Thicker than Water

by Danae Ayusso

  Salvati sighed. “You think rather highly of yourself, Rossi.”

  She glared at him and he laughed.

  “Yeah, I know, stupid thing to point out, but still. A quick body dump and planting of evidence simply to find out the identity of the dark hair broad he’s hitting the sheets with? That seems like a lot of work to find out the identity of some mystery broad.”

  Cat looked at him and shook her head. “When Tony Two Books was suspected of breaking the Omertá, the Guglielmetti Family couldn’t risk simply icing him because the sneaky rat had an uncanny ability to cover his own ass by having two sets of books, hence the name Tony Two Books. If something happened to him, in an untimely manner, the second set of books would find itself in the hands of another Family with critical information in it. It could bring down an entire Family.”

  Salvati’s eyes widened. “No shit? Why would they keep someone like that around?”

  “It was before your time,” Cat said. “Before the digital age, moving money and covering tracks, skimming to keep the I.R.S. from breathing down your neck like what tripped up a lot of the Chicago families, was a lot harder than it is today. To have a mathematical genius running your books who was a stand-up guy and would never be a C.W. was hard to find, let alone hold onto. Tony Two Books was just smart enough to cover his own ass, but not smart enough to choose quiet goumadas who knew their roles. Tony didn’t intentionally break the Omertá, he just liked to talk shop while throwing it in his goumada; he suffered from little man syndrome.”

  Salvati laughed.

  “The point, after months of trying to trip Tony up, trying to get him to talk, threatening his family, killing his padre in front of him even, he was unmovable. But it just didn’t sit right with Mario Guglielmetti...you heard the rumors of how crazy paranoid he was in his later years, they were nothing compared to his younger ones. Anyway, they went another route. Since they couldn’t get Tony to talk, they followed the path to where he did talk. All they had to do was sit in the closet and his lips flapped as he slammed that broad from behind.”

  Salvati smiled. “God, I miss the stories you and Frankie used to tell me when mama wasn’t around. I can’t believe that…never mind. I get it. Hit ‘em where it hurts and force his hand without him knowing it.”

  She nodded. “Exactly. Pope caught a glimpse of us hitting the sheets through the curtains, but he obviously didn’t see my face or realize it was me without my disguise, so he’s hitting Colt where it hurts: his reputation.”

  “Rossi, if it came down to it, if it wasn’t just circumstantial?” he whispered.

  Cat looked away from him. “Fury won’t let me be his alibi,” she said. “We had that talk already, as a worst case scenario, you know? He won’t reveal my identity. And if I were discovered, it’s shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Jesus, Rossi! You can’t be serious.”

  The look on her face told him that she was.

  “Now all we do is wait,” she reluctantly said.[

  Salvati shook his head and slipped into his jacket. “I’m not sitting around waiting for some sick sonuvabitch to kill the one person my cousin swore to protect no matter what. Guess what, Rossi? In the D'Avanzo family our word is gold, and Frankie gave you his word that he’d protect you so now it’s my turn to protect you. Get your damn jacket, we have a serial killer to catch and your man’s name to clear.”

  Cat groaned. “Damn it, you’re as stubborn as your cousin.”

  “And even more handsome,” he agreed.

  “But of course. You wearing a vest?” she asked.

  “Always.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” she grumbled then headed into the bedroom and pulled out her vest.

  “Holy shit, what is that?” Salvati asked from the doorway.

  Cat smirked. “I have friends in high places, Nato. It’s lighter weight than Kevlar but ten times more effective, and offers complete protections on the sides, just past the elbows and up around the neck but fits like a second skin so it isn’t bulky. It’s even stun gun resistant.”

  “Damn,” he mumbled, watching her carefully slip into the modified vest then fasten it so it was form fitted to her body and seamlessly disappeared under her slightly baggy clothes. “How do I get one?”

  She smirked. “It’s easy. You just have to call in a favor from an Israeli diplomat to get one five-years before they are available to the armed services, and dish out twenty-five grand.”

  His eyes widened. “Damn, what it must be like to have a trust fund.”

  Cat smacked him. “I don’t have a trust fund, I just saved my money.”

  “Uh huh,” he scoffed and watched as she armed herself for the day. “Let’s start with the first dumpsite and work our way to the most recent, in case there’s anyone lingering there.”

  “Agreed.”

  ****

  “You’re wasting your time, Agent,” James said for the hundredth time while they went over the initial findings from the latest body in his office. “Detective Fury is one of the most stubborn and hardheaded people I’ve ever met. He isn’t going to talk, and it’s not the first time he’s been in that damn cell. The Sheriff held him after Vicks death…that, and we weren’t sure what to do with him since he was apparently insane with grief.”

  Agent Gerard nodded. “I am well aware that Detective Fury is stubborn and well versed in the law. He also knows this case better than anyone, is an expert at processing a crime scene, and wouldn’t have made the blatant, rookie mistakes that were made at the sixth and seventh crime scenes.”

  James eyes widened. “What…why are you holding him then?”

  He smirked. “Because he knows something that I don’t, and I want to know what in the hell that is.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “That little display in the bullpen. He knew that he was going to be arrested, he even volunteered for it and practically processed himself for booking, and then spouted off some very interesting information that wasn’t in the case files.”

