by Jamie Hill
"You have done enough." Brady gazed at her levelly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Her dark eyes flashed.
"How much information did you take home to Vic and Tony? I spilled my guts to you every night about the case. What we were working on, where the investigation was heading..."
She jumped to her feet. "I never spied on you for my family! I would never do that. I loved you, Brady! You have to believe I would never have sold you out."
"I don't believe it, and neither does anyone else on the force. They all think you played me for a fool, Gina. That really hurts, because I loved you, too."
Tears welled in her eyes. "There's no way we can get past this? If I could prove to you that I never spilled your secrets?"
"How am I supposed to believe anything you say after you lied to me? That's what I just can't get past."
"I suppose you're right." She headed toward the front door, but paused. "There's one thing you should know. Something's happening with the company. I was at my brother's house last night, comforting Teresa after the day's troubling events. When Danny got home, I heard them arguing. I couldn't really tell what the fight was about, but I heard one statement. 'Everything will be all right if we can just get past Thursday. This will all be over,' he said to her."
"Thursday?" Brady's mind raced. "That's all he said?"
She nodded. "It's all I heard, anyway."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Good thing you're not the type to spy on someone you love."
Gina scowled. "Maybe I love you more than my idiota brother."
"I hope you really feel that way, because he's going down. I'm not sure how much we can pin on your father and at his age, I'm not sure I really care. But, Tony-slash-Danny, knows full well what he's into is illegal. I swear to God, Gina, if it's the last thing I do, he's going to pay for what he's done."
"Do you understand what you're saying?"
"Damn straight I do. That pretty little wife of his better brace herself. You all should."
"Do what you have to do, Detective. But be careful. Danny won't go down without a fight."
Brady hardened his facial features. "Neither will I."
"Scemo. Foolish man."
"I'm not going to miss getting sworn at in Italian," he muttered.
A small smile creased her face. "Sentirai la mia mancanza."
"Oh yeah?" He didn't even want to ask what it meant.
"You're going to miss me," she offered, widened her smile, and walked out.
"I already do," Brady said dully, to the back of the door.
* * * *
Brady barely slept that night thinking about what Gina had said. Everything will be over Thursday. It was already Wednesday, and he was confined to bed rest—which doesn't mean I can't call Mel and let her know what I found out. Her reaction was less than he'd hoped for.
"Of course I'm interested, Marshall. We just have half a dozen directions to go on this case, and none of them are getting us very far," Mel told him.
"This seems like a damned good lead. Can't you put a tail on Tony Moreno for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours? I feel sure he'll lead us to something."
"I'm not sure Forrest will go for that. We've already spent an insane amount of man hours on this thing, in one week alone. It really hasn't turned up much. East Asian Imports looks pretty clean from what we've seen."
"Of course they do, from the outside. We need to dig deeper, find that next layer and peel it away. I know they're at the bottom of this whole mess. I know they are. Maybe I should call the lieutenant."
"I'll talk to Forrest. You're supposed to be on bed rest and he's not going to want to hear from you. Let me handle it, and I'll get back to you when I know something."
"Sooner than that, please. Can you keep me posted on what's going on? I'll go fucking nuts if I have to sit around here wondering what's happening."
"Well, that won't be a long trip. Just make sure you stay put. I don't want to hear from any of our guys in the field that you're nosing around while you're on sick leave."
"Me? Are you serious?" he deadpanned.
"Listen Brady," she lowered her voice. "This thing's getting really ugly. Xavier Tesco suddenly disappeared. We don't know if it's foul play, or if he's been sent into hiding. Gives some credence to your story, for sure."
"He could still be after me." Brady said what Mel hadn't.
"Nothing would surprise me about this case. I haven't seen a lot of honor among this particular band of thieves."
"No shit. Okay, Mel, I'll leave it up to you. Just make sure to call me when you know anything, will you?"
"I promise. Now go. Rest." She disconnected the call.
Brady hung up. The next time he went out, he'd swing by the cell phone store and see about getting his mobile unit replaced. He felt strange not having it available.
The hands on the clock ticked interminably. The morning crept by, and when four o'clock arrived, Brady called Mel back.
"Jeeze, give me some time to work, man!" she protested.
"You've had all day. Tomorrow is Thursday. What's Forrest going to do about it?"
Mel hesitated.
"Aw, fuck! Don't tell me nothing. For God's sake, please don't tell me nothing."
He could envision her shaking her head. "He doesn't think Moreno will lead us to anything. He's upped the surveillance of the warehouse district, so if anything unusual—"
"Yeah, if a big deal goes down, I'm sure they'll do it right there in the street where the cops are patrolling. Damn it, Mel! What are you guys doing down there?"
"Actually," her voice sounded sheepish. "Stone and I were pulled off the case today. A dead body turned up downtown, the kid of some banking mogul. The father doesn't want to believe it was suicide, but we're on it until we find out for sure."
"You have got to be kidding me!"
"I told you, the powers that be aren't satisfied with what we've come up with after an intensive dump of manpower."
"So my case gets relegated to a back burner because no one's there to push for it? What about poor Costa, lying in the hospital?"
"I'm sorry, Brady. I did what I could."
