From resistance comes discipline and strength, a strength he didn’t have.
“The last time was at the cabin. Why didn’t it happen again?” I asked.
“She started dating that punk Shawn Murphy, and the little twerp was always around.”
Shawn Murphy, a man who had no idea he was part boyfriend, part protector.
“Did you know she was pregnant?” I asked.
“Nope, came as a total surprise when Chad told me today.”
“Was the baby yours?”
“Could have been.”
“I’m guessing it was yours. If it was Shawn’s, I’m not sure she would have terminated the pregnancy.”
“Guess we’ll never know, will we?”
“You’re disgusting,” I said, “for what you did to her and for the betrayal of her family, and her parents who have loved and supported you, leaned on you during their grief, not knowing you’re the reason she’s dead.”
He leaned back in the chair, staring at me like he’d grown weary of the conversation, which, for me, meant one thing—I was running out of time.
“Why did you kill Olivia?” I asked.
“There’s something I’d like to say first, and I mean it when I say I’m being honest. I never wanted to kill her, and I never wanted to kill you. It all comes down to choice, and right now, I have none.”
“You do have a choice. Tell the truth and turn yourself in. Accept the punishment for the crimes you’ve committed. You owe it to Olivia, to her parents, to your wife.”
“I won’t last in prison. I know I won’t. I can’t go there.”
He hung his head, muttering something I couldn’t understand, and then he slapped himself across the face, as if punishing himself.
“Two weeks ago, Olivia stopped by to see me at the nursery,” he said. “It was the first time we’d been alone together in about three years. I walked into my office, and there she was, sitting in a chair, staring at me with a priggish look on her face.”
“What did she say?”
“She uninvited me to her wedding. She said if I showed up, she’d announce what I’d done to her. She told me she wasn’t the shy, insecure girl I’d taken advantage of anymore. She was strong and ashamed she kept quiet for so long. I asked her if she planned on telling her parents, and she said she did, just as soon as she left the country.”
“You knew time was running out, and soon everyone would know the sort of man you are, so you murdered her.”
“I wasn’t going to kill her at first. I mulled it over for a good three days. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. It’s like I said before, it was what I had to do—survival of the fittest and all that, which is the same thing I have to do with you now.”
Hands trembling, he raised the gun, and said, “I’m sorry. Believe me. I am.”
I stared at the gun aimed at my chest, the same gun my father had used when he was a detective. Of all the ways I saw myself leaving this world, I never thought it would be by my father’s gun.
I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and said, “With any luck, I’ll end up in heaven where I’ll spend eternity with my beautiful daughter. But you won’t. Your day is coming, and when it does, you’ll be headed straight to hell.”
I heard a loud pop, and my eyes flashed open, my mouth gaping open as I stared at the bullet wound in the center of Stuart’s forehead.
Chapter 50
Earlier, before Stuart had ripped the cell phone from my hands, I’d had just enough time to press number one on the favorite’s list on my cell phone. The call had connected. And that call saved my life.
I turned to see Peppe and Giovanni. Giovanni was racing toward me, his face a mixture of emotions as he assessed my beaten, bruised body. He cut the rope that bound my hands and scooped me into his arms, whispering a bunch of words in Italian.
“I knew you’d come,” I said. “I knew you’d find me.”
He kissed my forehead and said, “I will always come for you.”
Together, Peppe and Giovanni helped me to my feet.
“The cut on your face is deep,” Giovanni said. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Not yet.” I tipped my head toward the gun in his hand. “Your gun. Is it registered?”
“It is not.”
“Good. Give it to me.”
“I believe it would be better if I—”
“Give it to me, Giovanni. Trust me. I have an idea, one that won’t land you in prison.”
He handed the gun to me.
“Where were you standing when you took the shot?” I asked.
“I was crouched behind the truck.”
“Show me.”
We walked over to the truck, and Giovanni pointed out his position.
“You saved my life, and that means everything to me,” I said. “But now, I need you both to leave. There can’t be any signs either one of you were here tonight. You were at home, hanging out together, okay?”
“I won’t leave you,” Giovanni said. “You’re hurt. You need medical attention.”
“And I’ll get it. But you must leave. I need to call Blackwell, and you can’t be here when he arrives.”
Although reluctant, he knew I was right.
I waited five minutes after they left and then made the call. Then I called Harvey and Aunt Laura. I wiped Giovanni’s prints off the gun, adding Stuart’s and then mine.
The cavalry arrived less than an hour later, led by a suspicious-looking Blackwell who canvassed the scene just like I knew he would. He was joined by Silas, a few police officers, and the paramedics, who saw to my wounds.
Harvey arrived next, much to Blackwell’s chagrin. They exchanged words, and I overheard Harvey say, “I don’t care if you’re the new chief of police. I was the chief of police when this case started. I came for Gigi, so back off.”
