Lost&Found (PASS Series Book 4)

by Freya Barker

  “Wouldn’t be Guiseppe Albero, now would it?”

  I’m shocked to hear that name. Albero is head of one of Colorado’s largest crime families. No wonder Flynn was quick to dissociate himself from the guy.

  “Got it in one.”

  “So who’s Sarrazin?” I ask, now intrigued.

  “Heir to the kingdom,” Radar is the one to respond. “Maiden name of Albero’s wife, Elena is Sarrazin.”

  I have no clue where he digs up all this information in minutes, but that’s Radar, he can find out anything online.

  “Give me everything you can find on Sarrazin.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Yanis

  Fucking Albero.

  I knew the moment I heard the name Sarrazin that we were dealing with the Albero family. I’d paid attention to that family for the past twenty years.

  The plane crash was one of the first calls I went on after transferring to the Grand Junction PD. A private jet flying into the airport from Denver went down, just two miles north of the airfield, in a huge ball of fire. All that was left by the time I got there were unrecognizable bits of fuselage and charred body parts.

  I saw the explosion and was first on the scene.

  The jet was owned by the Albero family and Guiseppe’s wife and two children had been on board. There’d been no survivors, they were killed along with the three crew members. To this day I have the image of a blackened teddy bear lying in the barren landscape of the high mesa seared in my mind.

  Grand Junction was overrun with federal agents of every ilk and I remember being questioned by just about every one of them. Then one night there’d been a knock at my apartment door and the crime lord, along with two henchmen, stood on my doorstep. I recall almost drawing my weapon, but the devastated man only wanted to know one thing. Did his family suffer? Given the midair explosion, I was able to assure him they never knew it was coming.

  That was my only encounter with Guiseppe, but I did pay attention to any mention of him in the news. Including his marriage—a year after the crash—to one of his employees, a single mother to a then thirteen-year-old boy, Angelo Sarrazin.

  Now Albero’s stepson and heir to the family throne.

  I’d love to know what the hell he was doing here at Flynn’s Fields Winery.

  “Ready for the last one?”

  Joe Flynn sticks his head in the door of the room.

  “Give us five.”

  We’ve talked to everyone from security guards, to maintenance personnel and groundskeepers, working our way down a list of staff with reasonable access to the large storage structure at the back of the main building. It houses not only the generator but tools, cleaning supplies, maintenance and grounds equipment, and a host of other things, which means more than just a few people had access.

  Last up are two of the cleaning crew who were in yesterday.

  “So far, any top contenders?” I ask, turning to Bree, who has quietly been taking notes.

  “Nothing raising a huge red flag, no, although the maintenance guy,” she checks her notepad, “Brian Whistler, is hiding something. But, judging from the red-rimmed eyes and slight tremor to his fingers, I’m guessing it’s a bottle and not a nefarious plan to sabotage his employer.”

  I nod. I got a bit of an off-feeling from the guy, but she’s probably right.

  “Put a mark by his name anyway.”

  The moment the first of the cleaning crew walks in, I get a vibe and glance over at Bree to see if she picked up on it as well. The guy is almost cocky, a smirk on his face and a defiant look in his eyes, as he practically saunters into the room.

  Dan McNeely, twenty-nine, drives the obnoxious old Camaro parked in the employee lot. The way he takes a seat without invitation—slouching down with one arm draped over the back of his chair—tells me he and I won’t get along. This is one who doesn’t deal well with authority. I wonder how he got the job.

  I give him the spiel I gave everyone else, telling him we’re hoping someone saw something suspicious. Ask for help instead of whereabouts. Bree actually taught me that one. Psychology one-o-one.

  “When you were in the storage room at any time yesterday, did you see anyone else in there?”

  “I didn’t see nothin’.”

  “No one going in or out?” I keep my voice casual, even though the guy is grating on me. From the corner of my eye, I see Bree noting something down. “It seems a lot of people need to be in that space. I’m trying to get a timeline together.”

  I reach over and turn Bree’s notepad in my direction so I can read what she wrote down.

  GOTCHA!

  “Right here, Matt in groundskeeping stated he was in storage around 4:00 p.m., parking his ATV, and mentioned seeing you having a smoke outside?”

  I watch him fidget, sitting up a little straighter, a bit more alert.

  “Yeah, so? Ain’t no law against that.”

  “Of course not, I’m just asking because you would’ve seen anyone coming or going. Would you say you were there for five minutes? Longer?”

  We should’ve pushed on having cameras in all employee-only areas but Joe felt it would be too invasive. I’m thinking he’ll be on board now, since it would’ve saved us from getting information this way.

  The cops were focusing on the damage to the power pole, not convinced the generator was actually messed with and willing to wait for the service guy to come out and make a determination first. But the vineyard’s maintenance man, who was in here earlier, made a point of telling us he’d just done a test run of the generator last week, which is something he’s scheduled to do monthly to make sure it’s working properly. Last week it was, last night it wasn’t.

  “Maybe fifteen? I dunno,” McNeely says with a shrug. “I was on break,” he adds defensively.