"I know you did, Mel. Thanks. I should go."
"Brady, don't do anything stupid."
"Not the first time I've heard those words."
"Probably won't be the last, either."
"I can only hope not." He ended the call before she could caution him further. He didn't want to hear it. If the department was going to pull back from his case, then it was up to him to see it through.
Brady changed into a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt and a jacket. Everything took longer with the use of only one hand, but he managed. He retrieved his back-up gun from the locked case he kept in the back of his closet, and tucked it into the back of his jeans. As he left the house, he missed his cell phone more than ever. It was a horrible decision to leave without letting anyone know where he was going, but he had no choice. Anyone he could tell would try to talk him out of it. Brady knew what he had to do.
He drove to the offices of East Asian Imports. The silver Cadillac Escalade he knew belonged to Tony Moreno sat in its usual space in the lot. Brady chose an inconspicuous parking spot a few rows away and shut his engine off. He crouched down in his seat and waited.
Less than thirty minutes later, Moreno came out, talking on his cell phone. Brady watched him get into his vehicle and drive off. He followed the silver car, keeping several cars between them.
Moreno stopped at a liquor store and came out with two bottles in brown paper bags. He placed them in the back of his car and proceeded home, where he parked in the garage. Brady watched the house for another thirty minutes, but all was quiet. He decided to go home himself. He'd be back tomorrow. Thursday. Everything will be over Thursday.
He slept fitfully, and rose before the sun to begin his day's surveillance. He drove past the East Asian offices and circled the warehouses before heading back to Moreno's house. Becaus
e of the garage, he really couldn't tell if Moreno was still there or not, but it was five-thirty a.m. Brady suspected he was. He parked and waited.
Shortly after seven, Moreno backed his Escalade out of the driveway and headed toward the office. Brady trailed him, trying to keep a good distance between the two vehicles. Moreno stopped for donuts and Brady's thoughts immediately went to Costa and his love of all things cruller. The memory only served to make him angrier. He shook it off and maintained his distance, trailing Moreno.
The man took the long way to work, through the back alleys of several warehouses. Brady watched closely but stayed on the main thoroughfares. When Moreno ended up at his office, Brady stayed in the back half of the parking lot, where he could see the Escalade and the office door.
He slid down in his seat and settled in for a long morning. He'd brought some sandwiches and coffee to get him through the day, and a fresh three-pack of gum. Just when he'd unwrapped the first ham and cheese, and poured a cup of joe from his thermos, Moreno reappeared. Apparently in a hurry, the man hopped into his car and raced from the parking lot.
"Shit!" Brady tossed his sandwich into the passenger's seat and stowed the coffee in a cup holder. He followed Moreno, struggling to keep up with the man, and remain inconspicuous at the same time. Moreno was definitely in a hurry.
Fortunately, they didn't have far to go. A group of warehouses, close to those belonging to East Asian Imports, was Moreno's destination. He parked and entered the first building in the row.
Brady stayed out of sight scanning the buildings. Why do I know this place? His mind raced, trying to recall when he'd been there before.
The drug bust that implicated Richard Allen. These were Allen Imports warehouses, Brady was sure of it. He parked and, staying in the shade of the buildings, crept to the door Moreno had entered.
He didn't need to go inside to hear the heated conversation taking place.
"I told you to cool your jets! Everything is on schedule. When Rocko gets the call from the buyer he's going to phone me. By ten p.m. this will all be over."
Brady recognized the voice, but couldn't place the speaker. He closed his eyes, trying to picture where he'd heard it before.
"I'm fucking finished after this," Moreno replied. "The heat's all over me. I got God-damned detectives nosing through my underwear drawer."
The first man laughed. "I think it's hilarious the way they zoned in on you. Still not quite sure how that happened, but it works for me."
"I know how it happened," Moreno snarled. "We're taking care of it. There's nothing fucking funny about it, either. So stop being such a fucking schmuck, or I'll tip those cops in your direction."
Keep talking, Tony. Give me that tip. Brady inhaled and placed his ear closer to the door.
"Aw, fuck you," the other man returned jovially. "You're the king of the fucking schmucks. You stupid putz."
King of the schmucks? Stupid putz? The phrases rang in Brady's ears and he tried to recall hearing them before. Something shifted behind him and he spun to see what it was, just as something hard and heavy crashed down on his head. Brady saw the outline of a man, and then he saw stars. Then, nothing.
Chapter Eight
Gina stared at the pink plastic stick in her hand. The full five minutes hadn't elapsed, but there was no doubt about it. A perfect plus sign was visible in the small window. The fact that she'd been throwing up every morning for the past week was the clincher.
"Maledizione!" she swore for the third time at the third pregnancy test. "Damn it!" She tossed the stick in the trash can on top of the others. With all the precautions they'd taken, she really couldn't see how this was possible. But three home tests were in agreement. I'm pregnant.
The news hadn't sunk in, yet. But the more time that elapsed, the more real the baby became. She returned to her living room and scooped Pussy from the chair into her arms. She sat and nuzzled the cat as her mind wandered.
