by B. J Daniels
If he had found her, then she had to assume that Valencia knew, as well. She glanced around the house, bummed that she would have to leave her home. Even temporarily. As she headed for the back door, she heard Lorenzo trying to say something through the tape on his mouth.
Rose stopped. She knew she didn’t have much time, but she couldn’t help herself. She turned and went back, taking a perverse satisfaction when Lorenzo Dante, local tough guy, cried out in pain as she ripped the tape from his mouth.
“You bitch!” he screamed.
“I thought you had something important to say.” She put down her bag and started to rip another strip of duct tape to reseal his mouth.
“No. Listen, I don’t know who you are but maybe I can help you,” he said quickly. “Franco’s boss, Valencia, knows about you and Franco. He’ll kill you if he finds you here.”
She raised a brow. “Like you weren’t going to.”
He took a breath, obviously in some pain from at least one of the spots where she’d kicked him. That’s what he got for breaking into her house and holding a gun on her.
“I will give you money so you can get away from him.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked suspiciously. She heard a car go by slowly, for the second time in the past few minutes.
“Look, do you want the money or not?”
“Not.” She started to slap tape back on his mouth.
“Wait! I don’t think you realize who I am.”
“Lorenzo Dante, two-bit criminal.”
He winced at the two-bit part, just as she knew he would. “All you women are bitches. You’re both going to burn in hell.”
She had started to tape his mouth again but stopped. “What are you talking about?”
He closed his mouth and gave her a look that said over his dead body would he tell. Fine with her. She gave him a hard jab with the blade of her hand along his temple, then another just in case he didn’t get the message.
“You and my ex-wife,” he cried out, grimacing in pain. “I’ll see you both in hell.”
That she could believe. She slapped the tape over his mouth as she heard a car door slam out front.
She half expected one of Valencia’s men to be covering the rear. The doorbell rang as she slipped out the back door to her car. Getting into her Mini, she turned the car key. The engine purred. She tromped on the gas, speeding out into the alley.
She spotted one of Valencia’s men, Rico Santos, running along the side of the house with a gun in his hand. She reached the end of the alley, hung a quick right and didn’t look back as she tried not to think of Franco and what the bastards had done to him.
She kept her foot pressed to the gas pedal, roaring down street after street, zigzagging her way toward Seattle, the skyline a dull gray in the pouring rain. When she was sure no one was following her, she slowed, pulled out her cell phone and called work.
“When was the last time anyone’s seen Jenna Dante?” she demanded the moment she got her partner at the Seattle Police Department. She was afraid she already knew the answer.
“The chief called off the officer we had watching her after reading your report,” Detective Luke Henry said.
Rose swore. “Does he realize that he probably signed Jenna Dante’s death warrant?”
“She did that when she married Lorenzo and then decided to divorce him,” Luke said solemnly.
True or not, Rose felt responsible. She was the one who’d gotten close to Jenna Dante, close enough that she’d been able to report that Jenna didn’t know enough about her husband’s business to turn state’s evidence against him.
“My cover’s blown,” she said, feeling sick. “I think they made Franco.”
Luke let out a pained sound. “How do you know that?”
“He called me on his way to Lorenzo’s. He said Lorenzo had sounded strange, almost angry. I think Franco was worried Lorenzo had somehow figured out who he was.”
“Not possible. Not after spending two years undercover,” Luke said. “Franco was in. Raymond Valencia trusted him like a son.”
“Well, something went wrong.” she said. “I got a call from Franco’s cell and the caller hung up. Not long after that Lorenzo was holding a gun on me.”
Rose swung the Mini toward the apartment complex where Jenna Dante had been living with her daughter.
“I just left Lorenzo trussed up like a Christmas turkey in my living room,” she said. “One of Raymond Valencia’s men had just arrived when I left. Rico Santos. You might want to send a squad car by so they don’t tear up my house any more than they already have.”
“Where can I reach you?” Luke asked.
“I’m going to try to find Jenna Dante.” She hung up before he could remind her that she was on medical leave.
“TRAPPED?” Jenna echoed in disbelief. “For how long?”
Elmer shrugged. “Until they can get the road open again none of us are going anywhere. The rental company you contacted this morning just called back. They can’t get a car to you. The crew working on the hotel couldn’t even get through. A bridge washed out to the west of us and the road is still flooded to the east.”
“Surely there must be some other way out of here.”
He shook his head. “Not until they get a road open, but don’t worry. There is food stocked in the kitchen and so far the power hasn’t gone out.” He smiled. “It could be worse.”
Yes, she thought, it definitely could be. If she couldn’t get out of here, then Lorenzo couldn’t get to her.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t supposed to leave here, that her ending up here wasn’t an accident.
That was crazy.
No crazier than the dream she’d had last night. She could still feel the effects of it. Crazy or not, a part of her didn’t want to leave. She wanted him to come to her again.
Elmer was saying, “You might as well take advantage of what the hotel has to offer. At one time Fernhaven was famous for its healing waters. Have you seen the pools out back? They’re sheltered from the weather and the water is nice and warm. As for breakfast, just help yourself in the kitchen.”
