by G. K. Parks
Inside the gym bag next to the pile of laundry and discarded dumbbells, I found body armor—vest and helmet. Is this what the unsub wore when he stormed the precinct? After taking a few photographs, I searched for smoke grenades but didn’t find any. I’d need something more than body armor if I wanted to prove Gallo had something to do with Knox’s murder. Even if Gallo didn’t kill Knox, he had everything at his disposal to frame Cross.
Murder would be a harder sell when it came to convincing Moretti or the DA’s office, but if Gallo confessed to setting Cross up, my boss could go free. But aside from finding the same popular brand of shaving cream and toothpaste in Gallo’s bathroom that I’d found in Knox’s secret apartment, I had nothing else connecting the two besides the body armor.
Maybe Amir could link the cubic zirconia chip stuck in my door to the cracked stone on Gallo’s ring, but to do that, we’d need a warrant. To get that, I had to convince someone Gallo was guilty. The way Heathcliff acted before I left Knox’s apartment told me he might be on board, but we’d still need proof.
After leaving Gallo’s apartment, I went back to Cross Security and spoke to Justin. He didn’t know anything else about Joe Gallo besides what he’d already told me. I would have asked Renner what he thought, but he was out of the office, taking care of the security assessment I’d originally been assigned. Luckily, I had two e-mails waiting for me.
I quickly scanned the names, hoping to find Joe Gallo on the list Jade had sent. She’d ranked the names in order from those closest to Scott, from his former partners to his training officers to his best friends. Near the bottom, I found Gallo’s name. He and Scott had gone to the academy together.
Rocking back in my chair, I wasn’t sure what to do with this tidbit of information. I’d need Gallo’s records. Renner might be able to pull some strings and get them for me, or I’d ask Heathcliff. This could prove motive, at least for the frame job. I wasn’t convinced a cop killed Knox, but if he had, that would explain how the murder weapon ended up inside Cross’s SUV. Was Gallo a liar and a killer?
My head spun, my thoughts branching off in every direction. The second e-mail came from an unfamiliar address. After clicking the tab, I realized it was from Sara Rostokowski. She apologized for her unhelpfulness, said she was sure Lucien was innocent, and wanted to know if there was anything she could do.
Since she was the only cop Lucien said he trusted, I asked her for Gallo’s work schedule and to find out where he’d been patrolling when the notes and vandalism had occurred. My gut said he had to be in the area, just like today. But I couldn’t prove it yet. Hopefully, that would change.
Before I hit send, I stared at the screen, wondering if creating an electronic trail was a good idea. I wasn’t doing anything illegal, but what I was asking Rostokowski to do could get her in trouble. Cross would not be pleased. But he’d be free, which meant he could give her a job if things went south. “Forgive me,” I muttered, clicking the button.
She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t want to help. Still, a pang of guilt gnawed at my insides. This is why it wasn’t safe for people to be around me or to help me. I was toxic.
As if reading my mind, Heathcliff called. “I saw the photos. CSU is bagging and tagging everything. They think the stain beneath the rug is blood. But due to the amount of bleach, other cleaning agents, and the time that has elapsed, they can’t pull DNA from it.”
“I’m not surprised.” But I wished for better news. “Did they find anything else?”
“They dusted the place for prints, but everything’s been polished and shined, even the TV remote. The toiletries have been confiscated. If we get lucky, we might get DNA from them.”
“What about hair clippings? I saw shaving cream.”
“Yeah, maybe. The bedding is also a possibility. They’ll let me know. But DNA will take time unless we have something to compare it to.”
“How about starting with Joe Gallo?”
“Parker, let me handle it.”
“You saw his ring. Don’t you think—”
“I do. I got this.” He sighed. “Did you know Cross had gone to the bank the day before we opened Knox’s safe deposit box?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Dammit. That’s important.”
I swallowed. “Gallo tipped him that Knox’s body had been discovered.”
“How? We checked phone records.”
“Gallo called Justin with the news.”
“Cross’s assistant?”
“Yeah.”
Heathcliff cursed. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Anything at all?”
“Gallo has body armor. I can send you a photo. I don’t know if it’s the same as what the unsub wore, but—”
“Send it, and don’t tell me what you had to do to find this out.”
“But you just said to tell you—”
“What else?”
“That’s all I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“More or less.”
“Fine.” But it didn’t sound that way. “We’ll talk about your creative approach to crime-solving tonight, after our meeting. And I’ll fill you in on what CSU’s found.”
“What are you going to do about the photos?”
“Cross will be brought to the precinct to answer more questions once we determine where and when they were taken. He has some explaining to do about the bank. If someone is setting him up,” Heathcliff wouldn’t say Gallo’s name when other cops were around, “the more forthcoming he is, the better our chances will be of investigating that claim further. Understand?”
“Yep. Oh, there’s one other thing.”
“What now?”
“The bastard left another note.” I told Heathcliff all about it and promised I’d be careful. As soon as we hung up, I tried Almeada’s cell phone. When he answered, I told him everything.
