The Good Daughter (23 page)

“
Already done. We’re just heading out ourselves.”

“
I’m on my way, too.” He disconnected, then met Marisa’s gaze. “C’mon.”

He strode quickly to the door, leaving her scrambling for her purse and hurrying after him. Dave punched the button on the elevator.

“
What’s happened?”

“
Nia got away. But they found her again. She’d made it to a convenience store outside Montgomery.” Dave stood aside and let Marisa enter the elevator before him.

She pressed the button for the lobby. “Sandro’s supposed to be in that area.”

“
I know what you’re thinking. But we shouldn’t call him. If he shows himself, they’ll kill him.”

“
He’ll want to know.” The elevator doors shut and she added another argument. “He can protect himself. He’s armed, remember.”

“
God, don’t remind me. That’s all I need is a bunch of dead bodies.” Dave sighed, then gave in under her relentless stare. “Call him then.” He thrust his phone at her.

Marisa dialed the number. “Sandro? She got away.”

* * *

Sandro slammed the car into gear and spun out of the driveway. He’d ffound the house, but a thorough search proved it vacant. He’d been kneeling by a blood puddle on the floor at the top of the stairs, struggling to breathe, hoping it wasn’t Nia’s blood. He’d sagged in relief when he took Marisa’s call.

His windshield wipers slapped at the snow. He cursed the weather. Visibility was poor at best. Heedless of the dangerous road conditions, he sped on.

He remembered the time when he’d sped to the airport, anxious to fly back to the States to be reunited after months of carrying on a long-distance relationship.

Her father had objected to his and Nia’s romance. By her own right, Nia was a soccer star in the United States. Her father didn’t want to see her lose her status over a love affair with an Italian.

“
Believe me when I tell you I won’t ask her to give up soccer,” Sandro had told him. “But she will have to live in Italy when we marry. There is no other way. At least while I’m playing soccer. My schedule is more demanding. But she can fly back for her training and games.”

“
You’ve got that much money that you can afford to fly her back and forth?”

“
I am the highest paid soccer player in Italy. She will be well cared for.”

Well cared for
. His words to her father had been arrogant, and seemed like a sick joke now. Maybe her father had been right and Sandro should have never asked her to make that choice. Then she would be safe now. Married to some American--maybe even Dave.

Who would have thought that after Sandro had given up his career in Italy to escape the Mafia’s clutches--with the excuse to Nia that he was ready for a less demanding career--that Carlo would land in America, and in New York, too. Many of the mobsters fleeing ahead of Italian justice had run to South America. Just his luck that Carlo already had ties to New York.

Sandro wasn’t running again. This time there would be a face off. And this time, he would win.

He whipped his car into the convenience store parking lot, the same one he’d used earlier for the light. The irony of it did not amuse him.

A man staggered out of the store as Sandro parked the car. The man weaved along, holding his stomach. He dropped to his knees and threw up in the snow.

Sandro got out of the car and hurried over through the slushy parking lot. “What’s wrong? How can I help you?”

With a shaking hand, the man pointed to the store. “Dead. Blood everywhere.”

Sandro’s horrified gaze shot to the store. He pulled out his gun. “Someone’s dead?” A cold hard lump settled in his stomach. “A woman?”

Sweat glistened on the man’s bald head in spite of the freezing temperatures. “A man. The store clerk--”

Not Nia. Relief. Then sadness for the person who had been killed. “Is there anyone else inside?” Sandro moved toward the door, gun ready.

“
I don’t think so.” The man pushed to his feet. “I stop by here every morning on the way to work. To get coffee and a bagel.”

The poor unlucky customer had lost his appetite today.

“
Did you see anyone when you got here?” Sandro asked as the man followed him back to the store.

“
Yeah. Some men were leaving as I pulled up.” He squinted in thought.

“
Merda
.” This came from Sandro as he entered the store and took in the scene. The clerk slumped in a straightback, chrome chair, duct tape wrapped across his chest holding him upright in the chair. His mouth taped shut. Blood spattered on the cash register and counter behind him. It was obvious there was no need to feel for a pulse.

Sandro walked back outside. “Did you see anyone else with the men? A woman?”

A light dawned in the man’s eyes. “Yeah. A woman was with them. Sitting between them.”

“
What kind of car?”

“
There were two cars--or one car and a truck rather.”

“
A truck?”

“
A big dark blue truck with dog kennels in the back.”

Sandro’s interest immediately sharpened. He’d seen that truck earlier. What kind was it? He wracked his brain. At the time, his mind had been on other things.

“
Is there anything else you remember? What kind of truck? What color was the car?”

“
The car was black--a Lincoln Town Car. And I think the truck was a Ford, one of those kind with four wheels in the back.”

“
Which way did they go?” Sandro tucked the gun back into his holster and pulled out the throw away phone. He punched in Dave’s number.

“
South, toward the city,” the man answered at the same time Dave did.

“
Armstrong.”

“
Dave, it’s me. She’s not here. The store clerk is dead--”

“
Shit.”

“
There’s another man here. A customer. He was driving up as they left. They’ve got Nia with them again.” Sandro told Dave the rest of the information.

“
Sounds like DiMarco’s truck. He trains security dogs, but he has a tracking team, too. I’ll update the local law enforcement. Someone should be there any minute. Make sure that the witness doesn’t leave.”

“
I’ll tell him to stay, but I’m going after them,” Sandro said. “They can’t be too far ahead. The witness said they were heading south. I found the house, but it was north of here, so they’re probably taking her back to the city.”

