“We could have fought that,” I told her.
“I was seventeen, Jackie, I didn’t know.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I ran away three months before my eighteenth birthday.”
“Where did you go?”
“At first, I went back to Franklin . . . to look for you, but . . .”
I sighed, “We had moved by then. We were in Knoxville for a few years before I came back.”
“That explains it,” she said. “I was by myself and didn’t know who to turn to when I found out you and your family left Franklin.”
“So, what did you do?” I wondered.
“I ended up in Nashville. I was despondent. I could not find a job without a green card or proof of citizenship. I ended up getting a job as . . .”
She paused, her face reddened with shame.
“Go on,” I said. “Irina, it won’t change anything. I know what you were going through. I will not judge you, I swear.”
She nodded and sniffled, “I became an exotic dancer at Fantasy Land.”
“Fantasy land?”
I knew the club’s reputation. It was an awful place. They lured young girls, barely eighteen, into stripping and ran an illegal prostitution ring for high rollers. They matched the youngest girls with rich older men. I could only imagine what she had been subjected to.
My heart sank hearing her story. The owner of the club was a real piece of trash named Philo Mancini. I’d never met him but heard all about him. He had a long rap sheet: drugs, prostitution, illegal gambling. His name was even bandied about with regard to sex slavery, though no one ever proved it.
“Did they force you into . . . prostitution?” I asked.
“Only once,” she admitted, tearfully. “There was a high roller, a very wealthy man, who came into the club. It was all very secretive. He was probably sixty. The club owner, Philo, asked me to sleep with the man and offered me five hundred dollars. I said no, but he made it clear that it was not a request. The man took me upstairs to Philo’s private office. He got rough with me, broke my jaw and gave me a black eye. Philo heard the commotion and barged into the office, catching him in the act of beating me. He went into a rage and killed the man with his bare hands, right in front of me.”
“Philo Mancini murdered a man, right in front of you?” I asked. “You saw it?”
Her eyes widened in horror as she seemed to relive the moment.
“And you couldn’t go to the police because you were illegal and afraid of what he’d do to you . . .” I continued. “Did Philo at least take you to the hospital?”
She shook her head, “No hospital. Philo knew a doctor, a regular at the club. He reset my jaw and then brought me into his office to treat me without a medical record. When Philo picked me up from the doctor, it was at that moment, he told me I owed him for the medical bills, that I belonged to him. He told me I was his property to do with as he pleased.”
“What happened after that?” I asked.
“I began living with him, but not as a girlfriend. It was more like a sex slave. He was always sure to remind me that I was still illegal. He kept telling me if I ever left him, I would be deported. He treated me well for about a month, then problems began.”
“What problems?”
“He was jealous and controlling. He wanted me in the club as his arm candy but went into a rage if any man even looked at me. At first, he only took it out on the men. Later, he began to blame me. He said I was encouraging them. He started to hit me. He no longer allowed me in the club. He made me stay home. I was not allowed to drive or leave the house. He’d come home drunk and start calling me a slut. He’d hit me and then it began getting worse. He started . . . raping me in brutal ways.”
That explained the old injuries. I pulled Irina into me and held her tightly, feeling like complete shit to have even asked her about it.
“So, I ran away,” she continued. “No money, no car, no relatives, no place to go. I tried to get a cash job at another nightclub as a stripper under a different name, but all the owners were afraid of what Philo would do to them if they hired me. Finally, one place gave me a shot. Philo’s men found me the very first night. I was lucky to have escaped that night. I’ve been homeless ever since, for over a year now.”
I felt so badly. Irina had chosen a life of poverty and emptiness to avoid having Philo keeping her captive.
“Jesus, Irina, I’m so very sorry you’ve had to endure so many heartaches,” I said. “I promise you will never have to live like that again. We’ll figure it out, I swear to you.”
She smiled again, and ran her fingers through my hair, “I have always loved your thick, beautiful brown hair,” she said. “The three months we spent together as teenagers was the very best time of my life. There were days that those memories were the only thing that kept me going.”
“Why didn’t you ever look me up?” I asked. “I mean, later, like in the last few years?”
“I tried once,” she said. “I found you online after you became a police officer in Franklin, but I was so ashamed, Jackie. I was no longer the girl you knew. I was nothing but a cheap stripper . . . I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
I pulled her, still naked, on top of me and covered both of us with a blanket. I kissed her, warmly and passionately.
Forty-five minutes later, we were sitting at my tiny dining room table eating Ball Park Hotdogs and chips and drinking a red blend. She was dressed in my sheer silk robe, tied loosely to her waist, her ample cleavage exposed and her nipples stretching the smooth material.
“This man you saw murdered, did you know his name?” I asked.
“Jimmy something,” she said.
The name ‘Jimmy’ rang a bell with me. I thought for a moment when it dawned on me. No, I thought, it couldn’t be him . . . could it?
