Rooked

by Caitlin Sara

  CHAPTER 20

  “Jesus, Hernandez.” Detective Ben Maro massaged his fevered brow as pain intensified behind his eyelids. “It doesn’t need to be reassigned. I’m close. We are just about to solve this thing, you have to believe me. Where the hell is Jason?”

  “I’m not going to reassign the case, but I’ve heard it before, Detective. And it’s not that I don’t trust you.” The DA hesitated before adding, “It’s just that this needs to be neat and clean. I think your tunnel vision has gotten the best of you.”

  Pushing back folders stuffed full with papers and a few Dunkin Donuts cups, Maro shoved a file against Martina Hernandez’s chest. “Tunnel vision, eh? For Christ’s sake, gimme more credit than that,” he said before storming off to call his partner.

  “Please tell me you have something from today,” he practically yelled into the phone.

  “Nothing. I tried catching her off guard, hoped after the booze she’d talk more but she called Bene before I could have a decent conversation. He said to back off, Maro, got a little heated.”

  “So let me guess, you backed off and got nothing?” Maro didn’t need to hear the answer, he knew Ameno was too busy playing by the rules. Just two years older than Brad Bugia, he was a charismatic cop and determined politician himself, easily climbing his way from parking tickets to a rising detective. With a sergeant position opening a few Septembers from now, Maro knew Ameno more than hoped this case would prove to be his golden ticket. Problem was, Ameno didn’t think Ara was the killer.

  “I wouldn’t say nothing. Bene, he didn’t take Ara home. They both went into his building looking every bit like a couple.”

  “What do you mean like a couple?”

  “You know, holding hands like they’re in a relationship or something. Don’t you think it’s weird he seems to show up just in time, every time? That night even, how did he get to the Bugia apartment so fast?”

  Maro considered what his partner was presenting. Lane Bene had been adamant on Ara’s innocence but could his detective eye be obstructed by his lust for her? Maro had to agree that there was something about Ara Hopkins that seemed mysterious, appealing even. Like she was a little bird whose safety and honor was every man’s responsibility to protect. She was vulnerable in the sexiest of ways and completely unaware of her effect on people. Or, did Lane have a thing for his best friend’s girl? His prints were on the gun. So were others, so that alone wasn’t enough. Any decent defense attorney would argue that as a trained professional, he was simply showing his friend how to use the weapon. And that the romantic affair he was now involved in was nothing more than a friend comforting a friend during a tragedy that grew into something more.

  “You may be onto something. Let’s look into their relationship,” Maro said.

  They needed to find something that could link someone—anyone, though he’d prefer it was Ara or Lane—to Brad’s death. They had one problem, Brad Bugia’s lifestyle resembled one of a Hollywood actor. No one hated him. Women flocked to him, screwed him, and left him on their own accord wearing a newfound confidence in place of a diamond ring or fancy gift for silence. Colleagues respected him, even lawyers twenty years his senior. Clients who kept him on retainer, and those in his father’s circle, looked up to him. Through his investigation he gathered that Brad was trusted not only by those he protected under the law, but also by those closest to the Democratic party to collect funds for their campaigns. Conveniently, most of his clients were donors, and it seemed Brad was the link. Problem was, as far as Maro could see, there wasn’t a person on this island who wasn’t enamored by him. He may have had some fancy friends, but everything, professionally at least, seemed mostly by the books.

  But men like that just didn’t get targeted for no reason. It couldn’t have been a random act. Someone thought long and hard about the up and comer and someone wanted to permanently pause his parade and Maro desperately needed to figure out who this person was.

  CHAPTER 21

  Raina hurried across town, troubled by the sensation that she was being followed. Was she losing her mind? Of course, there were perverts and predators, but in the early evening, one could usually assume most New Yorkers were more concerned with meeting friends at the next drinks spot or getting the last bike in a soul cycle class.

  Raina stopped suddenly, turning on her left heel and tightly gripping a corkscrew she had in her Michael Kors crossover bag. A man in his early twenties, the double brunching type, slammed into her, yelping as the corkscrew nicked his shoulder.

