“Your mother found out what was going on, and she wanted me to come clean. She said she’d wait for me, that she’d rather see me go to prison an honest man than keep living a lie and breaking the law I’d sworn to uphold. We had a terrible fight, and I left. Shortly after this she went into labor and they couldn’t stop it. I blamed myself. Maybe if I hadn’t been arguing with your mother, maybe if she hadn’t been under so much stress . . .” He rubbed his free hand across his forehead. “Emily was born three months early. The doctors and nurses did everything they could, but your sister died a few days later.”
Vulnerability replaced the guarded look in Sarah’s eyes. “Did I ever see her?”
“No.” Grant knew Sarah had always wished for a sibling—and a mother. “They wouldn’t let you because you were so little. I’m sorry.” About that. About Emily’s death. About everything.
“Your mom and I split up after that. I wanted to get back together, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with me unless I’d break from J.D. and turn myself in. About two years later I missed you both so much I finally decided I’d do what she wanted. I figured it would be better to live a few more years without you instead of a lifetime. But I made the mistake of telling Rossi. I offered him the chance to relocate. I told him I wasn’t going to name names, but that I was going to turn myself in. He didn’t care for that arrangement, and soon after your mother was dead.”
“He killed her.” For the first time Sarah’s gun wavered. “All those years, you let me think . . . you told me . . .”
“Forced overdose,” Grant said quietly. He looked at Sarah. “You were playing at a friend’s house when Rossi followed your mom from the bus station. I thank God for that every day of my life.”
“How did he get away with it?” Sarah asked. “How could you not turn in your wife’s murderer?”
Grant forged through the facts as quickly as possible. There was no easy way to tell it. He knew he sounded callous, unfeeling—evil. What he’d done was all those things.
“The medical examiner decided to ignore the bruises on her arms and throat—Rossi can be very persuasive,” Grant added. “Her death was recorded as a suicide. And suddenly I had a lot bigger problems. I had a child to raise, but I was in over my head with blackmail, deceit, and drug trafficking. For more than two years I’d been leading a double life, working late hours, making sure the meth shipments got delivered without a problem. I was constantly covering my trail at work, stealing files, altering evidence anytime someone got close. It was exhausting, and now I had you to think about. I knew I should send you away, somewhere safe, but I couldn’t. I’d already lost your mother, and I couldn’t bear to think of losing you as well.
“I moved out of Boston, thinking that if I went to a small town like Summerfield, Rossi would lose interest and leave me alone. Instead, he moved his operation here, blackmailing me once again. And now I knew that if I ended up in jail, you’d be without any parent, and I feared for your life if I didn’t do what Rossi asked.”
Sarah walked away from the table. She put the gun on the counter, far out of his reach, and leaned forward, arms wrapped around her middle. Her breathing sounded unsteady.
“Are you all right?” Grant asked.
“No, I’m not all right.” She straightened, anger flashing in her eyes. “How could you—he murdered your own wife, my mother!”
“I’ve asked myself that same question for nineteen years,” Grant said. “And wondered if your life would have been better if I’d turned myself in and you’d gone to someone else, some other family, another father.”
“It’s a little late for second-guessing.” She ground out the words but couldn’t mask the pain on her face.
Grant looked toward the front door again. They needed to get out of here. Rossi had watched the house before, and if he did it again . . . “We should go. I’ll take you anywhere you want.”
“I want Jay. I want to know how he figures into all of this. Who planted those drugs in his apartment?”
“His roommate,” Grant said. “Carl learned that there was some tension between them, and he convinced the roommate to help set Jay up.”
“Archer?” Sarah asked, clearly shocked.
“I think that was his name. It had something to do with his girlfriend.”
“But Archer was almost killed,” Sarah said. “He’s in ICU, and his girlfriend claims Jay did it.”
“How do you know he didn’t?” Grant asked. “His past isn’t entirely spot-free, you know.”
“I know,” Sarah said. “And I know he’s innocent. He was with me the night Archer was shot. Jay saved my life.”
Grant brought his fist to his mouth, considering. “It was Carl who set Jay up. We wanted to get you away from him, and I figured if he was behind bars—for drug use, no less—that might persuade you to come home. But Carl didn’t shoot the roommate. He couldn’t have, since he was in jail by then.”
“One of this other guy’s—Rossi’s—men?” Sarah guessed.
“I don’t know. Maybe the two incidents aren’t even related.”
Sarah picked up the gun again. “That was a terrible thing to do.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “Though after what happened to Mom, I suppose I should be grateful you only set him up, only ruined a life he’s worked hard to rebuild and make something of.”
Grant turned his face to her. “I had no idea you cared for him so much.”
“But you would have done it anyway,” she said. “So you could get me back under your thumb and I could keep your little operation going.”
“It’s not like that,” Grant said. “I needed you to come home so we could protect you from Rossi. The last two years, he’s required your help as proof of my loyalty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your job,” Grant said. “I came up with the idea of a phony drug task force.”
“But why?” Sarah asked. “He wanted me to go after his partner?”
“Ex-partner,” Grant clarified. “Eddie crossed J.D. one too many times. They had a falling out, and Eddie started up his own ring, thought he could put his old friend out of business.”
