“You can’t say that guy cares for you based on a few phone calls.”
“I think he does care for me, Zane.”
“Yes, I do.”
Both looked up, turning toward the door leading down to the basement. Zane grimaced. He’d left the utility door open to the backyard. Now a tall man, older than Zane, with straight, slightly graying brown hair and a stern expression, stood in that doorway. “You’re wrong, Mr. Black. I care very much for Kristin.”
“Who are you?” Zane demanded, shifting closer to Kristin and reaching out his hand to slip her covertly behind him.
“Special Agent Jackson McGraw.”
Zane looked at Kristin, then back to the agent, before allowing his gaze to slide back to Kristin. She nodded to confirm what the agent said.
Zane stepped forward. “Your ID, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly.” Jackson withdrew a small leather folder in which he housed his ID. “By the way, your burglar also dropped this,” Jackson added. The agent held up a gun, checked it, removed the magazine and slipped both into his jacket breast pocket. “Kristin is expecting me.”
Keeping half his gaze on the older man, Zane memorized the number on his ID card. Just in case.
“And I can certainly understand your suspicions, Mr. Black, or may I call you Zane? I wouldn’t trust me, either, especially with the circumstantial evidence you’re presenting. Very good, by the way, but then again, you were top of your class and urged to go into law, weren’t you?”
Zane handed back the ID. “And you know that from whom?”
“From your instructors.” He tucked his ID back into his jacket. “I wouldn’t come up here unless I did my homework first.”
Frowning, he stepped even closer to Kristin. “So do you know our burglar?”
“I got a glimpse of him before he ran off. I have a couple of agents chasing him. He’s Lucien Esposito, as you said, a small bit player in Vincent Martino’s ‘family.’ One of the ‘soldiers.’ One of the men you dragged from the lake is his capo. Some sources say Lucien has been trying for years to get into the higher ranks of the ‘family,’ but with no success. With this stunt, I’d say that he’s still trying, hoping to get in good with the boss. Vincent Martino, I mean, not the capo. Word has it he’s stepped on a few toes, even, to get ahead.”
Zane didn’t like this. Not only was honoring Salvatore Martino a priority, but some internal politics were involved, too. Even Kristin had only just begun to realize this fully, judging from her soft gasp.
“I’ll take care of this matter,” Jackson offered. He dialed a number and spoke quietly for a few minutes after turning away slightly and running his fingers through his short hair.
Then he dialed another number, spoke softly and hung up. He said, “An ambulance has been dispatched through the alarm company, but I canceled it. The police, however, are on their way. And my men lost Lucien.”
“The police will be here any minute,” Kristin murmured.
“It would be wise, then, for you two to leave right now,” Jackson said. “I’ll handle them.”
“We’re staying. This is my home,” Kristin stated with a firm stare. “But if you like, we’ll stay in the office. You’ll be able to handle the police and I need to look at something in there now.”
Jackson looked grim but to Zane’s surprise, he acquiesced. “You’d better get in there, then, and be quiet.”
“Before we go, what about the men at Lindbergh Lake?” Kristin asked. “Did they tell you anything that could help here?”
“So far, they’re not talking, but,” he said as he lifted the tube of paint from the kitchen table, “this is interesting. The last time I saw this type of paint was when we raided Salvatore’s house twenty-two years ago. He’d been painting landscapes from the old country, he’d said. Salvatore had some genteel hobbies. He even hybridized roses. Surprisingly, he’s good at both of them. Or he was before he fell ill.”
“It’s the same kind of paint on my vest. I’m sure of it,” Kristin said. “And it was also on Tammy’s hand.”
Jackson nodded. “I know. The ‘soldiers’ have been using this paint to send a message to both the police and to the ‘family’ that each hit is a revenge hit. Tammy wasn’t the first woman to be found with it on her hand unfortunately. But other victims have similar marks.”
“Other victims?” Kristin echoed quietly.
“Yes, all with some kind of black grease on their hands.”
Zane nodded. “Because the paint is rare and graphite grease is easier to get.”
“Exactly.” Jackson frowned. “Where did you get your vest tested?”
“We turned it over to the police, but it was cleaned before it was tested. Someone tampered with it right at the police station,” she said. “We told them they needed to look at their own security cameras.”
“But Kristin had leaned back in my car seat, and I had that sample tested,” Zane added. “It was graphite paint consistent with a brand made in Chicago.”
Jackson cocked his head, listening to the distant wail of a police siren. “You’d better head into the office. Stay quiet. We’ll talk later.”
Zane couldn’t have agreed more. After Kristin told Jackson her alarm code, in case he needed it, Zane grabbed her hand and led her into her father’s office.
“I wonder how he’ll explain all of this to the police,” Kristin murmured.
Zane locked the office door before walking to the window to shut the curtains. Then he turned on the desk lamp. “I’m sure he’s dealt with the local law before. You can ask him when he’s done.”
“What are we going to do until then?” At her own words, heat flooded into Kristin’s face. Zane could read her thoughts as easily as the evening paper. She cared for him. She wanted to be with him, to share a private moment.