  “What the hell, you crazy bitch!” he shouted, now drawing the attention of the phone-yielding army. “Did you stab me?” For once, Raina was speechless as she shoved the opener back into her bag. “I am so sorry,” she said, tilting her head a bit flirtatiously and regaining her composure, hoping to ease his anger over the nick in his arm.

  “You think I would find you attractive after you stab me?” He laughed, pushing her down to the sour pavement. “Pathetic.” He stepped over her, regarding her more as a piece of trash than a woman he just shoved to the ground in front of countless witnesses.

  Six or so socially sick individuals held their cameras in focus instead of offering her a helping hand. This day was really starting to get the best of her. Just before she burst into an embarrassing flood of pity tears, a thirtysomething man slipped through the crowd and swooped her to her feet.

  “Nothing to look at here, move along,” he said to the pedestrians. “You OK?” The crowd mumbled and put their phones down and continued along with their days, unfazed.

  Although not usually keen on crying in front of random good-looking men, Raina let out what seemed to be months of overdue tears into the man’s blazer. He rubbed her back, whispering, “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor. Is everything OK? Do you want me to take you somewhere or call someone?”

  Four hours and three dirty martinis later, Raina was half dressed in the doctor’s Upper East Side apartment. They’d barely made it in the front door before Raina’s skirt was pushed up and her shirt pulled over her head. Despite the haste to get down to things, the doctor more than held his own as they passionately moved through the apartment, finishing on the floor sprawled out in front of his large unlit fireplace and sixty-inch TV. He pulled a blanket down from the chaise lounge to cover their bottom halves and clicked on the classic rock music channel with the remote before placing it back on the coffee table.

  “Wine?” he asked. Since Raina rarely turned down what she was sure would be an expensive bottle, she agreed. “Stay here,” he said. “Relax.” He returned a few moments later with two wine glasses and an uncorked bottle.

  “I figured I should do the opening, you look pretty dangerous with a corkscrew.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you for helping me today,” she said. “I’m usually not such a crazy person. Just dealing with a difficult situation.” Raina hoped he wouldn’t press for too much more out of respect for her distinct elusiveness. Her relationship with Ara was complicated enough but the current state of it was difficult to understand without sharing that she had sex, for years, with her stepsister’s husband. And worse, that she allowed herself to fall in love with him.

  If she could have only known when she introduced the two that it would forever impact her sanity, causing the next five years to be practically unbearable. Living with regret was not something Raina enjoyed, but in this situation, she was confident the outcome could have been different had she put her mind and, of course, body to it.

  If only Raina had had her future goggles strapped on a little tighter that night she would have never passed off Brad to her dull Ara that night. Brad was the better long-term match for Raina and like an idiot she handed him right over to her stepsister, like she needed another reason to be jealous of her. But at the time, Brad had just graduated from law school and was not yet the rising star that he was the day of his death. Ara had loved him as he’d worked his way up, and not just because who his father was, which Rai
na knew Brad respected. But if it had meant everything to him, she would not have been able to persuade him into an affair as easily as she had. Brad Bugia had been looking for an escape from his cookie-cutter life, and it had barely taken the promise of a blow job to move his attention elsewhere.

  “I’m sorry to hear you’re having a bad day.” Raina’s attention snapped back to her current lover, pausing only slightly at the thought that he, too, seemed to be a good catch.

  “Well, they tend to happen to the best of us,” she said. “Nothing I can’t get over.”

  The doctor moved to stand, pulling her to her feet. Maneuvering behind her, he began to massage her shoulders, working his hands to the base of her neck and then down her spine. He pressed up against her, moving his hands around her waist, and walked her to the bedroom.

  What a relief, Raina thought, a man who doesn’t pry.