Lexi started jumping up and down, wanting to go swimming.
“I guess we’re going swimming,” Jenna said, hoping to make the best of it for her sake. “We can raid the kitchen later.”
“I’m going to be checking the rest of the hotel to make sure there aren’t any problems,” Elmer said. “Make yourselves at home.” He seemed glad he wasn’t trapped here alone.
She stood at the door to the suite and watched him disappear down the hall. The hotel had seemed isolated before, but nothing like now. It was just the three of them and a cat and a rag doll. Part of Jenna wanted to curl up in the room and wait out the storm—and the opening of the road.
But one look at her daughter’s face told her that wasn’t possible. “Let’s get your swimming suit on.”
Jenna got them both ready to go to the pools. It felt strange as they rode down the empty elevator.
Lexi rushed off, excited. She didn’t seem to notice the brush of cold air as they exited the elevator.
“Wait a minute,” Jenna told her. “There’s something I need to do first.” She didn’t see Elmer at the registration desk. He must still be doing his check of the hotel.
She stepped behind the desk to take a closer look at the old black-and-white photograph of the men at the bar—one man in particular.
A chill rattled through her. That was the man who’d come to her in her sleep last night. She hadn’t noticed before, but there were names written under some of the photographs. Under his, in small print, was the name Bobby John Chamberlain. The name had a line through it and under that name was another in a different handwriting: Harry Ballantine.
“Mommy,” Lexi whined. “Come on.”
Jenna swallowed hard as she stared into the man’s eyes, then turned as Lexi began to run in circles crying, “Swimming, swimming, swimming.”
/> Hurriedly Jenna spun the large, partially charred registration book around and did a quick scan for the name Harry Ballantine among the guests registered in 1936.
No luck. She quickly made a search for Bobby John Chamberlain. There it was. Room 318. The same room she and Lexi were staying in.
Why had the name been scratched out and Harry Ballantine written in? She shuddered, trying to tell herself it was a coincidence that she’d ended up in the same room. Vaguely, she remembered Elmer seeming flustered last night, as if he didn’t recall choosing to put her in 318.
“Swimming!” Lexi cried.
“We’re going swimming,” Jenna said, her voice breaking as she took her daughter’s hand and headed toward the pools.
Her hands were shaking, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that it was just a coincidence she’d thought she’d seen the same man watching them from a third-floor room last night. That she’d dreamed about him. That she and Lexi were trapped here.
It was as if forces far beyond her control had not only brought her here, but were trying to keep her here.
Chapter Seven
Lorenzo jerked around on the floor, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t free himself. He’d never been so outraged in his entire life. And that was saying a lot. What made it unbearable was that Rico Santos, of all people, had to be the one to find him. He hated that son of a bitch.
“What you doin’?” Rico asked, standing over him, laughing.
Lorenzo mumbled a string of swearwords behind the thick tape on his mouth.
Rico laughed harder. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
Lorenzo glared at him. If only looks really could kill.
And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Jolly showed up. Jolly and Rico had a good laugh, did some crude speculating on how Lorenzo had ended up on the floor, gagged and bound, in some woman’s house.
Lorenzo fought to free himself. If he could get loose he would kill them both and deal with the ramifications later.
“Oh, hold still, man,” Rico said as he reached down and ripped the tape from his mouth.
It hurt like hell, but Lorenzo would have died before he showed it. He licked his lips. “Cut me loose.”
“Take it easy,” Rico warned, beady dark eyes narrowing as a switchblade appeared in his hand, the long slim shaft catching the light. “You see…” Rico leaned in so close that Lorenzo could smell what he’d had for breakfast “…Mr. Valencia wants us to bring you to him. He’d be upset if we had any trouble with you.”
Lorenzo took a breath and let it out slowly. He would kill Rico. If not today, tomorrow. “Just cut the damn tape,” he said quietly. “My legs are starting to cramp up.”
Rico spun the switchblade in his fingers for a moment, then with a sudden thrust, sliced between Lorenzo’s ankles.
Finally able to straighten his legs, Lorenzo rolled over onto his side and thrust out his wrists.
Rico met his gaze, holding it, while he freed his hands.
Lorenzo rubbed his wrists, staying prone on the floor until Rico finally rose and put the switchblade away.
Jolly offered Lorenzo a hand up. Jolly he would kill quickly. Rico was another story.
“Mr. Valencia is waiting.” Rico’s look said he knew Lorenzo would be coming for him, and he would be eagerly waiting.
Lorenzo couldn’t believe how his luck had gone south. A woman had just kicked his butt. Worse, she’d gotten away. But maybe he could make that work to his advantage. If he couldn’t find Rose Garcia, then neither could Valencia.
And who said she hadn’t gone to meet up with Franco? Nobody.
His cell phone rang. He checked it. Alfredo. “Tell Valencia I’m on my way,” he said to Rico and Jolly. “I need to take this.”
Neither moved.
“He wants us to bring you to him,” Jolly said. “Now.”
Lorenzo swore silently. He didn’t want to take the call in front of these two bozos, but he also could use a little good news right now. And if Alfredo had found Jenna, then that would be good news indeed.
“Yeah?” he said, after flipping open his cell phone.