  “Did you see Matt?”

  “Yeah, I saw him leave.”

  “Was there anyone else in there at the time? Either coming or going?”

  “Didn’t see no one.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I shut the door behind him and turn to Radar.

  “What’ve you got?”

  “Spent two years in juvie for break and enter. Couple of arrests as an adult, petty theft, possession, one assault, but nothing seems to have stuck. Only one previous employer, a scrapyard in Colorado Springs for the past seven years.”

  “Why the sudden move clear across the state to Palisade?” Bree points out.

  “Find out how long the guy has been at his current address?” I ask Radar. “I want to know if his coming here coincides with the opening of the winery. Also, find out who owns the scrapyard. I’m pretty sure this is our guy, but I want to find out why before presenting him to law enforcement.”

  “You don’t trust them?” Bree asks me.

  I shrug.

  “They don’t seem to think what goes on here is of much urgency, they’ve made that clear to Joe. So rather than hand over a name and have them put him on a back burner, I’d prefer to hand them over a viable suspect with some solid, albeit circumstantial, evidence.”

  “I can get in touch with my contact at the station here. Find out what is buzzing when I bring up the name of the winery?”

  That’s what makes Bree invaluable to PASS, her ability to make connections—particularly in law enforcement—and maintain them. Her psychology degree comes in useful more often than not, as she’s just proven again.

  “By all means, but first let’s you and me go grab some lunch.”

  Bree

  Talbott Farms.

  It’s been many years since I’ve been here. A little late in the season but they harvest until almost the last week of September, and I’m able to snag a tray of nice-looking peaches. I figure Anna may like some as well.

  We grab some food and order a couple of ciders we take out on the covered porch, picking a lone table in the corner.

  “How is it?” Yanis asks when I take the first bite of a decadent bacon burger.

  “Good.”<
br />
  It comes out muffled on account of my full mouth. Yanis grins and I wink back.

  Despite the intensity of the morning, I feel surprisingly lighthearted. I like this—nice day, gorgeous view, great company—and he seems to relax as well.

  I’m not eager to bring up what might be a sensitive subject, but I’ve been itching to know.

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask after swallowing down my bite.

  “Plan for what? The winery? I’ve got twenty-four-hour coverage now, Joe has agreed for us to install more cameras, and Radar is digging into McNeely’s background. See if he can come up with a motive.”

  Not exactly what I was referring to.

  “I mean for when we get back. I know I won’t be able to drive until the boot is off, but I can Uber it into the office for a few weeks. And I’m getting pretty handy with these crutches.”

  His food is halfway to his mouth and his eyebrows are drawn together.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything, I’m asking; what is the plan? Or better, what is your plan?”

  He puts his burger in the basket and wipes his hands methodically on the napkin. Then his eyes lock on mine and I can see a storm brewing.

  “I was inside you for the first time in fifteen years just this morning and you ask me that?”

  Yup, he’s pissed. Although the tight set of his jaw would’ve told me that. Frankly, I don’t care if my question makes him angry and I have no problem explaining it to him.

  “Yes, I’m asking, because I made assumptions once before and turned out to be completely off.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  I shake my head; I could’ve predicted that response as well.

  “It’s not about trust, it’s about clarity. But more than that, it’s about self-preservation. I don’t mean to beat you over the head with history, but the truth is, it changed me. Made me more cautious.”

  I take a quick sip of cider and keep an eye on him from under my lashes. I can see him thinking.

  “All I’m asking for is some parameters so I know what to expect,” I add.

  He breaks the stare, drops his head, and for a moment I wonder if I’m the one fucking things up by asking him to state his intentions.

  “I want you,” he finally says, and I let out the air I was holding. “If it were up to me, we’d wake up every damn morning like today, and I don’t give the last fuck where that ends up being.”

  I reach across the table and cover his hand with mine. He turns it palm up and curls his fingers around my wrist. His blue eyes burn into mine.

  “Yanis…” Before I can conjure up the right words to share, he continues talking.

  “That’s what I want, but I get that’s jumping ahead, so I was waiting to take my cues from you. You tell me to go home, I’ll go. Won’t like it, and I’ll probably be back on your doorstep tomorrow, but I’ll go. However long it takes for me to convince you.”

  “Ask me out.”

  My question clearly startles him.

  “Out?”

  “On a date.”

  “Isn’t that a little like tying the horse behind the cart?”

  I start pulling my hand from his but his fingers tighten on my wrist, so I lean forward instead.

  “You’re the one who suggested we go slow, learn each other again moving forward. What happened this morning seems unavoidable between us—natural—but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t—”

  I can’t get another word out before he leans across the table and covers my mouth with his, swallowing the rest of my words. By the time he releases me, a family sitting a few tables away is staring at us.

  “Have a preference?” he asks.

  “Sorry?”

  He smiles and I melt a little.

  “For our first official date, any preference?”