  Despite the high-count Egyptian cotton sheets and the warmth of the doctor lying next to her, Raina couldn’t sleep or shake the uneasiness that threatened her sense of peace. Slipping out from under the sheets trying not to disturb her bed partner, she rummaged on the floor for her purse before snagging it and slipping out to the living room. Shivering, Raina wrapped a throw blanket around her from the sofa and retrieved Detective Maro’s card from her wallet. She typed in the number as she walked toward the front door entrance, away from the bedroom so the doctor wouldn’t hear.

  After a few rings, she said, “I’m sorry to wake you. Oh good, I can’t sleep either. There’s something I need to tell you about Ara I think you should know.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Ara for once woke peacefully on Lane’s couch, propped up against an oversized throw pillow. Knowing Lane’s lack of regard for decorating, she was certain his mother or an ex-girlfriend had purchased it for him. Squinting at the time flashing on the cable box she sat up and scanned the room, panicking only slightly when she couldn’t locate her phone and laughing at herself for how naked and exposed she felt without it.

  “Looking for something?” Lane said, shaking the phone about head high with more than a touch of sarcasm. “You’re quite popular this morning, you got a ton of messages this morning, now your doctor is texting you like crazy, is everything OK?”

  Thrown slightly by the question, she reached up to grab the phone as Lane held it higher above his head, wishing she had turned off her lock screen notifications. He then placed his left hand on her lower belly, feeling right through to where Brad’s baby had once been. “I didn’t think anything of it at first, and I wouldn’t have pried but then I thought it may be serious.”

  Her brain scrambled to put the blurry pieces together from her day drinking day gone wrong. God, she needed to stop drinking so much alcohol, she thought. It did not take long before she remembered a switch she made to her contacts last night. “First question Mr. Bene, how did you guess my passcode? But more importantly did the doctor get back to me? I texted the office the other day.”

  She could only hope Dr. Dan had kept it professional in his correspondence, it was a scenario they had discussed at length for years. Whatever he needed, if he was going to contact her, his composure had to remain intact.

  “Well, Ms. Hopkins, you told it to me a few days ago,” Lane said, jokingly tapping the tip of her nose. “I didn’t know doctor offices texted with their patients these days. Is that common?”

  “I think I’m somewhat of a special circumstance. With everything going on, they know I like to interact with the least number of people as possible.” Ara brushed the loose hair back off her shoulders and smiled up at Lane, who was still holding her phone out of reach. “May I have my phone back please? I’m fine, I promise.”

  Lane searched her face, looking for any indication of dishonesty probably, before handing the phone over to her. “They just said to stop in the office if at all possible this morning. Sure it’s nothing serious?”

  Scrolling through the texts in her log, she opened Dan’s, hoping she’d at least been smart enough to delete their previous texts. Phew! She was getting better at thinking ahead.

  Lane brushed her cheek, giving it a peck before heading back to the kitchen where he had breakfast fit for an entire high school football team laid out on the table.

  Happy for the chance to change the subject, Ara said, “Are you expecting someone other than us?”

  Looking down at the table, his arms stretched out over two different chairs, he said, “Nope, I was just having a hard time guessing what you wanted.”

  “Eggs are fine.” Lane looked displeased at her lack of enthusiasm toward his gesture, so she continued, “And who doesn’t love bacon.” He pulled back the chair to his right and mocking an uptown waiter said, “Madam” as he overly exaggerated a wave for her to sit. Instead she wrapped both of her arms loosely around his waist. As their lips touched, she could feel the tension leave his body.

  CHAPTER 23

  Dr. Dan’s eyes flew open, sprung awake by his own feelings of an imminent threat. He could hear Raina on the phone out in the hall and hearing what he was now, he may have to act sooner than he thought. He needed to keep her close, that’s why he spent the time following her and suffered through an entire evening without strangling her. He needed to know what she was up to. For Ara’s sake. But for now, he couldn’t let on that he knew who she was. He had to play it cool and keep up the charade as hard as that would be. He closed his eyes again and begged for sleep to come quickly.

