by Darcia Helle
Then he had his own pants undone and, as he entered her, he whispered, “I promise I will not be as forgiving ever again.”
Lauren and Jesse strolled hand in hand along the cobblestone paths in Faneuil Hall Marketplace. The air smelled of greasy pizza and Italian sausages. A variety of street performers provided free entertainment to the throngs of people. They passed a magician surrounded by a group of boisterous college students. But Lauren didn’t hear the cheers. Her mind was lost somewhere between the image of Stephen’s last moments and Gina sprawled naked with her father.
Lauren wanted desperately to focus on this moment with Jesse, to enjoy their time together and let the rest go. But how could she? Images kept flashing through her mind. Stephen’s lifeless body on the gurney. Gina’s long bare legs wrapped around her father. A sudden shiver raced down her spine.
“Are you cold?” Jesse asked.
“No, I’m okay.”
Jesse led Lauren to a nearby bench. He pulled her down beside him. “What’s on your mind tonight?”
Lauren couldn’t help but smile at the warmth in Jesse’s eyes. She hadn’t told him about Gina and her father. She didn’t want to say the words, hear them out loud. Somehow that would make it all too real.
“Nothing, really,” she said. The lie didn’t even sound convincing to her own ears.
“Don’t feel like talking about it?”
“It’s not that…” Lauren rested her head against Jesse’s shoulder. But it was exactly that, wasn’t it? “I’m not sure I can.”
“You don’t have to. Unless you want to.”
“I feel like my life has become a very bad soap opera.”
“What you went through with Stephen,” Jesse said, “I can’t imagine what that felt like. But I’m a great listener if you feel like talking.”
“I know.”
“Do you want a drink? Sit inside and relax?”
Despite her best efforts to remain in control, Lauren’s eyes filled with tears. She quickly wiped them away. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“You have no reason to be sorry.”
“Are you always so patient?”
Jesse grinned. “Hell no.”
“Good to know you’re not so perfect after all.”
They both fell silent for a moment. A young family walked by. The father held a toddler against his chest. The mother held the hand of a wide-eyed little girl. All four of them were smiling. Happy. Had her family ever looked that way?
“Remember I told you that my boss let me leave work early today?” Lauren said.
“Yeah…”
“I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.”
“You can trust me.”
“I know,” Lauren said. “It’s just that… Well, it’s embarrassing. And horrible. And I still can’t believe it.” She paused, let out a slow breath. “When I got home, I walked in on my father with Gina.”
Jesse looked at Lauren a moment as if waiting for more. Then he said, “By walked in on them, you mean it was sexual?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Gina told me they’ve been… It’s been going on five years. So she was only sixteen when it began.”
“Wow.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Lauren said. “I can’t even look at Gina anymore. And being around my father makes me physically ill. I know it would crush my mom if I told her but not telling her doesn’t feel right, either.”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
“If I tell my mom, my father will totally lose it. I just don’t know who he’ll take it out on.”
“You don’t think he’d hurt you, do you?”
Lauren shrugged. “You don’t know what my father is capable of.”
“Oh, I think I do. But he doesn’t know what I’m capable of.”
“No, I don’t want you to get involved. He’s already been threatening you and -”
“He can threaten me all he wants,” Jesse said. “But if he touches you, well that’s a different story.”
“I don’t get it,” Lauren said. “Why would you even want to get in the middle of this mess that has become my life?”
“I’m already in the middle.”
“I guess. Sort of. But why aren’t you doing the sane thing and running for your life?”
“Don’t ask so many questions,” Jesse said. He kissed her softly on the lips. ‘You know I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
Lauren smiled. She didn’t know why Jesse stayed or what she’d done to deserve him in her life. But somehow she trusted that he would never hurt her.
14
Jesse followed the prison guard down the hallway to the same small meeting room he’d been in the last time he was there. He sat in the same metal chair bolted to the same floor. Soon a different guard ushered Chris Nyles inside. Nyles stood by the door, openly scrutinizing Jesse. The guard shoved him into the empty chair, secured the handcuffs, and stepped out.
“Got a cigarette?” Nyles asked. His words came out in a snarl.
Jesse shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”
“Figures.”
“I had a meeting with the DA this morning.”
“Yeah? I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind. Took you fucking long enough.”
Jesse ignored Nyles’ tone. He said, “He’s having a bit of a problem with the situation.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s not sure he can justify cutting you a deal on the slight possibility that you have some info to help indict Covington.”
“So what the hell are you wasting my time for?” Nyles said.
“Give me a little something to work with and maybe I can convince him.”
Nyles glared at him. Jesse said nothing, just waited. Nyles was the one with the most to lose if he walked out of there. If Nyles truly had something to give, he’d want to deal.
“Look, I’m not playing fucking game,” Nyles finally said. “Either you keep your end of the bargain or you get nothing.”
“How did Bellows die?”
“You tell me.”
“Report says he was found hanging in his garage,” Jesse said. “Written up as suicide.”
“So?”
