Carla snorted. “You know the saddest part about this whole thing is that Nardo was wrong about his father. It was me. Leonardo is too soft, too nice. He wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without me. So you can see it wasn’t fair Nardo was going to ruin his father’s career, ruin our chance to be prime minister. After all, I got rid of that piece of shit as soon as we no longer needed him.”
“My god, Carla, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nardo never told anyone why he was so angry with Leonardo. In fact when I last talked to him, he had decided it was time for him to move on, forget about what his father had done to him. He was planning to stay in New York when you went back to Italy as prime minister. We were going to meet to talk about a job in my company.”
“You’re lying. I know he told his friends. And that bitch Corelli is trying to find out what it was. I guess he didn’t tell her.”
“But Detective Corelli wasn’t Nardo’s friend.”
“You think I’m stupid? I saw her in the picture. I tried to shoot the bitch but she ducked. Well, when everyone is dead she’ll never find out.”
Corelli raised her gun and moved into the circle of light so Carla could see her.
“It’s over, Carla. Give me the gun.” She moved closer, maneuvering herself between Carla and Brett. She checked out Carla’s gun. Oops, not the small caliber she’d been using.
“It’s too late to stop.” Carla laughed, a harsh, ragged, crazy sound.
“I’ve told her Nardo never told me anything about his father,” Brett said.
Corelli glanced at the officer sprawled on the boardwalk. Her hair was soaked with blood and a wet, dark circle covered the ground around her head. The large rock nearby glistened.
“She’s alive,” Brett said. “Carla hit her on the head with that rock.”
Corelli spoke to Carla in Italian. “Let me call an ambulance for the officer. My team knows it’s you, so it won’t do you any good to kill us. And if you do, you still will never be the prime minister’s wife. Put your gun down and I’ll tell the court you cooperated.”
They were at a standoff, guns pointed at each other. Carla moved closer. Another couple of feet and Corelli could grab her.
“We have you surrounded, Carla. Give me the gun.”
Her head swiveled.
“You lie,” Carla said, pulling the trigger. Corelli felt a sting in her right shoulder, but she managed to push Brett away as Carla shot again and again. Corelli went down, blood spurting. More shots. Her head filled with the sounds of Brett’s screams, the water lapping against the retaining wall, her own ragged breathing, and the drumming of her heart.
“Officer down! Officer down!” Parker screamed into her phone. She gave their location, then pushing Brett aside she knelt next to Corelli, who was still breathing but bleeding profusely from her head, left shoulder, and left leg. Brett was on her knees, sobbing. Parker assessed the situation. The head wound looked superficial but it and the shoulder were bleeding heavily. The leg was spurting blood as if an artery had been nicked. She grabbed Brett. “We have to slow the bleeding or she’ll bleed to death.” Parker removed her belt and used it to tourniquet Corelli’s leg. She checked the tourniquet to be sure the blood had slowed, then removed her jacket and placed it on the shoulder wound and pressed. “Put your hand on top of mine and when I pull my hand out, press down hard.”
Brett snapped to it. She pushed her hair aside and slid her hands over Parker’s. “Like this?”
“Yes, that’s good. Keep pressing.” Parker removed her hand, then reached into Corelli’s jacket pocket, removed a clean white handkerchief, and pressed it to the head wound.
“I shouldn’t have waited. I should have shot Carla before she did any damage.”
“Carla? Where’s Carla?” Brett asked, fear in her voice. Her head swiveled but didn’t move her hands.
“I shot her and took her gun. She’s cuffed to a bench.”
Parker looked up at the sound of running feet and voices. She hoped it was the EMTs. “Over here, two officers down.”
Brett put her weight on Chiara’s shoulder. “Don’t die, Chiara. Please don’t die.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Saturday – 3 a.m.
She floated to awareness but lay with her eyes closed. Her mind heavy, foggy, tried to make sense of the heavy scent of flowers mixed with a chemical odor and frigid air. A funeral parlor?
“Am I dead?” She spoke aloud without meaning to, then realized if she were dead no one could hear her. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. Do you feel things if you’re dead?
“No, sweetie, thank God, you’re very much alive.” Something warm touched her face, a hand, no lips. Gianna. Alive. She wanted to ask Gianna if she were sure and struggled to open her eyes, but it was too hard. She fell back into darkness.
The next time she came to consciousness, her mind felt sharper. She remembered Gianna had said she was alive. Not wanting to find Gianna was a figment of her imagination, she lay with her eyes closed, trying to remember what had happened. It was quiet except for the steady beep, beep, beep. Ah, a monitor. A hospital. Why?
Her eyes popped open. “Brett?” She tried to get up.
A hand pushed her down gently.
“Brett’s fine. She’s right outside waiting to see you.”
She focused. Gianna was smiling. “Welcome back.”
“Parker?”
“Fine too. She’s been so worried. She barely eaten anything and I don’t think she’s stopped pacing since they brought you in. She called me on the way to the hospital.”
