“Of course she did. She always had a thing for details.”
At first, Brooklyn had thought it was by choice. Now she realized it was by necessity. One of the requirements of Santana’s job. The real one, not the one she had pretended to have. If she hadn’t been such a stickler for details, she wouldn’t have been able to pull the wool over Brooklyn’s eyes. Brooklyn’s and all the other people she had conned over the years. She wondered if hers was the only broken heart Santana had left in her wake or simply the most recent.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled a rectangular gift box from his pocket and set it next to the flowers. “She wanted you to have this, too. I hope I see you around sometime.”
“Thanks, Harry. You, too.”
After Harry left, AJ seemed to sense Brooklyn wanted some time alone. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks for the pep talk. And thanks for letting me know about Luke, too.”
“Does this mean I’m not fired?”
“Ask me after I review the results from the next round of product testing on your app.”
“You got it, boss. Would you like the door open or closed?”
“Closed, please.”
Brooklyn eyed the flowers. Six succulents planted in a wooden crate that had been distressed to look much older than it actually was. The crate was lined to protect the wood from water damage, and colorful pebbles had been added to provide visual appeal as well as drainage. The arrangement was gorgeous, but she could barely bring herself to look at it.
She picked up the note card and gift box that had come with the flowers. She opened the box first because she figured its contents would hurt less than the card’s.
The box was simple. Understated. So was what lay inside. A silver ID bracelet with “WWBD” engraved on the plate. She ran her fingers over the letters.
“What Would Brooke Do?”
She remembered telling Santana about the alter ego she had created to help her get through challenges she didn’t think she could face on her own. She remembered telling her about wanting to get a T-shirt with the letters she was staring at now printed on the front. She remembered telling her so many things. Things Santana had not only taken in but taken to heart.
She took a deep breath before she opened the card, steeling herself to read what Santana had written. Flowing cursive script filled the inside of the card as well as the back. Tears sprang to her eyes before she got past the first word.
Olaf,
The first time we met, it was by chance. If we’re fortunate enough to meet again, I hope it will be by choice. If you ever find yourself in ’Ohe Sojukokoro, there’s a barstool in the Kon-Tiki Grill with your name on it. The first round’s on me.
TDH
P.S. I hope you like the bracelet. In case you’re wondering, the letters mean What Would Brooklyn Do because it’s always been you, not Brooke, the whole time.
Brooklyn covered her mouth with her hands to hold back the sobs that were welling up inside her. She would never be able to forget how Santana had deceived her. There was no denying that. The real question was would she ever be able to forgive her?
She had some serious decisions to make. Both personally and professionally. If she made the wrong ones, forgiving Santana wouldn’t be an issue. Forgiving herself would.
Chapter Thirty-five
The receptionist stationed behind the desk in the lobby of the building where Luke Ridley’s company was housed looked up from the Sudoku puzzle she was struggling to solve when Santana approached her. “May I help you?” she asked after she removed the half-moon reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose.
“Good afternoon, Dana,” Santana said after she took a quick peek at the receptionist’s name tag. “I would like to see Luke Ridley.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t.”
Dana referred to the digital calendar displayed on her computer. “Mr. Ridley’s schedule is quite full today. Tomorrow doesn’t look very promising either. Would you like me to try to squeeze you in next week?”
“I’m sure he’ll be able to carve out some time for me today. Tell him Winslow Townsend sent me.”
“Winslow?” Dana dragged out the name as if she were unfamiliar with it.
“Townsend. Don’t worry. I’ll wait.”
Santana looked around while Dana put a call through to Luke’s private secretary. Luke’s schedule might have been crowded, but the lobby certainly wasn’t. Most of the chairs in the lobby were empty and the occupants appeared to be waiting to visit other companies. No wonder Luke had sought out Winslow’s services. At least that’s what Santana’s instincts told her. Along with all the clues that had pointed her in his direction. In a few minutes, she hoped to gather the evidence she needed to support her theory that he was the person who had hired a professional assassin to kill Charlotte Evans.
If he called Winslow to confirm someone was supposed to be meeting with him today, she was screwed. She was counting on the fact that he, like most of the people in Winslow’s orbit, had a healthy fear of the man and would automatically approve her unscheduled visit rather than risk Winslow’s ire.
On some level, she supposed she had known Winslow wouldn’t grant her her freedom. She couldn’t believe she had been foolish enough to believe he would. But foolish she had been. Foolish when she had allowed herself to fall in love with Brooklyn, and foolish to allow herself to dream of being able to have a life with her. That dream had been dashed and she had no one to blame but herself.
She might not be able to have the future she had dreamed of, but there was still a chance she could have one she could live with. As long as she was willing to make a few sacrifices along the way.
Dana cleared her throat to get her attention. “Mr. Ridley will see you now,” she said, handing her a laminated visitor’s pass. “Pin that to your lapel and head up to the fifteenth floor.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“My pleasure.”