Twenty-nine
The last thing I wanted to do was go to a meeting, but Heathcliff said we’d talk afterward. So I’d go. Identifying the man who attacked Cross and threatened me wouldn’t prove my boss’s innocence, but it’d reopen the investigation to other possibilities. Almeada had strategies in mind. I’d let him deal with the legal issues. I wanted to find the truth, preferably before the unidentified bastard decided he should pay me another visit.
Before leaving the office, I removed the bandage from my face and caked on some concealer and foundation. According to Cal, getting into altercations could be a trigger or symptom of the emotional turmoil caused by grief. The way I saw it, a scrape was just a scrape, especially under these circumstances, but I didn’t want to deal with the pointed stares silently nudging me to share with everyone else.
I hated these meetings, but I had to do something. Until things had devolved to a point where I couldn’t tell my nightmares from reality, I never would have admitted I had a problem. Then again, admitting there was a problem was the first step to recovery. So I guess I was making progress.
When I arrived, I didn’t see Heathcliff’s car. I checked my messages, but he hadn’t sent any texts or made any calls. Since I was early, I waited. Heathcliff might have parked elsewhere. But wouldn’t he wait for me at the doors? We should have come up with a better plan.
My phone buzzed. Heathcliff.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I can’t make it. There’s too much going on with the apartment and the things you said.”
“That’s fine.” I stuck the key back in the ignition. “I’ll meet you at the precinct.”
“No, this is police business. You can’t be here. You work for Cross, remember?” The bitterness crept into his tone. He was angry I hadn’t told him everything sooner. “We have to get the evidence processed, and I have to check into a few things and hammer down this timeline. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow, once I know more of what’s going on.”
“What about Gallo?”
“I’m looking into him. Just keep your head down and stay ou
t of trouble. Do you think you can do that?”
“You know me.”
“Which is why reinforcements are on the way.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll see. Now suck it up and go inside. You promised.”
I put my phone on silent, checked my face in the mirror, and took a deep breath. A part of me wanted to escape. This was the first time I had the option without someone forcing me to go in. I could leave. It was my choice, but those two words stuck in my head. You promised.
I stood near the door while I debated with myself, knowing how ridiculous I was acting. This was good for me, even though it hurt. And it did, more than almost anything else.
Surely, my time would be better spent tracking Gallo and figuring out how he set up Cross. My thoughts went to dark places. A twig snapped nearby, and I spun, expecting to find Gallo sneaking up behind me.
“Sweetheart, whoa. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Martin rubbed his hands gently up and down my sides, careful to avoid my bruises. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“What are you doing here?” This must have been what Heathcliff meant by reinforcements. “Did Derek call you?”
“Don’t be mad. I offered to fill in for him tonight. I didn’t get to see much of you yesterday.”
“I can’t believe he did this. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” Martin gently enveloped me in his arms and kissed my temple. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
“But—”
“I’m here, beautiful. You don’t have to face this alone.” He ran his thumb along my cheek, frowning at the powder covering his fingertips.
I let him lead me down the stairs and through the door. By the time we set foot inside the room, the meeting had already started. Martin ushered me into one of the chairs against the wall and sat beside me. Obviously, he and the detective had discussed strategy. I didn’t like this. I felt like a cow being herded to slaughter.
Martin gripped my hand, and I stared at the floor in front of Cal’s feet, where he stood beside the podium welcoming the new faces in the crowd, sharing his story, and explaining the focus of today’s session. For the first forty minutes, I kept my mind on Cross’s case. I didn’t want Martin to see how much these meetings affected me. So distractions were good.
Would it be dark enough when the meeting let out that Martin wouldn’t notice the threat etched into the side of my car? Maybe we could go out a different door. How many doors were in this place?
The sound of strangled sobs drew me from my thoughts. My insides clenched, and I gripped the side of my chair. “I just miss him so much,” the woman said. “Every day I can’t help but think if I’d gone around back, he’d still be here with his family. I should have died. Not him. I wish I could tell him I’m sorry. That it’s my fault.”
Those words ripped through me. I’d thought them so many times.
“Do you think that’s what he would want? Do you think he blames you?” Cal asked.
The woman stared at him. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Would you blame him if your roles were reversed?”
“No,” she let out a shaky breath, “but it’s my fault.”
“He was your partner. Do you think he sees it that way?” Cal looked around the room. “Does anyone have anything to add or offer?”
A younger guy who had never spoken before told her that he’d felt the same way when his convoy had been attacked during a supply run, but he realized his friends wouldn’t have blamed him. He just blamed himself. Several others chimed in, offering up their own struggles in support. She didn’t need her partner’s forgiveness. She needed to forgive herself.
Based on experience, it was never that easy. Frankly, I preferred holding on to the anger, but that wasn’t healthy. Admittedly, most things I did weren’t healthy. So I went back to the tried and true technique of avoidance and shifted my focus to wondering if any of the exits would prevent Martin from seeing my car. The last thing I needed tonight was explaining the threat scratched in the paint.