  “Such as?” James asked.

  “You were the last person to see the fifth and sixth victims. You also had ties to the first.”

  “And the second, third, fourth, and seventh,” James agreed. “Eureka is only home to two thousand people on a good census year. If I hadn’t heard of any of the victims that would mean that I wasn’t doing my job right.”

  Agent Gerard nodded. “Indeed. And yet, if I may say so, you apparently aren’t doing that good of a job anyway because you still haven’t apprehended the killer. Don’t you think that’s a bit coincidental, Sheriff?”

  James cocked an eyebrow. “Am I a suspect now, Agent?”

  “Everyone in Eureka is a suspect in my book.”

  “What a large book it surely is,” he dryly commented.

  Agent Gerard simply nodded. “What was with the size ten tactical gear?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” James admitted. “That was completely out of left field and was the first that I’ve heard of it.”

  He stroked his chin in contemplation. “Are we to agree that Detective Fury isn’t a man to mention the inconsequential and would only stick to what is relevant to the case?”

  “I suppose,” James guardedly agreed.

  “Then it’s settled,” Agent Gerard said, getting to his feet. “Detective Fury is withholding evidence, and that, I can hold him on.”

  “Good luck with that,” James said as Agent Gerard headed out of the office.

  Once the front door closed behind the FBI Agent, James hurried to the holding cells to talk to Colt before the smug Agent returned.

  Colt was sitting on the bed, his eyes closed, fingers tapping against his knees as he replayed over and over in his head the case that has, once again, landed him in a holding cell. Between each victim were his memories of the past two days he spent with Cat, and how he wished more than anything that he could get them back, and that they would have stayed at the Rangers’ station and made passionate l
ove until neither of them could move or think.

  “Psst, you awake?” James whispered.

  “I’ve only been in here three hours,” Colt reminded him. “What do you want?”

  “To talk,” James said, pulling a chair up and sat down on the other side of the bars. “Why did you spout off all that stuff in front of the Feds? I was trying to get you to shut up.”

  He shrugged. “What difference would it have made? You and the rest of them have forty-five more hours and then I’m out and I’m done. I’m turning in my badge for good this time. I’m tired of it. No matter what I do, Pope is just going to try to hurt me and those I love and I can’t let that happen. You and Emma mean too much to me and you two are all I have left to lose.”

  Not to mention, the sure to be pissed off Italian that I can’t stop thinking about.

  James sighed. “I know, but you can’t simply walk away, Colt. We’re in this together, remember?”

  “I remember everything and I’m done. I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

  “Is it because you’re locked up?” James asked. “If you’d just give Agent Gerard something, a debit or credit card receipt from getting gas or from a store on the way to or from Lick Lake, um, a witness or something who might have saw you, y’know, to give you alibi and you’d be out in two seconds. Why are you just giving up?”

  Colt shook his head. “I don’t have a credit card or a debit card. I filled up earlier in the day in Eureka and paid cash. Supplies were already packed from the cabin so I didn’t stop at any store. No one saw me come or go, and I was alone. Forty-eight hours isn’t that long of a wait and the cell has a lovely view of Main Street so I can watch the comings and goings to pass the time.”

  James looked at him as if he’d lost him mind.

  “Regardless, Jimmy, some cocky FBI Agent isn’t the reason why I’m quitting. I’m tired. Plain and simple. Once my forty-eight hours is up, I’m gone. I’m not going back to the cabin, I’m not going back to Emma’s, I’m…maybe I’ll travel down the coast or go up to Alaska like I always talked about doing. I don’t exactly, but what I do know is that I’m leaving Eureka in forty-five hours.”

  “Okay, um…I might have done something bad then.”

  Colt cocked an eyebrow. “What’d you do this time?”

  “I may have given Agent Gerard ammunition to use against you in order to hold you,” James admitted, the words leaving his lips in a rush, he then cringed. “Sorry.”

  Colt chuckled. “Nice, remind me to never piss you off.”

  James groaned. “Shut up. You know I didn’t mean to do it. It just kind of slipped out. I mean, what in the hell were you going on about…boots or something?”

  “Yeah, boots.”

  “And…” he prompted.

  “And what?”

  James shook his head; calling Colt stubborn was an understatement. “Did you find footprints somewhere in order to jump to the size-ten boot conclusion, which you neglected to tell anyone about and that might be what a particularly arrogant FBI Agent is using against you in order to keep you longer than a forty-eight hour hold?”

  Colt groaned. “You are the worst Sheriff in history. You truly are.”

  James sighed. “I know.”

  There was no reason to lie about that tidbit of information now, especially since Colt practically announced to the entire department and the FBI that he was possibly withholding information crucial in an active investigation.

  “I have a suspicion that Pope’s been snooping around my place.”

  “Huh?”

  “I found some prints that didn’t belong there.”

  James’ eyes widened. “And this is the first I’ve heard of it?” he harshly whispered, looking around to make sure they were alone.

  Again, Colt gave him a look. “Without evidentiary proof what would have been the point?”

