“Maybe, Donny. Maybe.” Abby continued staring out the front window, her mind trying to push all of these complicated thoughts to the side so that she could concentrate on the only thing that mattered: finding Bryce and ending him.
***
After fruitlessly pounding on the front door for a good ten minutes, Vines broke into the rear door of Venzo’s Accounting Firm, CPA, only to find the office completely abandoned. The smell of burnt coffee lingered in the air, but the accountant was nowhere to be found.
Vines called the Bureau to find out that Venzo had contacted his handlers a few hours ago and was at home waiting for further instructions. Vines quickly routed himself to the Venzo household and found himself talking to Mrs. Venzo through a closed front door.
“How do I know you are who you say you are?” she asked.
“If you’ll open the door, you can see my badge, ma’am. I assure you, I’m a federal agent, and I urgently need to speak with your husband.”
“I’m not opening the door. I’m calling the police.”
Vines didn’t care about the authorities, but getting the local cops involved was going to delay things, and he was in no mood for delays.
“No need to do that, ma’am. I’m going to slide my badge and ID through the mail slot, OK?”
Absent a response, Vines did just that. A tug from the other side confirmed that she had grabbed his identification and was looking it over, probably with Venzo standing right next to her.
That was confirmed a moment later when a man’s voice spoke up from the other side of the door. “What’s this about? You’re not the agent who’s supposed to debrief me.”
“No, I am not. John, I’m here about what happened last night. I’m trying to put together the pieces. Time is crucial, and if you’ll let me in we can discuss it further. Call your handler if you want to. They’ll confirm why I’m here.”
After ten minutes of sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch waiting for Venzo to do just that, the door opened and the accountant appeared. “Sorry about that,” he said, extending his hand. “Come on in.”
Vines looked around the home, his eyes settling on several boxes and a half-dozen suitcases sitting in the small foyer. “You’re not wasting any time, huh?”
“No,” John said with a smile. “We’re ready to move on. I don’t know how quickly these things work, but we’re hoping to get on with the whole witness protection thing sooner rather than later. A new start, a new life, you know?”
“Good for you,” Vines clapped him on the shoulder. “Listen, Mr. Venzo...”
“John is fine. Please call me John.”
“Thanks, John. Now listen, I’m trying to follow up on a lead about what happened last night, and I need your help.”
John looked confused. “My help? I wasn’t there. I’m not sure how much help I can be.”
“I know you weren’t there, but I spoke with someone who was...”
“Wait. Who?”
Vines smiled. “That’s going to remain my secret. No offense, John, but I’m not here to brief you on what went down last night. It doesn’t really concern you. What does concern you is helping us out right now. Can you do that for me John? Can you help me out?”
John nodded.
“Good. So my contact ID’d the assassin, but I need your help tracking her down.”
Her. John swallowed hard and looked down. So it’s true. The little bitch at the office pulled the hit.
“I’m not sure what I can do for you. I don’t know anything,” John said, still looking at the floor.
Vines studied him. His body language said it all. John knew something, and Vines was going to get it out of him. “What happened to your hand, John?”
He looked up. “Oh, this? I sliced it trying to get the pit out of an avocado, stupid thing.”
“Looks fresh,” Vines said. “Happen this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, John, you don’t look like the kind of guy who has an avocado for breakfast. You seem more of a bagel guy like me.” Vines patted his own his spare tire, nodding at John’s.
“You know, trying to start eating healthier.” John chuckled awkwardly.
“Uh huh.” Vines stared at him for an uncomfortable moment before continuing. “So this woman, she’s not really tied to the family, but she did have ties with a Bryce Haydenson. Does that name ring a bell?”
John raised a brow. “I haven’t heard that name in a while.” Of course, he’d just heard it that morning, but why tell the FBI. They wouldn’t kill him for talking. “Didn’t he get killed a year or two ago?”
Vines chuckled a bit under his breath. “It would seem that way. At least that’s what everyone seems to think. See, the thing is, John, I’m not convinced he’s dead. In fact, I’m pretty convinced that he’s alive, and if I can find him, I can find the hitter from last night.”
“Well, good luck with that, but I can’t help you. If there’s nothing else?” John indicated the door.
Vines didn’t budge. “I’m glad we could play nice for a bit, but it’s time to cut the bullshit.” Vines grabbed John’s hand and pressed hard on the wound, causing him to let out a painful yelp.
His wife came running from the kitchen and gasped when she saw Vines with her husband’s hand in his grip. “What are you doing?”
Without taking his eyes from John, he pointed at the couch and commanded her to sit down.
“I will not,” she said, advancing on him. “Let go of his hand! You’re hurting him!”
Vines squeezed John’s hand even harder, causing his knees to buckle. He then pulled out his gun out with his other hand, pointing it at Venzo’s wife. “Sit. Down. Please.”
Terrified, she backed away and sat on the couch.
Satisfied, Vines turned his attention back to John. “Are you going to stop bullshitting me?”
John nodded his head. “Yes. Please, don’t hurt her.”
When Vines released his hand, John gasped and rubbed it for a bit, wincing in immense pain.
