Cant Let Go GO PL

by Barbara Freethy

"I'm kind of glad you didn't give up on me."

  "Kind of?" she challenged.

  "Very glad," he corrected.

  "Better. Where does Shari live?"

  "A couple of miles from the bar."

  "I asked you once if she was part of your sideline witness protection program, but you didn't really answer me."

  "She was not brought to the bar by Paul, but Vinnie and I met Shari when she was homeless. She had left an abusive partner behind in Phoenix, and she was down on her luck. She used to sleep behind the bar, under the overhang. Vinnie and I offered her a job and helped her find a place to live."

  More evidence of Griffin's generosity. "That was very nice of you."

  "It wasn't just me; Vinnie was there, too. We gave her a hand up. The rest was on her. She didn't let us down. She turned her life around. She got a roommate. She worked hard. She seemed to be fine, until a couple of weeks ago. Then she started coming in late, calling in sick, and she had a lot of excuses. But I don't think she could hack into my bank accounts, and I can't imagine how she could be behind the tire slashing or the almost hit-and-run in the parking lot."

  "But…" she pressed.

  "If she was in trouble or needed money, I don't know. Hopefully, I can clear up any doubts when we speak to her."

  "I hope so. You know, I do need to get my car back at some point. We never got it yesterday."

  "They're closed on Sundays; we'll do it tomorrow. Sorry again about the inconvenience."

  "It hasn't been too bad having you as my chauffeur."

  He gave her a smile, then checked the mirror as he changed lanes and turned right at the next corner.

  The apartment buildings in this neighborhood were extremely modest and a bit rundown. It was certainly a far cry from the beachfront apartment she was lucky enough to be able to sublet.

  Griffin parked on the street. Then they walked down the block to a three-story building. There was no security door, and Griffin led the way up to the second floor. She didn't know why, but she felt a bit nervous, and was happy to keep one hand on Griffin's back. The halls were dark and felt a bit damp, and there was an odd smell in the air, burnt popcorn, or something worse.

  Griffin suddenly stopped.

  "What's wrong?" she murmured.

  He tipped his head toward the door, which was slightly ajar. "Stay here."

  She was hesitant to have him move even four feet away from her, but he was already gone.

  He knocked on the door and said, "Shari," as he pushed it open. "Oh, God," he said, rushing into the room.

  She couldn't stop herself from moving down the hall. When she got to the doorway, she saw Griffin kneeling next to Shari, who was sprawled on the ground, blood dripping down her face, her hands pressed against her side where more blood was dripping through her fingers.

  A wave of fear raced through her.

  "Call 911," Griffin ordered as he grabbed a kitchen towel and pressed it against Shari's side. Shari appeared to be semi-conscious, her eyes opening and closing, her voice mumbling words that didn't make sense.

  When the operator came on the line, she reported that a woman had been assaulted, repeating the address Griffin shouted out to her.

  Then she moved closer as Shari gasped for breath.

  "Hang in there," Griffin told Shari. "Help is coming. You're going to be all right. Stay with me."

  As he finished speaking, he looked up at her, and she saw the fear in his eyes. He had no idea if Shari was going to survive, and neither did she.

  Twenty

  Griffin pressed firmly against the knife wound in Shari's gut. Her head was also bleeding, but that appeared to be from falling and striking her head against the coffee table. He thought the real danger would be coming from whatever damage had been done to her internal organs. He prayed for the ambulance to arrive quickly.

  "I'm—I'm sorry," Shari said, stuttering out the words.

  "Don't talk. Just breathe."

  "I didn't want to hurt you."

  His stomach turned over at her words. "What did you do?"

  "They said they wanted to mess with you. I—I needed the money. They gave me a lot of money."

  "Who's they?"

  Her eyes fluttered closed.

  "Shari," he said, caught between wanting to take care of her and needing to get the truth before she passed out. "Who wanted to mess with me?"

  "They're not done," she whispered. "Don't hate me. I couldn't end up on the street again. They just wanted to get into the bar."

  "To do what?"

  "Want you to suffer, lose everything," she murmured. "Annie."

  "What about me?" Annie asked sharply.

  "They know…" Shari's voice drifted off.

  "Know what?" Annie asked, an urgent note in her voice.

  He understood her desperation. Shari had answers, but while she was still breathing, she was no longer conscious. Thankfully, the paramedics were entering the apartment, followed by two uniformed police officers.

  He got to his feet to let the medics do their work, thinking about all the times he'd arrived on a scene like this, a victim fighting for her life, and two people needing to be questioned.

  But there were a lot of things he didn't want to talk about. While the San Clemente Police Department was on the other side of the country from Chicago, blue ties could run deep. He couldn't take the chance that this investigation would tip even more people to his whereabouts. He needed to call Paul to run interference, but he wasn't going to be able to do that for now. He would have to stall.

  His gaze moved to Annie. She was pale and shaken, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. He wanted to talk to her, to tell her it would be all right, to ask her to think about what she would tell the police. But there was no time. The officers would separate them. He would give his story, and she would give hers. And knowing how much Annie loved to talk, he suspected her story would be much longer than his.

