Lucas Holt Series: Books 1-3

by JP Ratto

  Scully remembered former Captain Sheppard’s words to him and Holt about Sheila Rand’s murder. She’s just a two-bit call girl. Scully’s hand quivered as he raised his mug to his lips. He barely heard Sean speaking.

  “Sorry, Sean. My mind was wandering.”

  “I was saying you have no choice but to keep what you know under wraps. I have a bad feeling about all this. The captain himself says the case is closed, Ray.”

  “I don’t know if I can…”

  “And he’s the one you have to worry about. You know him—you really know him. How in hell can you continue to investigate without Captain Burke catching wind of it?”

  Chapter 41

  As if Captain Roy Burke’s ears were ringing during Scully’s conversation with Sean, Detective Scully was summoned to the captain’s office as soon as he returned to the precinct. Burke, impeccably dressed and dashing in his tailor-made suit, motioned Scully into his office and pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the desk. He and Burke had been at the 12th for over twenty years. Burke had joined the NYPD a few years before Scully. Marnie Holt’s kidnapping had been Burke’s last major case before he made sergeant and eventually worked his way up to precinct captain.

  In spite of Scully’s inward criticism of Burke and Hamlin’s handling of Marnie’s case, he never let his personal feelings affect his relationship with his superior. In light of what Scully had discovered during his investigation of Giaconne’s death, maintaining that relationship was now a hard pill to swallow. He waited for Burke to speak.

  “Detective.”

  Scully relaxed in the chair but remained silent.

  Burke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I want us to be clear on where we stand with the Frank Giaconne case. You went to Moravia even though you were told the case was closed.”

  “The call came when I was already inside the facility. I didn’t get the message until later.”

  “Is that right?” said Burke, his tone wary. “So what did you learn?”

  Scully shrugged. “Not much. But I have to wonder what difference it makes now that you’ve found Giaconne’s alleged murderer and have closed the case.”

  Burke stared at Scully a moment before responding. “Any information you garner during an investigation should be reported regardless of the status of the case. You know that, and I don’t appreciate your attitude.”

  You mean like the info you had on Bardinari’s cousin. “Sir? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Listen to me, Detective. I know what you’re doing, and trying to tie Giaconne’s death to Holt’s daughter’s kidnapping is a waste of department resources. There’s no connection.”

  “I never wrote anything to that effect in my report,” Scully said.

  “Then why did you try to access the files?”

  “Why are they sealed?” Scully asked. “Was that your doing?”

  “That’s an impertinent question and none of your concern. Now answer mine. What did you hope to find in those files?”

  “It was a natural progression. Giaconne’s relationship with Rose Bardinari opened up a new thread in the investigation. I wasn’t operating on the assumption that it was a random mugging.”

  “His wallet was missing.”

  “That could have happened any time before or after he died and taken by someone other than the killer. I was looking to see if Giaconne had any enemies. That’s why I went to see Mason Reid.”

  “And did he have enemies?” Captain Burke asked.

  “Not that Reid knew of.”

  “Then you’ve got nothing, and it further proves his death was the result of a drug addict looking to pay for his habit.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  Burke’s face reddened. He stood. “Scully, the case is closed. See Sergeant Rodriguez. She has something for you and McCarthy. It takes priority over everything else.”

  Scully rose. “Yes, sir.” He walked to the office door and then turned back to Burke.

  “Yes, Detective?”

  “According to Reid, Giaconne didn’t have any enemies. But he may have had a friend.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Giaconne told Reid he knew a ‘Fifth Avenue lawyer’ who would be his ticket to financial freedom. Odd thing to say. Any idea what he could have meant by that, Captain?”

  “No idea. Maybe he was looking to sue someone.”

  “Ah. I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, by the way, I had a beer with Billy Dougal.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You remember him. He was in records. Dougal made sure all the files were kept in order. Knew everything that went in and out.”

  Scully could see the lack of recall in Burke’s eyes. “Vaguely.”

  “Well, he remembers you. He sends his regards.”

  Scully exited the office as a secretary entered to tell Burke that Commissioner Sheppard was on the line.

  Ray Scully smiled. Perfect timing.

  Chapter 42

  I declined the commander’s offer to stay another night and drove back to New York, exhausted and anxious for my own bed. Glad to be home, I dropped my bag in the foyer, gathered up the pile of mail that had accumulated, and brought it with me to the living room. I sorted through bills, advertisements, and catalogues, coming upon a brown envelope with Jim O’Brien’s return address.

  Two letter-sized envelopes were inside, one with “Lucas” written on the front in Susan’s writing. I held it a moment, staring at the feminine swirl of my name, remembering her neat flowing script from past notes and cards I’d cherished. With a knot forming in my throat, I opened it and read.

  Dear Lucas,

  When my doctor diagnosed my illness and gave me less than a year, my first thoughts were of the people who had touched my life and whom I would never see again. Jim has been wonderful and my rock. I don’t think I could have made it this long if it weren’t for his love and positive attitude. He likes you, Lucas, and I know he would enjoy your company for a beer now and then.

