by Terri Reed
Lucia nodded with understanding. “Come on.”
They walked through the other cubicles toward the office of Battalion Chief O’Brien. Though his office was empty, Colleen felt a chill of foreboding run down her spine.
“Sam and Becca have already gone through the drawers and files. I don’t think they found anything noteworthy,” Lucia commented while rubbing her arms as if reacting to the ominous feeling as well.
Colleen moved to the desk. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. Maybe something that would tell us why he was at the museum three nights ago.”
“You should probably talk with Mary.”
“I’m sure Sam already has,” Colleen said as she opened the drawers of the desk. Nothing in them but the normal office supplies. Chief O’Brien had been meticulous with his stuff, even if he hadn’t been as careful with his body.
Lucia pointed at her. “I’m sure you’re right, but you, my friend, have the ability to get information out of people the police sometimes can’t.”
Pleased by the praise, Colleen flashed a smile as she lifted the blotter. Nothing. Slipping her hand between the blotter and its plastic cover just in case, her fingers scraped along a solid edge.
An arrow of anticipation zoomed through her as she pulled the blotter apart. A white envelope addressed in type to Mary O’Brien had been hidden in the far corner of the blotter’s plastic edge.
Written by Neil in case of his death?
Colleen flipped the envelope over with the tip of a pen. The seal was broken.
“What is it?” Lucia asked as she stepped closer.
“A letter for Mary,” Colleen replied. “Do you have a plastic bag or something I can slip this into?”
“Sure, in the kitchen.” Lucia hustled out of the office.
Colleen drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk. “So, Neil, what did you write to your wife?” Assuming the letter was from the chief.
What if the letter was from someone else? Say, Neil’s killer? Curiosity ate at her. She wanted to open the letter and see the contents, but doing so could compromise any latent fingerprints.
Lucia returned with a quart-size plastic freezer bag. “Here.”
Several other firefighters followed Lucia back to the office and crowded in, their curious and interested expressions mirroring Colleen’s feelings. Good. The more witnesses, the better.
With the tip of a pen, she pushed the envelope into the bag and zipped it shut. “I’ll take this over to Sam and Becca,” she said as she stood.
The firefighters murmured among themselves as they parted to let Colleen and Lucia leave. Lucia walked her friend out to the curb, where Colleen had parked her car.
“You be careful, okay?” Lucia said as she hugged Colleen.
“I will,” Colleen assured her.
Stepping back, Lucia nodded. “Don’t forget to visit Mary.”
“Thanks, Lucia,” Colleen said as she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. She waved at her friend before she drove away.
She glanced at the plastic bag lying on the seat. Once she turned it over to Sam, she’d never see it again. She wasn’t ready to give up control of this lead yet.
Instead of driving straight to the police station, she drove to the O’Briens’ house, a small, single-level, blue-and-white trimmed home on a tree-lined street. The front yard needed a little attention; the grass was ankle-high and the bushes could stand to be shaped. Obvious signs of a man who’d lost interest in his home and the life he had there. Sadness crept into Colleen’s heart.
Colleen pulled into the driveway. Putting the evidence bag with the letter into a big tote, she got out and walked up to the door, then knocked, hoping that Mary would be able to tell her the contents of the letter. Several moments later, Mary O’Brien opened the door.
Colleen’s heart twisted. The hugely pregnant widow was obviously suffering. Her red-rimmed eyes and pink nose gave testament to her sorrow. Neither condemnation nor pleasure at seeing Colleen showed in her pretty face, only grief.
Wiping her nose with a white tissue, Mary cocked her head. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping you can answer a few questions for me, Mary,” Colleen replied gently.
“I’ve told the police all I know,” she said, sniffing.
Colleen pulled out the letter from her bag. “Do you know anything about this?”
Mary’s eyes grew round. She grabbed Colleen’s arm and dragged her inside. “Where did you find that?”