Studying the bandaged hand, Vines spoke. “How did that really happen?”
John looked at his wife, who had the same question on her face also. He sighed, “This woman came to my office this morning. Freakin’ nailed me to the wall with her knife. Said she’d kill my family if I ever told anyone she was there. I figure, what the hell now, though, right? We’re going into protection. It’s not like she’ll be able to find us.”
Vines stared at him. “So she was there? Abby? In the flesh?”
John hesitated for a moment and swallowed hard before conceding. “Yeah, her and some guy... Danny... Johnny... Mikey... I can’t remember his name. Everyone’s got a nickname that ends with a fucking Y. I’ve met him once or twice. He was helping her. They were going to look for Haydenson and persuaded some information out of me.”
Vines was practically giddy. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard today, John. Where do I find that piece of shit?”
John sighed and brought Vines into his home office, where he unlocked a large safe hidden behind a painting. As John started opening it, Vines stopped him.
“Hold up.” Vines physically moved John to the side and opened the safe himself. Quickly looking over the contents, and satisfied there wasn’t a gun or other weapon John would turn on him, he gestured to the accountant. “Go ahead.”
After scanning through a couple dozen composition books, he produced one labeled Buena Sera. “This will be the property of the federal government soon enough.”
Vines flipped open book. On the first page, in neat handwriting, was an address in Sunny Point, New York. “What’s this?”
“It’s a restaurant. Italian place. It’s Haydenson’s cover. That’s where you’ll find him.”
Vines ripped the phone from his belt and punched in the address. It looked to be about an hour or so southwest of Buffalo, along Lake Erie. He could be there in a couple of hours if he flew to Buffalo and drove fr
om there. “What time did you see Abby this morning?”
“They were there when I got in at eight.”
“And what time did they leave?”
“I’m not sure.” John stood there, unsure how much to reveal about the bag men and the regular pick-up. He decided not to reveal anything more than necessary. “I think a few minutes after ten.”
Vines did some quick math in his head, “Shit, they’ll probably be there within the hour.” His mind checked through his options. “OK, John, thank you for this. Listen, sorry about the hand. Do me a favor—let’s not bring up this little conversation with your handler, alright?”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he hurried to the door, quickly offering another apology to John’s wife before running to the car. As he drove to the airport, he dialed his director at the field office, who was never terribly happy to hear from him.
“Eddie, to what do I owe the pleasure? Are you retiring a couple weeks early? Please tell me it’s good news.”
“Damn right it’s good news. I just got a hot lead on Haydenson. He’s in Sunny Point, New York, about an hour outside Buffalo. We need to get a team there ASAP.”
“Haydenson? Really? Eddie, we’ve been down this road. I know you don’t want to let it go, but I’m not spending any more resources following your hunches to dig up dead mobsters.”
“He’s not dead, Jim, and you know it.”
“He is as far as the Bureau is concerned. We buried this, and it’s going to stay that way.”
“But I can link the hitter at Rosso’s back to Haydenson. She’s on her way there right now.”
Jim stopped on the other side of the line. “You’ve got a lead on the hitter? Who?”
“You remember Haydenson’s wife, she was on that show Trial Island?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s dead, too! Remember, the mob hit you couldn’t get a fucking lead on to save your life? What the hell is wrong with you? I know you’re trying to make one last play before retiring, so I’m sorry the Rosso thing fell apart. But I’m glad the local cops made the collar instead of us. Less fucking headaches. Seriously, get ahold of yourself, Vines. You’re chasing ghosts here. Stop wasting your time, and stop wasting mine.”
The line went dead.
Damn it!
He continued toward the airport, fully taking advantage of the flagrant disregard for traffic laws his government plates afforded him. He had to come up with a plan. Who do I know in the Buffalo office? He crossed out a few names of agents he had pissed off over the years before settling on a young kid he’d trained for a while before he was transferred upstate. Matt Fredrickson was young, impressionable, and in awe of Agent Vines’ stories. He dispatched Matt to the restaurant, no questions asked, to keep an eye on things. Matt’s partner would pick up Vines at the airport.
“Why doesn’t Director Hastings get more guys on this?” Matt asked.
“We’ve got to move fast, so keep this close to the vest,” Vines said. “Don’t even tell your director. Just grab your gear and get on the road, OK?”
“I’m on my way. Be safe, Agent Vines.”
18
BRYCE HAD MESSAGED his man a couple of times over the past few hours, with no response. He had been mulling over the fat man’s message ever since.
BAD CELL SERVICE, CAN’T CALL. ABBY IS ALIVE AND FOLLOWING US. WHAT SHOULD WE DO?
Bryce ordered them to let her follow them to the house, then forgot about it for a while. They were still hours away, giving him plenty of time to prepare for Abby’s arrival. He loaded a plastic body bag, cinderblocks, and chains onto his boat at the back dock. He placed his pistol in the small of his back and checked on several backup weapons around the house.
Once he had time to sit and think, he found himself wondering what led Abby to follow his men. He didn’t believe in coincidences. Sure, his location had been leaked to the snitch that morning, so he expected Abby to come his way soon, but it seemed far too coincidental that she wound up behind his guys on their way back from Chicago an hour later.