Harvey shot me a wink and walked over.
While the crime scene was analyzed, I was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Harvey hopped in and came along for the ride. At the hospital, I was escorted to a room where I was assessed, and then, at last, I had a moment with Harvey alone.
“Interesting gun you used to shoot Stuart,” Harvey said.
“I plan to tell Blackwell I found it in Stuart’s truck.”
“I had a quick look at it before we left. It’s a custom Glock 43. Combat Carry. The type of gun you’d see Keanu Reeves sporting in those John Wick movies. They’re not cheap.”
“Even if Blackwell doesn’t believe my story, the gun’s not registered, so it’s my word against, well … no one.”
Harvey took my hand in his. “Doesn’t matter to me what happened or why. Stuart’s dead, and he deserved to die for what he’s done. Knowing you’re okay is all that matters.”
I looked up at him, swallowing back tears as I said, “It was Giovanni. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead right now. There’s something I haven’t told you, something I’m sure you’ll hear about from Blackwell, or someone else, and I want it to come from me.”
“If it’s about Giovanni, I already know. I’ve done background checks on every man or woman you kids have dated over the years. Figured the least I could do for your father is to make sure you’re all safe, no matter how old you get.”
“How long have you known about Giovanni?”
“Since the day you flew to New York to reconnect with him after all those years spent apart.”
“Blackwell knows about Giovanni and his family. He knows we’re together, and today he accused me of having ties to the mob. Sometimes I feel like my desire to pursue a relationship with him clouds my judgment about who he is.”
Harvey crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, thinking. “The way I see it, the measure of a man, or a woman, isn’t just in a badge or a position. I’ve worn a badge for years. It’s given me certain privileges others don’t have. The badge doesn’t make me a good person, just like Giovanni’s family doesn’t make him a bad person. There’s good everywhere. There’s also
evil. True evil.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“We all have a past, Gigi. Giovanni has a good heart. I knew it the day we first met. Think about the world he grew up in. It wasn’t a world he chose. It’s a world he learned how to survive in. I’d guess he’d do anything to protect his family. So would I—badge or no badge. If the situation had been reversed tonight, if Stuart had shot you, I would have killed him myself.”
Chapter 51
I woke the next morning to find Luka asleep next to me on the bed, and Giovanni sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, reading the newspaper.
“You’re awake,” he said. “What would you like to eat?”
“Can we hold off a bit?” I asked. “I’m not hungry yet.”
“We can do whatever you like.”
I tried to stand and almost toppled over.
Giovanni rushed to my side, helping me back into bed.
“On a scale from one to oblivion, how bad does my face look?” I asked.
He grinned and said, “It hasn’t hit oblivion … yet.”
I grabbed a pillow and smacked it against his chest. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t look in the mirror.”
“Scar or no scar, you’re just as beautiful to me.”
Nice recovery.
He sat next to me on the bed and said, “I know you won’t want to hear this, but you need to take it easy for a day or two, at least.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it,” –a comment that made us both laugh.
“How are you feeling about what happened in Blackwell’s office? I know it was something you wanted to talk to me about.”
“We’re thinking about moving in together, and I feel like there’s so much I still don’t know about your family.”
“What would you like to know?”
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Have you murdered anyone before—anyone before Stuart, I mean?”
After the words left my lips, I realized the question shouldn’t have been whether he’d murdered anyone before, but how many he had murdered.
“I have never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it,” he said. “In this world, there is corruption everywhere, cara mia. I won’t sit by your side and say that same corruption hasn’t landed on my shoulders from time to time, but I am not my father.”
“You still haven’t told me much about him.”
“We never got along. When he was alive, he’d mapped out my future before I was old enough to walk. As I grew, he made it clear my role in life was to run the family business. I had no interest, of course, and when I told him, it was something he refused to accept.”
“But you did accept, didn’t you?”
“For a time, after my father passed away. Once he was gone, I was free to change the scope of the family business. My sister knew it wasn’t the life I wanted, and she offered to take over. I said no at first.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to burden Daniela with the hardships that came with the legacy our father left us. And then the two of us came up with a plan, a way to bring in money in a legitimate way. We’ve managed to step back from most of our dealings with the other families so we could pursue our own ventures.”
“What kind of ventures?”
“Real estate. Buying cheap, neglected buildings and housing units, remodeling them, and filling them with tenants, something far more lucrative than my father ever realized.”
“Now that he’s passed away, do you ever still find yourself in difficult situations with your family or other families?”
“From time to time. Nothing I haven’t been able to manage so far.”
“Have you or Daniela ever considered involving the police?”
He looked at me like the comment I’d just made was cute … and a bit naïve.
