Page 8

CHAPTER 8

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Thursday, March 31, 11:00 a.m.

Charlotte paid the cab driver in cash, just as she’d been instructed. She’d managed to slip out of Tino’s house without alerting his brother. At least not until she was already pulling away in the back of the cab.

She’d seen Gino run outside, phone in his hand as he stood on the stoop, yelling at her to wait. She’d told the driver to keep going.

Gino had undoubtedly called his brothers, which was as she’d hoped. It couldn’t hurt to have a backup in case Nick Lawrence didn’t get through to Tino and Vito.

That Kevin Hale intended to kill Kayla Lewis was a given, but she’d try to give the cops a little time to save the girl. And me, too.

Please save me, too.

She started walking toward the Target, nervously watching for Kevin Hale. There were cops here somewhere, too. At least Lieutenant Lawrence had promised there would be.

She’d crossed three-quarters of the parking lot when a black minivan pulled into the space she’d just walked through. The driver’s window rolled down, revealing a smiling Kevin Hale.

Charlotte’s stomach revolted, making her wish she hadn’t eaten breakfast. But she put on her best face and smiled back at him. “Hi. Long time no see.”

He tilted his head toward the passenger side. “Get in,” he said, his voice lower in pitch than she remembered, but he was still soft-spoken. The quiet manner was odd, coming out of a man who’d killed and hurt so many people.

Fighting the urge to look around for Lieutenant Lawrence’s people, she did as he said. She did glance in the back, hoping to find Kayla there, but the back was empty.

“Kayla?” she asked.

His gaze slid down from her face to her chest. “Why are you so afraid?”

She realized she’d pressed her palm to her beating heart, then decided not to lie. “You have a girl I care about tied up. I know she’s scared.”

“She’ll be fine.” He skewered her with a look. “As long as you didn’t call the cops. Did you?”

“No,” she lied. “You told me not to, so I didn’t.”

“Good.” He put the minivan in gear and drove out of the parking lot, making his way back to the busy street. He gave her another up-and-down perusal. “You look good, Charlie.”

“I’m old,” she murmured. “Forty-two.” She felt ninety.

“I’m only a year younger.” His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Why didn’t you write me from college? You said you would.”

She had? She didn’t remember that. But it seemed like Kevin Hale remembered everything. “I’m sorry. My parents were getting divorced. Everything kind of...” She shrugged. “It was hard. I kind of closed in on myself.”

Which wasn’t exactly true. She’d suspected the divorce was coming and had felt that her parents would be happier not being married to each other. She’d felt the loss, sure, but there had been far more relief.

“I suppose,” he said.

“How are your parents?” she asked, trying to get a read on the man who’d killed and maimed to find her.

He’s insane, was her first conclusion. Which was true, but that didn’t help her understand what he’d do next.

“Dead,” he said shortly.

She wondered if he’d killed them. “How?”

His jaw tightened and he stared at the road, continuing to glance up to the rearview mirror, presumably to watch for anyone following them.

Charlotte hoped that Lawrence’s people were good at evading detection.

“Dad drank himself to death while I did my first nine,” he said. “Mom took pills while I was inside the second time. She left the house to me.”

Play the game. Keep it up long enough for Philly PD to find me. “Our house?”

He shook his head. “No, the house I grew up in. I sold it and used the money to buy our house. I didn’t want the old house anymore. Bad memories. Dad was a bastard who liked to hit. That’s why I always wore long sleeves to school, even when it was hot outside. I had bruises.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. And she was. “I wish I’d known. I would have tried to help you.”

“Didn’t want anyone to know. Hated them both. Didn’t want you to hate me because of my folks.”

Play the game. “I wouldn’t have,” she said softly.

“I know, but I was...embarrassed, I guess.”

She wondered how he’d inherited property while incarcerated—and how he’d managed to keep his inheritance. But she wasn’t going to ask because he looked softer, like maybe she could build a bridge between them.

She’d use that bridge to run for her life as soon as she could.

