Lethal Journey Page 3

  Eric stood. “You sure it was the same van?”

  “Positive. That’s about the only thing I am sure about.”

  “Color of the van?”

  “Blue. Maybe black. And larger than a minivan. Everything happened so fast and it was so dark.” She glanced at Eric. Two deep lines of worry appeared across his forehead, feather-like wrinkles formed around his eyes. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

  His eyebrows raised. “The precinct got a call about twenty minutes before the accident. The caller said to keep a close eye on prosecutor, Stephen Taylor and the new district attorney. Said they might run into some problems.”

  She took a quick sharp breath. “Jesus. This has to do with the trial. I can feel it.”

  Eric looked at Pete, and then back to her.

  Pete flipped the notebook shut. “You know what you’re suggesting?”

  “It’s possible, right? At this point Valdina has nothing to lose.”

  “Possible. But if the mob wants you dead, you’re dead.” Eric said.

  “Well if they wanted to scare us, they sure as hell succeeded.”

  “It’s not too often the mob sends out a warning. In any event, we haven’t got any other leads at this point.”

  “I’ll have Dad stay with me. He won’t be happy but I think it’s better if we stick together.”

  “Good idea. We’ll have an officer posted at your house.” Pete pulled out a business card from his breast pocket and handed it to her. “If you think of anything else or need to get in touch with us, call, day or night.” He stood and slid the notebook back into his jacket, and then left the room.

  God, she was alone with Eric. The only sound was the air conditioner humming overhead. Talk about awkward. She’d forgotten how tall he was. He made her appear petite even though she was five- foot-eight, a good four inches shorter than him. Their eyes locked.

  “God, I must look like hell.” Lauren looked away.

  “You do. You’ve got one nasty bruise on the side of your forehead. Looks like the one you got from the guy who tried to mug you in Central Park. Remember?”

  “I do.” She smiled. “How could I forget? You saved me. If you hadn’t, we would never have met.” And here we are again. She fiddled with the elastic bandage around her wrist. “I’m sorry about Duffy. He was quite the character.”

  Eric slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. “Yeah, he was. He was a good man. A good father.”

  Lauren noticed Eric’s eyes gloss over with pain—the loss still too fresh. She touched his arm.

  “We’ll talk later. I’ll check on your father before I leave. Try to get some rest.” He patted her hand, and then headed to the door.

  “Eric, do you believe in fate?”

  “I’m beginning to.”

  Chapter Four

  Eric met up with Pete in the hallway.

  “Hey, the captain called. He wants to see you in his office first thing in the morning.”

  “Just what I need.” Eric leaned against the wall and shook his head. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “Nope. Bromstrom needs to get on someone’s ass. Fortunately, he picks on you and not me.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Pete snickered.

  Eric stared at his partner. “What’s so funny?”

  “I saw the way you were looking at Lauren. You still got the hots for her.”

  “Give me a break. I’m doing my job.”

  “Nice bedside manner.”

  “For God sakes.” Eric waved his hand. “Don’t you have something to do for ten minutes? I want to talk to Stephen alone.”

  “Yeah, I could use a cold drink. Whether you want to believe it or not, you’re still hot for her.” Pete rushed down the hallway and headed for the elevators.

  Eric glanced at the tired blue walls bordered with worn white trim. Pete was right. His feelings for Lauren had not disappeared. Back when they dated, his social drinking got out of hand and her spoiled princess routine grew old. Not a good mix. He really didn’t think he’d see her again. He couldn’t afford to allow his feeling to get in the way this time around—it wasn’t going to happen. Finding his father’s killer was top priority.

  “Excuse me, detective. You can see Mr. Taylor now,” the nurse said.

  “Good. Thanks.”

  The night’s events reeled through Eric’s mind and frustration dug deep in his throat. He glanced at his watch. Two fifteen in the morning and his gut ached from the watered-down coffee he’d picked up in the cafeteria. He strolled down the west wing and pushed open the door to Stephen’s room.

  The man’s eyes widened. His eyebrows shot up. “Eric?” He shifted in the bed and smoothed the blankets around him. “What are you doing here?”

  Eric sensed the dislike the man still had for him. Some things never change. Stephen never approved of his relationship with Lauren. He thought Lauren could do much better than a cop. He wanted much more for his princess.

  “Come on, Stephen. You’re a smart man. Someone runs you off the road two days before one of the biggest mob trial in New York’s history. It’s sure as hell not a coincidence.” Eric took a step closer to the bed and kept his hands buried in his pockets.

  “That van wanted us off the road. Pure and simple. Like it was hunting us down.”

  Eric studied Stephen’s face. The man hadn’t aged much other than a couple new wrinkles around his eyes and a few extra gray hairs. He had the same strong features as Lauren; high cheekbones, full lips and a smile that could melt ice.

  “Any unusual phone calls? Letters? I mean you prosecuted the bastard years ago.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary but why are you involved?”