  I’m starting to sound more and more like Rossi every damn day... I’m not entirely sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  “It could be a lead!” James argued. “So those boots, the size ten Star Trek Vulcan things, that’s what he wears? Are they common or uncommon? Please tell me they’re accented with glitter or rhinestones or something that makes them stand out,” he said then smirked when Colt chuckled.

  “In theory, it’s what Pope wears,” he conceded.

  “Goddamn it, Colt. Stop being evasive! I’m trying to help you here. What do these boots look like?”

  Colt shrugged. “I’ve never seen them before so I can’t honestly say. But the tread is practically non-existent and has elongated oval cutouts along the perimeter of the sole and heel. It’s a tracking boot designed not to leave distinguishable prints.”

  James scratched his head. “But you were able to find prints?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yes and no.”

  “That’s really annoying,” James pointed out and Colt smirked. “So these boots, they’re size ten?”

  “In theory.”

  “And they look military issued?”

  “They are military issued.”

  James leaned back and looked contemplative. “Who do we know that was in the service and wears a size ten?”

  “I wear a thirteen,” Colt said, pointing to his feet.

  James laughed. “Impressive you can find boots to fit you at all.”

  “That’s why I don’t wear department issued,” Colt reminded him, and then something occurred to him and he sat up straighter. “You have to sign off on all uniform requisitions for the department, volunteer fire department, the EMS and County Fire Departments, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s one of the glories of the job. When forest fire season hits, I have to process and sign off on their paperwork as well. It’s a real pain in the ass.”

  He cannot be this damn dense.

  Colt fought to keep from snapping at him. “Jimmy, why don’t you look through your paperwork for the past few years and see what size footwear you signed off on?”

  James looked at him confused then it registered. “Huh, I could do that without the FBI putting their noses in it, huh?”

  Worst Sheriff ever.

  “Yes, and can you please let the prisoner know what you find out?”

  He smiled wide. “Of course. Give me a few hours and I’ll see what I can find. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out the boots are as common as the new ones Mickey’s wearing. When he isn’t complaining about how to lace them up, they’re kind of cool looking in a modern way.”

  Colt sat up even straighter; that was Cat’s complaint about the boots as well. “What size does Mickey wear?”

  James shrugged and put the chair back. “I think an eight or nine at most, he’s not that big of a kid. I’m pretty sure that he and Raven used to flip each other shit because they could wear each other’s boots: he had small feet and she had big feet. They argued more than an old married couple,” he said with a chuckle then sighed; he still couldn’t believe Raven was gone. “Anyhow, I’m going to run and grab something to eat before going through the archives for those requisition forms you requested. Did you want anything from the diner?”

  Colt shook his head. “You’re a very hospitable Sheriff,” he said. “It’s a wonder your jails aren’t full of prisoners just so they can experience the four star accommodations of the Eureka Sheriff’s Department.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll remember that, but as you’ve pointed out, I’m a really shitty Sheriff so I wouldn’t be able to catch them even if they were right under my nose. I’ll see you in a bit,” he said then turned and strolled down the hall, slipping through the door before locking it behind him.

  “This is the one I came across,” Cat said, rubbing the back of her neck.

  Salvati sighed and hopped out of the Bronco and stretched out his back. They had done more driving to get to the out of the way dumpsites then they spent processing the actual sites. “This figlio di puttana sure does like to embrace his inner Montanan, huh?”

  Cat joined him and nodded
her agreement. “I’m just happy you took that ugly cowboy hat off finally.”

  “Hey, Mamma thought I looked adorable.”

  She gave him a look. “You seriously sent her a picture of you in that ugly thing?”

  Salvati smiled wide. “Yeah, she worries about her little boy so I had to tell her where I was, especially when she asked if I’d joined Chipn-n-Dales and was embracing my inner-rhinestone cowboy.” He started riding a pretend pony and slapping his ass.

  “I swear you’re Frankie’s damn twin,” Cat grumbled under her breath.

  “I take that as a compliment. Be grateful I took that piece of crap belt buckle off. The stupid thing fell apart after one wear.”

  Cat shook her head. “Moving on. I came from that direction,” she said, pointing back the way they had come, “and stopped here when I saw the body.”

  Salvati pulled his invisible pony up next to her then looked around. “Why in the hell would you run out there? I mean, I guess it’s pretty if you’re into nature, but what if you fell and broke something or were eaten by a bear or wolf?”

  “That’s what a cell phone is for,” she reminded him. “Besides, the only bear around here, this far down the mountain, is Chelsea and from what Fury said, she’s nice and doesn’t eat people.”

  “Oh, but of course. We can’t forget about Chelsea,” he said and made a mocking face. “How did you even find this place?”

  Cat shrugged. “Jimmy and Emma gave me a list of places to run without being on the main drag. There are two dozen different routes I take.”

  He nodded his understanding. “If you didn’t find a body, where would this road have led you?”

  She looked down the road; the snow had completely melted, revealing a pothole ridden muddy mess. “That time of year? I would have gone another thirty yards before turning around and headed back, then finished my run by taking the route I cut along the Tobacco River behind the cabin. Something about running through the nearly frozen river for the last five minute dash of my run always gets my blood pumping.”