Everything But The Truth (15 page)

Jameson also had a bubble light. Thank God, the scumbag had been a cop.

Unlocking the vehicle door, he jumped inside and fired up the ignition. He threw the magnetic bubble light on top of the roof and stepped on the gas, nearly running over a man and woman in the process as he made his way out into the street, the siren screaming in his ears.

Punching in the numbers to Matt’s cell phone, he didn’t waste any time once the detective answered. “The plan’s changed. I think Donatelli has Peyton.”

“What are you talking about? How would he have found her?”

“I don’t have any idea, but listen.” Reeve filled him in on what little he knew and gave him the address to the warehouse in Queens. “Matt, we’re going to need some back-up.”

“After what happened at the cabin, I don’t have any idea who can be trusted.”

“Pick someone you’d trust with your own life.” With that, he hung up the phone. All he could think of was reaching Peyton. If Donatelli so much as hurt one hair on her head, he was a dead man.

Chapter Fifteen

The cab driver pulled up and stopped in front of an old warehouse. At ten o’clock at night, Peyton hadn’t expected to see much, but it was even darker than she’d thought it would be. The building looked three stories high and a block long. But there didn’t seem to be any cars around, nor could she see any lights on inside.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked the driver.

“Lady, this is the address you gimme.” He watched her from the rearview mirror as she dug in her bag for the fare and tip. “You want, I can hang around some. Then if yer john’s a no-show, maybe me and you can have a toss in the backseat. Whadda you say?”

“
Whadda I say?
I say, you just screwed yourself out of a nice tip, buddy.” She threw enough money to cover the fare over the front seat, opened the rear door and got out. “Have a nice life,” she said, slamming the door.

His answer wasn’t very pretty. Then he screeched out of the parking lot and turned the corner, his taillights disappearing into the dark night.

A cool gust of wind kicked up, and she shivered. It was so quiet. And so darn dark she could barely see. She patted her bag, checking to make sure the gun was still there, although the thing weighed her bag down so much she’d be a fool not to realize it was in there. But she’d needed to reassure herself just the same.

Not knowing which door to use—there were three of them across the front—she chose the one in the center and started moving toward it. However, when she reached the concrete steps she heard a noise behind her and spun around.

“Keep moving,” the man said. She recognized the voice of the man she’d spoken to on the telephone.

Her heart pounded in her brain and her hands trembled so badly she was afraid they’d fall off, but she had to keep her cool. Slowly, she lifted one foot and then the other to climb the cracked, concrete steps.

“Open the door.”

Feeling for a doorknob, she found a metal handle instead and gave it a pull. The rusty old door squeaked as it opened and she saw a faint trace of light leading to a corridor. The place smelled like dust and rubber. Sort of like new tires on a car.

“Move it.”

Something hard nudged her in the back and she didn’t have to guess what it was. He had a gun. Following his order, she moved.

When she reached the end of the corridor, the man nudged her in the back again. “Go to your left,” he barked and she complied.

After a few feet of narrow hall, it opened up into a huge room with a concrete floor and a glaring spotlight hanging from a pole near the far wall. There were hundreds of tires stacked in mile-high piles, and high above her, a cat walk surrounded the perimeter.

She didn’t pay much attention to anything else, because her eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room, where Jane sat in a chair, her waist and hands secured by ropes. Someone had put a strip of cloth over her mouth and tied it behind her head.

Beside her stood a man Peyton recognized as one of Father Mike’s killers, the man she heard called Frank Harrington. Although he’d shaved his mustache, she recognized the blond, thinning hair, and she’d never forget those cold, beady eyes.

Rather than acknowledge she knew who he was, she looked right past him to Jane, hoping to convey a silent message to the scared teenager that everything was going to be all right.

“Nick, who the hell is
she
?” Harrington asked the man who’d escorted her inside, his voice echoing across the room.

“What do you mean, who the hell is she?” The man took a step around Peyton and looked her in the eye.

He was one of the men she’d seen at the bus station. Wearing a silky black shirt, black slacks, and enough gold jewelry to start his own business, he was short—five-seven at most—stocky, and bald. Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose, he said, “It’s the witness. The Delaney broad.”

“The hell it is.”

The man Harrington had called Nick leaned in and studied her again, his face too close to hers. His breath smelled like onions. Although he’d never seen her as far as she knew, he seemed to think that was the only way to tell if it was really her.

Squaring her shoulders, she stared right through him.

After a few moments, he took a step back and cleared his throat. “It’s her,” he said, sounding satisfied.

“How the hell would you know?” Harrington shouted, coming toward them. He pushed Nick aside and gave her a once over.

Peyton’s heart throbbed beneath her breast, but she treated him to the same icy stare she’d given the other man. He wore a brown leather bomber jacket over a white polo shirt and khaki slacks. Up close, she noticed the dozens of pock marks on his face.
He’d probably had bad acne as a teen
.

“It’s not her!” he yelled, glaring sideways at Nick.

“How do you know?”

“Because I was there when Louie popped the priest. I saw her, you idiot.”

Peyton nearly sighed aloud with relief.

“Are you positive?” Nick asked.

“Of course, I’m positive. The other broad had dark blonde hair, and she
wasn’t
a hooker. In fact, she looked more like a Sunday school teacher.”

