Tough Justice Series Box Set, Parts 1-8

by Carla Cassidy

  Or so she’d thought.

  But now... It appeared her mother had been unfaithful. She’d been involved with a neighbor, Henry Baker, a carpenter in his forties who’d given this statement to the police. A photo of an attractive dark-haired man had been tacked to the wall beside the page.

  Feeling shell-shocked, she stepped away. So her mother had cheated on her father. So she hadn’t been as perfect as Lara had believed. What did it matter? The police hadn’t charged her father with her mother’s murder. There had never been any proof that he’d killed her, despite the suspicions that had wrecked his career. So why reveal this detail now? Was this some sort of clue he wanted her to pursue? Or was it just another head game designed to further undermine her trust in her parents and destabilize her mind?

  If so, it was working. Feeling violated and dazed, she turned around. She crossed her arms, mortified that her team was poring through the information, that these sordid details of her life were on display for her coworkers and the NYPD to see. Maybe that was the point, she realized with another jolt. Maybe this was all designed to humiliate her.

  Suddenly Nick grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her away. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “What? I can’t leave.”

  “The hell you can’t.” He towed her into the living room.

  She dug in her heels and stopped. “Nick, stop it. I haven’t even given the police a statement yet. They’ll want to question me.”

  “It can wait until morning,” Victoria said from behind her. “Nick’s right. You need to leave.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll stay,” Ty offered, coming up beside her. “I want to talk to your doorman. I can wait here until they’re done processing the scene and make sure everything’s locked up.”

  As if that would do any good.

  “They might need to ask me something,” she protested.

  “If they do, it will have to wait,” Victoria said. “A few hours aren’t going to change anything.”

  Knowing they were right, Lara exhaled. The apartment would be here in the morning. There was nothing so urgent that it couldn’t wait as long as the police were onboard with that. And there was no way she was going to sleep here. She’d never feel safe in her apartment again.

  “All right. I’ll grab some stuff and check into a hotel.”

  “I’ll arrange for a security detail,” Victoria said.

  “But—”

  “Don’t even think of arguing. You’re not staying alone tonight. It’s either a guard at the hotel, or you’re going into a safe house.”

  “She can stay with me,” Nick said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Lara shook her head. “It’s not necessary. Honestly, I’ll be fine.”

  “The hell you will,” he said. “Think about it, Lara. Someone went to a lot of trouble to create this scene. He researched this. He managed to get hold of those files. And he’s obviously been watching you. How else would he know when you’d be out? And chances are he’s still watching you. The payoff has got to be seeing how you react. And if he follows you to a hotel...”

  Her breath backed up. A shiver of fear arrowed through her at his words. But she wasn’t a coward. And she wasn’t running scared into the night. “I can protect myself.”

  “So could Mei.”

  The blood drained from her head.

  “You don’t have a choice,” Victoria said. “Tonight you’re going to stay with Nick in his apartment. That way we can all rest easy. Tomorrow we’ll figure something out long-term.”

  Lara swallowed with effort, trying to beat back the panic lapping at her nerves. They were right. She was smack in the middle of Moretti’s crosshairs—exactly where he wanted her to be. He had her weakened, spooked and in absolutely no condition to fight.

  She was vulnerable.

  And if she knew Moretti, that’s exactly when he’d go for the kill.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lara hated to admit it, but she was glad to be in Nick’s apartment rather than alone in a hotel. She curled up on his sofa an hour later, a blanket wrapped securely around her, chills wracking her body from the ordeal that she’d been through. She wondered if she was in shock.

  “Here.” Nick walked into the living room and handed her a crystal tumbler.

  She peered at the amber liquid inside. “What is it?”

  “Whiskey. Bottoms up. You need something to put some color back in your face.”

  “Thanks.” She took a taste as he sat beside her, relishing the potent warmth sliding down her throat. “It’s good.” Shivering, she took another sip.

  “So, you want to talk about it?” Nick asked.

  “We might as well.” She couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t think about anything else.

  “You think Moretti was responsible for this?” he asked, and she managed a smile. Leave it to Nick to get straight to the point.

  “At first glance, it doesn’t seem so. He had nothing to do with my mother’s murder. It happened too long ago. And he didn’t leave his usual signature, the double M stamp, anywhere that I could see.”

  He raised a brow. “But?”

  “But who else could it be? Who else has a motive to try to freak me out like that?”

  She took another swallow of whiskey, her thoughts circling around the question that had plagued her for the past few days. “I’ve been wondering about that since Cass was attacked, whether someone else might be involved. The MOs are all so different. We’ve had everything from the sniper shootings and Cass’s stabbing, to Mei’s strangulation death.” She shuddered, trying not to picture the gruesome images that thought provoked. “But I keep coming back to him.”

  “We all have enemies,” Nick pointed out. “People we’ve put behind bars who might be out for revenge.”