  Eric clenched both fists, his muscles twitched in his arms. “One of Valdina’s men killed my father.”

  Shock burst across Stephen’s face. “Jesus, I didn’t know.” His voice trembled. “Sorry about your father. A real shame.”

  Hard to believe Stephen Taylor had softened over the years. Not the same tough guy who had offered Eric a hundred thousand dollars to pay for his sister’s cancer treatments providing he got the hell out of Lauren’s life. Of course Eric didn’t take the money. Instead picked up extra shifts whenever he could.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “How’s your sister?”

  “Good. The cancer’s been in remission for almost three years.”

  “That really is good news. I assume you’ve seen my daughter—how is she?”

  “Pretty groggy and worried about you. The accident could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “You’re telling me. Not a ride I want to take again.” The lines on Stephen’s face finally relaxed. “Thank God, Lauren is okay.”

  Eric gestured at the white cast surrounding Stephen’s foot. “How’s the foot?”

  “A minor break and sore as hell, but keeping Lauren safe and making sure Valdina gets what he deserves are the only two things I care about.”

  “Guess we have a lot in common.”

  Stephen’s mouth tightened a fraction.

  Pete poked his head inside the door. Perfect timing.

  Eric nodded to him. “My partner here will get your statement. Can you think of anyone else who might want to hurt you or Lauren?”

  Stephen pushed his head back into the pillow, his eyelids looked heavy. “No. Not a soul.”

  “I know I don’t have to remind you to keep alert. You already know you’re playing with the big boys. And these guys play to win—no matter the cost.”

  Chapter Five

  Later that morning, armed with her father’s overnight bag, Lauren opened the front door to her house. Lucy bounced up and down and whimpered with delight.

  She bent and retrieved the mail from the foyer floor then gave the dog a long pat on the head. “I bet you missed me. Let’s get you outside.”

  Her father hurried past Lauren, his crutches thumped and creaked against the hardwood floor. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”

/>   The scowl on his face said it all. He wasn’t thrilled about staying with her but agreed they should stick together.

  In the kitchen, she opened the French doors to the patio. Twenty foot dogwoods swayed in the wind. Lucy sprinted outside, across the yard, and tried without success to catch a butterfly.

  After Lauren changed out of the green scrubs the hospital had supplied and into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, she filled the tea kettle with water then made a pot of coffee. She eyed her father in the living room at the antique desk, talking on the phone.

  “Troy, I need you on the next flight home. Sorry, I know it’s a day early. Someone ran us off the road. Yeah, we’re both okay.” He paused for a moment. “Drop by after you get settled. No. I’m at Lauren’s house.” Her father was silent for a moment. “This was no accident. Yes. I’m sure. Troy—listen carefully. Make a few calls. See if you can find out anything.” Her father hung up the phone.

  She noticed his eyes—icy and unresponsive, his jaw clamped.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I need coffee.” His mouth tightened more. “You know how I get when I don’t get enough caffeine.”

  “I know. Downright ugly. The coffee is almost ready.”

  In the living room she opened the drapes. The faint mountaintops of the Catskills came into view. Chickadees chirped and hung upside down in the trees along the driveway, just like her life, once quiet, now turned upside down.

  She made a cup of peach-orange tea for herself then poured a cup of coffee and glanced through the mail. Like a kid at Christmas she ripped open three of the dozens of envelopes.

  “Take a look at these.” She handed her father the vacation brochures and set his coffee on the desk.

  He sipped his coffee and thumbed through each one. “Hmm, Abercrombie & Kent. Travcoa, Tauck. Heading to New Zealand?”

  “Too busy right now. I’m thinking sometime in the new year. I’m going to need a holiday after this trial.”

  He flipped open the Abercrombie & Kent brochure. “Did I ever tell you I worked as a travel agent during my college days? So take my word on this one.”

  He handed the brochure back to her and gulped down his coffee.

  “God, how can you drink that so quickly?”

  “Practice, babygirl. Lots of practice.”

  “Want a refill?”

  “Nope. Don’t have time.” He set the empty cup on the desk. “Got to get cleaned up and to the office. I want to dig through a few more of my files before the trial. See if I have anything else you can use.”

  Her eyes bolted to the grandfather clock. “It’s early, not even eight. I’ll drive you.”

  “It’s okay. Stay here and rest your hand. I’ll call a cab.”

  Ten minutes later he emerged from the spare bedroom dressed in track pants and a golf shirt. He looked down at the crutches. “I hate these damn things.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to use them but doctor’s orders. It’s only for six weeks. You can do it.”

  Her hand ached wrapped in the elastic bandage. Visions of the accident played over in her mind. She didn’t want him to leave but knew no one could change his mind, not even his own daughter. Lauren kept her thoughts to herself and chewed on her fingernails.

  “Quite a surprise to see Eric.”

  “It was.” She flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from her sweatshirt.

  Eric Brennan. Tall, broad shouldered and handsome with a hot Irish temper. The thought made her cheeks flush.