  As the medics took Shari down to the ambulance, he glanced at his hands, realizing they were covered in blood—Shari's blood. He felt sick at the thought that Shari might die, and it might be because of him. Maybe he shouldn't feel bad, because clearly Shari had sold him out in some way. But he still felt like she was a victim. He still cared about the woman he'd watched pull her life together only to end up like this—because someone had used her to get to him.

  Annie surprised him by handing him a clean kitchen towel.

  "Thanks," he said, wiping off his hands as best he could.

  She put a hand on his arm, drawing his gaze to hers. "You did what you could."

  "I hope it's enough."

  The female officer interrupted them, asking Annie to step into the hall while the male officer asked him to stay behind.

  The officer, a tall, Hispanic man, with the last name of Rodriguez, asked him to explain what had happened.

  "I'm Griffin Hale, Shari's boss. I run the Depot, a bar where Shari is employed as a waitress. She's been calling in sick lately, and I was concerned about her, so I came by to check on her. When I got here, I found the door open. Shari was on the floor. I tried to apply pressure to her wounds while Annie called for help." He deliberately kept his narrative short, not wanting to sound like the cop he'd once been.

  "Was the victim conscious?"

  "Some of the time."

  "Did she say who did this?"

  "I tried to get a name out of her, but she just kept saying they. I assume there was more than one person."

  "Did you see anyone leaving the scene when you arrived? Were there any neighbors out?"

  He shook his head. "I didn't see anyone in front of the building or in the hallway. I'm surprised none of the neighbors have come over here. Shari must have screamed. It looks like there was a struggle," he said, tipping his head to the overturned chair and the broken lamp.

  "We'll talk to the neighbors," the officer said.

  "Was your employee having problems with anyone?"

  He debated how to answer that que
stion and decided there was one incident he did feel comfortable mentioning. "There was an incident at the bar a couple of days ago. A man in a van followed her into our employee lot. They exchanged words. She said that the man believed she'd cut him off in traffic, and he was yelling at her. He drove off after a minute, and she said she didn't know who he was."

  "You saw this happen?"

  "No. my partner, Vinnie Price, saw it. He told me about it."

  "You didn't talk to her about it personally?"

  "No. I didn't have a chance, but, as I said, I was concerned about her. That's why I came here this morning." He drew in a breath. "I hope she makes it, so she can tell us who did this to her."

  "Does she have a husband, a boyfriend, a roommate?"

  "She had a roommate until a couple of months ago. That woman moved away, out of the city. I don't know about her personal relationships. She doesn't share that information with me. One of her other coworkers might know more. I can give you the names of everyone I know her to be in contact with."

  "That would be helpful."

  He gave the officer the names of all of his employees. As he finished doing that, Annie came back into the room, followed by the female officer.

  "I've got everything I need for now," the female officer said.

  Officer Rodriguez nodded, then turned to him. "We may need to question you both further."

  "We'll make ourselves available," he said. "Right now, we want to get to the hospital. Shari doesn't have any family. I don't want her to be alone."

  "We'll be down there soon," the officer said.

  He ushered Annie out of the apartment. They didn't speak until they were in the car with the doors locked.

  "That was horrific," Annie said, turning in her seat to face him.

  "Yes, it was." Despite his desire to get to the hospital, he didn't start the car. Instead he leaned across the console and put his arms around Annie, giving in to the desperate need to hold her. He didn't know if he was comforting her or if she was comforting him, but they stayed like that for a long minute. Then he gave her a quick kiss and sat back in his seat.

  "Do you think Shari will make it?" Annie asked, her eyes filled with fear and worry.

  "I don't know. I really hope so."

  "There was a lot of blood. I've never seen anyone—anyone hurt like that."

  "You held it together. You called for help."

  "That was nothing. You put pressure on the wound. You probably saved her life."

  "I want to believe that." He drew in a breath then said, "I have to ask—"

  "What I told the police?" she finished, meeting his gaze.

  "Whatever you said is fine. I just need to know."

  "I didn't tell them about your past, Griffin. I thought about it, but the police officer just asked me about Shari and how I knew her and how I knew you. I told her that Shari murmured some words, but I didn't really hear them. I did lie a little about that, because I heard enough to know Shari was involved with whoever is after you. I didn't know what to say beyond that, so I decided to say as little as possible."

  "I would never ask you to lie, but I'm glad you were careful."

  "Did you volunteer information about your past?"

  "No. Like you, I stayed on topic."

  "Even though Shari was apologizing to you? You didn't want to share that with the police? How are they going to find out who did this if they don't have all the information?"

  "They'll get the whole story," he assured her. "I just want to talk to Paul first. He already has a contact in the San Clemente Police Department that he spoke to when we thought someone was after Megan. That's the person who needs to hear the story first."

  "I guess that makes sense." She paused. "I know you probably don't trust the police anymore, but this department could be different."

  "They probably are different, but we'll see. I did tell Officer Rodriguez that Shari was going in and out of consciousness and that she did not name her attackers, which is true. As for what she said to me—it sounded like she was paid or blackmailed or threatened to help someone get to me. I just wish she would have been able to tell me who came after her."

