Jack rubbed his chin after she finished. “I can see why you kept going, but I can also see why Harvey is so upset.”
“I know we had his address and there was no place for Corliss to hide, but the girl was in immediate danger. Corliss’s MO said he’d take his victim to a remote location to molest her. And these guys generally get progressively more violent, so it could have been worse for Nikki.” Brinna leaned forward, suddenly feeling as though it was important that Jack agree with her.
“Hey, I’m just saying I can understand both sides.” He held his hands up. “I might have even done the same thing you did, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t both wrong.”
Brinna blew out a frustrated breath and sat back in her chair while he went on.
“Harvey aside, think of how horrible you would have felt if Corliss had crashed and the girl were seriously hurt or killed,” Jack said. “Yes, it turned out okay—this time. But, Brin, after we found the twins, you promised to stop thinking it was all up to you, remember?”
“Yes, I remember and I agree, but . . .” She placed both hands flat on the table. “Let’s say it was you, and you were given the order to stop. How could you live with yourself if, by stopping, you allowed the guy to molest and murder the girl?”
“That might not have been the outcome. We had a BOLO out on Corliss; his face was plastered everywhere. He couldn’t hide.”
“So you would have stopped and just hoped someone else got him?”
“Honestly, I would have prayed that someone else stopped him. I would have prayed with all my heart that God would intervene.”
Brinna sat back. “I’m trying to learn how to do that—honest, I am. Why is it so easy for you and so hard for me?”
Jack smiled the smile Brinna had grown to love, then reached across the table to grip her hand. Warmth spread through her entire body from his touch.
“Just keep working on it. I promise it will click.”
For a long second their gazes held. Brinna felt such a strong connection to him; his eyes held hers, and she felt strength and comfort there.
“Then I promise to keep trying,” she said. “You and my mom keep saying the same things; you can’t both be wrong.”
Jack laughed and took his hand away, but his touch lingered. “We’re both right. Because we have faith that God loves us and wants the best for us and he listens to our prayers. Brin, sometimes bad things happen in our lives. I think I know that better than anyone.” He paused and sipped his soda. She knew he spoke of the death of his wife, who was killed by a drunk driver.
“I don’t have to remind you—you know it as well as I do. The point is, though painful, these things often make us stronger.” He played with his straw. “Adversity is not always a bad thing. You seem to think life should always be hearts and flowers.”
“Guilty. I don’t like seeing innocent people hurt by bad people. I admit I sometimes still get angry with God; he should stop the bad.”
“But that works both ways. If he is a good God, why would he stop something in your life that will make you stronger, make you a better person?”
Brinna considered this argument she’d just heard from her mother. Her mentor, Milo, used to say the same thing a different way: “That which doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.” She felt close enough to Jack to ask the question that popped into her head.
“Do you believe that your wife’s death has been something that made you stronger, a better person?”
“Absolutely,” Jack said without hesitation, surprising Brinna. “I miss her every day, and I’d rather she’d lived, but I do know, as painful as losing her was, that God has my best in mind.” He sighed. “Brinna, we can’t see the whole picture, how our life will unfold, but God can.”
29
JACK’S PHONE RANG before Brinna could respond. She could tell from his side of the conversation it had to do with her mother. They’d both finished their lunch, and she could admit she was disappointed that her time with Jack was almost over.
“News?” she asked when he disconnected.
“That was Ben. We got the okay from ICE for Ivana to stay with your mom. But it was a fight and it’s temporary. None of their shelters have openings, and the hospital is preparing to release her. She has to go somewhere.”
“What will the press be told if they ask?”
“The official information will be that a women’s shelter has stepped in to house the girl. Your mom’s name will not be on any paperwork. I’ve got to get back to the station.”
“And I think I’ll tell my mom; is that okay?”
They both stood.
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks for lunch, Jack, and the conversation. I always appreciate what you have to say.”
“My pleasure.” He brushed her shoulder gently with his hand. “Let’s do it again—soon.”
They walked back to the station together, arms occasionally touching and Brinna feeling a tingle each time they did.
When they said good-bye, Jack promised he’d call with Ivana’s release date and time.
Back in her car, Brinna found herself looking forward to another visit with her mother and was glad for the feeling. Not long ago she would have tried to shut her mom out. Now she was happy to have Mom in her corner, no matter what—and after IA she needed someone in her corner. Besides, Mom was taking a baking class and experimenting a lot with sweets. There was a good chance she’d have something scrumptious for dessert.
Brinna stopped by her house first and picked up Hero. He was full of energy, and she knew he’d appreciate a game of fetch in her mom’s large backyard. She’d gotten approval to take him to K-9 training every week, in spite of her injury, in order to keep him sharp, but the next session wasn’t for several days. She’d have to do some exercises with him at home. She could tell he was bored, and he’d appreciate just about anything.
Hero bounded up to her mother’s front door, and Rose gave him the obligatory pats.
“What brings you by today?” Mom asked as she gave Brinna a kiss when she walked in.
“I have some news about the girl from the river.”
“Good news, I hope.”
