Vendetta (20 page)

Cat smiled and pulled out her phone. McEvers was now ten minutes late. Cat got up to check the bathroom and wandered down the hall toward the kitchen. A door led outside and she pushed it open. Sheltered from the snow by an awning, a young red-haired man in a white apron was sitting on the concrete steps smoking a cigarette. He looked very startled, put out the cigarette, and flashed her a very uncertain smile.

Hmm
, she thought. What was that all about? Just a simple case of smoker’s guilt? Maybe he was trying to quit.

She shut the door and went back to the table. Before Tess had a chance to suggest it, she dialed McEvers’ number. It rang at least twenty times, but there was no voicemail. They called the precinct to see if they had any messages and checked the voicemail on their desk phones. No McEvers.

“Yeah, I’m getting concerned, too,” Tess said, reading Cat’s mind, as good partners did.

Cat stared at the onion rings. About half of them were gone. “You’ve eaten a few of these, right? Maybe you’re pregnant.”

She ducked as Tess made a fist.

Then Tess slid out of the booth. “I’ll look around.”

Tess went out the front door. Cat waited. The cute Japanese couple paid and left. The woman with all the pages of paper was nursing a cup of coffee.

Tess came back, shaking snowflakes off her coat and taking off her knit hat. She reported that she had nothing to report. It occurred to them that it was actually lunchtime and they ordered two cheeseburgers, which seemed to annoy the texting girl, who took it out on the other diner by pretending not to see her requests for more coffee.

“Okay, so no-show. Won’t be the first time,” Tess said, “but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“So do we call G and R?” Cat asked. Tess scowled. “We can say that we heard from her. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Tess nodded.

Cat called Gonzales. He picked up.

“Hi, this is Detective Chandler. We were wondering if there was any follow-up on that security footage from the Turntable.”

“Oh, sorry, we forgot to get back to you on that,” Gonzales said. “We interviewed McEvers. She said she was there as his bodyguard that night and he had a couple of drinks. That was the cause of the argument. Mr. DeMarco terminated her and she left.”

Cat’s brows shot up. “When was this?”

“About three hours ago. Something go down on your end?”

“Yeah, she called us and she wasn’t happy, but she wouldn’t say why. She said she wanted to meet us but we haven’t heard from her since.” She winced at the almost-lie-by-omission, and Tess nodded encouragingly. “Do you have another number for her? We’d like to see if we can get anything more out of her.”

“So would we, but we can’t find her,” Gonzales said. “What number did she give you?”

Cat’s bad feeling got worse. She read him the number. He said, “That’s what we’ve got.” He thought a moment. “Now we have probable cause to go in without her permission.”

We already went in without her permission
, she thought.

Cat said, “Okay, well—”

“Hold on.”

He went away for so long that she thought about hanging up. Tess looked at her questioningly, Cat shrugged, and they both waited.

“We just got another ransom note. It says
Angelo’s not feeling so good. It’s one point five million now.
”

“How did it arrive?” Cat asked, and Tess sat forward. Cat held the phone out so Tess could hear.

“It was sent to Angelo’s email account.”

“The IP address—”

“Scrambled. It ricocheted all over the world. To Mars and back.”

Mars
. She and Tess stared across the phone at each other at his use of the word. Coincidence? Some kind of code? A test?

“Hello?” It was Tony DeMarco. “Did he tell you what just happened here?” “Yes, Mr. DeMarco,” Cat said. “You know we’re doing everything we can, sir—”

“No, I
don’t
know that!” he shouted. “I find out my security detail’s been letting my diabetic son get drunk in bars and sneaking around God-knows-where and no one has a clue where he is!” He trailed off in a flurry of expletives.

Cat spoke slowly and calmly. “Do you have additional contact information for Claudia McEvers?” Cat asked. “We’d like to question her.”

“I told the guys to get it from my HR department. Whatever we’ve got, the guys have got.”

“The guys” had to be Robertson and Gonzales. “Where did she sneak him to?” Cat asked. “Are you referring to Turntable?”

“At least a dozen ‘clubs.’ So he could audition for
gigs
. They’re dives. They’re filled with losers. ‘Musicians’? More like drug addicts on welfare.”

