by LS Sygnet
“You look rough,” Crevan observed.
“Did you tell him where I went?”
Johnny glanced at Crevan. “Yeah, but we decided that at least for the time being, we’re the only people who should be aware that Wendell is actually in Darkwater Bay.”
I couldn’t disagree. Given Devlin’s poor reaction to how I liberated Dad from Attica, I was pretty sure he’d simply arrest Wendell and ship him back to prison. And he’d probably start harping on Dad’s likely involvement in this case that for over two months we hadn’t made much progress solving.
Johnny steered me into the kitchen and nudged me into a chair. Food appeared on the table in front of me. I pushed the plate away. “I have no appetite. And I really don’t know how to begin this conversation, Johnny. I don’t think I can do it for an audience.”
“I’m not leaving,” Crevan planted his feet with the resolution of a mountain and crossed his arms over his chest. “Start talking, Helen. We’re not having secrets anymore. You’re family, and we don’t hide things from family.”
I drew the straw out of the strawberry protein shake Johnny supplied, let it squeak back and forth through the lid several times as I plunged it in and out of the slush.
“Why is he here?” Johnny asked.
I shrugged. We’d never actually got around to discussing more than my protection.
“He doesn’t think we can keep you safe, does he?” Crevan asked.
“Probably not. At least, he doesn’t believe you’re willing to go to the lengths he will to protect me.”
“Dammit,” Johnny said. “Did you ask him about Sanderfield’s murder?”
“He swears he had nothing to do with it.”
“But do you believe him, Helen?” Crevan started pacing.
“Yeah, I actually do. From what I gathered, Dad has simply been catching up on what I’ve been doing for the past couple of decades. He knows an awful lot of information about what’s been going on in our investigation, though, and I have no idea how that’s possible.”
“We talked about having a leak. Maybe we do,” Johnny said.
“He’s posing as a priest,” I admitted. “So maybe he’s getting his information in the confessional. Come to think of it, that’s probably why Dad chose that particular disguise.”
“What church?” Crevan demanded.
“Maybe you should leave,” Johnny suggested. “We’ll discuss everything later, Crevan. Right now, I think I’d like to have a private conversation with my wife.”
“Why are you here?” I asked Crevan before he could argue.
“He came to pick up the keys to the house in Downey, Helen. Crevan, I’ll call you later. Call Devlin and have him route his reports to you for the time being. His flight should be in New York soon.”
“Are you –?”
“Go,” Johnny interrupted tersely.
I waited until he left.
“What parish is he in, Helen?”
“He said, but I honestly don’t remember. The rest of the conversation, the things I learned, were so jarring, Johnny, I’m not sure I know where to begin, or even how to tell you what I learned.”
He sat beside me and pulled the plate of sliced fruit and vegetables close. “Is it because you’re still having issues with trust?”
“No,” I said. “Absolutely not. It’s… I’m not sure how you’ll react to what I learned. I’m not quite sure what to make of it myself, Johnny.”
“Has Wendell done something illegal again?”
“Other than posing as a priest?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s actually a crime unless he stole a real priest’s identity.”
“I’m starting to question whether or not we can trust David.”
Johnny frowned. “What on earth could your father have said to make you doubt David? Helen, he’s helped us so much.”
“Has he? Has he told you things that you swore to keep hidden from me?”
“I would never make a promise like that. If anything, we’ve been dishonest with him about the things I’ve shared with you. Helen, where is all of this coming from?”
There was no gentle way of delivering the news. “Remember when I told you I thought I recognized someone at Sanderfield’s crime scene?”
“You thought he reminded you of your ex-husband, but Helen, we both know that’s simply impossible.”
“It was,” I admitted. “But today, I would’ve sworn it was Rick who showed up with my father at Kostas’ restaurant. I even called him Rick when he tried to run away from me.”
Johnny’s muscles flexed. “What happened out there? Dammit, I should’ve never let you go alone!”
“Rick is dead, but someone who shares a whole lot of genetic traits with my ex isn’t.”
Johnny frowned. “A brother?”
“A cousin,” I said, “one I tried to save and thought I failed.”
“Datello is alive?” Johnny thundered. “Jesus, Helen! How is that possible?”
“Remember the FBI agents that detained us and prevented access to surgery the day Preston shot him?”
He nodded. “That Agent Soule who took over the investigation into the Marcos family…” his voice trailed off.
“That’s right, Johnny. They arranged for Danny’s death to protect him, so they could use him to testify against Sully.”
He nodded. “That actually makes a lot of sense. It was a swift way to salvage a bad situation.”
“I wondered at the time why they were here, why they didn’t immediately jump into the investigation when Preston was a no-show after Sofia Datello was abducted, Johnny. It made no sense to me. But I was so upset by everything else that happened, my failure to save Danny’s life, the dead little girl in the bay, the infant abduction and possible link to a human trafficking ring, I stopped asking the questions I needed to ask.”
“And David knew the answers?”
“He had to, Johnny. Think about the enormous size of the FBI, the sheer volume of agents in field offices, at the Hoover Building, at Quantico. Why would an agent like Preston stick out in David’s mind? He had no trouble recalling the man when I asked if he knew him.”