“Depends. It’s okay with Chuck and with ICE if she stays here, but it’s only temporary. They can’t find a bed at a shelter, so you are the best alternative until one opens up. Ben and Jack firmly believe she’ll be more comfortable here than at a shelter. They hope it will help her relax and remember details that could help the investigation.”
Rose chuckled. “That’s all well and good, but I’m more concerned about her personal well-being than the investigation.”
“So am I. I just happen to think both things are related. Won’t her well-being get a boost if the man who victimized her is arrested?” Once in the house, Brinna inhaled and smiled. Mom was baking, and whatever it was would be delicious.
Rose shrugged and gave Brinna a half smile. “Yes, it will help her sense of well-being if that man is no longer a threat. But I’m also concerned about her spiritual health. You should know that.”
“Yeah, I do. I just had a pleasant conversation with Jack about that. I hope the girl understands English well enough to get your message clearly.” She then cut to the chase. “Smells great—what’s cooking?”
She got the desired result. Rose loved cooking for her family now as much as she had when her husband was still alive and her children lived at home. She happily led Brinna to the kitchen for dessert.
“Have you had lunch?” Rose asked, and Brinna nodded. “Good. This is a cocoa cake with caramel. I was just about to glaze it.”
“Smells like heaven. I love caramel.”
“Start some coffee?”
Brinna nodded and set a pot to drip. She leaned against the counter and watched her mother drizzle caramel over a dark-colored cake. The entire kitchen smelled like a bakery.
When the coffee and the cake were both finished, Rose cut two slices while Brinna poured coffee. Together they s
at at the table, and as they ate the cake, the conversation stayed on Ivana.
“The poor thing is scared to death of men,” Brinna said. “Nonthreatening, homey surroundings may help her relax and begin to trust—us at first, and then Jack and Ben. If she realizes none of us mean her any harm, maybe she’ll remember more information that can help the investigation.”
“Being here, in a home—” Rose waved her hand around— “will help a great deal, and not just what she remembers regarding the investigation. From what you’ve told me, and what I’ve read about her in the paper, Ivana has been through so much. Being deceived into coming here, promised a job that never existed, and then being forced into prostitution, losing her sister.” Rose shuddered. “She needs to know she has friends. Anyway, the guest room is ready.” Mom cleared away the dirty dishes and refilled her coffee. “She’ll probably need clothes, shoes, everything.”
Brinna stared at her mom, realizing with a jolt that the gift of being hospitable was definitely not an inherited trait. “Uh, yeah, I guess I hadn’t thought about that—or even that far ahead. You want to go shopping?”
Rose shook her head. “Not yet. The church has a huge closet filled with donated clothes. First I’ll pick up a few things, and then whenever she’s comfortable, I’ll take her there and we’ll see what we can find in her size. When will she be released?”
“Jack is supposed to call with that information.”
“By the way—” Rose smiled and put a hand on Brinna’s shoulder—“I forgot to mention the article in the paper last week. It was a nice human-interest piece. How does it feel to have a fan?”
Brinna frowned and then remembered. “Oh, Gracie.” She sighed. “What a responsibility. Now I know how Milo felt.”
“He never let you down, did he?”
“No” was what Brinna said out loud, but she couldn’t help thinking, Once. He let me down only once . . . when he took his own life. “But how can I be sure I won’t let Gracie down?” she asked her mom.
“You won’t.”
Brinna’s cell phone rang and she jumped for it, suddenly embarrassed by the expression on her mother’s face and the emotion that was threatening her own. “That’s got to be Jack.” She answered and was correct. As promised, Jack was calling to relay information about Ivana.
“She’ll be signed out tomorrow, probably about eleven thirty. Chuck will meet you there to facilitate the girl’s release.” Jack’s voice sounded strained. Brinna remembered that particular timbre from their time as partners. It had been there when he was hurting over the loss of his wife.
“Thanks for the information.” She frowned. “What else is bothering you?”
Jack cleared his throat. “It will never cease to amaze me how perceptive you can be.” He paused before continuing. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it will be all over the local newscasts later today. This just came down from the chief. It’s about Rick. . . . His spinal cord is severed; he’ll never regain the use of his legs.”
30
MAGDA PACED her small office, which was a confined achievement. Two steps one direction and one and a half the other. She’d called the detectives named on the card and now awaited their arrival. She’d also told Simon about the note and immediately regretted it. Afterward it took a good thirty minutes trying to calm him down.
The detective she spoke to was pleasant but wouldn’t say what they wanted over the phone, so there was nothing Magda could tell Simon to put him at ease. Back home, Magda had considered all police to be corrupt, either in one organization’s pocket or another’s. A well-placed contribution in Varna would make just about any problem go away. But here in America, she’d tried to avoid that which she didn’t understand, and that meant avoiding contact with the local authorities.
She remembered talking to Long Beach Police detectives after her husband’s beating and the break-in at their home. They all seemed helpful, concerned, but she knew they could never get to Demitri before Demitri could assassinate her entire family, so she’d stayed quiet. One of them seemed to sense she was holding back information, but he’d never threatened or frightened her in any way like a Bulgarian officer might have.