“Could you provide a list of those clubs? We’d like to check them out,” Cat told him. “Sometimes those kinds of places are fronts for organized crime.”

Tess shot a look heavenward, a commentary on the irony of Cat’s statement when she was probably speaking to New York City’s king of organized crime.

“It could be that someone recognized him and devised a kidnapping scheme. Maybe Claudia McEvers was involved. She could have been meeting with her co-conspirators while he thought he was auditioning.”

“Hold on,” he said.

Cat waited again. Tess ate another onion ring.

Then DeMarco said, “I just got informed that Lizzani didn’t show up for his shift today. My people called his house and I’m sending someone over there.”

“Sir, we can handle that for you,” Cat said. “Law enforcement—”

“No! You haven’t done squat!” he yelled, and disconnected.

Cat texted Gonzales instead of calling, in case he was in the middle of placating DeMarco. Gonzales texted back an address in Queens. Then he phoned.

“Get the address?” he asked her. “That’s for Lizzani. We’re going to McEvers. Do you think you can beat DeMarco’s people to Lizzani?”

“We’ll do our best,” Cat replied. She added, “We tried to reach Bailey Hart yesterday.”

“Also missing,” Gonzales said. “I feel a conspiracy in the air.”

She took that in. “Have the kidnappers left instructions for a drop? How can they increase the amount if they haven’t left payment instructions for the first demand?”

“Because they’re criminals?” Gonzales said.

“Maybe they did make a demand but DeMarco never got it. What if they think he ignored them or screwed up the drop?” Cat tested her theory. “Wouldn’t they have said something about that?”

Gonzales was quiet for a moment. He said, “What if two messages from them weren’t received? The first demand and then the reprimand for missing the drop? Say their communications protocol has a glitch in it, and maybe they know that and maybe they don’t.”

“They scrambled their IP address so you couldn’t trace them,” Cat said. “Maybe they accidentally sent their messages pinging around, too. Can that happen?” She’d have to ask J.T.

“It looks like the answer’s yes, but this is way out of my league,” Gonzales said. “We’ve got people we can put on this.”

So do we.

“We’ll get on the road to check out Lizzani,” Cat said.

“Thanks. Appreciate the help,” Gonzales said. He sounded like he meant it.

“If you find McEvers or Hart…”

“We’ll let you know.”

She had no idea if he actually would.

They got the bill and threw down cash, then headed out to the rainy, dark day. As they hurried past the first alley, Cat spotted movement and tapped Tess. They shared a look and Cat pulled out her gun. Tess followed suit. On a different day, they wouldn’t have.

They stepped into the darkness.

V
incent emerged from the shadows into enough light for Cat to recognize him. He was wearing his pea coat and ball cap, and when he saw Tess and Catherine’s drawn firearms, he said, “It’s just me.”

“
Vincent
.” Catherine holstered her weapon and moved beneath the overhang of the building, out of the rain. Tess came, too. “What are you doing? It’s broad daylight!”

“Well, no.” He managed a small smile. “There’s not a whole lot of sun out. Mostly snow.” Then his smile faded. “J.T. told me about the Rikers security footage. The deliberate frame job.”

“And you tracked me here.”

He shrugged.
If you went to the end of the world I would find you
. He said, “I know you always say you don’t want to be protected. But I figure we’re working a case now. Together. And I have to watch my partner’s back.” He looked at her for confirmation, and saw, over her shoulder, that Tess was nodding at him.

“Completely agree,” Tess said. “This case is getting complicated.”

“And way too personal,” Vincent said. “So what do you have?”

They explained about the call from Claudia McEvers. Cat went back over the fact that McEvers had worked for the Windsors.

Vincent said, “That could be weird or not too weird. Windsor was like DeMarco, in the stratosphere of money and power. They would have moved in the same circles. They probably hired each other’s people now and then.”

Cat’s mouth pressed into a tight, firm line. “But doesn’t all this feel like it’s solidly linked? My father disappears during the power outage, IA tries to bust me with faked footage, someone who used to work security for Curt Windsor tells us not to trust two FBI agents we’re supposed to be helping?” As usual, Cat got straight to the heart of the matter. He agreed with her.

“And key people are going missing,” Catherine finished. “Lizzani. Hart.”