“Hidden in your husband’s desk. Is the letter from him?”
Mary shook her head. “No. I don’t know who it’s from.” She stared at the zippered plastic bag with loathing.
“Can you tell me the contents?” Colleen gently probed.
Mary waved her hand dismissively. “You can open it.”
Colleen shook her head. “It’s evidence.” She didn’t want her fingerprints on it at all.
Mary sat on the worn brown sofa. “Neil was a good man. He tried real hard to be a good husband and I know he wanted to be a good father.”
Colleen thought back over Neil’s behavior the last few months. His antagonism toward Lucia and his aggressiveness in trying to have her kicked out of the firehouse didn’t coincide with the picture Mary was painting.
“What happened?” Colleen asked as she sat on the ottoman a few paces away. Sometimes she learned the most when she just allowed people to tell their story in their own way.
“We tried for a baby for eight long years. The doctors told us to be patient. We tried. All the tests and fertility drugs cost money. The insurance picked up some, but we were struggling. I think Neil believed he was doing the right thing by taking what was left of our savings and playing the horses. He won a few times at first, but then…”
The sadness in Mary’s eyes spoke volumes about the losses.
“He got in pretty deep. I didn’t know how deep until I received that letter. It has a copy of a promissory note to some bookie in Cripple Creek. We owed way more than we could ever hope to pay back. Neil was so upset when he found out that I’d been sent this letter. He started drinking then.”
Colleen thought back to the night of the museum gala. Neil had definitely been intoxicated that night.
“How long ago did you receive this?” Colleen asked.
Mary shrugged. “A few months back. I told Sam and Becca about his gambling and they said they’d look into it.”
“Do you remember the name of the man in Cripple Creek?”
“Hank…something, at the Tree Top Tavern.”
It was a lead. A place to start. Colleen took Mary’s hand. “I hope you realize I didn’t have anything to do with Neil’s death.”
Fresh tears spilled down Mary’s plump cheeks. “I know, Colleen. I never once thought you could have done this, no matter what anybody said. I think whoever killed my husband was the one who called me.”
Colleen stilled. “Called you?”
Mary nodded. “A few months before the letter arrived, I received a strange call. The voice was deep, gravelly, telling me to tell Neil that if he didn’t do as planned he could forget about ever seeing his child.” She shuddered.
“I never told Neil about it because I was afraid of how he’d react. I worried about his health. Instead, I told your cousin Brendan. He said he’d look into it without involving the police. I don’t know if he ever found anything.” She shrugged. “I’m sure it was probably the man Neil owed so much money to.”
Her mind running through the possible scenarios, Colleen agreed. A loan shark. A mob boss. The casinos. Any number of unscrupulous people could have been involved. “Probably. I know the authorities will uncover the truth.”
Mary sighed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a nap. I just don’t have much strength these days.”
Colleen stood, mentally making a note to ask her mother, Liza, to check in on Mary. “Thank you for your time. If you need anything, please let me know.”
&nb
sp; Mary pushed herself from the couch and walked Colleen to the door. “Be careful, Colleen.”
“I will. You, too,” Colleen said as she walked away. The door closed quietly behind her.
In her car, Colleen sat and contemplated her next move. Sam would be very angry if she didn’t get the envelope to him soon. But following this lead was important.
Her brothers would skin her alive if she took off to Cripple Creek alone. She thought about calling Lucia and asking her to go with her, but Lucia had her own job and life to contend with. Colleen could call Jake or Adam or even Brendan. Only she had no doubt they’d take the information and head off without her.
She had to do this alone. She pushed aside the unbidden image of a dark-haired, handsome man who’d been there to help her once before.
Driving away from town, Colleen glanced in her rearview mirror and noticed a familiar red sports car trailing along behind her. Her pulse kicked up a beat. No way!
Alessandro.
Why was he following her? Did he think he’d have to bail her out of trouble again? It was one thing for her to think about needing him and another for him to assume she needed him.