Johnny’s fist clenched and started tapping a rhythm on the table. “He knew something was fishy in the Montgomery field office.”
“I wonder how long they’ve been aware of the problems in this state, Johnny. And then what do we do? We take the bait, invite David to bring a team out here and help with the investigation into Sanderfield’s campaign contributions. He’s known all along.”
“Even about Danny Datello?”
I nodded. “Danny said that he’s spoken to David personally.”
“The bandages you saw on his face. Plastic surgery?”
“He’s still clearly Danny Datello,” I said. “A much younger looking version, maybe a little darker hair. It’s subtle, not drastic. He doesn’t scream his real identity.”
“How in the hell did he hook up with Wendell?”
“I didn’t ask,” I said with some disgust. “Again, I seem to be so susceptible to shocking news that I forget to ask the right questions. I suppose I could assume that Danny sought shelter in the church. Dad had him disguised as a monk.”
Johnny laughed. “Well, I suppose I’m relieved that he’s still alive, Helen.”
“Are you? I know how deep this animosity is between the two of you.”
“You once said that you thought he hated me more than he hated you,” Johnny recalled. “You were right. It goes back a very long time. The thing with Masconi didn’t help matters.”
“He wants our help, Johnny. Danny wants to help us stop whoever it is that kidnapped his daughter. He wants answers, and I think that ultimately, he’d really like to have his life back.”
“Celeste doesn’t know,” Johnny said.
“No, and he doesn’t want her to know he’s still alive. At least not yet. I can’t disagree with him about the safety issues. These people went to a lot of trouble to make
Danny look like the mastermind in this scheme. If they had the slightest hint that he didn’t die, Celeste and Sofia would be in grave danger all over again. We already know they’ll stoop to any low to achieve their goals.”
“Does he have any idea who’s behind all of this?” Johnny asked.
“I doubt it. If he does, he’s not aware of what he knows.”
“Is that all of it?”
“Not quite.” I explained what Danny told me about Franchetta. “You see the inherent problem with all of that. If I’m deposed or subpoenaed and repeat the story I’ve been telling for months, it’s perjury. If Franchetta changes his story yet again and tells the truth, I’m going to prison for the rest of my life.”
“You think Franchetta will do that yet again?”
“David told me that Franchetta has a new tale. He said that I was there when Rick committed suicide, but that I took the gun. He also said that someone is pressuring him to tell the prosecutors that I murdered Rick.”
“So somebody wants him to tell the truth,” Johnny’s tone grew grim. “But how in the hell would he know the suicide story in the first place? I’m the only one you shared all the details with, Helen, and I swear to God I didn’t tell a soul.”
“But you did, indirectly, and then the day that we arrested Datello, I admitted as much too.”
He groaned. “Levine. He’s the one who knows the whole suicide story.”
“But why would he give that information to Franchetta? He’s suborning perjury, Johnny.”
“Only if he knows it’s a lie. Obviously, he believes it’s what really happened. If Franchetta happened to mention suicide as an option, David would’ve latched onto it because he believes it’s the truth.”
“Or maybe I’m not the liar I’ve always thought I am. You seem to see through me well enough.”
Johnny chuckled. “Not always, Helen. Most of the time, it’s the silent clues that give you away.”
“And David has been a profiler for more than twenty years. You think he’s not every bit as good at reading behavior as you are?”
“I’d like to think you never let him get as close to you as I am.”
Well, there was that. “The only person who knows me even remotely as well as you do is my father, and you’ve left him in the dust after everything we’ve been through together.”
Johnny wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss against my temple. “That makes me a little happier than it probably should, sweetheart. Then again, I can’t be compelled to testify against you now, and there is no such privilege between parents and their children.”
I chuffed out an unladylike snort. “Like that would make Dad be honest. He’d never testify against me, Johnny. He went to prison for almost twenty years just to make sure that I had a chance at the life I wanted, instead of being that girl whose father got away with murder.”
He rubbed my arm once and slid away from the table. “I think,” he said, heading for the coffee pot, “we should consider moving Datello here, Helen. I want complete access to him, twenty-four-seven. I’ve got to learn everything he knows, even the stuff he’s not aware might be helpful or important.”
“Do you think that’s wise? What if David comes back to Darkwater Bay in the foreseeable future? He’s in and out of here all the time, Johnny.”
“We’ll clean out the nanny suite and stash him there. It makes more sense than risking his safety out there wherever your father has him.”
“And if he won’t agree?”
Johnny’s smile was a little concerning, too cold, too calculating.
“I don’t want you treating him like a criminal anymore, Johnny.”
“He’s responsible for one murder that we know of,” he said.
“And I’m responsible for more than one, yet you have no qualms about cloaking my crimes. Rick wasn’t the villain I believed him to be either. But I pulled the trigger. I lied to everyone, including you. How can you hate him for something he did that was far more justified than what I did?”
“Emotional distress.”