“I think we’re getting a good picture of how Angelo was kidnapped,” Tess said. “Lizzani uses his biometrics to get them in, Hart reprograms the security system. No wonder he was so nervous. Click-click with that pen,” Tess said.

“That’s certainly a workable hypothesis,” Vincent said, and then cleared his throat. It was time to move to his discovery. It was a game-changer, and he should have announced it as soon as they met up. “I have something to show you.”

He saw that Cat heard how deadly serious he was; she checked her gun holster beneath her coat. Tess was on alert, too. “

What about Lizzani?” Tess asked. “We’re trying to beat DeMarco’s guys to his place.”

“Take one extra minute for this,” Vincent replied.

He turned and they followed him down the alley, hugging the wall to stay out of the snow. The Hudson River churned gray and stormy below the grade; and Vincent walked them to a Dumpster against the wall. He listened to Cat’s increasing heartbeat. Maybe she only suspected what he was about to show her, but she was certain it was something bad.

He pulled a paper towel from his coat pocket, wrapped it around his hand, and opened the lid. The two detectives peered in.

There, sprawled among bags of garbage and flattened cardboard boxes, lay a redheaded woman. The very woman, he supposed, they had come to meet at the diner.

Her eyes were closed and she was curled up almost as if she were sleeping. But Vincent knew that she was dead. She had no pulse. To him, the smell of the blood that had streamed from the back of her head into the refuse was as strong as the rotting bags of food scraps surrounding her.

“Shut it,” Catherine said.

Vincent closed the lid with the paper towel. The three stood beneath the overhang. He said, “The body is dry. That means that this happened before it started snowing.”

“Are you saying that you think those two agents did this?” Catherine asked.

Tess frowned. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Tell me about the FBI agents,” Vincent said.

Catherine gave him the download. About Gonzales and Robertson, and the security footage from Turntable, and the phone call. Vincent listened intently. He could see why they were conflicted about how to proceed. He wasn’t sure what they should do, especially now that Catherine was back on IA’s radar. Once he found out who was causing her problems, that bastard had better run. Fresh anger seethed just below the surface and every protective bone in his body called out for vengeance. But he knew Catherine hated it when he stepped in to fight her battles.

He thought about the little girl he had saved in the burning building. And then he thought about Angelo DeMarco. If he could save Angelo’s life, then this was just as much his battle as Catherine’s. And that was not about protecting her. That was about doing the right thing.

He said, “Based on the scents on the body, I’ll try to track down who did this.”

Catherine nodded. “We can look into Lizzani while you hunt down the murderer. If it’s Angelo’s kidnapper, even better.”

“No listen, let’s split up, Cat. Stay with this. I’ll go check on the address,” Tess said. “That way we’re square with Gonzales and Robertson and we can cover more ground.”

“Let’s withhold disclosure about the body,” Catherine said, “until we see where it takes us. We can always ‘discover’ her body when it’s convenient for our timetable.” She looked over her shoulder. “I hope no one’s watching us. Or taking pictures.”

Vincent got quiet and went into predator mode. He said, “I don’t think we’re being watched. I see the murderer as very tall, male, has a beard. And he walked down this alley from the river toward the Javits.”

“That counts Lizzani out,” Tess muttered. “Unless he’s an accomplice or has one who looks like that. I’ll take the squad car to Queens. Did you drive over here?” Tess asked Vincent, who nodded. “Okay. I’ll take our car and call you, Cat, as soon as something shakes loose.”

“Good plan,” Cat said.

Tess dashed through the rain toward their car. Catherine turned to Vincent and said, “The Dumpster’s in plain sight. We may have already been spotted looking inside. Can you do one more check to see if anyone is loitering around?”

Vincent got still again. In his mind’s eye, he saw Claudia McEvers walking toward the front of the diner. Then he envisioned the tall man following behind her. The man spoke; McEvers turned and followed him into the alley. He described the rest of the scene to Cat.

“She knew him. She wasn’t afraid of him but she was surprised to see him. They walked down this alley to the midway point. Then she got scared and tried to leave. He grabbed her arm. He hit her over the head with the butt of a gun. She fell to her knees and he dragged her behind the Dumpster and beat her to death.”