With that observation, he found his own heart pounding faster. But it was hardly the time, and both knew it. To save her some embarrassment, he said, “I want to check out the Martinos plus find out who works for the FBI and Marshal’s Office. Something is bugging me about this leak. And you need to check out that ledger, you said.”
Kristin nodded and began to tidy up the scattered papers. “Good idea. I need to reread Dad’s phone ledger before I confront Jackson about it.”
Picking up his cell phone, Zane returned to the computer. Within minutes of talking to one of his contacts and searching the Internet, he had the information he was searching for.
He sat back, feeling his brows close into a frown. “Salvatore Martino is terminally ill with only a short time left to live. The search for your mother became a priority for those wanting to please the old Don.” He looked up at her. “A tribute to him and to get in good with the new Don, Vincent.”
“They must have learned something new, to be able to start a fresh search.” Still holding her father’s phone ledger, she slumped down on her father’s leather couch. It faced the fireplace and the rug she’d sprawled on for years. She blinked rapidly. Beyond, the police had arrived. Zane could hear Jackson talking to them.
Zane kept his voice low. “When people enter the Witness Protection Program, sometimes there’s a fake report of that person’s death. Perhaps they’ve recently discovered that you and your mother are still alive and now that Salvatore is dying, they want to honor him by killing both of you. But some of them have mistaken you for your mother.”
“Glad to hear I look like a woman twenty years older than me,” she muttered. She paused as the police and Jackson walked outside. “Maybe my parents learned what the Martino family was doing and stepped up efforts to find my mother. And kept Jackson updated. But they didn’t find her.”
Zane felt his heart tighten. He could handle failure to find his brother. He’d been dealing with that for two years steady, each lead he searched becoming a dead end. He really only had one lead left, prompted into action by Kristin’s comment on the painting, and being worked on by a friend.
But to watch Kristin�
��s hopes slipping further away, while her own life was at risk, was totally unfair.
Look, God, You have to care for her. Do something. Everyone needs someone in their life.
A sudden urge to be that someone in Kristin’s life hit him hard with a force he couldn’t ignore.
Yes, he wanted to be that someone. But it was looking more and more as if she was going to have to be hidden. And who knew where his work and his search for his brother would take him? He forced himself to admit that they’d never be able to make a relationship work.
He watched Kristin’s eyes droop. “You’re tired. Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a while?” He rose, pulled the quilt from behind her and covered her.
She took it, but shook her head. “No, I want to look at my father’s phone ledger. I want to know how often he called Jackson.” She yawned. “And whoever else he called.”
Before long, she was deep in studying the book. He returned to the desk and picked up his phone. There were some other things he needed to do while he had the opportunity. Things like who worked in Billings for the Marshals, and who was in the FBI office in Chicago. He had some contacts out east. It wouldn’t be hard to get a list.
A while later, Zane heard a soft knock on the door. After he unlocked it, Jackson entered. Kristin stood. “Did you lock the doors? What did you tell the police about me?”
“Don’t worry. Everything is fine. I locked the doors and set the alarm. I have the authority to make this break-in a federal matter and since we already have a task force in place here, there wasn’t much the police could do.”
Kristin’s eyes widened. “You have a task force for me?”
Jackson smiled. “Not quite. It’s for things related to this case.”
“Were they the people who turned onto Lindbergh Lake Road? Two men and a woman?”
“They work for me, yes.” The agent frowned. “But you don’t need to know anything except they are looking for Martino. My first reason for coming here was to make sure you’re safe, and to update both of us.”
“You have news?”
“No, but I need to find out what you’ve been doing to find your mother. And don’t tell me you haven’t been looking. Why else were you headed to Joey Hamilton’s place?”
Zane’s head shot up. They’d been down that road to see where her parents had been killed, not to see Joey Hamilton. Kristin’s father must have told Jackson about the reclusive P.I.
He exchanged looks with Kristin. She opened her mouth to speak, but Zane stopped her with his hand. It was unlikely that this FBI agent would make so obvious a blunder, but judging from the fatigue around his eyes, and the way his cropped, slightly spiked hair was looking a bit rough, Zane wondered if the special agent had slipped up.
“We weren’t going to see Joey Hamilton,” Zane said quietly. “We were going to see where Kristin’s parents had died.”
Immediately, McGraw recognized his slip. A slow smile and lowered lids gave away his resignation. Again, he drove his fingers into his short hair, then dragged them down his tired face. “But you know Joey had done some searching for Eloise.”
“Now we do, but I hadn’t been able to see the site after the crash. I felt the time was right, now,” Kristin said gently, obviously empathizing with him for his small blunder. “In fact, I had thought it was on the other side of the Mission Mountains. I don’t know why. I must have been in shock when they told me.”
“But, Kristin, you evidently know about Joey Hamilton.” He turned to Zane and folded his arms. “And perhaps you’d better tell me what you know.”
She shook her head, and while she folded the quilt she’d tossed aside, Zane answered, “Look, all I could glean was from some acquaintances. He’s a recluse that Kristin’s parents hired to find her mother, isn’t he? Is there more?”
