a Touch of Ice (24 page)

“It’s on my to-do list. I’m thinking I can catch him at the hospital, should have done it, but she distracted me with Sean.”

Mitch tossed me his cell. “Now. He’s on speed dial.”

And if that wasn’t an interesting tidbit of information. It kicked to voicemail, so I left a brief message. “You want to tell me about the speed dial factor as it relates to Pierce?”

He shook his head, resignation making the motion sketchy. “He’s as thorough as Annie with the background checks. We had a come to Jesus, traded numbers.”

“Uh-huh. Why am I the only one left out of this stuff?” A twinge of jealousy flickered in my mind but was squashed when I ran through my meeting with Pierce. The secrets I hadn’t shared with Mitch about my home, my parents, the damn walls talking to me, my fear that West was a shape-shifter. Well, those last two would remain a secret. Can’t have the man I care about questioning my sanity. Again.

He zipped his duffle closed. “Ready?’

“Yeah. I skimmed most everything in here. Your cleaning crew is too good, didn’t leave a trace of anything but themselves.”

I touched his hand. “The place you’re going, back to the Arctic it looked like. The scientists you’ve been working with found something else the government’s interested in. It has to do with global warming, this assignment. I wanted you to know what I picked up. I need there to be honesty between us even though I understand you can’t deny or verify what I’ve said. I needed to say it.”

“I understand. When I get back from this trip we’ll talk about the impact it would have on your life to go through the security clearance process. My life, too. It may well be a choice neither of us is ready to make. I know which way I’m leaning, but we have to think about it. Talk about.”

I snugged my hand into his and wove our fingers together. Affirmation that I was willing to talk about it. Later. “Mitch?”

He raised his brows. “Yeah.”

“When’s the last time you checked your mailbox?”

Twenty-seven

He stopped, dropped my hand. “My mailbox? I’ve hardly been here. All my bills are on automatic payment because of the travel. Most of the time the box gets filled with junk mail, so I don’t pay much attention.”

“You need to check it.” My fingers itched to touch whatever was in the box.

“Now? Why? Oh, I get it. Your mail theory.”

“So, it’s-in-the-mail is a cliché, and maybe a dead end. But, those clichés come from somewhere, and it can’t hurt to check.”

“You’re thinking Tony mailed the jewels to me.”

“You gotta admit, it’s a possibility.”

He shrugged. “Not really. It doesn’t add up. Except for the photographs, we only saw each other a few times a year. Why would he send them to me?”

“He’s known you since childhood. Maybe you weren’t close, but he knows your family, knows you’re honest, that he can trust you. Besides, Shaved Head, Pudgy, and Messy came here looking for you, took you away, drugged you because they thought you knew something, thought you had the jewels. Maybe you do have them and just don’t know it. Or maybe I’ve lost my mind. That’s probably more likely than finding treasure buried in your junk mail.”

He stowed his bags in the car and we hiked down the driveway to the mailbox, and I do mean hiked. Had to have been a good half-mile, or maybe anticipation made it seem like it took forever.

“This hike is probably why Shaved Head and group didn’t check your mail. ‘Cause really, it should have been top of their list.”

“Only if they’re into old movies.” He squeezed my hand.

“Don’t knock my theories, big guy, until you come up with a better alternative.”

Turned out, the mailbox was one of those over-sized jobs, crammed full of stuff. “Guess you haven’t been here in a while. No wonder the bad guys took a pass on it. Probably took one look and backed away screaming.”

Mitch huffed, impatient. “Guess it’s been longer than I realized. I’ll go back, grab a container and get the truck. We try to carry this, it’ll spill all over the driveway.”

By the time Mitch returned, I’d stacked most of the mail into neat piles. He’d made quick work of loading them in a cardboard box, and was reaching to gather the last few items when the color drained from his face.

“What?” I didn’t think, just brushed his hand with my fingertips. Images of Tony and the diamonds flashed across my mind-screen.

He handed it to me, a small, yellow mailing envelope, the padded kind. “It’s from Tony. Your theory just might be right on. Let’s go. I don’t want to open this without Adam watching every move I make.”

We stuffed the box of mail in his truck, and I called Adam and Annie with a head’s up. Mitch focused on breaking the speed limit. “Uncle Sam won’t be happy if I miss that plane, and Adam is aware of the sensitivity of my work. I still don’t get why Tony would send the jewels to me. He knows I work for the good guys. In a general sort of way, not the extent of my work, but enough to know not to send me hot jewels for God’s sake. Then again, no one has ever accused a Civitelli of having common sense.”