  "And why," she muttered. "If they were using her to get to you, and she was going along with them, then why did someone stab her?"

  It was a question that had been going around in his head. "I can only assume they asked her to do one thing too many."

  "She said my name. She said 'they know' and then she said my name. What do you think that meant?"

  "That they know we're together." As fear leapt into her eyes, he quickly added, "We already knew that, Annie. That's why I'm staying close to you."

  "Knowing it and hearing it from the mouth of someone who had just been stabbed by the same people makes it a lot more real and terrifying."

  "I want to get you out of this, Annie. I still think you should go to your parents' house in San Francisco."

  "No way. Shari said they know about us. It doesn't matter where I go; someone could find me. They could use me as leverage against you, no matter where I am."

  He wanted to argue, but everything she was saying was true.

  "Let's go to the hospital," Annie said. "Maybe Shari will be able to give us more answers."

  * * *

  On the way to the hospital, Griffin called Vinnie and filled him in on what had happened. With the speaker on in the car, she could hear the shock in Vinnie's voice, as well as a sense of betrayal. But for the moment, Griffin and Vinnie were more focused on Shari's recovery than on what she'd allowed to be done to them. Vinnie said he would tell the staff and keep things going at the bar but to notify them as soon as there was any news.

  Unfortunately, when they got to the hospital, they discovered that Shari was in surgery, and there was no news to be found. They settled into chairs in the fifth-floor waiting room.

  Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, Annie was starting to really feel the fear of what had happened to Shari and what danger might be lurking in the shadows for her and for Griffin.

  Everything that had happened before today had felt more like a warning, but this—this was different. Someone had violently assaulted Shari. They could have killed her. And she didn't want to consider the possibility that Shari could still die.

  She knew Griffin was worried. Even now, he was staring at his hands, probably still seeing Shari's blood on his fingers, even though he'd already been to the restroom to wash his hands again. It was a little surprising that Griffin could care so much about a woman who had obviously betrayed him. Maybe he hadn't gotten to that realization yet. Maybe he was still thinking of Shari as a friend and not as the person who had been willing to sell him out for some cash.

  Griffin raised his gaze from his hands and turned to face her. "If Shari dies, it's on me."

  "No. This is not on you, Griffin. You cannot think that way."

  His anguished gaze met hers. "They would have never approached her if she wasn't working for me."

  "She could have said no. She could have come to you and told you what they wanted. You saved her when she was homeless and in need of a job. You gave her back her life. She owed you her loyalty." She realized she had gone from trying to make him feel better about Shari's betrayal to nailing down the fact that his employee and friend had sold him out. But she just couldn't stand the thought of him taking responsibility for what had happened to Shari.

  "I know you're right. I'm just tired of people getting hurt because of me. Sometimes, I do look back and wonder if it was worth it. My family suffered. My friends suffered, and now it's happening again. All of my employees could be in danger right now. I need to shut down the bar."

  "But you have the holiday party for Hamilton House next week."

  He frowned. "I know, but I can't put all those kids in danger."

  "What about hiring security for it?"

  "I have to think about it. And I'll need to talk to Vinnie again." His phone buzzed. "It's Paul. I'm going to take t
his somewhere else," he said, tipping his head toward an older couple seated on a couch at the other end of the room.

  She nodded, watching him go, hoping he would get some information that would help them figure out who was after him.

  * * *

  "I can talk now." Griffin opened the door to the rooftop deck and stepped outside, happy to let the crisp air clear the fog from his head. "I'm glad you called. One of my employees was assaulted, stabbed; I'm at the hospital now."

  "What the hell?"

  "Yeah, and all this is definitely about Chicago, Paul."

  "How do you know?"

  "Shari, the employee who was stabbed, wasn't making a lot of sense, but she told me someone approached her with cash. They wanted to mess with me, get into the bar, make me suffer. She needed the money, so she helped them. I'm not sure exactly what she did or what the end game is. She's in surgery, so I won't be able to talk to her again for several hours."

  "Did you tell all this to the police?" Paul asked.

  "No. I wanted to speak to you first."

  "Good. Let me run point on this. I already talked to a Detective Baker in regard to Megan's situation. I'll start with him. It will make things easier for you. Otherwise, you're going to waste a lot of time explaining who you are and what you were involved in. I'll be a more objective narrator."

  "I agree." He hadn't been looking forward to discussing his past involvement with a sting operation against his fellow police officers. That wouldn't sit well no matter how far he was from Chicago.

  "I also wanted to let you know that I checked with my contacts at the prison," Paul said.

  "Did you find out who has been visiting Tom?"

  "Well, here's the thing. Tom was seriously injured in a prison fight last month. His injuries were extensive. He's been in a coma since then, and he's not expected to recover."

  "What?" he asked, shocked to the core by Paul's words. "How did it happen? Who did it?"

  "There were several men involved in the attack, but one of them had direct ties to the Lavizzo gang, which, as you know, was the organization that paid Tom off."

  "Why would they go after him now? It's been four years."