“It’s not that simple for us, even now,” he said. “We live in a world outside of society’s understanding, a world that makes its own rules. And in that world, involving the police in our affairs is dangerous—for us and for them. And so we sit back. We stay under the radar. We don’t seek to destroy each other over money and power, even though money and power and greed will always find its way in.”
“Thank you for answering my questions and for saving my life.”
He pulled me in close and said, “When it comes to protecting my family, and you, I would do it again without hesitation.”
Chapter 52
Three Weeks Later
* * *
Aunt Laura had spent most of her time over the last few weeks consoling Barb over the revelation about who Stuart was and what he’d done to their daughter. It was a blow almost too hard to bear. But Aunt Laura promised she’d be there for Barb, nursing her back to a woman who could once again function in a life each one of us found too hard at times.
With the news that three girls he’d taught in high school were planning to press charges, Scott Bartlett confessed to his crimes and was sitting in a jail cell where he’d remain until trial. He stuck by his statement about not having any involvement in the death of Kennedy Nixon, and there was nothing to prove otherwise. No other women had come forward to say they’d been assaulted. And even though I felt certain more young women were involved, he had yet to be accused of having sex with a student.
Upon hearing the stories of the high school girls who’d come forward, Leslie Bartlett filed for divorce. She quit her job at the school, packed up her belongings, and moved in with her sister until she could figure out where life would take her next. I now believed Olivia told Leslie her mother was raped to keep from revealing the truth before she was ready to do so. It was her story to tell, and she wanted to be the one to tell it when the time was right.
And as for me?
It was my own day of reckoning.
I slowed to a stop in the parking lot and headed into the police station. I’d taken the last few weeks off and was certain Blackwell would be ready and waiting the moment I returned. We convened in his office, where I remained standing.
I didn’t plan on staying long.
“I still find your story about shooting Stuart Nelson with a gun you found in his truck hard to swallow,” Blackwell said. “I’ve spoken to his wife. Isn’t she a piece of work, by the way? Anyway, she swears he’s never even owned a gun, and I’m inclined to believe her.”
“I’m not sure what to say. You asked me what happened, and I told you.”
“You sure you don’t want to change your story? If you do, now’s the time.”
“I’m sure. Anything else?”
“Why don’t you take a seat?”
“I’d rather stand,” I said.
He seemed put off by my response and decided to stand himself, I assumed it was so we could be eye to eye instead of me looking down on him.
“We need to talk about the thug you’re dating,” he said.
And there it was—the itch that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he scratched it.
“Giovanni is not a thug,” I said. “If you spent time with him, you’d know that.”
“I have no interest spending time with him, and neither should you. If who you’re spending time with gets out, it could cause a lot of problems.”
“I’m spending time with a man who’s never been convicted of a crime. Are you sure the problems you speak of aren’t problems you have with him yourself?”
“To preserve the integrity of this department, you need to end the relationship.”
“You can’t tell me who to see and who not to see.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I can fire you if I see fit.”
For the next few minutes, he blathered on about how he wasn’t Harvey, and how the way we did things moving forward was about to change. He then used his fingers to number and outline said changes until he was out of fingers to count on.
Somewhere in between his checks and balances, I found my voice.
“F
iring me won’t be necessary,” I said. “I quit. Effective today.”
I didn’t expect my resignation to come across as a shock, but he took a step back, unsure how to react to what I’d just said. “You what? Why? You don’t need to quit. You need to learn how to adapt to change.”
“And you need to learn how to treat people with respect.”
He rolled his eyes and swished a hand through the air. “What are you getting at?”
“I walked by your office the other day. You had the door open, and you were on the phone, talking a lot louder than you should have been. What you said when you were making fun of Simone Bonet—who is a friend of mine, by the way—it was degrading. Disgusting, to be frank. You know something? Growing up, my parents taught me to love people for what’s on the inside, not the outside, no matter what their circumstances. Who you are on the inside isn’t someone I have respect for, and you aren’t the type of person I want in my life, in even the smallest amounts. So, yeah … we’re done here.”
I turned, grinning as I walked away.
I passed Hunter’s desk on my way out.
“You’re in a chipper mood,” she said. “What happened in Blackwell’s office?”
“I just quit.”
“You … what? I thought you loved being a detective.”
“I do. Who said anything about leaving detective work?”
“You did. You just said you quit.”
“I did. But I still plan on investigating cases.”
“I don’t understand. How?”
“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve decided to become a private eye.”
I walked out of the police station with my head held high. Having made one decision, I was off to make the next. I headed toward a café where I was meeting Giovanni for lunch. Today was the day I’d answer his question about cohabitating, and I’d decided to say yes.
Little Broken Things Page 19