“
True. They’d want to distance themselves from the crime scene.”

“
I’ve got some of those downtown addresses with me. Get me more.”

“
Sandro, it’s dangerous. Wait on us.”

“
I’ve got to find them. I was so close--”

“
They want you dead, you know.”

“
Screw what they want. Give me those damned addresses.”

Chapter 21

“
Bella
, you shouldn’t have hit me so hard.” Angie had a square white bandage and an ice pack tied to his head. He was sitting behind a desk in a warehouse office, pulling stuff out of the drawers and packing it into a box sitting on the floor--most likely packing up anything she could use as a weapon because she figured this warehouse office was going to be her new prison.

Nia sat in the only other chair in the office, a straightback wooden chair. She shrugged at Angie’s words, too tired to feel any compassion or remorse that she had severely injured another human being. Maybe later she would be shocked--if she were alive later. But now she was tired. She slumped in her chair unable to hold herself upright.

“
You were in my way,” she told him glumly. “Get in my way again, and I’ll do the same thing.”

Angie made tsking noises. “Such a sweet
donna
. I am sorry it has come to this.”

“
You’re sorry? You’re not the one who is contemplating his own imminent murder.”

“
Murder? What are you talking about? I told you we mean you no harm.”

“
Quit bullshitting me, Angie. I saw your pal Joey kill a guy today. Am I going to suddenly forget that?”

“
Many people have forgotten minor facts such as who pulled the trigger in a shooting. You could forget.”

“
Oh yeah? Once you have my husband, you’re just going to let me go? Walk away? And you think I’ll keep quiet when Sandro shows up dead? What reason would I have to keep quiet then?”

“
You have your son,” Angie said quietly.

The blood drained from her face. She shot out of her chair. “Don’t you even threaten--”

With surprising speed and agility, Angie stood up and pushed her firmly back to her chair. “I have made no threats. I have just reminded you that
you
are in no position to make threats. Remember that when Carlo comes to talk to you.”

“
And when will the sleazy coward be here?”

“
That is no way to talk,” Angie scolded her. He picked up a fat roll of duct tape on the desk. “You will do better to keep your tongue in your head. Powerful men like Carlo are very dangerous when angered.”

Helpless rage poured through her. “He might be powerful, but he’s still a-- What are you doing with that?”

He had the roll of duct tape in his hand. She remembered the sound ripping duct tape made when they tied up the clerk. Was he going to tie her up?

“
I must tie you up,” he confirmed.

Her blood chilled. She tried for bravado. “You’re kidding. I’m too tired to even think about escaping again.”

“
I cannot trust you. Carlo’s orders are to keep you tied up until he gets here.”

“
When will that be? And where is ‘here’?” They had arrived back in New York, going to a warehouse area she’d never seen before. From a back alleyway, they hustled her into what was obviously some sort of storage facility--probably full of illegal goods, but she still had no idea exactly where she was.

“
Sit in this chair here, you’ll be more comfortable.” Angie indicated the padded desk chair.

Great, he wanted her comfortable while she was tied up. “Are you avoiding my questions?”

After she switched chairs, Angie taped one arm to the arm of the chair, then repeated with her other arm. “I don’t know yet when Carlo will be here,” he said at last. “And obviously, we are in the office of a warehouse.”

“
Obviously
. I can tell by the plush decor. I meant the location. Ouch.” The tape had pulled the hairs on her arms--she knew it would hurt to get it off.

“
Sorry.” He finished with her arms. “How is that? You are comfortable?”

“
Just great,” she answered sarcastically.

He lowered his considerable bulk to the floor with a grunt. Wrapping her ankles with the tape, he told her, “I won’t tie your feet to the chair. That way you can prop them on the desk if you want to lie back in the chair, but you still can’t get away.” He seemed pleased as he heaved himself back to his feet.

“
You’ve got me taped up tighter than a calf ready for branding. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

“
Good.” Angie patted her on the head. “That is what we want.”

“
That may be what you want. What I want is for Carlo to get here so he’ll answer my questions.”

“
Just remember when he does,
Bella
, watch that tongue of yours.” Angie wagged a fat bejeweled finger at her.

* * *

A grim scene faced Dave and Marisa. By the time they arrived, the locals had already cordoned the crime scene and Sandro was long gone. Marisa, dressed for the cold weather in a ski jacket, toboggan and gloves, took an offered cup of coffee from one of his men and made herself scarce while he set his team to work.

“
Any of those phone calls you’ve been taking from Sandro?” she asked sometime later, with a worried expression she couldn’t quite hide.

So, she had been watching him even while avoiding the unpleasantness of the work he had to do. “No. He hasn’t had time to make it downtown yet. Even if he’d been speeding.”

“
No doubt he was speeding. I’m surprised we didn’t pass him on the way here, though.”

“
More than likely he got a car we didn’t recognize. It’s also possible he took another road in.” Dave wrapped his arm around Marisa’s shoulders and led her toward his government-issued Crown Vic. “Come on, I’m finished here. Let’s go.”

“
Where are we going?”

Beneath his arm, she felt tense, brittle. Her teeth were chattering; he suspected it was from more than the cold. The sooner this was over, the better. “We’re going to your place. I’ll drop you off, then go to the office to check on the paperwork for Roberto. When I know something definite, you can get those accounts transferred.”

“
Yes,” she agreed, a hard set to her face. “It’s time to end this.”

Dave pulled into the underground parking to her apartment and rushed around to open her car door.