Abortion was out of the question. She'd had some friends in college who'd chosen that route, and didn't begrudge them their decisions. She just knew it wasn't the right thing for her. Adoption seemed a more tolerable solution, but not a great one. After carrying the child for nine months, would she be able to give it up? And what would the pregnancy do to her figure? She knew that last thought was vain, but at the same time a valid question she needed to give serious thought.
I could keep the baby. The thought flitted through her mind and she immediately tamped it down. Brady had made his feelings pretty clear the last time they'd spoken. One thing she was sure of, she wouldn't use the baby as a bargaining chip to get him back. Couples who stayed together for the sake of children rarely had happy relationships, as far as she could tell.
Could I raise a baby on my own? The question was so complicated, it boggled her mind. She felt the stirrings of a headache and decided to think about that monumental possibility later. It'd be a huge decision, and would require a great deal of thought. Later.
Gina had to work at three, so she grabbed a bite to eat and lay down to rest for a couple of hours. She must have fallen fast asleep, because she was almost late getting to the Pink Banana. When she arrived, she hurried inside, pleased to find no sign of Warren in the restaurant. Gina waved to Randy and slipped into the back room to punch the time clock.
"You're late." Warren's irritated voice came from behind her.
"Only a couple of minutes." She waved her time card at him. "See, three-oh-four. Not so bad."
"You weren't scheduled to start at three-oh-four. You were supposed to be here at three. You even made out the schedule yourself. If you can't stick to it—"
"Look, I'll stay five minutes later to make it up. Let's don't make this a big deal."
He curled his fingers around her wrist. "Five minutes isn't the big deal. It's your lack of respect that's cheesing me off. I've given you some responsibilities, and I'd like to give you more. Plenty more. But you have to treat me the right way." He ran his fingers up her arm, and locked gazes with her.
Gina's already-sensitive stomach rolled. Brady or no Brady, she could never be interested in the bar owner with greasy black hair and pock-marked skin. She tugged her arm from his grasp. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, and I don't really want to know. I'm going to go do my job, and forget this conversation ever happened."
His face reddened. "You're going to regret that, little girl."
Her eyes flashed. "I'm not your 'little girl'. Now, if you'll excuse me." She brushed past him and hurried into the restaurant. Her heart raced and Gina fought the urge to be sick. She needed this job more than ever, but if Warren was going to turn into an even bigger jerk, she had no idea what might happen.
"Everything okay?" Randy asked from his perch behind the bar.
"I hope so." She cast an irritated eye toward the office, and then attempted to put the unpleasant exchange behind her. "Got an apron back there for me?"
"Absolutely." He reached under the bar and handed her an apron and a ticket book.
Gina tied the strings around her waist, wondering how long it would be before the pregnancy showed. As much as she tried to put the baby out of her mind, it kept creeping back in. If only I had something else to think about. There weren't many great alternatives. Her love life sucked, her family life sucked, her job sucked. My life sucks, she thought drearily, and went to wait on her first table of the day.
Two long hours later, she was surprised and not overly excited to see Jack Dunlevy enter the bar. He scanned the room until his gaze fell on her.
With no time to slip into the back or pretend she didn't see him, Gina walked slowly toward the man.
"Hey, Gina. How you doing?"
"I've been better," she offered hesitantly, wondering what the hell he wanted.
"Yeah, well, I have, too. I'm looking for Brady, actually. Been trying to call him all day and no answer."
"I thought he was confined to bed rest."
Jack's eyes lit up. "How'd you know that?"
She shrugged. "I heard what happened. I saw him for a few minutes a couple days ago."
"That the last time you saw him?"
She didn't care for his line of questioning, and narrowed her eyes. "What's this about?"
"I told you, I'm looking for Brady. He's supposed to be home, yet he hasn't been there all day. His Explorer isn't in the garage."
"You tried his cell?"
Jack shook his head. "His cell was ruined in the accident. He hasn't gotten a new one, as far as I know."
"Oh." Gina rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe he went to visit someone. A relative?"
Again, Jack shook his head. "There's nobody. He should be home, and he's not. I'm worried about him."
She hated to admit it, but she was, too. With a show of false bravado she said, "Brady's a big boy. He can take care of himself."
"I'm not so sure about that. We both know he's lost all objectivity on his case, and with the concussion I'm not sure he's thinking clearly. I talked to Mel Curtis at the W.P.D., and she said he'd been calling her trying to get information. Unfortunately, Mel and her partner were put on a new case. When she broke the news to him, Brady was pissed."
"Pissed enough to do something stupid?" She knew Brady well enough to answer her own question.
Jack focused his gaze on her. "I'm really worried, Gina."
She folded her arms across her chest. "What exactly do you expect me to do? How am I supposed to help?"
His stare chilled her to the bone. "If you know anything—anything—about what might have happened to him, or where he could possibly be, you need to speak up now. I don't care if you're mad as hell at the guy, or hate his guts. He's a cop, and any foul play that might come to him, is serious business. Not to mention that he's my best friend, and a damned good guy."
"I know all that," she snapped. "I don't hate him, and I could never stay mad at the scemo. Believe it or not, I love him, Jack. Still. Sometimes I think I always will."
"Then if he's in trouble, you should want to help."