“We have a few more minutes. Would anyone else like to share? This is a safe space.” As usual, Cal’s gaze stopped on me.
I tilted my head, so I could stare at the wall, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Martin lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. Then he released my hand and stood up. I reached out to tug him back into his seat, but Cal had already seen him.
“Step right up.” Cal surrendered the podium.
“This is the first time I’ve been to one of these,” Martin said. “I’m not sure if this is appropriate, but I’d like to say something.” He stared at me. “The last words I ever said to my father were out of anger.” His face contorted, and he swallowed. “Two weeks later, his car went off the road. It had been raining that day, and he’d been drinking. The police said he probably passed out behind the wheel. There were no tire marks. He never tried to brake.” Martin licked his lips, his voice low and pained. The few times he’d spoken about his parents, he always sounded like that. “When the autopsy report came back, it showed he was barely above the legal limit.” He let out an ugly laugh. “My father knew how to drink. He could hold his liquor. He didn’t pass out. It wasn’t late at night. It was the middle of the fucking day, so it’s not like he fell asleep.”
His jaw clenched, and he tore his eyes off of me and stared at the wall behind my head. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and hold him. After a few seconds, he found my eyes, as if staring into my soul.
“No report will ever say this because of who he was, but he killed himself. And I spent a long time believing that was my fault. I blamed him for not being around when my mom died. I was so angry at him for all the things he did and didn’t do. I wanted him to suffer. I didn’t realize until after he was gone that he had been suffering. He avoided dealing with her illness and the reality of it to protect himself. I understand building walls and distancing yourself. I get that. But it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to grieve. You don’t have to do it alone. That’s what he did, and it destroyed him. It almost destroyed me too.”
“Martin,” I mouthed.
“The guilt ate at me for a long time. I hid from it with work and booze and women. Anything to distract me from it. Eventually, I realized the truth. It wasn’t my fault. But that didn’t lessen the loss. Time helps, but it never completely goes away. I worry about history repeating itself. I’ll do anything to make sure it doesn’t.”
“It won’t,” I whispered, knowing he’d understand even though he couldn’t hear me.
Martin cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s what I came here to say.”
Cal thanked him, and Martin retook his seat. My heart ached, physically ached. These stories always broke me, but now I couldn’t tell what was my pain and what was his. When he hurt, so did I. My insides were trapped in a vise. He gave me a reassuring smile, even though it looked sad, which only made me want to cry.
I didn’t notice the meeting had broken up until Cal clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Thanks for sharing, sir. Some of the folks want a quick fix, a magic formula that will make everything better. It helps to hear how others have persevered. Are you still struggling? Is that why you sought us out?”
“Actually, I came to support someone else but felt inspired, given tonight’s topic.”
“You’re welcome to join us again, anytime.” Cal offered his hand, and I pulled mine free from Martin’s grasp so the men could shake. Cal nodded to me. “Tell Derek we missed him tonight.”
“Yep,” I said, finding the pattern on the floor fascinating.
After Cal moved on to speak to someone else, Martin buttoned his jacket. “Would you mind if we skipped the bar tonight? I have to catch a flight to L.A. early in the morning.”
“After that, you’re leaving?” The walls were closing in, so I jerked my head toward the door and stepped out of the room. As soon as we got outside, I su
cked in some deep breaths. “Does your need to take off to L.A. have to do with Cross?”
“That why I wanted to spend some time alone with you. We didn’t get to talk last night. I wanted to tell you about my trip.” Martin stopped beside the passenger side of my car. “Alex, your car.”
“Yeah, I know.” I didn’t care. Right now, my internal organs were being crushed. “It doesn’t matter.” I wasn’t sure L.A. mattered either. What he said inside the meeting was the only thing I could think about.
Before I could articulate my thoughts, he asked, “Who did this?”
“I have an idea, but I’m not sure.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No.” Maybe.
He took the keys from my trembling hand. Marcal had parked the town car a few spaces away. Martin’s bodyguard, Bruiser, had come along for the ride since this wasn’t necessarily the best neighborhood. “Jones,” Martin said, “would you mind taking Alex’s car back to the apartment?”
“Sure thing.” Bruiser eyed me. “Ms. Parker, are you all right?”
“Ask me tomorrow.” I pulled open the back door of the town car and slid inside.
Martin gave Marcal our destination and joined me in the back seat. He put up the privacy window. “I hate to spring this trip on you. If there was any way I could get out of it, I would. But I’m looking for new backers. Papers were drawn up today, severing Martin Tech’s relationship with Cross Security due to ethics violations on Cross’s behalf. They aren’t signed, but it’s best to be prepared. I have to find another partner as soon as possible if there’s any hope of salvaging the project and the research.”
“Martin, what you said in there...”
He brushed my hair out of my face. “I know. I shouldn’t have. But you never listen. I wanted you to hear what I had to say. You’re not alone. You don’t have to confide in the detective if you don’t want to. You have me.” He stroked my cheek. “Drop everything and come to L.A.”