“My father hit my mom once,” she said. “She was going to leave him then, but stayed in the marriage for me. They still fought like cats and dogs, and I kept waiting for the day when he’d hit her again. He might have, but she insisted that he didn’t.”

He sucked in a soft gasp. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It was easier to wear the mask of the popular girl who had everything.”

He hmmed at that as he turned into an alley between a liquor store and a pawnshop, stopping the minivan behind a beat-up old pickup truck. “Get out.”

“Why?”

His head whipped around so fast that she shrank back against the passenger door. His expression was one of pure fury. That he’d so quickly pivoted from concern to rage was terrifying. “I said you listen to me now. Have you forgotten?”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry what?”

She stared at him for a beat then remembered. “Sorry, sir.”

“Good.” He got out and rounded the van to her side, yanking the door open. He pulled her out and began frisking her.

Don’t flinch. Don’t cringe.

“No phone. Good girl,” he said, then gathered her into his arms and once again she told herself not to cringe.

Gingerly, she laid her head on his shoulder. His hold tightened for several more beats of her racing heart before he released her. “Let’s go.”

She wanted to ask where but didn’t want to anger him. Then her heart sank as he led her to the pickup truck that was parked in front of them. “Get in,” he said, picking her up and tossing her in the passenger seat.

She hit her hip hard and couldn’t stop her cry of pain.

He glared at her when he’d climbed into the driver’s seat. “That did not hurt.”

“My hip,” she explained, pressing her fist into the joint. “Messed up from a car accident.”

He looked instantly contrite. “I didn’t know.”

“I use a cane, but I left it behind. I was rattled after you called.” That was the truth. All she’d been able to think was that Kayla had already suffered enough because of Kevin’s obsession, and Charlotte would be damned if the girl suffered any more.

Leaving the black minivan behind, Kevin started up the truck and drove them out of the alley on the opposite side from where they’d entered. “Oh, right. I saw you with it. Well, you can relax. I’ll buy you another cane. But once you’ve had time to rest, you’ll feel better. You won’t even need it.” He smiled, sending a shiver down her spine. “It’s not like you’ll be leaving our house for anything. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Where is our house?” she asked, hearing the quaver in her voice and hoping that didn’t anger him.

He didn’t seem to notice. “You’ll see,” he said cheerfully.

She glanced in the side mirror as he headed toward the interstate, taking her away from safety. Taking her away from Tino.

Hurry, Tino. Please find me.

* * *

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Thursday, March 31, 11:15 a.m.

“She called me,” Nick said over Vito’s speaker phone.

Tino and Vito had retrieved their cell phones along with Vito’s service revolver and they were racing back to the city.

The warden had relayed the basics. Charlotte had gotten an ultimatum from Kevin Hale—come to him willingly or he’d kill Kayla Lewis. She’d reached out to Nick Lawrence after calling Tino and getting his voicemail. She’d known that Tino and Vito were interviewing Hale’s cellmate and wouldn’t be checking their phones for a while.

Tino had one new voicemail from Charlotte and one from Gino, but he hadn’t listened to either yet. He didn’t think he had the strength to hear Charlotte’s voice right now, and Gino would be telling him what he already knew.

“She said that she didn’t want to call 911 because she didn’t have time to explain the situation,” Nick went on, “but she didn’t want to be stupid.”

“So she just went with him?” Vito demanded. “How is that not stupid?”

“He has the girl,” Nick said quietly.

“She already feels guilty that Kayla’s father was shot because of Hale’s obsession with her,” Tino said, understanding Charlotte’s intent even though he vehemently disagreed with her choice. “She won’t let Hale hurt Kayla if she can stop it.”

“Exactly,” Nick said. “I tried to get her to wait, to let me find a female detective who could pretend to be her, or at least put a tracker in her pocket, but she refused. She said that Hale had put a timer on her arrival at their meeting place. If she deviated from his instructions, he’d kill Kayla. Like Tino said, she’s not going to give him any reason to hurt the girl on her account.”