“Just checking in like you said.” Alfredo spoke in a low monotone no matter what was going on. “Found a gas station northeast of Seattle where she filled up. Clerk remembers her. She didn’t ask for directions or nothing like that, so you want me to keep looking? A lot of wild country out here.”
Lorenzo tried to hide his disappointment. “No, don’t bother. Just come on back and I’ll call you later.” He snapped the cell phone shut and looked at the two men standing in front of him, telling himself he could take them both before either of them knew what hit ’em.
But killing two more of Valencia’s men didn’t seem the best idea right now.
“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go see your boss. I’ll follow you in my car.”
“I think not,” Rico said. “Jolly will bring you back for your car after you see the boss.”
Just the thought of seeing Valencia on an empty stomach made him weak. “Mind if we stop and get breakfast along the way first? I’m starved.”
Rico chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
“We could swing through a drive-up,” Jolly suggested. “I could use a little something.”
“Fast food? Forget it,” Lorenzo said, wondering again what his ex-wife was having for breakfast and where. “I’d rather starve.”
ROSE GARCIA FLASHED her badge at Jenna Dante’s apartment house and got the manager to open up 4B.
The apartment complex was a dump on the wrong side of town. After being married to a man with as much money as Lorenzo, Jenna had definitely taken a financial nosedive.
The manager was a short, squat, middle-aged bald man who smelled of fried onions. His name, according to the piece of paper taped to the door, was Buzz Gerard.
“I got things to do,” Buzz said, scratching him self after he opened the door to Jenna Dante’s apartment.
“So go do them.” Rose stooped down to pick up the newspaper lying in the hall. She checked the date. This morning’s. “I’ll lock up when I leave,” she assured him as she stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her.
The place was neat and clean, nothing like the apartment complex itself. No sign of a struggle, she thought with relief. Or a break-in.
But it also had an empty, I’m-not-coming-back feeling, just as Rose had feared. The kitchen was clean, holding only a few odds and ends, dishes and silverware, thrift shop stuff.
Rose opened the closet. Empty hangers, some looking as if clothes had been jerked off in a hurry. She checked the daughter’s room. Bed made. Room too neat. The bureau empty just like the closet.
Jenna had cleared out. With the girl? It appeared so. But where had she gone? And why?
Something must have spooked her.
Lorenzo, Rose thought. He’d sure as hell scared her.
Rose picked up the phone and checked caller ID. Jenna hadn’t received many calls. The most recent one was from Flannigan Investigations. Interesting. Rose jotted down the other numbers, then checked the numbers Jenna had called. One stopped her cold.
Raymond Valencia? Why would Jenna call Lorenzo’s boss?
Rose searched the rest of the apartment but didn’t find anything to indicate where Jenna had gone. Clearly, however, she wasn’t coming back.
Every instinct told Rose that Jenna Dante was in over her head. Maybe in more trouble than Jenna knew, if she was involved with Raymond Valencia.
RAYMOND VALENCIA WAS IN his greenhouse when he heard Jolly and Rico return. Rico had called to say they were bringing Lorenzo Dante with them.
Picking several of the finer tomatoes for lunch, Raymond left the greenhouse, the one place he found any kind of peace.
In the kitchen he gave the tomatoes to the cook, then found Jolly and Rico waiting in the den. Lorenzo had made himself at home in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace. He was slumped down a little, an an
kle resting on his knee, his hand fiddling with the tassel on his Italian loafers as if he was bored. Or nervous.
He stopped fiddling the moment Raymond walked into the room. Nervous, Raymond decided. Very nervous. What had Lorenzo done? Raymond hated to think. He motioned for Jolly and Rico to leave them alone.
As the door closed behind them, Raymond took a chair facing Lorenzo. Crossing his legs, leaning back, hands in his lap, he imitated the other man’s comfortable composure. Only Raymond really was relaxed.
“Don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s really going on, Lorenzo?” he asked quietly.
Lorenzo pretended not to understand.
“What were you doing at Rose Garcia’s house?”
“Just trying to help find Franco for you.”
Raymond nodded. “When I talked to you last night you said you didn’t know Franco’s girlfriend’s name.”
“This morning I realized that Franco had left his cell phone on my bar.”
Raymond lifted a brow. “I thought Franco refused a drink last night.”
“He did.” Lorenzo had begun to sweat. “But I was behind the bar, so he came over to lean against it.”
“Did he use the phone while he was there?”
Lorenzo seemed to consider that. “Not that I know of. But I had to leave the room to get the money. He could have called someone.” He shrugged.
“Do you still have the phone?”
Lorenzo reached into his pocket, pulled it out and got up to hand the cell phone to him.
“You checked numbers dialed, right? That’s how you found Rose Garcia?”
Lorenzo nodded. “I called the number this morning to make sure she was home.”
“Why didn’t you call me and tell me about this?”
“I thought I would find her, maybe get your money back and save you the effort.”
Raymond smiled. “That was thoughtful of you.” It was the weakest defense he’d ever heard. As if Lorenzo Dante cared about anyone but himself. So how would finding Franco’s girlfriend benefit Lorenzo?