Corelli tried to nod and winced.
Gianna brushed her cheek. “Easy sweetie, it’s too soon to be athletic.”
Corelli tried to smile but wasn’t sure it worked.
“Drink?”
Gianna put a straw in Corelli’s mouth. “Just a sip.”
“Time?” What did they do to her throat?
“Three in the morning. It’s Saturday. You’ve been out since Thursday night.”
Gianna was smiling and crying at the same time.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m crying because I’m happy. Better get used to it. Simone and Patrizia and Nicky are outside with Brett and Parker. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up. Momma and Papa too, until we sent them home about eleven p.m. Do you want to see Brett?”
“First sisters and Nicky, then Brett and Parker.”
Gianna left the room and returned with Simone and Patrizia who were also smiling and crying. She tried to smile back as they stood on either side of her bed, kissing and stroking her. Nicky held back awkwardly.
She reached a hand out to each sister and groaned at the pain that shot through her left shoulder. There was a collective intake of breath.
“Sorry, Chiara, I should have warned you not to move your left arm and shoulder. Or your head. One of the bullets hit your left shoulder and another hit the artery in your left thigh. They rushed you to the OR, gave you blood and repaired the artery, but they’ve kept you sedated to keep you still, so please don’t try to move around. Let Patrizia take that hand. You just lie quietly,” Gianna said.
“Hey, big sis, you’re a hero again. You’re making me the most popular girl in college. Everybody wants to know about you. Your picture was on the front page of all the papers. Of course, the first pictures when they were rushing you to the hospital weren’t so hot, but the pictures from the file looked fab. Some people thought it was me,” Simone said, grinning.
“Glad…to…help.”
Patrizia picked up Corelli’s left hand gently and brought it to her lips. “Stop being so silly, Simone. We’ve been so worried. Father Giovanni was here and Father Bart, the brother of that lovely Brett whose life you saved. And Parker. So many people were worried about you, cops, the mayor, the police chief, Kate Burke the speaker of the City Council, that reporter Darla North and her camera person, and others I didn’t meet. We all prayed for you.”
Corelli felt her lips qui
rk and hoped Patrizia wouldn’t notice. At least Patrizia approved of Brett and her brother the priest.
“Need to sleep. Go home. Come…tomorrow.”
Patrizia and Simone kissed her cheek.
“As Patrizia and Simone headed for the door, Nicky lingered.
“Nicky. We have…date…talk,” she said softly, so only he could hear.
“Sure thing. When you’re better.”
“Go, Gianna. Rest.”
“Are you sure, sweetie? I can sleep here again.”
“No…come…morning.”
Gianna kissed Corelli’s cheek. “I’ll be here early. Want anything?”
“You.”
Gianna held the door for Brett and Parker. Brett was smiling and teary. Parker looked guilty, ill at ease. They moved closer to the bed. Brett covered Corelli’s hand with her own, moved her face close, and locked eyes with Corelli.
“Chiara, I’m so sorry. It was stupid of me. None of this would have happened if I wasn’t so pig-headed. I almost got you killed.”
“Not…your…fault. Nobody…suspected. If she…came…to apartment. Might…have been…too…late.”
Her eyes moved to Parker. “McClusky?”
“Fine. Lots of blood, but just a concussion. She went home last night.”
“How did it…” She stopped to catch her breath, “…go down, Brett?”
“Carla called me. She said she was having trouble sleeping and would I see her? She sounded so distraught. I told her to come right over. She said she’d come to South Cove to get some air and could I meet her there now? I agreed without thinking. Officer McClusky tried to talk me out of it, but,” she blushed, “I insisted. I invited her to join me as long as she gave me a little privacy. She called you but she couldn’t get a signal in the elevator. She tried again as we walked toward South Cove, but your line was busy so she left a message. Then suddenly, Officer McClusky fell down.”
She let go of Corelli’s hand to brush her tears away. “I didn’t understand what had happened so I knelt down to help her. It wasn’t until I looked up and saw the gun pointing at me that I sort of got it, but not really. So I asked. That’s where things were when you showed up.”
Brett looked at Parker.
“Carla knocked McClusky out with a rock. She didn’t shoot her because she was afraid the gunshot would attract people before she was ready to kill Brett, but she would have finished McClusky after Brett. We arrived before she could do either. She got off five shots at you and Brett, but you pushed Brett aside and took four bullets. Your vest must have slipped because one hit your left shoulder, though luckily it didn’t hit the artery or any nerves. One nicked the artery in your left leg and it was touch-and-go as to whether or not they could repair it but they did. The third bullet grazed your head. The fourth hit your chest. The vest protected you but you’ll be black and blue and sore for a while.
“You hit Carla’s arm and stomach. I got her in the chest and shoulder. She’s down the hall under guard. She bragged that she had outsmarted the NYPD and confessed to all the killings.”