  But that’s not why I’m writing. Jim has a large and loving family to help him through his grief. My worry is you. First of all, I want you to know that I love you. You have always occupied a place in my heart reserved only for you.

  I remember when we first met that weekend in Lake Placid. It still amuses me to recall your reaction when you approached me, thinking I was alone, only to find out I was with five other women. We’d started to get to know one another when my girlfriends spotted us together, circled around, and began an interrogation. You hardly knew me but patiently answered all their questions. I fell in love with you then.

  Losing Marnie was the hardest thing I ever had to endure—harder than knowing I only had months to live. How many times had I blamed myself for wanting a career instead of staying at home with our child? If I’d made a different choice, perhaps our daughter would be with us. But we can’t be afraid to make choices. We have to follow our hearts. If we don’t, then we are dissatisfied with our lives—with who we are. I didn’t want to do that to myself—to us.

  And so, as I’ve made peace with my situation now, I wanted to make peace then. As aggrieved as I was, I wanted to move on. I wanted us to move on. Move on or wither away in despair. I know you believe we divorced because I couldn’t be with you, but Lucas, it was because you couldn’t be with yourself. I didn’t blame you for what happened. How could I when you carried so much guilt you were drowning in misery. I couldn’t save you. My love wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

  It broke my heart to see you alone and absorbed in your work all these years. I realize, though, the good you do for others helps to lift some of the burden you suffer.

  If I’m allowed a dying wish, it’s this: Don’t suffer anymore. Life is too short, and you are a good man who deserves to be happy. Please find a way.

  Love always,

  Susan

  I swiped tears from my eyes and peered into the hallway where a photo of Susan and Marnie rested on a small table. Rising
from the sofa, I opened the other envelope. The note inside was short and the handwriting unfamiliar. I’m sure Susan was too weak to hold a pen. It simply said:

  find our daughter

  fall in love

  be happy

  S.

  ***

  Trying to process the letter from Susan, I engaged in the mindless activity of unpacking my suitcase. As I shoved my dirty clothes into a hamper, my cell phone buzzed. It was Ray Scully. I’d wanted to talk to him since I’d crossed the city limits to discuss how he could help me find Marnie.

  “Ray.”

  “Hey, Lucas. Are you back in New York yet?”

  “Yeah, just got home. I’m glad you called. Sorry I’ve been out of touch. I’ve been busy.”

  “Saving the world?”

  “As a matter of fact…”

  “Listen, Lucas, I’d love to hear about your case, but I need to talk to you.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It could be. Do you have some time? I could come over after my shift later.”

  “Sure, but can you give me an idea what it’s about?” My curiosity was piqued, and my friend seemed a bit on edge.”

  Ray hesitated. “Okay…remember that guy in McAllister’s last week? The one who nearly knocked me over going out the door?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle. I had high hopes of garnering some information about Marnie from Giaconne. Ray mentioning him and the tone of his voice didn’t give me a good vibe.

  “What about him?” I asked, but dreaded the answer.

  “His name is Frank Giaconne and he’s been murdered.”

  ***

  “Everything good, Ray?” Sean McCarthy asked. “What’d the captain want?”

  Scully had a hard time concentrating since he’d left Burke’s office and welcomed Sean’s interruption. “Oh, he just wanted to make sure I knew the Giaconne case is closed.”

  “That it?”

  “No. Since I saw Mason Reid, and even though he thought it a waste of time, the captain still wanted to know what Reid said.”

  Sean sat in the chair next to Scully’s desk and leaned in. “Did you tell him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. Case is closed, remember?” Scully smiled and checked the time on his phone. Two more hours.

  Chapter 43

  It was a busy night at McAllister’s. Standing at the entrance, I recognized the back of Willy Sands huddled in a corner of the bar, recovered from gall bladder surgery. He was hunched over his draft talking to a redhead. She leaned in to listen, nodding every so often. I waved to Kyle, who motioned and pointed to a stool someone had vacated. He set a beer in front of me.

  Since I’d gotten home from Maryland, all I could think of was how to find Marnie. Ray’s call about Giaconne’s death had put a serious damper on my mood. I’d extracted some more information from Ray before he had to get off the phone. Giaconne had been shot soon after we parted. The police believe Giaconne was the victim of a mugging and have found his killer, who is also dead. Ray didn’t elaborate, but he thought it was all too neat.

  I raised the mug of beer to my lips and the man next to me bumped my arm as he offered up his stool and left. The familiar earthy scent of woods and citrus made me look up, and before I could glance at the woman settling in on my left, she said, “Can I buy you something stronger?” The smooth sultry timbre of her voice, sans the snark I’d grown accustomed to, warmed me like an aged whiskey. I turned to the welcome sight of Madeline Grange. She gave me one of the beautiful smiles I’d missed, so genuine it caused creases at the sides of her sensuous blue eyes.

  Stunned to see her, it took a moment to find my voice. “What are you doing here?” It didn’t at all express what I felt. Her smile faded and she raised an eyebrow. I braced myself for the biting words I knew would come. Maddie surprised me by grasping my open jacket and gently tugging me toward her. She guided me to her lips for a burning hot kiss that aroused every nerve in my body.

