Shades of Gray

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “That’s why I’m here, buddy. We’ve all been looking for you. Everyone’s waiting. You’re safe now. I promise.”

  He clung to me weakly and sobbed soft tears of relief that I echoed.

  Behind Shannon, Mrs. Duval had her fist to her mouth. She was also crying. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I would have talked to him about what happened, but I didn’t want to make him remember his parents if they really were dead.”

  I turned and made my way from the house, with Jake close behind. Shannon followed, calling the other officers so they could watch Mrs. Duval. Jake opened the back door of the car for me, and I slid inside.

  “It’s okay,” I murmured to Sawyer. “It’s okay.” I wrapped him in another blanket Shannon took from his trunk and held him close as we drove away.

  Chapter 20

  Turned out Jake and I went to the hospital after all because that’s where Sophie was with Dennis and Lizbeth, who was sleeping in her arms. When we opened the door to the room, she gave a small cry and came running. A startled Shannon found himself holding Lizbeth, while Sophie snatched a newly sleeping Sawyer from my arms.

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” She showered his face with kisses and cried until she woke both him and Dennis. Sawyer wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck as though he’d never let go. Harsh sobs came from the bed.

  Jake and I left Shannon to explain and went with a nurse someone had sicced on us—probably Shannon in one of the numerous telephone calls he’d made on the drive to the hospital.

  “It’s over,” Jake said, letting out a deep sigh.

  “Not for Dennis and Sophie. They’ll still have to go back with Russo.” I looked around. “I expected to see him here, or one of his men.”

  “If you’re talking about that big black-haired man with the bodyguard,” the nurse said, ushering us into a room, “he was here all day, mostly on the phone, but he left an hour ago. Something about his wife being in labor.”

  Russo had told me his wife was expecting another girl, and of course nature would choose now to send the baby. “He’ll never make it to New Jersey in time.”

  “I don’t think he was going to try. Apparently they’re doing a video feed.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s the world coming to? I mean, I know he cares about his cousin, but if my husband wasn’t around when I had a baby, he’d be sleeping on the couch for a year.”

  Not my place to enlighten her about Dennis’s importance in the Franco family. Nic Russo’s wife could have a dozen baby girls, and all of them together wouldn’t be more important to the Francos than Dennis or his son. Not while Dennis’s father was still in charge.

  “What about the guy who was shot earlier—Ian Gideon,” I asked. “Was he brought here? Is he going to be okay?” As much as I disliked the guy, my plan to keep Russo away from Dennis and Sophie hinged on finding proof that he was involved in something shady. Getting Ian to cut a deal might be the only way to get Russo to back off. My plan fell down a bit when I thought about how little Ian cared for the rest of the human race, but I was desperate.

  The nurse’s expression changed. “Look, I’m not supposed to hand out information to anyone except immediate family, but they said if it wasn’t for you, he would have died in that parking garage. I’m sorry. It’s not looking good. We’ve called his family so they can say good-bye. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Jake and I exchanged a look. Robison had been aiming to kill and obviously knew his job well. That he would serve time for the murder, or that Ian had done so much wrong, didn’t make the bleak finality of death any easier. Or help Dennis and Sophie.

  The nurse bent to her ministrations, her loquaciousness apparently at an end. I received a shot of painkiller in my leg and only a few stitches, which belied my worst fears, and a lecture from a doctor who looked like he was still in high school about the importance of immediately reporting a gunshot wound. I promised to make note of that for the future.

  Jake was grinning at the scolding I received—right up until they gave him a boot for the simple fracture in his lower right leg, a removable cast for his left arm, and staples in his scalp. They also told him he’d fractured his left orbit, the bone holding his eye, but the doctor had high hopes of that not needing surgery. We were to watch for drooping of the eye or sudden changes in vision.

  When the nurse went to get Jake’s pain medication, I would have teased him, except that he looked so miserable—and I was feeling the strong impressions that bound me to my twin. Standing, I shrugged off the blanket I still wore around my shoulders and went to the door to peer down the hall.

  Thinking of my sister, I remembered her miniature drawing, and I wedged my hand in my pocket, fishing for it. Like the rest of me, the drawing was soaked, despite the plastic cover, and I felt a keen sense of loss.

  Jake’s eyes caught mine over the ruined mess. “She’ll make you another one. She’ll understand.” He was right. Though special, the drawing wasn’t irreplaceable. I nodded my thanks, though there wasn’t really a need. Jake and I understood each other.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I told him. Because instead of Tawnia, Russo had appeared at the far intersection of the hallway, and I knew where he was heading. Though an officer was still posted outside Dennis’s door, Russo was determined, and he might find his way in.

  I was every bit as determined. Maybe I could reason with him. I thought I might have glimpsed a bit of humanity behind his tough exterior. Had I been fooling myself? I pushed myself faster, rounding the corner where they had disappeared.

  One door down from Dennis’s room, bald Charlie spotted me and said something to Russo, who stopped and turned. “Ah, Miss Rain. I should put you on the payroll. I hear you saved another member of my family.”