  At 9 a.m., a text message alert shook him awake. He went to the bathroom, locked the door behind him, and tore off his T-shirt, his heart racing with the ups and downs of the past twenty-four hours. Nothing calmed him like a warm shower. At times, it was the only place he could actually think for himself. It was an odd thing, making a living from working through others’ emotions. Of course, the industry lingo framed it up all pretty in a “helping others” package, but what it often left out was the power a doctor in his field so often had over his patients. Yes, good doctors could guide those struggling with mental health issues down the correct path, and almost like another parent, bear witness to the person’s life, offering assistance and alternative perspectives when needed. But the responsibility that came with that was huge and, more often than not, could be depressively overwhelming.

  His phone buzzed on the vanity. He quickly rinsed the Old Spice body wash from his face and reached for his towel, covering himself before he typed the pass code into his phone.

  I can be in at 11am, read the text. “Perfect,” he said out loud.

  “Everything OK? Can I come in?” Raina called into the bathroom as she knocked on the door. He had to get rid of her. He would deal with her eventually, of course, but right now he needed to speak with Ara.

  He unlocked the door and opened it to find Raina inches away. “Yes, fine, I need to go into the office, sorry to rush you out,” he said, brushing past her toward his armoire. As he fished through his shirts, he noticed she was not moving. This chick is unyielding.

  “I have to go to work,” he repeated. “Sorry to rush you, but the whole day kind of got away from me yesterday. I have appointments today that I would hate to reschedule.”

  Raina moved toward him and buttoned the top two buttons on his Simon Miller shirt. “No worries, it was fun,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss. Reluctantly kissing her back, his hands moved to below her waist. Raina took her lips to his chest and began to make her way south before he interrupted, “I’d love to see you again, but really, I need to go.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll grab my things.”

  “Can I get you a car or something to get home?” he asked.

  “No, no, I can make my own way, thank you.”

  Dr. Dan grabbed his wallet from a nearby table and began to make his way to the front door. “Feel free to take your time, just lock the door behind you on your way out.”

  He thought he heard Raina say something in response but didn’
t turn back. He was finally going to see Ara after all this time.

  CHAPTER 24

  Raina’s phone buzzed with a call from her stepmother.

  “Barry can’t get in touch with Ara. Have you talked to her lately or is she off drunk in a ditch somewhere?”

  Raina pulled on one of the doctor’s T-shirts and flattened out her hair. “Not in a few days, we aren’t exactly speaking. You know how she can be.”

  Arabelle sighed deeply into the receiver. “Who in her situation would refuse to talk to their lawyer? She is not even paying for it, damnit. Did she say anything to you that should make me feel alarmed?”

  “I told you. She’s not talking to me.”

  Distracted, Raina realized she had the opportunity to snoop around the doctor’s apartment, to find out more about who he is. She opened a few drawers, but nothing alarming stood out to her. If she really met a good guy, then she guessed something good came from her horrible brunch with Ara. Her thoughts were interrupted by Arabelle’s continued demands. “You need to get her to speak with her lawyer. Do you understand me? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of our agreement. Those checks I’ve been sending don’t get signed for nothing.”

  Arabelle never missed an opportunity to remind her of the monthly checks she sent Raina to watch over Ara.

  “Got it. You don’t need to remind me, I understand. She’s just so goddamn difficult these days.”

  “That’s not really my problem, is it, dear? Years ago, you said you could handle her.”

  “And I can.”

  “She has a history, you know. Hasn’t always been the sturdiest block in the building, if you catch my drift.”

  Raina had full knowledge of Ara’s episodes of depression but usually chalked them up to an overload of wine and scrolling, resentfully, through others’ Instagram feeds, not mental illness. Just a touch of envy to what others had that she wasn’t able to accomplish. While many thought of Ara as a driven and hardworking young woman, always with her ducks in a row, Raina knew that was far from the truth. Ara could host the most pathetic pity parties for herself, but as dreary as these episodes were, Raina would never have classified them as unstable. She should, however, thank Arabelle. Her constant nagging and self-diagnoses of her daughter made it easy for Brad to convince Ara she needed help. They would have never been able to convince her to go to the facility had it not been for her mother constantly reminding her of her flaws.