  “Sure.” It was impossible not to after working in law enforcement for any length of time. “But this took a lot of coordination. And it’s definitely targeted, the way everything comes back to me. There’s nothing else that ties these events together—the kidnappers’ rattle, the victims who had my name, the way it all started with that ledge jumper who asked for me.” Not to mention the references to that baby, information only someone close to her would know.

  “And each time he’s getting closer, more personal.” She downed more whiskey and met Nick’s eyes. “Think about it. He started with strangers—the ledge jumper, the woman in the department store, and the one in Central Park. Next, he killed those informants. They all had a connection to the team. Then he went after the team itself—kidnapping Victoria’s daughter, wounding you and stabbing Cass. And then he murdered Mei.”

  “And now he’s focusing on you.”

  Her throat went dry. She drained her glass and set it down. “You have to admit it’s a logical progression.”

  “Yeah.” His strong jaw worked. He swallowed the last of his whiskey and placed his tumbler beside hers on the coffee table. Then he turned slightly and cupped her jaw, the warmth of his skin sending little shimmers through her blood.

  “We’re not going to let him harm you,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “Right.” But they’d known about the danger, and the killer had still managed to get to Mei.

  “I mean it, Lara. We’re going to keep you safe.”

  His thumb stroked her jaw. His dark eyes drew her in. And she had the strongest urge to move closer, to meld into his sturdy body and let him buffer her from the world.

  His eyes dropped to her mouth. Her heart began to race, everything inside her responding to this virile man. It would be so damned nice to forget reality right now and lose herself in his arms again.

  But he dropped his hand with a sigh. “You need to get some rest.”

  He was right. She was beyond exhausted, so tired she was barely coherent. And she had no business starting something that would only complicate their lives.

  “There are clean sheets on the bed,” he said. “And I
put out a towel in the bathroom for you.”

  “I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I don’t want to chase you out of your bed.”

  “We already settled that. I’m on the couch. Now go on and get some sleep.” He picked up a couple of pillows that he’d brought out earlier with the blanket, punched them to make them plumper, then arranged them on one end.

  “All right. I appreciate it.” And although she’d never admit it, she felt safer with him closer to the door. She grabbed the tumblers and rose.

  “Leave those,” he said. “I’ll take care of them in the morning.”

  “Too late. I’ve got them.” She’d avoided going into his kitchen since she’d arrived, which was ridiculous. There wasn’t any danger there. And she couldn’t let the night’s events start dictating how she acted for the rest of her life.

  Purposely blocking out that crime scene, she strode into Nick’s kitchen. But instead of reliving the trauma, she remembered the last time she’d visited and how they’d had sex on his kitchen floor and for the first time that night, she smiled. Feeling slightly better, she stacked the glasses in the dishwasher and wiped the counter around the sink. Then she turned off the overhead light and started toward the bedroom door.

  She paused before she reached it and glanced back. Nick had turned off the lamp on the end table. In the dim light from the hallway, she could see him stretched out on the couch. She studied his dark hair against the pillow, the planes of his shadowed face. Her heart warmed. She was so damned grateful to be here.

  “Nick...”

  He didn’t move. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight.”

  “No problem.”

  Maybe not for him. But it was hard for her to lean on anyone. She was used to making her own decisions and never relying on anyone else. Since the moment of her mother’s death, she’d had to fend for herself.

  And usually she liked it that way. She liked being independent. She liked knowing she could take care of herself. Sometimes that solitude had its downside—and made her slow to trust—but she liked standing apart from society and staying detached from everyone else.

  Because God knew, the fallout from making a mistake in judgment could be catastrophic, like it had been with Andrew Moore.

  But as she walked into Nick’s bedroom and closed the door, she had to admit the truth. For once in her life, she was thankful not to be alone.

  * * *

  “I booked you a hotel room,” Victoria told her the following morning as the team assembled in the conference room to discuss the case. “And we’re posting a guard outside the room. That’s nonnegotiable,” she added before Lara could protest.

  Lara exhaled. Even though she doubted it was necessary, she had to admit the protection detail made sense. “Thanks.”

  Victoria took a sip of coffee, then gave her an approving nod. “I’ll get you the key card later. All right, everyone,” she said, glancing around as everyone took their seats. “Let’s get this meeting started. First off, I talked to the surveillance team working Houston Street. There still hasn’t been any sighting of The Ghost.”

  “You think he knows we’re on to him?” Cass asked. The swelling around her eye had started to go down, but the bruise still stood out in the morning light.

  “You wouldn’t think so. But it’s possible that he figured it out and is lying low.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Lara asked.

  “The same thing we’re doing now. We’ll continue keeping an eye out in case he shows up. It’s the only real lead we have, so we can’t afford to let him slip away.”

  Lara drank some coffee, not wanting to think about what they’d do if that lead didn’t pan out. They had to find The Ghost. Not only was he dangerous, but he was their strongest link to Moretti right now.

  “Where do we stand on Mei’s murder?” Nick asked.

  “We’re still waiting for the forensic results,” Victoria answered. “Hopefully we’ll get those back today. We’re also canvassing the area around her apartment, but no one has seen anything so far. Not even the elusive blond guy. We’re doing the same around Lara’s apartment, too.”