“I don’t believe it.”
Nyles shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t.”
“Tell me what happened,” Jesse said. “Did Covington have something to do with it?”
“Don’t know a thing.”
Jesse sighed. “I can’t help you if you don’t cooperate.”
“And if I talk? How do I know you’ll get anywhere with the fucking DA? I could tell you everything, still be stuck in this fucking hell hole. At least till I get whacked for snitching.”
“I’ve got a better chance with the guy if I have something to give him.” Jesse ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to yank it out and scream. He said, “Right now he thinks I’m crazy. And he thinks you’re full of shit.”
“Asshole.”
Jesse wasn’t sure whether Nyles was referring to him or the DA. He sat back, focused on his breathing, and waited.
“I was the anonymous caller who reported Danny,” Nyles said. “I saw some things.”
“Who killed him?”
A smile slid across Nyles’ thin lips. “Seems to have slipped my mind.”
“What do you know about Bellows’ involvement with Covington?”
“Danny worked for the prick for years.”
“’Til he messed up?”
“Don’t know.”
“The girl you murdered… or they say you murdered. Did she have anything to do with Covington?”
“Maybe.”
“Did he threaten to kill you, too?”
“I ain’t saying nothing else,” Nyles said. “Not ‘til you get me something on paper.”
Jesse shook his head. “You’re not giving me much. Convince me, so I can convince the DA.”
“I know all about what Danny was doing,” Nyles said. “He told me ever
ything.”
“His work for Covington?”
“Yup.”
“Got any proof,” Jesse asked. “Names? Dates?”
Nyles sneered at Jesse. Cooperation was not his strong suit. “You’d piss yourself if you could see what I got. Danny, he was in tight for awhile. Did some stuff. Had me help him out a few times. That’s all I’m saying.”
Jesse stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“How come you want this guy so bad?” Nyles asked. “He do your girlfriend or something?”
“Or something,” Jesse replied.
The ride from the prison to his office took Jesse fifty-seven minutes. He should have used the time to figure out what he was going to do about this increasing mess he was in. Instead he had pushed a Stevie Ray Vaughan CD into the player, cranked the volume, and concentrated on nothing more than the guitar riffs.
The streets around the office building were quiet. Not much activity on this cold and windy afternoon, particularly since it was still too early for the bar crowds. His office parking lot was deserted. He shared the building with a private contractor, a marriage counselor, a financial consultant, and two massage therapists. None of them worked Sundays. So he was alone, with no distractions other than his own mind.
Jesse unlocked his office door, didn’t bother with the lights in the reception area, and went straight into his office. The room had a raw chill. He switched on the light and turned up the thermostat. Reluctantly, he pulled off his jacket and tossed it over one of the padded chairs by the desk. Then he sank into his own chair and pushed the button on his computer. The screen lit up and began to hum.
Covington had to have left loose ends somewhere. But where? And what?
Jesse leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. The first thing he needed to do was take a close look at Covington’s finances. See what he owned, what and whom he owed, and maybe how he was managing to hide his extra income. For a few moments Jesse did nothing more than stare at his computer screen. Then, deciding it wasn’t going to do the work for him, he sat up and began punching keys.
Hours later he leaned back and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He’d found little helpful information. He had actual paying cases he should be working on but here he sat, spending hours looking for that one elusive thread that would lead him to Covington’s downfall.
He picked up a list of phone numbers. He was reaching for his phone when the outer door clicked open, then shut. Jesse rose, his eyes fixed on the man striding toward him. The deep scar across the man’s cheekbone twitched. His squinty eyes stared in silent defiance.
Jesse cursed himself for having left the door unlocked. Not that it would have kept this guy out. But it would have bought him time to prepare. He remembered the photo this guy had delivered a few days ago. That had been the initial warning. Apparently they were now on to phase two.
“The boss wants you to back off,” the man said. “Stay out of his business.”
“What business would that be?” Jesse asked.
“Don’t fuck with me. He knows you been sticking your nose where it don’t belong.”
Jesse stared at the man, said nothing. He was thinking about his gun, left locked in his safe at home. Stupid place for it, considering the circumstances. The man took a step closer. The scar twitched. Thick veins pulsated in his neck. He stood about three feet away, looking like a demented Frankenstein awaiting his orders.
“Was there something else or are you finished now?” Jesse asked. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Boss also wants you to stay the fuck away from his daughter. No contact. Back out of her life as if you don’t even know the family exists.”
“And if I don’t?”
“He says you want different, then do the job and then he’ll negotiate.”
“Tell him I said to fuck off.”
The man lunged at Jesse. The bulk of his weight knocked Jesse off balance. As he teetered backward, he was able to block the first punch but the second caught him beneath the corner of his eye. His vision blurred and red dots floated in front of him.
The two men scuffled, fighting for leverage. The man was powerful in that bulldozer kind of way. But Jesse was quick and strong and pissed. He landed two powerful strikes to the man’s mid section. As the man stumbled, Jesse put all his force into a punch that caught the man in the base of the throat. The man choked and gasped for air.