Santana rode the elevator to the appropriate floor. Luke was waiting for her as soon as the doors slid open. His eyes were wide and filled with panic. He calmed a bit when he recognized who she was. “You’re the woman AJ introduced me to a few weeks ago. The one Brooklyn’s been dating. Vilma something, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He peered behind her to see if someone else had ridden in the elevator with her. “I don’t know what Brooklyn’s told you, but she’s already called to rip me a new asshole. I don’t need her girlfriend to do it, too. My meeting with AJ was strictly business. Nothing personal.”
“What about trying to steal BDV’s software? Was that strictly business, too?”
“I don’t have time for this shit,” he said with a melodramatic eye roll. He led her to his office. “Let’s make this quick, okay? I’m actually expecting someone else.”
“The person you’re expecting,” she said after he closed the door behind them, “is me.”
“Wait.” He didn’t so much sit in his desk chair as collapse into it. “You’re the person Winslow sent to see me?”
“I’m here to talk about the job I was hired to perform for you.”
“Does Brooklyn know you work for Winslow?” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, even though no one was in earshot. “Does she know what you did?”
“I came here to ask questions, Luke, not answer them. What Brooklyn does or doesn’t know isn’t your concern. And I said I was hired to perform a job for you. I never said I carried it out.”
“If you didn’t do it, someone certainly did.” The color drained from his face. “There isn’t a problem with the payment, is there? Charlie’s as dead as a doornail and the funds for the wire cleared my account weeks ago. Winslow should have the money. I have the email confirmation to prove it.”
“Show me,” she said with the most menacing look she could muster.
His hands shook as he reached for his cell phone. “See? It’s right
here.”
She read the message, forwarded it to her email address, and tossed the phone on the desk.
“I told you,” he said, regaining a bit of his bravado. “Not that it did me any good to spend the two hundred fifty thou. When I went to see Brooklyn the night of the hit, she told me she had opted to pull the plug on the software I was trying to prevent her from perfecting. My team’s closer to working out the kinks than they were before, but they’re not where I want them to be yet. That’s why I tried to convince AJ to jump ship.”
“Because she was Charlie’s protégée?”
Luke nodded. “Logic says she and Charlie shared work product. I thought if I waved enough money in her face, she might be able to give me the intel I needed to solve our bug problem.”
“But she turned you down.”
“A temporary setback, I promise you. I know I’m late delivering the product by the original agreed-upon date, but when you speak to Winslow, please assure him I’m on track to meet the revised deadline.”
“You can tell him yourself if you’re lucky enough to share the same prison cell.” Santana pointed to the buttonhole camera attached to her shirt. She removed the tiny two-way radio in her left ear and held it up to her mouth. “Do you have everything you need, Detective Barnett?”
Detective Barnett pushed the office door open. “Everything and then some. Take him away, boys.”
One of the two uniformed police officers flanking Barnett pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Lucas Ridley, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.”
“I want a lawyer,” Luke said.
“If I were in your shoes, buddy, I would, too.” The arresting officer began to read Luke his rights.
“This wasn’t my idea,” Luke said, ignoring the part about his right to remain silent. “It was Lee Townsend’s. One of his business associates hit on Brooklyn in Tokyo. She turned him down hard and some chick named Santana put him in his place. Lee suggested the hit as a way to save face for his friend, give my team a chance to take the lead on the software, and get back at Santana at the same time. He was so gung-ho about the idea, he probably pulled the trigger himself.”
Luke’s confession explained so much. The hastily assigned hit. The discounted fee. The “insurance policy” Winslow said Lee had insisted on instituting.
Santana felt the missing pieces of the puzzle finally snap into place. Even though she and Brooklyn had originally met by chance, their second encounter had been carefully orchestrated. Lee Townsend had set it up. And he had set her up to fail. Even if she had succeeded in carrying out the hit, she would have lost any chance she might have had of being with Brooklyn.
Lee had placed a second shooter onsite because he had wanted to guarantee that nothing would go wrong. Because he resented her prominent place in his father’s life so much that he was determined to see her hurt.
If she carried out the hit, she would be responsible for killing a potential lover’s best friend. If she didn’t, she would displease Winslow. She would lose either way, and Lee would get what he wanted.
He had always harbored the delusion that Winslow was grooming her to become his eventual replacement. He seemed to notice only the occasional pats on the head Winslow gave her, not the much more common figurative kicks in the teeth. She had always known Lee didn’t like her, but she hadn’t realized just how much he truly hated her. Until now.
“Do you want to call Ms. DiVincenzo,” Detective Barnett said after the uniformed officers dragged Luke away, “or shall I?”
“I’m sure she’d much rather hear from you than me.”
Santana handed him the hidden camera a technician had affixed to her shirt a few hours ago. She had headed for his precinct after she left the flower shop the day before. He had initially been skeptical of her story when she had informed him of her suspicions about Luke’s involvement in Charlotte Evans’s murder, but she had been able to provide him enough details to convince him to allow her to visit Luke’s office the next day while wearing a wire. Since New York was a one-party consent state, officials wouldn’t need Luke’s permission for her to make the recording and any statements he uttered on it could be used against him in court.