“And he might have if not for us.”
Grant nodded.
“I can’t believe you sent me out like that—put me in the middle of something so dangerous. You might as well have killed me when you killed my mother.”
Grant flinched.
Sarah’s voice quieted as she drew the obvious conclusion. “It was only a matter of time before I met the same fate.”
“No.” Grant shook his head. “You had Carl.”
She laughed. “Tell me how that made it better.”
“He’s smarter than he looks,” Grant said. “I figured one criminal mind would be able to keep an eye on another, so I got him out of jail when he had some trouble. I hired him to protect you, which he did more times than you can imagine.”
“He hurt and threatened me more times than you can imagine,” Sarah said angrily.
“You should have told me,” Grant said. “I knew you didn’t like Carl, but—”
Another bitter laugh escaped Sarah. “I loathe him.” She quieted. “I feared him, but you never noticed. And I didn’t dare tell you outright because he’d threatened me.”
“I’m sorry,” Grant said once more, wishing he had something more than an apology to offer.
“Why did you have to mess with Jay’s life too?” Sarah asked.
“He got in the way. Carl wasn’t to let anyone get close to you. Jay tried and was a little too persistent. I never said I approved of his methods,” Grant added. “Just the results.”
“What a mess.” Sarah sagged against the counter. The hand with the gun hung at her hip.
“We need to leave,” Grant reminded her gently.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not with Jay sitting in jail for crimes he didn’t commit—or Archer fighting for his life in a coma. And then there was my sweet landlady, Mrs. Larson, who died in a fire someone set?”
Sarah frowned. “But I saw him hold that gun on Jay and arrest him yesterday.”
“Detective Anderson didn’t have much of a choice,” Grant said. “Unless he wanted to admit he’d been helping you two and investigating me. Not to mention, I threatened his family, letting on that I knew something was up. I was afraid Rossi had someone watching the house. If that were the case and Kirk and Jay didn’t leave, things could have gone very badly.”
“That’s some good news anyway. I like Kirk.” She took a deep breath and looked steadily at her dad. “Gets a little hard to trust people, though, when you find out your own parent isn’t who you thought him to be.”
Grant didn’t have a response for her. What could he say? If she never believed in anyone again for the rest of her life, it would be understandable—and his fault. If a daughter couldn’t look up to and rely on her father, who else? He tried to explain more about Detective Anderson, wanting Sarah to know she really did have someone to turn to. “I hired him last year, because of the great things he did in California, the way he was able to ferret out the big dealers. I hoped he’d do that here, that he’d figure out what was going on with Rossi before it was too late and something happened to you. Looks like I was right.”
“You expect me to believe you wanted to be exposed?” Sarah shook her head. “Why did you send Rossi’s man after us, then? Why did you send someone to Jay’s nightclub to kidnap me?”
“I didn’t,” Grant said. “I’ve been telling Rossi for weeks that I’d had no contact with you and didn’t know where you were. I also tried to convince him you knew nothing of his operation. He obviously didn’t believe me and took matters into his own hands, tracking you a little more successfully than Carl did.”
Sarah crossed the kitchen and moved the tape recorder from the chair. She sank into it, looking exhausted and overwhelmed but not defeated. “What am I going to do?”
“Don’t you mean we?” Grant asked. If she wasn’t willing to leave the house, she certainly wouldn’t buy into his idea of leaving for good. If you can’t beat them, join them. It was about time he did and got on the right side of the law.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve done enough.”
“You’re right,” Grant said. “And I think it’s about time I made up for it.”
“Can you release Jay? Can you guarantee Archer lives? Can you promise me a normal life?”
“No,” Grant said sadly. “But together we can keep things from getting worse.”
“Worse?” She gave a choked laugh. “Things are about as bad as they can get.”
“Not really,” Grant said, wishing he didn’t have to tell her any more. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “If I don’t deliver you to J.D. by tomorrow, Detective Anderson’s wife and children will be the ones who pay.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
Grant pulled the station door shut behind him and locked it. It was supposed to remain open twenty-four hours a day, but tonight he wasn’t taking any chances. If the public needed something, they could call 911.
Grant raised a hand in passing to the two officers on duty. Then, instead of going to his office, he led Sarah farther down the hall, to the employee’s lounge. He pushed open the door and flipped on the light, wrinkling his nose at the smell of stale coffee. “This isn’t great, but it’s about the safest place I can think of, and there’s a couch so you can catch a little sleep.”
“You know I won’t,” Sarah said. “Not until we figure out how to get Jay out of jail.”
“You’ve got your priorities wrong,” Grant muttered. “What we have to do is figure out how to get Rossi—and his team—in jail, so you’re safe.”
“That’s easy enough. I just need to get this tape—” She patted her jacket pocket—“into the right hands. I’d imagine your testimony will have some significant weight.”
Grant ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “It will. And make no mistake, Sarah, I meant what I said at the house. I’m through running. I’ll turn myself in. But it’s going to take more than that. If it comes down to it, I’ve no doubt Rossi could figure out how to take care of me while I’m in prison.”