“How did Hale get to Kayla?” Vito demanded. “I put two uniforms in front of the Lewis house.”

Nick sighed. “They’re both dead, Vito. Shot in the head. Their bodies were discovered about forty minutes ago, when they didn’t check in.”

Vito sucked in a harsh breath. “Fucking hell. What are you doing about Charlotte? Did she just meet him with no backup plan?”

“Of course not,” Nick snapped, sounding irritated. “I put three unmarked cars in the parking lot where she was to meet Hale. One of my detectives saw her get out of a cab at the Verizon store in Roxborough and walk across the parking lot. A black Chrysler Pacifica picked her up and headed back to Ridge.”

He stopped and Tino’s gut turned over. “And then?” he rasped.

“And then the minivan pulled into an alley and never came out. My detectives found the minivan parked in the alley with no sign of either Charlotte or Hale. They must have gotten into another vehicle.”

“You lost them,” Tino said, the words strangled.

“Not entirely. I checked the street cams myself, Tino, and I’ve narrowed down the possibilities of the vehicle he changed to. It’s either a black Ford Taurus, a white Toyota Tundra pickup, or a Chevy Leaf. I’ve got BOLOs out on all three vehicles.”

“Okay,” Vito said. “Keep me up to date.”

“Of course,” Nick said. “What did you learn from the cellmate?”

Vito made a sound of irritation. “That Hale has many contacts in the outside world. One of them helped him buy a house.”

Tino tuned Vito out as his brother summarized their interview with Gus Greene, focusing instead on the sketch he’d made of Hale’s house. Using the app on his phone, he rendered it from the sketch to a photo and did a reverse image search.

“Vito,” he snapped when he got an immediate match. “I found it. His house.”

Vito looked over at him, eyes wide. “How? My people just started looking.”

Y our people aren’t as good as I am , he wanted to snarl, but he bit it back. “It’s what I do. It’s in Chestnut Hill.”

He held up the Zillow listing so that Vito could see. The neighborhood was one of Philly’s fanciest. Not what Tino had been expecting when he’d started the search.

Vito whistled. “Damn, that’s really close to your sketch.”

“Give me the address,” Nick said. “I’ll get personnel on the way.”

Tino gave him the home’s location, a fraction of his dread giving way to hope.

Don’t hurt her. Please, don’t hurt her.

“No one engages until we get there,” Vito ordered. “Not unless they have eyes on both Charlotte and Kayla.” He abruptly pulled to the shoulder, using the emergency access road to cross to the other side of the interstate and merging into traffic going the opposite direction. “Do me a favor, Nick. Check the owner of this house.”

“Already on it,” Nick said. A few seconds later he grunted in frustration. “Corporation. Fancy one, too. Contact information lists a law firm in Rittenhouse.”

“The name of the firm?” Vito pressed impatiently.

“Ruskin and Jewel. Harold Ruskin and Darren Jewel are the senior partners.”

“Jason Ruskin was the kid who needed protection in prison,” Tino said. “The kid with the bawling mother. Harold must be her husband.”

Vito nodded. “I think the firm helped Hale buy this house. We need to bring Mr. and Mrs. Ruskin in for questioning.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Nick promised. “You focus on that slimy bastard, Hale.”

Vito ended the call and immediately dialed again. Tino recognized the name of the woman who answered as Vito’s lead detective in Homicide. His brother proceeded to let her know what was happening and that Nick was sending cops to Hale’s neighborhood. Vito wanted his detectives to gather at headquarters.

He also tasked them with finding out where Kevin Hale had gotten the money to buy a freaking house in Chestnut Hill.

Which was a damn good question. The house had to have cost the earth. It was also a dead ringer for the one Tino had dreamed about in his youth. How had Hale known?

Had Charlotte mentioned it? And if she had, what had been the context?