“You said he was about sixty?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did he have jet black dyed hair combed straight black and wearing large black framed glasses?”
Irina froze, mid-bite, “Yes, how did you know?”
“And this took place around two years ago? Do you remember the date?”
“I remember it was on Valentine’s Day,” she said. “I was to be his Valentine’s Day present.”
I felt the blood rushing from my face.
“It was Crazy Jim,” I said. “Jimmy Gallo. You saw Jimmy Gallo being murdered.”
Jimmy Gallo was a crime boss in New York who disappeared without a trace on Valentine’s Day two years ago. He was last seen in Nashville, where he owned a few car washes thought to be fronts for his money laundering. He was presumed dead but the crime was never solved. He was never seen again. Now, I know why.
“Did he have anyone with him, like bodyguards?” I asked.
“No, his wife was in town with him,” she said. “He made a big deal about secrecy that he was there with Philo. He wanted no one to know he was there.”
That explained why Philo wasn’t killed by Gallo’s men.
“What are you thinking about, Jackie?”
I smiled at her, “I think I just figured out a possibility to solve all your problems.”
I picked up my cell off the table and dialed. Nico Mayson answered.
“Nico, I need some guidance from you,” I said. “I have a hell of a story to tell you and need to figure how to take the next step.”
“I’m in bed with my wife,” he replied. “Is this a good story?”
“It’s gripping,” I promised.
______________________
chapter twenty-five
______________________
FALCO
When I opened the door into Captain Paulson’s office, I saw Hicks had placed a file on the captain’s desk and was just sitting down. I had no idea why I had been summoned but from the looks on their faces, the subject was serious.
“Thanks for coming, Falco,” Paulson said. “Have a seat.”
“What’s up, Capt
ain?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I’ve received some concerning information, Falco,” he said. I saw him tapping the incident report Hicks placed on the desk. “It seems that you have falsified information on your report.”
I froze, “What are you talking about, Captain?”
I glanced at Hicks, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact with me. My heart sank. I was fucked.
“We have clear evidence that you did, in fact, fire a warning shot from your service weapon,” he said. “But that’s not the biggest problem, though. The biggest problem is that you lied about it on an official report.”
I glanced at Hicks again; still no eye contact.
“What evidence do you have?” I asked.
“The CSI team recovered the bullet you fired,” he reported, “and Officer Hicks modified her report. The modifications clearly indicate that she was in the restaurant at the time . . .”
“Captain,” Hicks interrupted.
“Not now, Hicks,” Paulson barked back. “A man’s career is on the line, here.”
“Captain, I just handed you the report,” she said. “You should read it first.”
I glanced at Hicks again. This time she did make eye contact. Did I notice a little twinkle in her eye? I was thoroughly confused about what had just happened and what was happening now. I decided I would just keep my mouth shut for a moment. Paulson was clearly surprised by Hicks’s outburst.
“I just assumed you made the modifications we discussed,” he said.
“You mean the modifications you instructed me to make,” she corrected. “I did make modifications to the report, Captain, but they are not what you’re expecting.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Hicks?” he boomed.
“It’s all in the report, sir.”
“Why don’t you save me the trouble, Hicks,” he demanded. “What did you say?”
“I clarified what I heard and saw, but did not change the content, which was true and accurate,” she replied. “In the original report I stated that I heard what I thought to be the sound of a car backfiring. In the modified report, I clarified that I was outside standing near Falco when a vehicle backfired and that I could categorically state that, at no time, did Falco fire his weapon.”
Paulson gritted his teeth. His face was turning red with anger, “You just made a huge mistake, Hicks. You forget, we still have the recovered bullet. I don’t need your report.”
“I know that, Captain, and I am confident the ballistics report will show that the bullet found did not come from Falco’s gun. I was there. He never fired a warning shot. Falco’s report is one hundred percent accurate.”
“You’re full of shit, Hicks,” Paulson said.
“Have you actually gotten the ballistics report yet, Chief?” Hicks asked.
“Not yet, but we both know what it’s going to say?” he shot back.
“No, I don’t know anything of the kind,” Hicks said.
Paulson sighed. He was seething, “Fuck it, I’ll call him now.”
I was getting nervous. I had not heard about a recovered bullet, which I was certain would have been fired from my gun. Hicks would have known that. Was she committing career suicide? When that ballistics report is tied to my gun, my career would be shot. Hicks’s career would be over too for lying about it on her report, then amplifying the lie on her modification.
“I’m looking for Kevin Thorpe,” Paulson said. “Yeah, I’ll hold.”
Paulson looked at me as he held. I couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.
“Thorpe,” I heard him say, “Captain Paulson here. Have you gotten back the results on that bullet and service weapon I gave you?”
He paused.
“Good. Tell me the results,” I heard Paulson say.
I watched Paulson’s face as he was listening to the results. I decided then and there that I never wanted to play poker with the captain. I could not get a read on what was going through his mind.
