Dyer,” Stevie said. She was angry for Claire and for the people of Oakland.

“Better hurry, he’s making a beeline for the cabana,” Jack said.