  “You’d better hold off on that,” I said. “I had a good talk with Ian Gideon, and when he wasn’t shooting at me, he was telling me what a scam you’ve been running. It’ll all be public now. Your family name is going to be at the top of the headlines. There’ll be an investigation.”

  Russo’s congenial expression vanished. “Is that a threat?”

  “Just letting you know what’s going to happen.”

  “All my businesses in Portland are legitimate.”

  “Not according to Ian Gideon.” I was bluffing. Could he tell? Behind Russo, Shannon came from Dennis’s room and headed our way.

  Russo chuckled. “My attorney would never be so stupid as to testify against me. He knows that.”

  “What if he’s dead?” Shannon said.

  Russo watched Shannon come around to stand beside me. “Is that another threat? And here I was about to thank you for helping Miss Rain find my cousin’s son.”

  “What I mean,” Shannon continued as if Russo hadn’t spoken, “is that Ian Gideon is going to die, thanks to your old friend, Mr. Saito. At the moment he’s on life support, and his family is deciding whether or not to donate his organs that survived the attack. Given the nature of the case, the police will be taking possession of all his records. I’m sure we’ll find what we need in them to send you away for a very long time.”

  “As I told Miss Rain, all my dealings here are completely—” Russo broke off, his thick brows knitting. “Ah, I understand. I guess Mr. Gideon’s records could show anything. What do you want from me?”

  I stared at them both blankly before I finally caught on. Shannon would never plant false information, but Russo couldn’t know that.

  “Leave Dennis alone.” I stepped toward Russo. “Just let him go. If you’ve already told his father that you found him, say he died from injuries. Anything. You said you cared for him once, and I believe you meant it. Your own mother helped him get away. If you take him back to New Jersey, you’ll ruin a lot of people’s lives. Dennis isn’t cut out for that life. You know that as well as I do. And Sawyer—” The thought of his grow
ing up involved with Russo’s questionable businesses made me furious enough to leap over tall buildings to save him. “You don’t need Sawyer. You run the business anyway, and you can have your own son someday. Or a grandson. You have what? Four daughters now? One of them is bound to have a son. Or you could get over the archaic notion about sons and one of your daughters could be your heir.”

  Russo held up his hand with the missing finger, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I don’t have four daughters.”

  “But the nurse told me—didn’t the baby come?”

  “Oh, the baby came. I saw the whole thing from my hotel. Imagine that.” He was still smiling, but there was an oddness to his expression that worried me.

  “Did something happen?” If the child hadn’t made it, or if something had happened to Russo’s wife, for all their problems, he wouldn’t be in any kind of a mood to make a deal for Dennis’s freedom.

  “The ultrasound said it was a girl, but it turns out they don’t know everything.”

  “It’s a boy?” I exchanged an incredulous look with Shannon.

  Russo nodded. “A son. Strong and healthy.” He paused, as if allowing that to sink in.

  Would this change anything? Perhaps that would depend on how much power Dennis’s father retained in the organization.

  “And now what?” I asked.

  “I find myself in a dilemma.” Russo’s face became impassive. “All these years my cousin has been missing, and even before that, I worked to build our business. I am my uncle’s right hand. He’s older now, and his health is failing. I control almost everything for him.”

  “Let me guess,” Shannon said. “He’ll want you to turn it over to Dennis.”

  “He’s obsessed with finding his son. His only living son. To carry on the Franco name, you understand, though Russo has become almost as widely known. My uncle’s obsession is why I gave Ian Gideon any business at all. He said he had a lead to my cousin’s whereabouts, but that it would take time to locate him. Oh, the real estate deals Gideon offered me were good enough on their own, but the chance of finding my cousin was much more important. Had I known Ian was hiding Dennis at his firm all along—” Russo’s voice was expressionless, but a glint of admiration shone in his eyes. “Well, I would have rectified the situation.”

  “But you knew when you came here that Dennis was alive.”

  “I came to make sure after Ian finally told me. I didn’t think Dennis would run.”

  “The question is,” Shannon said, “what are you going to do now? If your dealings are legit, I can promise you’ll have no worries on that score.”

  Russo appeared to consider. “My uncle doesn’t know about Dennis or his family. There have been many disappointments, and I stopped telling him each time I found a lead. There was also the chance that when I did find him, Dennis wouldn’t come back with me, and I’d have to take certain steps to protect the family.” Something in the way he said it made me wonder if eliminating Dennis had been his agenda all along. Or maybe he hadn’t known what he would do when the time came. Maybe he still didn’t know.

  “Pretending you never found Dennis would work best for everyone,” I suggested.

  “Except for my uncle.” Still no expression.

  I lifted my chin. “I don’t care about your uncle. He isn’t worth Dennis’s life. Or Sawyer’s.”

  Russo stared at me for a long moment. “Okay,” he said finally. “But on one condition.” He took my hand, his thumb gently rubbing the skin between my thumb and forefinger. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, but I didn’t like the control he radiated.

  “And what would that be?” I asked. The tenseness in Shannon’s face echoed my own uncertainty. I doubted either of us would like what he was going to say.