“I’ll take that, too,” he said as she dropped her cell phone into a plastic bag. The emails on it, including the one she had forwarded to herself from Luke’s account, would soon be marked as evidence.
“What happens next?” she asked. “Are you going to arrest me, too?”
“Not right now, but the district attorney’s office will definitely have some questions for you. They’ll be the first to come calling, but they probably won’t be the last. The information you could provide might help bring down Winslow Townsend’s entire criminal network. You might be able to cut a deal with the authorities for past misdeeds if you’re willing to testify against Winslow and forfeit your assets, but I can’t guarantee you won’t end up doing some time yourself. Do yourself a favor and don’t leave town until someone from the DA’s office gets in touch with you.”
“You’ve got my passport so I couldn’t possibly get very far until you return it to me. What about my mother? Does someone have eyes on her to make sure nothing happens to her?”
“Relax,” he said, patting the air with his hands. “She’s safe. We’ll be sure to tell her you’re the reason why.”
“I don’t want credit, Detective. Just confirmation. Is Winslow in custody, too?”
“Someone from Interpol should be picking up him and his son as we speak. Townsend’s employees and business associates won’t be happy about the steps you’ve taken today. We’ll do our best to keep your identity a secret for as long as we can, but how do you know one of those people won’t come after you?”
“I don’t.” Some of the people who’d had similar arrangements with Winslow as she had might be glad to see their jobs come to an abrupt end, but she was well aware that others might not share the same opinion. She felt destined to spend the rest of her life, however long that turned out to be, looking over her shoulder.
“Then why did you come forward?”
“Because some things are worth the risk.”
And Brooklyn was one of them.
“Come on,” he said, taking her by the arm. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”
* * *
“What the fuck?” Brooklyn said after AJ burst into her office, grabbed her by the hand, and dragged her to the conference room. The employees who weren’t huddled over their laptops were staring at the TV screen. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t talk,” AJ said. “Just watch.”
The TV was tuned to one of the twenty-four hour news channels. The coverage on it was split in half. Luke Ridley was being led on a perp walk on one side of the screen, Winslow Townsend on the other.
“If you’re just joining us,” the news anchor said, “Lucas Simon Ridley, the CEO of Riddle Me This Technologies; reclusive tech mogul Winslow Townsend; and Townsend’s son, Lee, are all in police custody. Ridley is charged with hiring a contract killer employed by the Townsends to kill Charlotte Denise Evans, a computer programmer employed by one of Ridley’s stiffest competitors. Details are still coming in at this hour, but sources say the motive behind the hit was to prevent BDV Enterprises, the company Evans worked for, from taking a particular software program to market before Ridley and the Townsends could perfect it first.”
“Asshole,” Trevor said as he threw half of a cream cheese-laden bagel at Luke’s image on the TV screen.
“Easy, Trev.” AJ held him back before he could reach for something heavier. “He’ll be someone’s prison bitch soon enough.”
“Though police sources are taking care to protect the identity of certain individuals involved,” the anchor continued, “authorities have confirmed that they were tipped off by someone inside Winslow Townsend’s organization.”
“Jesus,” Brooklyn said under her breath.
Santana had been honest with her after all. She hadn’
t willingly performed any of the heinous acts she had committed. She had been compelled to. She was like a child soldier who had been taken from her home and given the “choice” of fighting for her oppressors or watching her loved ones die.
Not only had Santana been telling the truth, the actions she had apparently taken today showed she was willing to risk her life to make sure the truth came to light. Instead of the monster Brooklyn had made her out to be, she was just as much a victim of Winslow Townsend’s cruelty as Charlie had been.
Brooklyn dialed Santana’s cell number, but the call went straight to voice mail.
“Who are you trying to reach?” AJ asked.
“The bravest woman I’ve ever met,” Brooklyn said.
And one she feared she might never see again.
Chapter Thirty-six
Six Months Later
Santana pressed two fingers against the side of her neck to check her pulse after she finished her run. It was slightly higher than normal, but that was to be expected. Today was an especially hot day and she had pushed herself more than she had since she’d returned home. Home. Funny how such a small word could provide such tremendous comfort.
She went through her cool down routine, then decided to grab a late lunch to restore some of the calories she had just burned off. Even though the Kon-Tiki Grill had a casual vibe and featured plenty of outdoor seating, she figured the customers might appreciate it if she showed up in something other than sweat-drenched workout gear. She took a shower and swapped her sports bra, nylon shorts, and running shoes for a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops.
The Tiki, as most people called it, was located just steps away from the beach. It was a place locals loved and tourists made a beeline for as soon as they made their way through ’Ohe Sojukokoro’s lone airport. Santana couldn’t count the number of surfers and divers she had shared pitchers of beer with over the years. If the local governing bodies received permission to lengthen the airport to accommodate larger planes, that number could grow exponentially as more and more people discovered what was still something of a hidden gem.
Heart of a Killer Page 26