  We broke the kiss, and without a word, I threw some bills on the bar for Kyle, took Maddie’s hand, and left McAllister’s. The night was cold, and neither of us wanted to cool down, so I hailed the first cab I saw along Third Avenue. We reached my brownstone just as the sky opened and a hard rain began to fall. I gave the driver double the fare, grabbed Maddie’s small carryon, and with my palm on her back, ushered her into my home.

  Dim nightlights lit the hallway. Leaving the lights off, we shrugged off our coats and left them in the foyer. Moving to the living room, I turned on the sound system, choosing a soft serenade from Louie Armstrong.

  Maddie wore jeans and a fitted blouse with a few buttons opened to reveal something lacy underneath. I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her deeply to keep the heat between us going. Opening the rest of the buttons, I glided my hands over the soft silk of the camisole and her smooth skin. I pulled her close, inhaling her wonderful scent. She wrapped her arms around my neck. I love the color of her gorgeous hair. Tucking a few loose strands behind one ear, I nibbled on the lobe. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d known. I moved to kiss her lips and noticed her staring at something behind me. I knew it was the picture of Susan and Marnie. She studied me a moment.

  “Lucas, are you sure?” she asked. “Maybe it’s too soon.”

  Her arms still wrapped around my neck, Maddie waited for my answer. I realized after visiting Susan in hospice that my refusal to let go of her on some level was tied to my refusal to let go of Marnie. But that wasn’t the case. I would never have given up hope of finding her. The photograph Janet Maxwell sent me provided a new connection to my daughter. I knew I would find her and, with Susan’s encouragement, was ready to move on in my relationship with Maddie. However, I didn’t want her to doubt my feelings and motivations. Was it too soon? I was torn.

  We both felt my cell vibrating in my pocket.

  “Want to get that?” Maddie asked.

  I did and I didn’t. Nodding, I pulled out the phone. “It’s Ray.” I kissed her and broke our embrace. I spoke to Ray briefly and disconnected.

  “Sorry, I almost forgot Ray was coming over after his shift. But he wants to see me sooner rather than later. It’s about a murder he’s been investigating.”

  Maddie buttoned her blouse and finger combed her hair. “You’re helping him with a case? Must be important.”

  “Yeah, he thinks there’s a connection to my daughter’s disappearance.”

  Maddie knew about the photo of Marnie I’d received after my return from Broome. She must have heard the hope in my voice and smiled with understanding. Maddie stepped forward and pulled me close. “I know you’ll find her.”

  I relaxed in her arms as we swayed to Armstrong’s “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” and waited for Ray Scully to arrive.

  The End

  Chapter 1

  Backed up to the low parapet on the roof of the four-story walkup, the man sat on his haunches. A drizzle of rain pecked at his head as he examined the gray metal parts distributed evenly over the dark blanket. He’d left assembling the weapon until now because it fit into a duffel bag and was less conspicuous to transport. He glared at the burner phone lying within easy reach.

  Ring, dammit. I don’t know why I have to wait till the last minute for a go command.

  He glanced at the cheap military-style watch held on his wrist by a web band. The target was unpredictable and could appear soon.

  Rising, he peeked over the edge, confident the dim moonlight made it difficult for him to be seen. A sudden stiff wind threatened to unseat the black ball cap he had tightly pressed on his head. He held on to the brim and peered down at the quiet street. Traffic was light at the late hour and few people were out walking. The delicatessen across the street was closed. The only activity came from the building next to it, where the target worked.

  The cool October night made him wish he had worn something heavier than the black hoodie. As if the temperatur
e and wind weren’t enough, the rain began to come down in sheets.

  This would make his job difficult and, worse, he viewed it as a bad omen. He sunk back to the blanket and noticed the wind had disturbed his neat array of parts.

  Even with the rain beating down, it took him under five minutes to assemble the Heckler & Koch sniper rifle, load it, add a scope, and attach a silencer. Now he had to wait.

  He hated waiting.

  Waiting is an opportunity for an unforeseen event to occur. He relied on being thorough in his planning and executing the plan.

  He had turned down the volume on the cell phone and nearly missed the vibration alerting him to a call. He grabbed the clamshell phone, flipped it open, and listened.

  “Take the shot.”

  ***

  NYPD Detective Ray Scully had left Captain Roy Burke’s office just as his superior took a call from Commissioner Sheppard.

  I know in my gut they’re hiding something.

  At his desk, he watched Sean McCarthy’s hunched back expand and contract with each deep breath. His partner had been busy updating reports since they’d returned from McAllister’s Pub earlier that evening.

  Scully’s head jerked at the sound of a door closing. Without a good night to anyone, Captain Burke locked his office, strode to the open elevator, and left. Scully checked the time. Looking for his sergeant and not seeing her, he seized an opportunity. He cleared his desk and rose to stand next to his partner.

  “Sean, can you cover for me? I should be back before the shift ends.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks,” he said and grabbed his jacket.

  “Ray?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Anything to do with your meeting with Burke?”