He didn’t question her loyalty. She would never have had a fling with Kevin Hale. Not while they were together. And he believed her when she said she hadn’t thought of the man since high school.

But somehow Hale had known the exact house to buy, down to the gingerbread trim.

Hand trembling, Tino hit play on the message she’d left and lifted the phone to his ear. His eyes filled with tears at the sound of her voice.

“Tino, it’s me. Charlie. If I don’t see you again, just know that I’ve always loved you. I never stopped, not in all these years. I’m sorry I’m doing this, but I don’t know what else to do. He’s got Kayla, and she’s just a girl. But you’ll figure this out. I trust you. And if you don’t, don’t you dare blame yourself.”

I never stopped loving you either , he thought. Never.

Angrily swiping at his eyes, he turned to Vito. “What are we going to do?” he asked, choking out each word.

Vito glanced over at him with sympathy. “ You are going home. I’ll have one of the unmarked cars drive you. I will deal with this.”

No way in hell , Tino thought. But if he said that to Vito, his older brother would keep him under surveillance. He might even put him in protective custody. On the other hand, if he agreed too quickly, Vito would know he was lying.

“I have to be there,” he insisted. The words were true, but not in the way that Vito would take them. “You have to let me come with you.”

Vito frowned. “I don’t have to. In fact, I can’t. It’s against every regulation in the book. You know I want to let you, but I can’t. If I don’t do this right, Hale could skate on every murder he’s committed. Charlotte wouldn’t want that.”

Charlotte might not want that, but she wasn’t here right now. Because Hale has her.

Tino didn’t want Hale to skate on five murders, either, but he wasn’t going to let that number become six. Or seven, because Hale had Kayla too.

Luckily Tino wasn’t a cop. He didn’t have to follow the regulations.

“Of course she wouldn’t want that. But what can I do then?” Tino asked, letting his rising panic charge the question.

“Stay home where it’s safe.”

“I can’t just stay home! He’s got her, Vito.”

“I know. And I’ll get her back. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” He trusted that Vito would do everything humanly possible to get Charlotte and Kayla out of Hale’s clutches. But his brother would do it by the book. And that would take time.

Vito blew out a breath, his relief visible. “Thank you. I’m going to the station and I’m going to have someone take you home. I will focus the entire department on getting Charlotte back safely. Do you believe me?”

“I do.”

“You’ll stay home then?”

Tino sighed, the sound as tortured as he felt. “Yes.” He hated lying to his brother, but he wasn’t going to sit on his hands while a man who’d killed five people and put two others in the ICU had his hands on Charlotte Walsh.

Vito gave him a sharp look then nodded once. “Okay.”

Tino cleared his throat. “What are you going to do?”

“We can’t risk Charlotte or Kayla. And this is a residential neighborhood. We can’t risk any of the neighbors. We’ll need to evacuate before we begin negotiations.”

“He won’t let her go,” Tino whispered.

“We don’t know that. I’ve done this kind of negotiation in the past and have been successful.” Vito reached over to squeeze Tino’s shoulder. “I get it. We’ll try to trick him out. Surround the house and go in through the back.”

Tino clicked on the Zillow link, grateful that the photographs of the house were still attached to the listing even though the house had sold the year before. “It has three exterior doors. There’s one in front, one in back and one on the side.”

“Tell me about the house.”

“Three bedrooms, two baths. It has a basement, but it doesn’t have a door to the outside. It has windows—three in the back of the house, two in the front. The basement is unfinished. Just the laundry room and storage.”

“Okay,” Vito said. “I know how I’ll go in.”

So did Tino. Checking to see that Vito’s eyes were on the road, Tino sent off a quick text to Cliff Gargano.

I need your help. Life or death. Not a joke.

A moment later the reply appeared on his phone. Where and when?

My house, thirty minutes. Park and wait up the street. Not in front of the house. You need to know it’s going to be dangerous.

The reply was nearly instantaneous. Thirty minutes. I’ll see you there.

Hold on, Charlie , Tino thought . We’re coming.