“No. I must admit, I was half hoping there was more, but your parents refused to get their hopes up. I was the one who hoped for it each time your father called.” His mouth turned grim.
“They hired Joey because he’s discreet?”
“I think it had more to do with their ministry to the community, and to help his son out. Joey’s mentally unstable, and I think they were praying for him, hoping God would help his mental illness. Perhaps your father had used his services years ago. I doubt we’ll ever find out why they chose him.”
“So they were not just going there for an update, but to minister to him?”
“That last time? As far as I could tell, yes.”
Kristin looked down at her feet. “But Joey had found Tammy Lockhart, and maybe they’d gone to Missoula the day they died to see her.”
“They didn’t go to Missoula that day. The police investigation proved that.”
“Then they must have found out that Tammy wasn’t my mother and were stopping by to tell Joey.” She looked up at Jackson. “And my parents regularly kept in touch with you, too, didn’t they?”
“Yes. It’s frowned upon, but I asked for updates, on the sly. I wanted to make sure you were all right. I’d made all the adoption arrangements, but I was just worried about you. You and your birth mother were inseparable. You were a bit of a clingy baby, I think, and I didn’t want you to suffer after she left.”
She smiled at him. “I understand. I imagine that my parents were concerned for me in case anything happened to them. They weren’t getting any younger. Maybe that was why they were trying to find my mother.”
“We may after going through your adoptive father’s papers again. But remember this, Kristin. I kept in touch with your parents because I care. So you should be doing what I tell you to do.”
Zane watched her carefully search the older man’s face. Following her gaze, he guessed her thoughts. She was looking for a bit of herself in him. Her words confirmed his guess.
“Jackson, are you my father?”
FIFTEEN
Jackson offered her a soft smile. “No. Your father was Danny Douglas. I’m sorry to say that he’s dead.”
“He was named on my birth certificate, but you didn’t tell me much about him so I thought my mother just wrote it down to protect you. Who was he?”
“A small-time hood that had sweet-talked his way into your mother’s life before she fully realized all that he was involved in. But he died saving her. The only decent act he ever did.” Jackson blinked. “I’m sorry.”
Zane cleared his throat. Kristin wanted information about her mother, but there was more a pressing need than her curiosity. “The Martino family wants Kristin dead. We need a plan. We need a list of who would be after her, and a profile of each one. And we deserve to know how they’ve learned about Kristin.”
“The Martino ‘family’ is big, and there are a lot of men who’d like the glory of getting the woman who put Salvatore in prison. It’s Vincent who is more than a little disgruntled…”
Zane listened to Jackson trail off as his thoughts led him elsewhere. “The only reason those women like Tammy Lockhart have died is because no one knows what Eloise looks like now, or where she is. They must think she’s still in the Witness Protection Program, but they’ve found out that Kristin is here. Regardless of whether or not they think she’s her mother or herself, I want to know how that happened.”
Kristin spoke. “I did everything you told me to do at the trial. I’m absolutely positive I wasn’t followed when I left Chicago. You told me that the names of the visitors at the trial were never disclosed and the list destroyed.”
She thought for a moment. “You also told me when you called me Monday morning that you destroyed the paper that had my contact information. I’ve only ever seen you and your brother, Micah, on this matter. Once, back in January when I went to Micah’s work, and at the trial. To everyone else, I’m just a college student.”
Jackson listened in deadpan silence. But his frown slowly deepened. She thought she could see his lips mouth a word or two, but couldn’t catch what he’d so quietly said.
Zane spoke instead. “We need
a plan to keep Kristin safe because regardless of the fact that you have two men in custody, Vincent Martino is on the lam and so is at least one guy looking to kill Kristin. Vincent will want to do the same.”
He stared squarely at Jackson. “If he’s not here in Montana yet, he’ll be coming, or else you wouldn’t have your task force here. And we don’t know how much those guys I pulled out of the lake told him before they followed us that day.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going into the Witness Protection Program, if that’s what you’re thinking. My mother was in it, and Tammy was in it. It’s not very appealing to me right now.”
“I don’t blame you, but we’re talking about the Martino family. Zane is right. Martino will want to kill your mother himself, and if he knows you’re Eloise’s daughter, he’ll deem it necessary to kill you to lure her out.”
“Then we need to find my mother now. I know you don’t want me to look for her, but we have to do something. While I was reading Dad’s ledger, I was thinking that those thugs found me through that article written about my father in one of the Billings newspapers. So how did they know which newspaper to look in?”
Jackson looked thoughtful. “The Martino family knows that Eloise is in Montana. Maybe they were checking all the papers online.”
“It sounds too coincidental.”
“Originally, your mother was reported dead in an explosion in Montana. We didn’t produce a body, so we suspect that Martino has guessed that she didn’t die, but was hidden within the program. Are you sure you haven’t told anyone about your search for your mother?”
Kristin blew out a sigh. “I didn’t tell anyone it was my mother I was looking for. I’ve asked at the city hall in Missoula. I had to start somewhere so I asked at the university there.”
“The whole campus?”
She looked down. “Yes. It was a long shot, I know. But even if my mother had gone there, she could be anywhere now.”
Fatal Secrets Page 14