“I see,” I heard him say. “And you’re absolutely sure about this?”
He paused for another moment, “Thank you,” he finally said and hung up.
He sat the phone down. Metaphorically, I imagined the phone receiver being slammed on its base as a guillotine coming down on my neck.
He tapped his fingers on the desk, used his right hand to rub the bridge of his nose, where his glasses normally rested, and then looked at my partner.
“You did this, Hicks,” I heard him say. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did it.”
“Did what, sir?”
“The ballistics report showed the bullet was not the same caliber as bullets from Falco’s service weapon and could not have been fired from his gun. I know you did this Hicks, I just don’t know how.”
She shrugged, “Good luck proving that, Captain. You’ve had the bullet in your possession the entire time.”
“Fuck you, Hicks,” he rasped through gritted teeth. “You two get the hell out of my office,” came his only reply. “You have work to do, I assume.”
“I think you owe Falco an apology, sir,” she said.
“No apology is necessary, sir. Let’s go, Hicks,” I urged. My entire life flashed before my eyes over the last four minutes. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I did pick up enough to know I had gotten a stay of execution and I didn’t want to poke the bear any more than I had to.
We got into the cruiser. Hicks was driving.
“So, are you gonna tell me what the hell just happened back there?” I asked.
“Better you not know the details,” she said. “All I can assure you is, we both have that whole little incident behind us.”
“Can we make an agreement to never ever allow ourselves to be put into that position again?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I want you to know I’ve voluntarily requested anger management courses. I start later this week. You were my inspiration for doing so, Falco.”
“That’s great news, Hicks,” I said. “You’re a fantastic cop.”
“And I want to be a fantastic partner,” she replied. “I don’t want to lose you. I know you’ll never turn your back on me. You’ve shown me that. I know you have my back.”
“And you mine,” I added.
“Plus, you have taught me a lesson,” she said.
“And what’d that be?”
“That you can be a good cop without coloring so far outside the lines,” she replied. “I’ve been playing fast and loose with the rules for so long, it just became a habit. I almost cost us both our careers, Falco. This time I was able to make it right. Next time . . . who knows?”
“Let’s make sure there is no next time,” I told her.
“I agree, but it may be too little too late for me,” Hicks said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I just embarrassed Captain Paulson,” she said. “I’ve seen how he is when you show him up. I’m pretty much fucked in the South Precinct.”
“He’ll get over it,” I told her.
“I’ve been around him for a long time,” she said. “He won’t get over it.”
“I have your, back Hicks,” I said.
“I brought this on myself,” she said. “How’d it go with your Russian homeless mute supermodel?” she asked.
“Let’s grab a cup of coffee,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
Fifteen minutes later, we had driven through the Starbucks window. Hicks ordered an iced vanilla latte and I got a drip coffee. Even though she told me I was better off not knowing exactly what went down, one thing was really bothering me.
“I have to ask, Hicks. They found my bullet. You can’t tell me there was some other random bullet in that parking lot.”
“No, I won’t tell you that,” she said, sipping her coffee. “It would insult your intelligence.”
“What did you do, Hicks?”
She shrugged again, “I picked a side.”
“So, Pau
lson asked you to feed me to the wolves and you picked me over him?” I asked.
“Something like that,” she said.
“That still doesn’t explain what the ballistics report revealed.”
“I took care of it, Falco,” she said. “Just don’t ask any more questions.”
“This could have very easily backfired,” I said. “You could be out on your ass right now. That was a huge risk.”
She nodded, took another sip of her coffee, looked at me and grinned, “Some people are worth it, Falco.”
“And why would I be worth it?” I asked. “You barely know me.”
“I know what I need to know, Falco,” she replied. “You have scruples and your well-grounded. You have my six when I need back up and you kick my ass when it needs kicking. I love that about you. We make a good team.”
I nodded, “We do.”
“I want to stay with you,” she said.
“You know, about that,” I told her. “I want you as my partner, Hicks, more than you could ever know, but it would be strictly business. I love Irina and I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Jesus, a man who used the ‘L’ word,” she replied. “What the hell is up with that, Falco? You’ve known her for two whole minutes . . .”
“Not true. I’ve known her since she was fifteen. Even though we got separated, she has lived in my heart ever since. I never realized just how much until I saw her again. She was my first love,” I said. “Actually, she was my only real love. I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to be your partner, I just want to be clear that . . .”
“Your heart is taken,” she interrupted.
I nodded, “Forever.”
“Duly noted. She’s a lucky girl,” Hicks said. “You said you had things to tell me.”
I nodded. I told her Irina’s whole story, including everything she told me about Philo Mancini and Jimmy Gallo. Hicks listened intently and quietly. I could tell she was hearing it all and processing it with analytical efficiency. It was one of the things I admired about her.
“Jesus, Falco, what are you gonna do?” she asked.
Happily Ever Alpha: Until Falco (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 12