Adam and Annie were waiting on her front porch with a trio of supporting cast. We went into her office, Mitch took a seat at her desk and the rest of us circled around, the videographer capturing every move, the witnesses looking curious.

Mitch held the mailing bag in gloved hands, reciting information into the microphone. “This is addressed to Tony Civitelli at 300 Brentwood Lane, my home address. It appears to be Tony’s handwriting.” He took all of us in with a glance, picked up the scissors Annie had strategically placed on her desk, and cut the end from the package, dumping the contents on her desk.

Out tumbled a small, black velvet bag and a folded piece of paper.

“I assume you want me to open the bag. Is there a dark piece of paper or something for me to spill the contents on?”

Annie bent over and opened a lower desk drawer, snatched a piece of black paper and laid it in front of Mitch. “That’ll work for the purpose of this tape.”

Mitch up-ended the pouch and diamonds poured onto the paper, sparkling like stars in a midnight sky. “Well, then,” he said, “I guess we’ve found the reason Tony was killed.”

He unfolded the paper, read the note aloud:

Mitch,

If you’re reading this, something’s gone wrong and I’m not around any longer. I’m trusting you to take care of getting these rocks to the right people, although I’m not sure who that’d be.

I spotted Carl and Fingers, two goons Mama employs for when the family needs some extra work done, you know what I mean. I followed them around for a while. They went to the old barns and stuff I had you take pictures of. I thought the pictures would help me figure out why they were hanging around. Couldn’t figure it out til I watched them do a drop, found this bag of rocks. Some bloke I don’t know came later to pick ’em up, but I already had ’em.

I’ve asked Carl and Fingers to meet with me, see if I can get ’em to move out of the area, back to New York where they belong. You know I don’t like the family too close. I was going to stash these in the garage, but since I set the meet with Carl, things have been feeling off. I’m worried about what Mama’s gotten into. That’s all I know.

Thanks,

Tony

The room was silent, maybe out of respect for Tony’s memory, maybe because none of us knew what to say. There wasn’t anything in the note we didn’t already suspect, but it eased my mind to have a written account.

Adam broke the silence. “Nice,” he said, gathering up the stones. “I want these locked up until they’re transferred to the right people. Fax me a statement, Mitch, as soon as you get to Bragg. The rest of you—” he glanced at each of us in turn. “Tomorrow morning. My office. I want this documented all the way. No chance for a misstep.”

Mitch noted the time, stood up, and took my hand. “Walk me to the truck?”

He gathered me close. “Take care of yourself, Sunshine. I don’t like leaving you with all these loose ends floating around—especially now that we’ve found the diamonds. No telling how West will react.”

“I’ll be careful, but after this news hits the morning paper, no one will be after me. Not now that the diamonds have been found.”

Annie and I were sitting in Adam’s office, ostensibly to sign our statements, but I knew it was time for me to face the powers that be. Much as it left a wiggly, empty feeling in my stomach I couldn’t put it off any longer. Well, maybe a few minutes longer.

“El, you didn’t sign the paperwork to charge Donny Civitelli with Breaking and Entering,” Adam said as he sifted through a stack of papers.

“No. I’m not going to press charges.”

His eyes dilated, his face turned a magnificent shade of deep pink, and he sucked in a huge breath.

I interrupted his heart attack. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and I feel guilty to be using him, except he did ruin my new red shoes, but that aside, I think Donny will be more useful on the streets than locked up in here. Carl Pestorelli, Fred Hanson, and Arnie Scott haven’t been seen for a while, and they seem to be attracted to Donny. Maybe you’ll have a better chance of catching them if he’s running around, causing havoc.”

I stopped to take a breath and adjust the hair clip that felt like it was about to spring loose. “The other thing,” I continued before Adam could sidetrack me, “is that aside from his propensity to do really stupid things, Donny isn’t worth wasting the time and effort of the legal system. I’d much rather you catch Shaved Head, Pudgy, and Messy.”

Annie’s spine had straightened, her complete attention focused on Adam. “She’s right. You know she’s right about this.”

“Maybe. But it opens a whole new bundle of trouble. El?” His eyes met mine and we shared a moment of silent communication. I knew what he was asking, knew I’d need to talk to his boss if I didn’t sign those papers.

The wiggling in my stomach went up a notch, I brought both hands to my belly, trying to calm the sensation, keep it from spilling up into my throat. Searched for words.

I felt Annie’s hand on my arm. “You can do this.” She looked at Adam. “Can I go in to talk to Chief Hayes with her?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s shaping up to be a free-for-all anyway. Let me give him a heads up, we’ll see how things shake out.”