The big man’s hand reached into his coat just as Jesse kicked him behind the knees, sending him sprawling to the carpet. A Glock slipped out of the man’s coat and landed six inches from his grasp. Jesse stomped on his wrist, grinding his boot deep into bone. He said, “Don’t even think about it.”
The man grimaced. Through clenched teeth, he sputtered, “You fucking prick.”
Jesse leaned over and grabbed the gun. He checked the clip to be sure it was loaded. Not that he should have any reason to doubt that it would be. The action was more habit than anything else. Then he backed away, keeping the Glock fixed on the man.
“What’s your name?” Jesse asked.
“Go to hell,” the man muttered.
“Interesting name. Your mother must have been thrilled with your birth.”
The man sneered through a bloody lip. “Fuck you.”
“Got a wallet with some ID?”
“Yeah right.”
Hey, stranger things had happened. Jesse didn’t particularly want to risk getting in close enough for the man to try and wrestle him down, so he let it go. He said, “Covington’s not going to be too happy with your sloppy work here today.”
A flicker of something like dread passed behind the man’s beady eyes. He said nothing, just continued to glare. Jesse plopped down in a chair. “Don’t do anything stupid like standing up,” he said. “I’d hate to pay the cleaning company to clean up your blood stains. And the paperwork with the cops would be hell.”
The man turned away, stared at nothing. Jesse sighed. He said, “Why don’t you make this easy for both of us and tell me who you are.”
“You’re so fucking smart, figure it out yourself.”
The scar on the man’s face twitched. His expression remained angry, defiant. Jesse said, “You don’t strike me as a conversationalist. I’m betting your preference is to shoot without the talk. So Covington must know it wouldn’t be in his best interest to kill me. That means he’s probably running scared. Where does that leave you when he finds out you fucked up?”
The man turned back to Jesse. His already beady eyes narrowed to slits. “You ain’t getting shit from me,” he said.
“Because nothing I could do to you could compare to what Covington will have done when he gets hold of you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Think you’ll be safe in prison?”
The man said nothing. Jesse rubbed his temple. If he let the guy go, he’d have nothing. Not even a name. And the guy would be free to come after him for a payback. At least if he got the cops involved, he’d have a name and that might lead him somewhere worth traveling to. The guy would be locked up for awhile. Of course he’d have to go through the motions, maybe file assault charges.
Damn.
Tim handed Jesse a folder containing a small stack of printed pages. He said, “His name is Dominic Forenzi. He’s got a few priors for assault. Never made it to court. Two were dropped when the victims refused to testify. The other was witnessed by two off-duty cops. Some crazy plea bargain got him a fine, no time in.”
“I bet I can guess who his lawyer was,” Jesse said.
“And you’d probably be right.”
“Can I keep this?” Jesse asked, indicating the file.
Tim’s eyes darted around the station. No one was paying any attention to them. “Yeah, but be careful,” he said. “And you didn’t get that from me.”
“Someone giving you a hard time?”
“Phillips told me you were out of your territory. Pretty much told me to stay the fuck away from whatever you’re into.”
“Jesse, he’s doing his job,” Tim said. “The politics part, anyway.”
“Phillips is probably on Covington’s payroll.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
Jesse stuffed the folder inside his jacket. “And I knew you’d deny it.”
“Not every cop is on somebody’s payroll, you know.”
“Hell, I know that,” Jesse said. “I also know not every cop is honest.”
Tim grudgingly gave a little nod of assent. He said, “They’ve got Forenzi in holding. You planning on pressing charges for the assault?”
“No. But you’ve got him on the gun charge, right?”
“He’s got a permit.”
“A permit?” Jesse had nearly shouted the words. He took a long breath, which did little to calm him. “How the hell can he have a permit if he’s been convicted of an assault charge?”
“That charge was pled down to disorderly conduct.”
“Freakin’ hell,” Jesse muttered. “So you’ve got nothing on him without me?”
“You got it.”
Jesse shook his head. “Okay then, can you stall? Hold him another hour or so?”
“You should press charges.”
“Would make things worse. Trust me. Can you stall?”
“Yeah,” Tim said. “But why?”
“I need him out of the way for awhile.”
“What are you up to?”
“Just an hour,” Jesse said.
Tim gave Jesse a look of exasperation. “Fine. An hour.” Then softly he added, “Be careful.”
“Always.”
Jesse parked in front of a large gray apartment house. He double checked the paper in the file. Apartment 302. He sprinted up the rickety stairs to the third floor. Outside the door, he paused, listening. Silence. He knocked, waited, knocked again. Still nothing.
Using his electric lock pick, Jesse was inside Forenzi’s apartment within seconds. He relocked the door behind him and fumbled in the dark until he found the light switch. He stood in an unremarkable living room. Decent furniture, relatively clean. A few beer bottles had been left on the high-end glass-topped coffee table. A dirty ashtray. A Penthouse magazine.