She turned into the parking lot of a convenience store. The little red sports car pulled up alongside her and Alessandro emerged from the car. His white linen pants were creased from sitting and his tab-collar shirt made him look as if he should be standing on the bow of a yacht instead of in the Quick Stop parking lot.
Her heart thumped. He sure was handsome. Colleen rolled down her window. “Are you following me?”
His mouth quirked on one side. “You could say that, bella.”
She tried to stop the little flutter of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She should be angry. “I will say it. And I want to know why.”
He shrugged, the quintessential Italian male gesture. “You are not one to sit idle while some person is out there framing you for murder.”
Her chin dipped at the praise in his tone. Most people saw her assertive independence as a negative. “You think you know me pretty well, don’t you?”
His shoulders rose in another careless shrug and an amused glint entered his eyes. “It wouldn’t take, what is that saying?…a brain surgeon to figure you out.”
A dry laugh escaped. “I’m that transparent?”
His grin flashed briefly, dazzling against his olive skin. “I’d rather say you’re a dedicated professional.”
Another compliment. Wow!
“Good recovery.” She studied him for a moment. He was big, strong, capable of protecting her if she should need it. She wouldn’t score any points with her family, but hey, at least she wouldn’t be alone. And that was the only reason she’d ever admit to for wanting him with her. Regardless of the torture device. “Would you be willing to do me a huge favor?”
He blinked. “Again?”
She had the grace to blush at the reminder of how she’d used him to escape her brothers at the police station. But she also remembered that he hadn’t answered her questions about his daughter.
In fact, he’d been rather upset with her. But this was another day and another opportunity to gather information. Not only on O’Brien, but on Alessandro.
“I’m checking out a lead on Neil O’Brien’s gambling. Would you want to tag along with me to Cripple Creek?”
He cocked his head. “Tag along?”
She grinned. “Come with me.”
“Ah.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “Only if I drive.”
She eyed the red sports car. “If we can put the top down.”
He laughed, a rich, mellow sound that warmed her to her toes. “Sì, bella. Anything you wish.”
Talk about a loaded statement. There was much she wished but was too afraid to voice regarding the handsome man standing beside her. Keeping an emotional distance was paramount to success in investigative journalism.
Grabbing her tote, she locked up her car and climbed into his passenger seat. Alessandro slid behind the wheel.
“So tell me, cara. Why are we going to Cripple Creek?” he asked as he pulled the car back onto the highway.
“I found out that O’Brien was up to his eyeballs in debt and the debt was being called in. I want to see what the man who Neil did business with has to say.”
Alessandro frowned. “Shouldn’t you let the police handle such things?”
Guilt pinched her conscience but she ignored it. The story came first. “I will hand off my information once I’ve had a chance to see where this leads.”
“Ah, cara mia, I worry you put yourself in danger heedlessly.”
She touched his arm, his concern for her well-being so sweet and touching. “Well, that’s why I invited you along. You’re my muscle.”
He threw back his head and laughed. She liked his laugh. She settled back and enjoyed the ride, letting the afternoon sun touch her face and the wind breeze by.
She grabbed her ponytail with one hand to keep it from whipping her face to shreds. Alessandro pushed some buttons on the dash and beautiful music filled Colleen’s head. An aria from an opera. The men in her life wouldn’t know opera from jazz, let alone appreciate it.
The countryside, with lush green aspen trees and crystal-clear streams running through flower-filled meadows, made for a scenic ride. The majestic Rockies tempered the skyline. Colleen craned her neck back to watch what she swore was a bald eagle soaring by. It all was so romantic and…whoa! This isn’t some joy ride or a date, she scolded herself.
Very deliberately, she shifted her mind back onto business. She tried once again to broach the subject of his daughter. “What is your child’s name?”
His jaw tightened. “Bella, let’s leave my personal life alone and concentrate on your task.”