Nick nodded. “Then who the hell is
she
? And what’s she doing here?”

Harrington met her eyes, and she swallowed. “My name is Pepper,” she said. Both men scowled at her.

“I’m a friend of Jane’s. Jade’s,” she quickly corrected in a shaky voice. “Ms. Delaney called me. She called the police too. They should be on their way.” She jerked her head toward Jane. “So, I suggest you untie her and let us go.”

Harrington gave a harsh laugh, then pulled a gun from the holster beneath his jacket and pointed it directly at her nose. “That’s real funny.”

Peyton looked straight ahead for fear she’d go cross-eyed if she stared at the gun, but mostly because she was afraid she’d faint if she looked at it too closely.

“I’m telling the truth.” She crossed her arms, accidentally knocking the bag from her shoulders. Luckily, it caught on her forearm instead of crashing to the floor. Very carefully, she hung the strap from her left shoulder again and said, “Fine, don’t believe me. Go ahead and get arrested. See if I care.”

The two men looked at each other. “Is she for real?” Nick asked.

“Apparently.” Harrington looked back at her and lowered the gun. “Lady, you have to be the dumbest broad to ever walk the face of this earth.”

Bringing one hand to rest at her hip, she said, “I resent that.”

The men stared at each other again and shook their heads. Then Nick asked, “What are we going to do with her? Kill her?”

Peyton wheezed and choked back a lump in her throat. Making a fist, she pounded her chest a few times, until she settled down and could breathe again.

“Why would you want to kill me? I didn’t do anything to either one of you. And neither did Jade. Besides, then you’d just have to deal with our bodies and all.” Oh, God, had she actually said that?

From over Harrington’s shoulder, she saw Jane shaking her head slightly, her eyes huge with alarm.

Harrington laughed again and touched her face. “Honey, you’re a real comedian.”

She tried not to wince at his touch. She had to be brave and needed to make them think she was too stupid to cause them any real harm. Then, maybe they’d let Jane and her go. Smiling, she said, “Thank you.”

Dropping his hand, he moved away from her and holstered his gun. “I’m calling Donatelli. We’ll see if he wants us to waste the broads. I’m not killing anybody for free.”

Thank God, he had some principles
. “I certainly don’t blame you,” she said. “Everyone deserves to get paid.”

“Shut up!” Harrington shouted, pointing a finger at her with one hand and holding a cell phone to his ear with the other. “You’re not funny anymore.”

She looked at Nick and smiled weakly. The idiot actually smiled back.

Trying not to act as if she were eavesdropping on Harrington’s conversation, she looked around the room. “This is nice. Do you guys hang out here a lot?”

“Once in awhile,” he said. “You know, like when we have important stuff to discuss and we don’t want anybody to see us.”

“Shut up!” Harrington said again. “No, not you, Mr. Donatelli. I was talking to Montero and the broad.” He walked in a circle while he talked. “Yeah, well we’ve got ourselves a little problem. See, the broad who showed up here isn’t our witness.”

She saw Harrington hold the phone away from his ear for a moment before bringing it back. Obviously, his boss wasn’t too happy with him.

“I don’t know who she is. Just some hooker.” His face grew tight. “Yes, sir,” he finished and then hung up. “He’s on his way.”

Oh, God
. Sonny Donatelli was the man pushing all the buttons. What if he ordered them to kill her and Jane? She had to think of something. And fast.

“Does this place have a ladies room?” she asked.

“I told you to shut up.” Waving his hand, he said, “Now sit down and zip it.”

Peyton looked behind her for a chair, but didn’t see one. “You expect me to sit on the dirty floor?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay
,” she said, dropping to the floor and tucking her legs beside her. “You don’t have to be so nasty.” She set her bag to rest on her lap. She should have known they wouldn’t let her go to the ladies room, not that she knew what she would have done if they had. But in all the cop shows she’d seen, people always disappeared in the restrooms when there was trouble.

“Did you check her purse?” Harrington asked Nick.

“Well…no.”

He swore. “
Hell
, check it, you moron.”

Nick shoved his gun in his waistband. “Gimme the purse.” He held out his stubby-fingered hand.

“Be careful. I don’t want you spilling my tampons and make-up all over the place.”

He gave Harrington a funny look. He was obviously uncomfortable discussing things of that nature.

“What did you
think
I had in here? A
gun
?” she asked, laughing. “You guys are too much. And speaking of tampons, I really need to use the ladies room.” With that, she started to get up.

Again, Nick looked at Harrington.

“Sit down,” Harrington ordered. “And keep your mouth shut.”

“I will if you take that gag off Jade.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “It’s not as if anyone’s going to hear her if she screams. Besides, she looks like she’s going to be sick, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”

“I don’t believe you. Do you
ever
shut up?”

Peyton didn’t answer.

“Frank, maybe we should take it off,” Nick said. “She’s right. The girl doesn’t look too good. I don’t want to have to clean up a mess like that.” He made a sour face.

Harrington sighed. “Do whatever you want.”

Peyton breathed a sigh of relief when Nick stepped behind Jane and untied the gag. Jane opened her mouth wide and moistened her lips, but she didn’t say anything. Peyton figured the girl was much too scared to talk.