Sighing, she stepped out into the showroom and stood by the window. They’d be here soon, and then, as the Americans said, for Magda it would be showtime.
* * *
“I’ve found one entry on our database for the shopkeeper, Magda Boteva,” Ben said as he and Jack prepared to leave for Shoreline Village.
“What’s that? A traffic ticket?”
“Nope, a home invasion robbery from two years ago. It’s still open. Want to walk down to robbery and see if they remember it? Welty was the primary.”
“Darryl Welty?” Jack asked, happy with the news. Welty was one heck of an investigator. He’d be able to give them good insight on this Magda if he’d spoken to her after the robbery.
“Yep. You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
They took the stairs down to the robbery office and found Detective Welty at his desk.
“Black Sea Folk Art and Collectibles.” Welty sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Good-looking Bulgarian woman, Magda. She kind of reminded me of Angelina Jolie in a mature, understated way. I remember that case.” He turned to his computer and punched up a screen that allowed him to recall crime reports. In a few minutes all three detectives were scanning the narrative of a home invasion robbery report.
“Seems Mrs. Boteva came home from work to find her house ransacked. Some jewelry missing but not worth enough money for all the damage that was done. The worst of it were her two kids and her husband, Anton. He was severely beaten, then left in the living room trussed up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey. The kids—twins, as I recall—were tied up and shoved into a closet. I think they were seven or eight at the time.”
“Sexual assault?” Ben asked.
Welty shook his head. “No. In fact, other than being scared to death, the kids weren’t hurt. The husband took the brunt of it. He was whipped with a belt; it laid his back open. But the attackers wore masks and never said a word.”
“Leads?”
“Zip.” Darryl held his hands out, palms up. “I always thought that scene looked more like a shakedown than a robbery.”
“Shakedown? You mean, because of her business?” Jack asked.
“Maybe.” Welty frowned. “It resembled a couple of cases I handled up on Anaheim, in the Vietnamese district. Asian gangs were shaking down merchants for protection money. They’d go after families all the time. You remember we had a rash of home invasions there. This Magda was so frightened. I had the feeling she knew more than she was willing to tell us.”
“I’d be frightened too, if I came home and found my husband beat up and my kids traumatized,” Jack observed.
“It was more than that. I’d have bet money she knew who was responsible for the crime. But whoever it was had accomplished what he wanted—scared her enough to keep her mouth shut.”
“Did you look into the intimidation angle? Check to see if there was evidence she was being extorted?”
“Whenever I had time, for about a year after, I went back to that case. I looked at every lead I could. Her business is clean, on the up-and-up. Whatever the beating was about, it had nothing to do with that. What’s going on with her now?”
“Her shop is connected to a homicide because of a piece of cloth we found at the crime scene. Nothing rock solid, though. Then there’s the nationality angle.” Jack explained about the dead girl.
Darryl rubbed his chin. “As I recall, Magda had a young Bulgarian girl working for her. Immigrant communities generally do stick together, so you might be on the right track. Just remember: over there, the cops are no better than mobsters. Pressing hard will get you nowhere. Time for good cop/good cop.”
* * *
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Ben said as he and Jack drove to Shoreline Village.
“Just thinking about what Dar
ryl said.”
“About Magda and the break-in?”
“That, and about how Ivana was so scared of me and Chuck. Both women come from a totally different culture. Like Darryl said, the cops are corrupt in a lot of those post-Communist countries. I hear the Mafia or the Eastern European equivalent has a lot of power over there. That angle might be playing here.”
“Bulgarian Mafia?”
Jack hiked his shoulders. “I think we need to consider it as a possibility. And be prepared for this woman to play it close to the vest. If the mob is involved in some way, she’d sure have a reason to be frightened.”
“I guess you’re right. Unfortunately something else just popped into my head. Human trafficking would be just the kind of thing a Mafia-type organization would be involved with.”
“And if Ivana ran away from the Mafia . . .”
“I’m way ahead of you. I’ll call Chuck.”
31
MAGDA SAW THEM get out of their car. Police detectives obviously, they were both tall and professional looking in suits and ties. She could tell they were armed, and she fought the rising panic in her chest. Glancing around the shop, she was happy for once there were no customers at the moment. Laura, her morning clerk, was busy dusting. She had been born and raised in Long Beach and had shown no alarm whatsoever when Magda had told her the police were visiting.
I should take my cue from her, Magda thought. She doesn’t fear these detectives; maybe I shouldn’t either.
“Laura, it looks like the police are here,” she said.
An instant later the bell on the door jingled as the two officers walked through.
“We will be back in my office,” Magda said. Laura nodded, and Magda turned to the officers. “Detectives O’Reilly and Carney, I presume?”
The taller one with dark-reddish hair answered. “Yes, I’m Jack O’Reilly, and this is my partner, Ben Carney.” They shook hands all around, and Magda found it hard to meet their eyes. In particular, O’Reilly’s piercing gaze had such a searching look, she was certain he could see right through her.
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