  “I believe in your strange . . . ability.” Russo’s thumb pressed more firmly, his touch becoming decidedly unpleasant. “I know you won’t voluntarily come to work for me, and I know the detective here”—his eyes flicked to Shannon—“wouldn’t take any of my usual methods of encouragement lightly, given his attachment to you. So what I want is a promise that you’ll help me out on something in the future. Not now, but maybe next year, or ten years from now. Whenever I need it.”

  “Help you? You mean you want me to read something?”

  “Yes.”

  I studied him for the space of several heartbeats. I could feel Shannon watching me, but I didn’t meet his eyes. This was my offer. My decision.

  “Don’t do it,” Shannon growled. “I’m beginning to think he doesn’t want Dennis back in the fold after all. He said as much himself. He’ll let him go to protect his name and his son’s future.”

  I wasn’t so sure. I believed Russo was torn between loyalty to his uncle and his own self-interest. The habits of a lifetime were hard to break. “You have to promise never to contact Dennis again.”

  Russo shook his head. “Now that I’ve found him, I plan to check in on my cousin every now and then. My mother would want that. But I do promise not to interfere with his life.”

  That was what I wanted to hear. It confirmed my idea that there was more between them than ugliness. A sense of family. More shades of gray, perhaps, but when it came right down to it, once the threat of prosecution was gone, I couldn’t force Russo to keep his promise. Only his sense of honor, his sense of connection with Dennis could do that. Russo himself might never know what his intentions had been toward Dennis. I knew I didn’t.

  “Okay,” I said. “But I have a condition, too. Whatever I tell you can’t lead to physically hurting someone.”

  “That’s for me to decide.” Russo’s face darkened, and his grip became painful.

  I didn’t flinch. “No. It’s my talent, and that means I’ll have to know enough about the situation in advance to be sure I’m not doing something I’ll regret.”

  Russo considered me as though he had never seen me before. Gradually, his grip lightened, and his expression cleared. “You have a deal.” He dropped my hand. I wanted to rub it, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “What about your men?” My eyes drifted to Charlie, who was close enough to hear everything without crowding Russo.

  “My men are loyal, at least those with me. They’ll do what I tell them.” Russo inclined his head. “Now, I think my cousin and his family will want to hear about my new son . . . and my plans.”

  Shannon waved to the officer, guarding the door. “Let them in,” he called. The officer nodded.

  I watched Russo and his bodyguard leave, wondering if it would all work out and what I would do if it didn’t.

  Russo paused and turned at the door. “One more thing,” he said, raising his voice so it would carry. “I’ve done some research on you, Miss Rain, and you might be interested to know that I’ve found your maternal grandmother. When you’re ready to learn about your biological family, contact me. Keep in mind, there’ll be a price.”

  He left me wondering where someone had hidden all the air.

  “You okay?” Shannon laid a hand on my back. “He’s trying to lock you into working for him. You know that, right? The records were sealed. He can’t know anything.”

  Shannon was still a bit of an idealist, for all his experience. I had no doubt Russo could uncover the information he promised, but I had seen to what lengths he would go, and I’d feel a whole lot better finding another way to trace my ancestry.

  The feeling of my sister was even stronger now, overriding my desire to run after Russo and choke the information from him. I started down the hall toward where I’d left Jake.

  Shannon’s hand on my arm stopped me. “I wish you hadn’t promised Russo.”

  “Because my talent should only be used for police work?” My tone was sharper than I’d intended. “Why, Detective, at least he believes in me. Only a few months ago you were ready
to put me in jail rather than believe. Nothing has really changed. You still don’t trust my judgment.”

  He blinked. “We’re talking about Russo here. You know what kind of a person he is.”

  “You’re right. I do know. He’s one of the bad guys. But he loves his cousin and his mother.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “That makes two of us.” I was standing closer to him now—too close. Close enough to be acutely aware that he needed a nice long shower as much as did. I could see the hair growth on his face, the lines of worry, the dusty smudges under his eyes that signaled lack of sleep. My desire to argue died within me. Seconds stretched out between us.

  Without looking away, Shannon thumbed over his shoulder. “I should check on Tracy.”

  “How is she?” I’d forgotten all about her. Some friend I was.

  “They said she regained consciousness earlier. She has some nasty internal bruising in her head, but she’s going to be fine.”

  “Good.”

  I waited for him to leave, but he didn’t. His eyes remained fixed on mine, as though he wanted to say more. I might even have wanted him to say it.

  “There you are.” Tawnia’s voice. I turned to see her rounding the corner. Jake was with her, hobbling awkwardly in his new boot. Despite his disheveled appearance and the swollen black eye, he was grinning and looked as good to me as ever. His smile faltered when he took notice of my proximity to Shannon.

  In the next instant, Tawnia was hugging me. Tears stung my eyes, and I clung to her for a long while. “I’ve come to take you home with me,” she said. “And Lizbeth, too, if Sophie will let me.” To Shannon, she added, “Thanks for calling me.”

  For once I was glad of his interference. “Where’s Bret?” I asked.

  Tawnia pushed me out to arm’s length. “What makes you think he’s here? I did very well for the first thirty-two years of my life without him, thank you very much.”