He turned to me. “You know, you’re about as much trouble as Annie. Seems I’ve inherited another little sister.”

It wasn’t more than five minutes before Annie and I were marched down the hall to Chief Hayes’s office. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a big man, skin the color of nutmeg, barely contained energy. I liked him on sight, and relief ran through my body, washing the wigglies away. I held out my hand. “Chief Hayes, I’m Everly Gray. It’s good to meet you.”

“Ms. Gray. Take a seat,” he said as his hand wrapped around mine. Unfair advantage? Yep. Without a doubt. But I needed to have something besides logic to work with here. What I do isn’t logical in any way, shape, or form, which made an interesting contrast to Chief Hayes’s pure logic. And muscle, lots and lots of muscle.

He turned to Annie. “How are you, Annie? I know it’s been a pain in the ass to have West show up, but I have to say, I like having your expertise nearby. Hope we don’t have to use it.”

“I’m doing well, Chief. Retired. Remember?”

He chuckled. “I remember, but you can’t take the training out of the professional. Sit. All of you sit down, and let’s get this over with.”

“You understand, Ms. Gray—” he looked down his nose, holding my gaze— “the only reason you’re here is because I hold Adam and Annie in high regard.”

“I do understand, Chief Hayes. I’m sorry you woke up to a flat tire and had to drive your wife’s car to work this morning. You have a beautiful family, by the way, and there aren’t many fathers who are running late and have a flat tire to fix who would take time to kiss Bitsy Baby goodbye. You put a smile on your daughter’s face. I’m impressed.”

Chief Hayes dropped into his chair. Adam and Annie were busy biting their cheeks to keep the smiles at bay, and I, well, I was relating very strongly to the picture of the woman hanging out on a limb that was pinned to my storyboard.

“All right, then. I’m a logical man, logical through and through. I expect concise reports from every officer on my watch, and I don’t harken to flights of fancy, with the exception of Grace—my youngest daughter. Exactly how do you do…explain yourself, Ms. Gray.”

“First, I’d like to apologize for invading your privacy. I rarely touch anyone with the intention of gathering images about their life. In your case, I made an exception in the interest of time, and because this ‘quirk’ I was born with is the reason I’m here. There is no logical explanation. When I touch people, I often have an image form in my mind of a recent event. I think it has to do with whatever event is most prominent in their thoughts at the time. This, I guess you could say, gift, is limited to my fingertips. It’s similar when I touch things, but inanimate objects don’t hold the same intensity as a person. Although, in some cases, the images from things are clearer because there’s nothing else going on, no emotions to cloud the picture.”

“And you’ve managed to keep this a secret how? This kind of…news is usually all over the tabloids, or at least there should be rumors floating around. I don’t typically miss unusual people in my city.”

“I keep to myself, Chief. Imagine what it’s like for me to leave my house, to come here. Touching things, even accidentally, around here is, at best, uncomfortable. I usually keep my fingers fisted to avoid unnecessary contact, but I brushed against a desk as we were coming into the station and, let me tell you, I could have gone all day without the image of that very drunk, dirty, hopeless man who leaned on the desk earlier this morning. It was incredibly sad, more so because having the image doesn’t make it possible for me to fix the situation. It’s one of the reasons working with Mitchell Hunt, Adam, and Annie on Tony’s murder has been so special for me. It’s not something I would normally do. But in this case, there are things I can do to help.”

“Huh.” Doubt clouded his eyes, deepened the frown lines bracketing his mouth.

“Oddly enough, I feel like I owe it to Tony. He was killed for a reason, and I think he deserves justice.” I dragged in a shaky breath, then muttered, “I also have a problem controlling my curiosity.” It was only fair to warn him.

Chief Hayes’s jaw clenched, and did I hear teeth grinding? Logical minds don’t wrap well around the concept of my quirky gift. Plus, it didn’t sit well with this strong, confident man at a loss. He truly didn’t have a clue what to do with me. “You know Chief—” I smiled at him— “mostly I don’t know what to do with me, either.”

A soft chuckle escaped as he took in the three of us. “Everly Gray, you are a fascinating woman. I’d like to get to know you better, learn how you might be able to help my people. On the other hand, I’m human enough to be uncomfortable using you and your talent for a couple of reasons.

“First, I try not to do anything that will cause Grace to grow up and think less of her Old Man, my other children too, but Grace is special because she’s deaf. Putting you and your sensitive fingers in touch with criminals doesn’t have a good feel to it. And then there’s justifying your gift—and I’m sure you can relate to this—explaining you to the commissioner and to the press. Damn difficult, that.”