“And you weren’t every bit as disturbed by what everyone – including you – thought Salvatore Masconi did to Brighton Bennett? She was raped and dismembered, Johnny. Killing him wasn’t even first degree murder, and you know damn well that if you’d arrested Datello for the crime, he would’ve probably been acquitted anyway due to jury nullification. People would’ve lauded what he did, not punished him for it. You said it yourself. It would be hypocritical to prosecute him when you suspected what he did and refused to investigate it. Not to mention the hypocrisy where I’m concerned. You know what I did, yet you broke the law to protect me.”
“I have it on high authority that God understands why I did that, Helen. A very evil man was finally arrested. My so-called crime probably saved lives. Who knows how many people would’ve died if Sully continued to supply terrorists with biofuels?”
“If Danny agrees to come here and stay while we catch the people responsible for selling children, you’re going to promise me that you’ll let all of this ancient history with Danny go.”
“I’ll –” he compressed his lips tightly. “I’ll try.”
“You’ll do it.”
He sighed. “Fine. Bygones are bygones. How can you contact Wendell to let him know the plan?”
I pulled out my cell phone.
Chapter 16
“She met with a priest, for heaven’s sake. What the devil is going on?”
“You personally saw this?”
“No,” the old man said. “One of the orderlies has been amenable to running certain errands for me in sympathy over my recent loss.”
The sigh reverberated over the phone line. The old man was either so arrogant he didn’t appreciate the danger they faced now, or he was getting senile. Bringing more witnesses into the conspiracy against Helen Eriksson was an incredibly stupid thing to do. “What excuse did you give him for following her?”
“Why, I told him the truth of course.”
He gritted his teeth. “Which version of the truth, Lyle?”
“That she’s my granddaughter, but that we were estranged because of her horrible father who not only destroyed my beloved daughter, but severed my relationship with my only grandchild.”
“You know that isn’t true, and it brings a ridiculously unnecessary risk to us should Helen catch him spying on her and beats the truth out of him. You’ll have the FBI and OSI crawling up your backside like there’s no tomorrow.”
“They’re going to do that anyway by virtue of my relationship with Terry. He was my step-son after all. Perhaps they’d be interested in knowing who had the strongest motive to see him dead.”
“Implicating yourself, old man?”
“Careful,” Henderson warned. “Through all of this, we have kept you insulated, but your hands are as dirty as mine. I won’t go down alone, and I’m not particularly pleased that you acted without at least consulting me first.”
“I had no choice. Terry was a risk. You said it yourself in December. If it came down to tying off any loose ends, we wouldn’t hesitate to remove him. You’re convinced that Melissa would never betray us.”
“Of course she won’t. And don’t you dare make a move on her. I mean it. I’ll go to the police myself if one hair on her head is harmed.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, but I would,” Lyle laughed. “I have far less to lose than you do. After all, I’m an old man, and I haven’t many years left to live anyway. I think it would be quite fitting to sacrifice you to save the one person in this mess who truly matters to me.”
In that moment, his partner in crime for nearly forty years knew the truth. The mess was beyond damage control, beyond making a few people disappear, others silenced with generous donations to causes that mattered. No amount of blackmail of public figures could stop this righteous bent law enforcement had taken since the fall of Jerry Lowe last spring.
There was only one solution
. He’d heard it many times in the past, even said it, if only to himself. A secret is only safe when one person holds it. It was time to bury the past once and for all, and to make sure that all the evidence was buried so deeply, no one would ever uncover it.
Dad’s idea of low profile was blending in. Nothing flashy, but nothing trashy, Sprout. Don’t look too rich or too poor.
I’d nearly ignored that advice two months ago when I ran away from Darkwater to liberate him from Attica. My disguise was a bit on the trashy side for the exit, and a little too flashy for my entrance to Attica. Then again, I had no choice but to meet the prison’s expectations of an FBI agent if I wanted unfettered access to my father.
It disturbed me, this uncertainty about David Levine. I had no idea how much he actually knew, what he suspected, what he could prove. My thoughts invariably drifted back to the day my life truly began to spiral out of control. The look on David’s face when Seleeby stepped forward and accused me – subtly at that point – of either knowing what Rick Hamilton had done or being responsible for his death should’ve never been erased from my mind.
David looked guilty as hell, like he was part of something bigger than he ever wanted me to realize.
Now I wondered why. I couldn’t explain or accept the doubt gnawing its way through my gut. I didn’t want to believe that my crisis of morality blinded my more innate sense of self preservation. Yet here I stood, watching for the arrival of the man I spent three years blaming for everything, and I felt a greater kinship to Danny Datello than I did the man I identified as my mentor for the past decade plus.
Dad’s car, a sixteen year old black sedan, rolled up the driveway and drove around to the side of the house where he parked in front of the garage. I heard the rumble of the door. Johnny was waiting to let him inside, to hide the car. Couldn’t count on privacy unless the vehicle was completely out of sight.
My heart thundered away in my chest. What if Johnny couldn’t go through with this? What if he took one look at Datello and they came to blows? I wasn’t sure Dad and I possessed the skills between the two of us to separate them. Dad’s old. I’m four months pregnant and looking closer to six.