Sarah turned away and walked over to the couch. “You know that’s not what I want.”
“It’s no more than I deserve,” Grant said. “But it won’t help you. And that’s what I want.” He followed her across the room and sat beside her, careful not to get too close. It had taken a lot of talking to convince her to free him and go with him to the station. She still had his gun, and though he’d feared the worst when they’d finally left the house, at her insistence he’d walked out unarmed. Thank goodness we weren’t being watched, he thought again.
“You’re saying we need more people to testify,” Sarah said.
Grant nodded. “A lot more. And that could take some time. I know enough about J.D.’s operation to bring in the little guys—though we’d have to do it all at once, or he’d be onto us.”
“You can’t set something like that up overnight.” Sarah bit her lip.
“No,” Grant agreed. “It will take time—which we haven’t got. That’s why you should leave, let me send you somewhere far away and safe. Because I won’t deliver you to Rossi tomorrow. I’ll do what I can to protect Detective Anderson’s family, but I won’t involve you.”
“Can you protect them?” Sarah asked.
Grant didn’t answer immediately but rose from the couch and walked to the counter. He unrolled a strip of paper towel from the dispenser, ripped it off, and beckoned for Sarah to join him at the table. After finding a pencil, he bent over and began sketching. “This is the funeral home where Rossi will be tomorrow. The streets run like this, and the building has three entrances. I think there are some possibilities. If I pull every one of my men—”
“Don’t you think he’ll expect that? He doesn’t know you’ve found me, after all.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Grant said, though privately he agreed. The second Rossi knew where Sarah was, he’d grab her.
“So you’re able to get him at the funeral tomorrow. That doesn’t necessarily help Christa and the boys. He’s probably got someone else watching them, just waiting for the word to—”
“You would have made a good cop.” Grant looked up from his drawing to give her a half smile.
“You’ve taught me quite a bit over the years.”
He reached out, almost touching her hand, but pulled away at the last minute. “I wish I’d taught you other things—wish I’d done right by you, Sarah.”
“You can do right now,” she said, meeting his gaze. “You can make sure Jay goes free and Kirk’s family is safe.”
“Tell me how,” Grant said, skeptical, but interested to hear her ideas.
“Well.” She straightened, arms folded across her chest. “If I’m right about Carl somehow being involved with Rossi, then he could provide additional testimony.”
“He’s not going to—”
“Let me finish.” Sarah held up her hand. “You’re right. With Carl already locked up, he has no motivation to talk, but I can almost guarantee that he’d love the chance to brag to me about anything he’s been involved in.”
“What are you suggesting?” Grant asked uneasily.
Sarah looked down at the map he’d drawn. “I’m suggesting—” She took a deep breath. “That you get Carl out of jail and act as if you need him again to help keep me . . . safe.”
Grant noted the sarcasm in her voice.
“Convince Carl that he’s the only one you trust to do this job, to watch out for me. Tell him that he’s got to take me to meet Rossi.” She put her finger on the building Grant had drawn. “Here.”
“Absolutely not,” Grant said in the tone he always used when he wanted no arguing from her. But he could tell by her determined look that she was no longer intimidated. Well, there’s something, he thought, fee
ling glad, in an odd sort of way, that she had the guts to stand up to him now. Still, he cursed himself for ever mentioning Detective Anderson’s family. Just add it to my list of mistakes. Back at the house, he’d hoped that would convince her to release him so he could get to the station and put a plan together that might possibly protect them. He hadn’t guessed that Sarah would feel an obligation to be part of that plan.
“Why can’t I go?” she demanded. “It will accomplish both our goals of protecting Christa and the boys and getting an additional witness. I’m sure I can get Carl to talk, and you were just telling me you thought you could protect Kirk’s family.”
“You look like you did as a little girl,” Grant said, unable to keep a corner of his mouth from turning up as he studied her, arms folded, lips pursed, looking ready for a fight. “Reminds me of the time you told me to go back to your mother’s place and get your kitty.”
“But you didn’t,” Sarah said, a pained look cracking through her exterior bravado for a split second. “That cat was real. Mom got it for me for my birthday.”
“I know.” Grant looked away, unable to bear the hurt he saw in her eyes.
“But if you knew, then why—”
“The kitten was dead, strangled. Rossi and his men don’t believe in sparing so much as a fly when they do a job.” Grant watched Sarah’s sharp intake of breath and noticed the sudden moisture in her eyes. He took a step forward, then stopped. More than anything he wanted to reach out to her, to take his little girl in his arms and make it all better. But his chance to do that was long past. “I never bought you another kitten because I was afraid Rossi would find out. He followed me to Summerfield almost as soon as I’d made the move. And I always knew he was out there watching. If I’d bought you a real cat he might have known how much I loved you. And it was imperative, Sarah, that he never found that out, never knew how much you meant to me.”
She looked up at him with eyes full of unshed tears. “I never knew it either.”
“I know.”
Grant pulled out the closest chair and sank into it. The way Sarah was looking at him made the guilt he’d felt at Emily’s death pale by comparison. Sarah had lived, and he’d done so very wrong by her.
All The Stars In Heaven Page 35