He knew the snitch was working for an investigator who had been sniffing around, no doubt reporting back to Abby. She must have been hiding right under everyone’s noses in the city. The snitch must have called the investigator, who relayed the information to Abby, who showed up to follow them. Certainly a remarkable flow of information, but it was the only thing that made sense. But did it?
The only information revealed to the snitch was that Bryce was alive, and what his alias was. The snitch didn’t know that the fat men were connected directly to Bryce, did he? Could the investigator really have linked all of the information together so quickly that Abby wound up behind his men on their way back? He shook his head. Too many unanswered questions. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she was walking right into the trap that he had set.
Bryce checked his phone again—still no response. Curiosity was getting the best of him, and he would like at least a little heads up as to exactly when they would be arriving. He didn’t want the fat bastards leading her to the restaurant and complicating things, as that was usually their first stop when they got back. He figured they should be back within a half hour, but like a kid at Christmas, he couldn’t stand the anticipation.
He hit the call icon on his phone again and listened to it ring several times, and then someone finally picked up for the first time that afternoon.
“This is Detective Nacimiento. Who is this?”
What!?
Bryce immediately disconnected the call, pulled out the battery and smashed the SIM card. He never used a regular cell phone, and never used the house phone for anything but legitimate business calls, so the call couldn’t be traced back to him, but still his heart was pumping.
What the fuck happened?
He thought about calling Chicago. He didn’t get an answer that morning on calls to Monte or Rosso, and was starting to worry that there might be some credence to what the snitch told his men about trouble at the compound. If that was the case, he didn’t need another burner number popping up there and the two getting connected. He had stayed in hiding for as long as he had by laying low and not making any noise, so he would continue to do just that.
But if the police have the fat guy’s phone, where is Abby?
Was she involved with the police? Was she leading them to him?
His mind started turning. Had this been Chicago a few years ago, he would have laughed at Abby for going to the police. He owned half the force and her cries would have been inconsequential, no matter the crime. But this wasn’t Chicago. Times had changed.
Bryce was mainly a legitimate businessman now. Sure, he had a couple of cops that were regulars at the restaurant and could take care of a parking ticket if he needed it, but no one was going to look the other way on kidnapping.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! He cursed himself. He assumed Abby would be coming for him on her own, not bringing a squad of feds or New York’s finest. His hubris had gotten the better of him, thinking he could predict her moves.
He grabbed his coat and checked that the safety was on his piece before he grabbed his keys to head for the door. There was nothing to hide here, but he had to do something about Ava in the basement of the restaurant. She was well-hidden, but he wasn’t going to take the chance she could be found. He never intended to kill her, but now had little choice. He enjoyed his life here and wasn’t about to lose everything—even for his daughter.
As he grabbed the door handle, he froze as the house phone rang.
He walked over to a receiver in the hallway and stared at it for a moment, weighing his options. No one outside of his business partners, and maybe the local pizza delivery place, had his landline number.
Cautiously he picked it up. “Hello?”
***
Donny pulled the car into the parking lot at Buena Sera right around dusk as the outdoor lights came on. Apparently it was a popular place, judging by the parking lot. He found a spot away fr
om the building near the entrance to the lot.
Abby and Donny took it in. “Nice place, huh?”
“Sure looks like it.”
Abby remembered some advice JJ gave her months ago: If you know you’re going into a fight, don’t meet the enemy on their terms if you can help it. Get them into the open, on your terms. Obviously Bryce wanted her to come to his home, so she came to his restaurant. She wasn’t going to meet him on his terms.
Donny looked to her. “So what’s the plan?”
She smiled. “I’m going to walk in there and ask for him. If he’s not there, I’ll have a seat and wait. Simple enough, right?”
“Abby, you can’t be serious. What if he’s got guys watching the place? What about all the people eating? What if you get recognized?”
“I don’t care anymore. I’m here to kill Bryce and get my daughter back. I can’t do that hiding from my own shadow.” She opened the door and stepped out.
He quickly unbuckled himself to follow.
“No, you stay here,” she commanded more than told. “Watch the parking lot. You’ve got my number, call me when you see him. I’ll handle this.”
With that, she shut the door and strode toward the entrance with purpose. Donny thought maybe Abby was right: he didn’t know her anymore.
***
Vines used his position to procure a seat on a commercial flight that was stopping in Buffalo. After the captain announced that they were on their final descent for this leg of their journey, Vines called his man on the ground for a status.
“Hi, Matt, where are you?”
“I’m about a half hour from the destination, sir, and my partner Agent Brogan is waiting at the airport for you.”
“Very good. What do we have for intel?”
“I got what I could, sir, which isn’t much. It’s an upscale family dining spot. Should be busy enough tonight given the timeframe. According to the aerial shots, there’s a large parking lot and a fair distance from neighboring buildings. A street view shows a main entrance in front and one on the side. Judging from a set of stairs in the back that show up on the aerial shot, there has to be at least one in the back, too. When I arrive, I’ll do a quick sweep of the perimeter to get my bearings, then I’ll hold near the entrance while I wait for you.”
Escape, Dead End Page 14