  “Hope you’re not thinking about starting things up with him again?”

  Lauren frowned. “Where did that come from?”

  “I noticed that glow on your face when I mentioned his name.”

  “Dad, that glow, as you call it, is my happiness to be home. Twelve hours in that dingy hospital was more than enough.”

  A horn honked from the driveway.

  “I have to go. We’ll talk later. Make sure you lock the door.”

  “I will.” When she held the door open for him she spotted the unmarked police car parked at the end of the driveway. At least she felt safe.

  She touched his arm and managed a small smile. “Please be careful.”

  * * * *

  Amanda Richmond slipped on a body-clinging halter dress the color of lilacs. The deep purple shade enhanced her long blonde curls and dark tan.

  “Looking hot.” Troy slapped her on the ass as he walked by. “You won’t believe this. Stephen just called.”

  She noticed a smirk on his face. “What did he want?”

  “Check this out. He and the ice-queen were run off the road.”

  Amanda gasped and almost dropped one of the diamond earrings Troy had given her down the bathroom sink drain. “Are they okay?”

  Troy rubbed his chin. “Yeah, yeah. Banged up. I’m sure they’ll survive.”

  A glow of wicked pleasure flickered in his blue eyes and Amanda wondered if he had something to do with Lauren and Stephen’s accident. Troy and Lauren never got along, even more so after Troy learned he would be ‘second chair’ in the trial, a decision made by Stephen.

  “Do you think things will change after Stephen retires?”

  “Baby, I know they will. No more ‘second chair’ for me. Lead prosecutor all the way.”

  Amanda smiled and wondered what he knew that she didn’t. “Maybe I should call Lauren and make sure she’s okay.”

  “Amanda, believe me. She’s fine. Let’s get to the casino and have some fun.” He patted cologne on his neck, and then ran his fingers through his hair. “You ready for the bad news?”

  “What? Being run off the road isn’t the bad news? There’s more?”

  He leaned against the bathroom counter. “Stephen ordered me back to New York. Sorry babe. Looks like our vacation just got cut short.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He orders you around like a dog.”

  “I know. But not for much longer. It’s only one day early. We’ll stay the night and grab an early flight.”

  “Damn him.” She raised her hand ready to slam it down on the counter.

  Troy caught her hand in mid-air and pulled her against him. “I love it when you get mad. That southern temper really makes me hard.”

  Amanda felt Troy’s lips against her neck and her anger turned into desire.

  Chapter Six

  Captain Bromstrom looked at the wall clock. “Brennan, you’re here before eight. Did something happen overnight I don’t know about?” He sat behind his desk shuffling through a tall stack of file folders.

  “I thought I’d be on time. Besides, I heard you wanted to see me.” Eric clenched an extra-large black coffee with both hands and leaned back in the chair. He stared at the thin, compact man behind the desk.

  “I just wanted to touch base with you. You’re still doing okay? You know with the drinking thing?”

  He felt like a little kid being questioned by his father. “Look. You drag my ass in here every other day and we go through the same thing. No. I am not drinking. I am not going to drink. That part of my life is over.”

  “Just checking. I know you’re under a lot of stress working your father’s case. Hate like hell to see you suspended again. I had to pull in a lot of favours to get you back. You’re one of the best cops I know.”

  Eric set his coffee down on the desk next to a photograph of Bromstrom’s new wife, number three. He studied the woman with short blonde hair and round blue eyes. He realized everyone had a picture on their desk except for him. Some had wives or girlfriends. Others had kids or pets. What did he have? Nothing.

  “You have nothing to worry about. You have my word.”

  “Good. I don’t want to lose another detective.” Bromstrom leaned forward in his chair. “I want you and Hallman to check this out.” He tossed a folder across the desk. “See if there is anything in there that might help you get closer to Duffy’s killer.”

  “Thanks.” Eric scooped the overstuffed folder and gave the contents a quick scan.<
br />
  “Remember the only reason I agreed to keep you on Duffy’s case is because I trust your judgement. If you get out of hand you’ll be directing traffic on Broadway. Is that clear?”

  Eric took a deep breath. “Perfectly.”

  “According to the surveillance reports, Valdina’s been out of action laying low since his bail release.”

  “He shouldn’t be out on bail to begin with.” Who the hell releases a Mafia boss on five million dollars bond? A judge bought and paid for by Valdina. Eric reached for his coffee.

  “I couldn’t agree more. But we aren’t the courts. Anyway, word has it that Joseph DeSimino and the rest of the family aren’t too happy about Madelina’s death. The Organized Crime Unit says there’s bedlam brewing within the ranks of the family over who should become acting boss if Valdina is found guilty.” Bromstrom rubbed his forehead. “A Mafia hierarchy power struggle means only one thing. Dead bodies piling up on the streets of New York. Your father refused to wear his vest and look where it got him. Wear yours and watch your back.”

  * * *

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