  “I talked to Lara’s doorman, Jerry,” Ty cut in. “I asked about anything suspicious he might have seen or anyone who looked out of place. I’m going to go back to talk to the daytime doorman in a couple of hours.”

  “What did Jerry say?” Victoria asked.

  “He didn’t notice anything or else he would have called Lara, as she requested. But there were a lot of deliveries yesterday.”

  “It was grocery day,” Lara confirmed. “A lot of residents have their food delivered.”

  Ty nodded. “That’s what he said. So there’s a chance that someone snuck by him when he was busy dealing with those. He also didn’t realize it, but his spare key to Lara’s apartment went missing in the past few days. They’re changing the locks today.”

  Lara’s blood chilled at that. A crime of opportunity was one thing. But to think that someone had been watching her building for the right moment to set things up... That took planning, cunning and keeping a very close eye on her. If Moretti’s goal was to spook her, he’d succeeded. It was hard not to feel paranoid.

  “Maybe the cops will get lucky and identify a print.” Victoria turned to Cass. “Speaking of Lara’s apartment, I want you to look into those files, the ones they stuck on her walls.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “For one thing, where they came from. Those weren’t the original files. They were copies. They didn’t have the time and date stamps. And not many people could have had that kind of access to a cold case file. Check with the NYPD and see if anyone looked at that file recently, even digitally. Someone could have tried to hack in.”

  “All right.”

  “Is there any chance there was another copy of the file somewhere?” Nick asked.

  “Like where?” Victoria asked.

  “I don’t know. But Lara’s father was cop. Could he have kept a copy for himself?”

  “I doubt it,” Lara said, thinking back. “At least I never saw one. Although, to be honest, I haven’t gone through the boxes in his house since he died.” She hadn’t even known about the interview establishing that her mother had had an affair. “But I can’t imagine that the police would give him access to those files since they questioned him about her death.”

  “Maybe not formally,” Nick argued. “But no one would stop him if he wanted to take a look. They’d just think he was trying to solve the case.”

  “That’s true.” Cops tended to trust each other. And no one would question another cop looking into those files, even if he was the victim’s spouse.

  “We’ll look into that,” Victoria said, moving along. “Where are we on access to Mason’s juvenile file and Andrew’s army records?”

  “Dead end on both,” Cass replied.

  Xander frowned at that. “Both of them? You must be kidding.”

  “Nope. No one can find them—hard copy or digital.”

  Which seemed way too coincidental. The hard copies were one thing. Lara wouldn’t have expected them to survive after all these years. But the digital copies, too? She shook her head. “Moretti must have gotten rid of them somehow. Maybe he hired a hacker.”

  Cass shrugged. “Maybe. But even if the digital files were deleted, I still might be able to retrieve them.”

  “Make that your priority,” Victoria said. “Do whatever you have to in order to get those files.”

  Just then Lara’s cell phone buzzed. Lara pulled it from her pocket and checked the screen. “There’s a message here from James Walsh,” she told Victoria. He was the agent who was keeping tabs on her half sister, Meghan, at the Hot Spot Bar. “He wants to talk to me right away.”

  “Go ahead. I think we’re done here. We’ll touch base later.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Nick said, and she wondered if he’d appointed himself as her guardian a
ngel. That thought made her smile. No one looked less angelic than Nick with his wicked eyes.

  Regardless, she wasn’t going to argue. After last night, she wasn’t going to let her stubborn pride keep her from ignoring the danger dogging her steps. And until they’d arrested everyone involved in this case, she’d take any help that came her way.

  Including Nick’s.

  * * *

  “That was fast,” James Walsh said when they arrived at his cubicle a few minutes later.

  Lara leaned against the wall. “You said it was important.”

  “It is.” James Walsh was a junior agent in his twenties. He had the kind of friendly, honest face people tended to overlook—which made him great for undercover work. And he could easily pass as a college student, making him the right demographic for the typical patron of the Hot Spot bar.

  “A guy came in to see your sister last night. He sounds like the same one who took her home before. I thought you’d be interested since he met the description of the blond guy you’ve been looking for. He had on a baseball cap and dark sunglasses he never took off, even though it was late at night.”

  Lara straightened, her interest piqued. “Go on.”

  “He showed up around eleven o’clock.”

  Well after she’d returned to her apartment. So even if he was the one who’d set up the crime scene—and had hung around to see her reaction—he could have still made it to Meghan’s bar.

  “What did he do?” Nick asked.

  “Nothing much at first. He sat at the bar with his back to the room, like he wanted to be left alone. Meghan was pretty busy. But when things slowed down, they started flirting. By closing time, they looked pretty tight.”

  Lara’s heart skipped. Her gaze connected with Nick’s. “What if it’s him?”

  “The guy who stabbed Cass?”

  “He can’t be The Ghost, since, thanks to Mrs. Ramirez, we know he has dark hair. But he could be our missing cowboy. It can’t be a coincidence that someone matching his description keeps coming to see my sister in that bar.”