“Why?”
“Leonardo’s boss started sexually abusing Nardo when he was eight years old. Nardo thought it was his father looking in the door the first time his boss raped him, but it was Carla and she allowed him to use Nardo whenever he felt like it. Nardo thought his father furthered his career by letting his boss abuse him but it was Carla. She let it go on for about five years, until Leonardo no longer needed the boss to advance. Then she killed the boss. When Nardo threatened to make the abuse public, she went to see him to convince him not to ruin his father’s chances. She told Nardo it was her, not Leonardo, who had allowed the abuse, but he didn’t believe her. He thought she was covering for Leonardo.”
“Gun?”
“She gave Nardo the gun after the burglary. That’s why we couldn’t find any record of his getting it. She had a lot of guns, none licensed, including the rifle she used to shoot at you the other night. She and Leonardo are hunters so she’s a good shot. As we thought, she was using the photograph to decide whom to kill. She thought Simone was you, that you were Nardo’s friend and that you knew the story and were baiting Leonardo to get him to confess.”
“She’s crazy.”
“Yep. But cool as a cucumber. Said she had no choice but to kill Nardo to protect their becoming prime minister. She knew where he kept the gun, so she excused herself to go to the bathroom, but she got the gun and walked up behind him and pulled the trigger. She said it was quick and painless; he never knew what happened. But Leonardo told her Nardo said his friends knew all about it, so she took Nardo’s copy of the picture, so she could kill all his friends. Took his phone and computer and called the people in the picture, called until somebody answered.”
“The ambassador?”
“He’s devastated. Had no idea what she had done to their son. He’s withdrawn himself from consideration for prime minister. He’d like to talk to you when you’re up to it.”
They were silent for a minute. Parker said, “Sorry, I should have shot faster to protect you.”
“Parker.” She extended her right hand. “Please.”
Parker hesitated then took Corelli’s hand. She brushed her eyes with her arm.
“You…get a medal.” Corelli tried to smile. “Don’t beat…yourself. Followed orders. My fault. I had no idea how crazy she was…I thought I could talk…her out of it. I’ll be fine. Please…not your fault. I need…you to be…okay.”
Parker cleared her throat. “Thanks. I…” She looked from Corelli to Brett and back. “The captain and the chief have been here. And hundreds of cops from all over the city have been waiting outside.”
“To show backs?”
Parker shook her head. “To show respect. Even your favorite mayor made an appearance.” She smiled. “Of course, he spent most of the time in front of the cameras taking full credit for everything. Darla and Bear spent a lot of time sitting with us waiting to see if you would make it. And, um, Gil Gilardi, a department shrink we have to see, stopped by to see how we were doing. I start seeing her Monday; you, when you feel better.”
“Don’t forget your dad spent the night with us as well, P.J.,” Brett said.
“My dad?” She looked down. “Randall. Yes, he came to support me.”
“Randall…sounds…good…man.”
Brett took Parker’s hand. “The EMTs said P.J. saved your life. If she hadn’t applied a tourniquet to your leg and put pressure on your wounds, you would have bled out by the time they found us.”
Corelli tried to lift her left arm and gasped and grimaced in pain. “What…will…Senator …Daddy…think?”
Brett frowned. “Senator Daddy?”
Parker smiled at Brett. “A private joke.” She looked at Corelli. “He’s pissed. I imagine.”
“I’ll…bet. He…say…anything…about it?”
“Nothing so far.”
Brett put her fingers on Corelli’s lips. “I think you need to rest, Chiara.”
Parker nodded. “They took our guns, and you know, they’re investigating, so I have lots of free time. I’ll come by tomorrow, if that’s all right with you?”
“Yes, come.” Corelli tried a smile and hoped it wasn’t a grimace. “Bring newspapers. And, you.”
Parker’s face lit up like the sun blasting out from behind the moon at the end of an eclipse. “Sure. Well, Brett’s right. You should rest. I’ll see you tomorrow. Brett, I’ll wait and give you a lift home.”
Brett smiled. “You go get some sleep, P.J. I’ll stay with Chiara while she sleeps.”
Parker grinned. “See you in the morning.”
After Parker walked out, Brett clasped Chiara’s right hand. “You and I have a lot to discuss, my lovely detective. I plan to do it while you’re too weak to fight me off, but I’ll wait until you’re rested and alert.”
“Just friends?”
“Until you say different, just friends.”
Chiara sque
ezed Brett’s hand and gently pulled her toward the bed.
Brett raised her eyebrows. “You want me on the bed?”
“Yes.”
Brett kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the right side of the bed, and inched as close to Chiara as she dared. “Is this all right?”
As always when near Brett, Chiara felt the heat, the butterflies in her head, and the feeling of feathers brushing her skin. She turned to face Brett, gazed into those emerald green eyes, and sighed. “Perfect.”
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Blood Runs Cold Page 30