She wanted to push, but since he was doing her a favor, she decided to let it go for the moment. The car slowed as they entered the restored silver-mining town of Cripple Creek. The squat, brick-front buildings that once housed Old West saloons now housed limited-stakes gambling casinos. The exterior of each casino stayed true to the original historic motif, while inside, state-of-the-art gambling machines brought the past into the twenty-first century.
Colleen and Alessandro climbed out of the car and headed into the small casino called Tree Top Tavern. The acrid scent of tobacco smoke clogged Colleen’s senses. She coughed and blinked at the stinging in her eyes. There was something about gambling that drew smokers and drinkers.
Colleen knew from her previous research on the rise of drugs that gambling, smoking and drinking were part and parcel of the obsessive and addictive personality traits common to those whose lives were brought down by such things. Sad, really. But a choice made.
Colleen headed straight to the bar. A burly man with thinning steel gray hair, beady green eyes and a scraggly beard grunted a greeting.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where I’d find Hank?”
The man narrowed his eyes, making them almost disappear in the fleshy folds of his face. His gaze shifted from Colleen to Alessandro, who stood behind her. “What you want Hank for?”
Colleen offered her most nonthreatening smile. “I just have some questions.”
The burly man jerked his head at Alessandro. “You two cops?”
Colleen shook her head. “No. I’m a reporter for the Colorado Springs Sentinel. Really, I just have some questions. Nothing big.”
Regarding them warily, the man said, “Wait here.”
He walked to the end of the bar and spoke to a thin, dark-haired man, who turned to stare at them. His ebony eyes assessed them for a moment, then he nodded, got up and walked to a curtained doorway. He motioned for Colleen and Alessandro to follow with a flick of his hand.
Anticipation raced along Colleen’s veins as she moved to follow. Trailing their guide through a small, square storage area and down a long, dimly lit hall, apprehension closed in and she was thankful she’d asked Alessandro to accompany her. Funny how she felt so secure with him around.
&
nbsp; At the end of the hall the thin man held up his hand to halt them. He knocked on a door. A moment later the door opened and a broad-shouldered behemoth came out and patted them down for weapons. This wasn’t the first time she’d been searched by a thug. Nor did she suppose it would be the last.
They were then escorted inside.
Colleen found herself face-to-face with a weaselly-looking man sitting at a large desk. Piles of papers were stacked around. An aura of filth made Colleen’s skin tighten. Alessandro placed a hand on her shoulder, his palm warm and comforting. She glanced at him and he inclined his head slightly as if to say, “Ask your questions.”
She cleared her throat. “Are you Hank?”
“I am.” He pointed a finger. “What does a reporter from the Sentinel want with me?”
“Do you remember taking some promissory notes from Neil O’Brien?”
His eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “Yeah.”
“Were you pressuring him to pay back his loans?”
Hank sat back and shook his head. “Nope. His loans were paid off a while ago. I haven’t seen O’Brien for a long time.”
Colleen frowned. “He paid his notes off?”
A wicked smile stretched Hank’s lips. “He didn’t pay them off.”
Her pulse jumped. “Who did?”
“What’s it worth to you?”
“I—”
Alessandro cut Colleen off. “That’s the wrong question.”
She turned to look at him. The fierce light in his dark eyes took her by surprise.
Hank raised an insolent brow. “Oh. And what is the right one?”
“The question should be, what happens if you don’t cooperate?”
Colleen shuddered. Alessandro had issued a challenge that surely he realized was ridiculous. He couldn’t make Hank talk. Not when there were two mean-looking men standing by who’d no doubt be quite capable of hurting both of them. Fear slammed a fist into her midsection. She’d brought them into this situation. She’d put Alessandro in danger.
Alessandro held Hank’s gaze. He must have communicated some silent threat because finally Hank shifted his gaze away and shrugged. “Makes no never mind to me. Some swanky couple came in and bought the notes.”