  I grin back. Looks like I’m getting what I want. When we were younger, I was in as much of a hurry as he was. Any time we spent together we were mostly naked or on our way there. This time around I want to put the effort in, but more importantly, I want him to put the effort in. I’m not saying we won’t get naked—now that genie is out of the bottle, I don’t see it going back—but I also want to know we can connect on other levels. Ones that don’t involve work or sex.

  “Surprise me.”

  I’m pretty sure I’m taking a big risk, judging by the lazy smirk on his face, but it’ll be a good test.

  “Deal. Now eat up. Your food’s getting cold.”

  He lets go of my wrist and picks up his burger, but twenty minutes later, when we get into his SUV, his hand seeks out mine and he holds on until we pull up to the office.

  “Good to get another few hours of work in?” he asks.

  “Yup.”

  Beats sitting at home watching reruns on TV.

  I watch as he gets out, walks around the hood to my side, and opens my door. But instead of helping me down he leans in, kissing me again. Doesn’t look like we’re keeping things on the down low, we’re parked right outside Lena’s window.

  “Word of warning,” he says in a low voice. “I don’t plan on holding back out here or in there, and I’m staying at yours for the weekend. We’ll reassess on Monday.”

  My heart and head do battle but when he mouths, “Please,” my head waves the white flag.

  “Okay.”

  Then I roll my eyes at his responding grin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bree

  “We’re leaving at three this afternoon.”

  Yanis doesn’t take his eyes off the road but a little smile plays on his lips.

  “For?” I want to know.

  “Our date,” he clarifies, this time glancing at me.

  We just said goodbye to his parents yesterday, who are heading back to Wyoming this morning. Another Sunday family dinner with the Mazurs and some wonderful baby snuggles with Max last night.

  I’m surprised to admit I’ll miss them after spending some time in their company this past week. Anna would’ve liked to have stayed but Max reminded her his crops would need harvesting soon. They were hoping to come for another visit toward the end of October.

  As he warned me he would, Yanis stayed at my place the entire weekend. The only time he left was Saturday to get some work done at the office. I could’ve gone in with him, but since I hadn’t done a stitch of laundry in the past two weeks, I opted to stay home and take care of that instead.

  I feel more like myself, the crutches are a bit annoying but at least I can move independently, even if I’m not able to drive yet.

  “That early?”

  I was half expecting him to take me out Saturday night, but we ended up cooking together and watching a movie. That was a date in itself, something we’d never really done as a couple.

  “I have a few last-minute arrangements to make. I’ll drop you off at home so you can get ready and pick you up at four thirty.”

  I’m intrigued at the early hour and am trying to guess where he might be taking me, but nothing comes to mind.

  “Where are we going?” I finally give in.

  “Didn’t you ask for a surprise?” he teases and I shoot him a glare.

  “Yes, but I need to know what to wear.”

  Like I really care. I’m pretty sure Yanis knows enough about me to realize I don’t do dresses. The best he can get out of me would be a pair of black slacks or dark jeans and one of my fancy tops, which usually live in the very back of my closet.

  “You’re just fishing for information and you know it,” he accuses me. “But fine, I’ll throw you a bone. Don’t wear anything that requires dry-cleaning and bring a sweater.”

  I feel my mouth spreading into a smile. Whatever we’re doing, it’s going to be outdoors. I’m already liking it.

  “Morning!” Lena chirps when we walk into the office a few minutes later.

  She’s been all smiles since Friday afternoon when she clearly saw us in a lip-lock in the parking lot. Guess th
e suppressed tension between Yanis and I had not gone unnoticed after all. The fact we are now ‘an item’—something Yanis likes to make sure everyone knows—is not causing a single person to react in surprise. A relieved sigh or a muttered, “It’s about fucking time,” but not a single look of confusion.

  “Morning,” I return.

  “Calls?” Yanis snaps at the same time.

  His normal, crusty, all-business attitude. It doesn’t intimidate anyone, least of all Lena.

  “Yes, a guy from Boulder Records.” She ruffles through her message pad. “Glen Delbert.” She tears off the message and hands it to Yanis. “Sounded urgent.”

  “Everyone here?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

  “Shep is at the vineyard and Dimi should be in shortly, but other than that, yeah.”

  “Let me know when he gets here. Staff meeting as soon as he does. Don’t let anyone leave.”

  “Aye, aye, Boss.”

  “And get Delbert on the line.”

  She mock-salutes him, but he doesn’t even notice, he’s already moving toward his office. I toss Lena a wink and hobble over to my desk.

  Half an hour later, we’re all in the conference room—hustled in by Lena—when Yanis walks in, slamming the door shut.

  “Just got off the phone with the VP of Security at Boulder Records and my buddy, Bill Evans, with the Denver PD. Effective immediately our standby contract with Boulder Records is terminated.”

  “What? Why would they do that?”

  Yanis turns to me, anger etched on his face.

  “They didn’t. I did.”

  “What?”

  I can’t believe he’d pull the plug on a lucrative contract like that. Sure, their talent is a pain in everyone’s ass, but you can’t argue the pay. Hell, we even get a nice check just to be on standby in case they need to pad their own security detail with ours.

  Dimi calmly stares at his brother.

  “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”