Ace Is Wild (36 page)

She could still see the grim, closed-off look on Daniel’s face when Flip had spilled the beans. She could still feel the heaviness settle on her chest, the sadness that he could write her off so easily— And, okay, maybe she was mooning, just a little, but that was because she didn’t have anyone to commiserate with. Because she was alone. Again. Being a psychic meant she didn’t have any corporeal friends. Those who weren’t leery of her talents wanted to use them for their own gain. So she found it best to steer clear of close friendships. She had neighbors and acquaintances, but you couldn’t cry on an acquaintance’s shoulder. And since there’d been nobody to tell about Daniel, there was nobody to call and trash him to, nobody to get drunk with so she could forget about him for a little while. She could get drunk by herself, but that would be pathetic. And she couldn’t go to a bar and get drunk with strangers, that would be asking for trouble, even without a couple of hit men to worry about.

Of course, it was only an assumption that the contract had been terminated—a pretty good assumption, knowing Daniel. When he set his mind to something, it was succeed or die trying. True, while she’d been his wingman she’d purposefully sabotaged the mission. But only that one time at Boston Common, and she hadn’t put him in danger. And eventually he’d gotten what he wanted. By now Flip had probably spilled his guts, which meant Hatch and his boss were keeping Flip company in federal lockup.

But it didn’t feel that way to Vivi. It felt like there was still a threat. Probably the fact that Daniel hadn’t bothered to let her know she was safe. Jackass. He owed her that much, at least, but apparently one little lie—that she’d told for his own good—was enough to cancel out the lifesaving portion of the relationship.

Well, the hell with him. If he’d left it up to her to make sure she didn’t end up on a morgue slab, she’d do it her way.

Vivi went downstairs and flipped the sign in the front window to CLOSED. Not that there were people clamoring to see her on a Thursday morning. She just didn’t want any interruptions. She went into the back room where she did her readings, took a few moments to center herself, and opened her mind. Nothing. No visions, no nudges, no extrasensory activity of any sort. Wherever or whatever her insight came from, it wasn’t talking.

“This is no time to cut out on me,” she said to the room in general.

The room had no response, which equated to “You’re on your own, kid.”

She sat back in her chair and spent a moment sulking about that, but sulking wasn’t going to get her out of trouble. And what the hell, she’d always wondered what it would be like to be normal. It probably wasn’t the best time to experiment with normal when her life was on the line, but sitting around doing nothing wasn’t a viable option, either. And really, she had all the information she needed. All she had to do was substitute logic for intuition, right?

A little help wouldn’t hurt, either, she thought a few minutes later when logic wasn’t delivering, going over the facts one more time while she swallowed her pride.

ANTHONY SAPPRESI HAD ALREADY BEEN RULED OUT, and Rudy Manetti was only a pervert. Joe Flynn was the only one left. Daniel had already discounted him, but Vivi wasn’t so easily convinced.

She could go to Cohan’s, see if Joe showed up there again. But putting herself in a mob hangout, with a man who might have tried to kidnap her once already, didn’t hold much appeal. If she was going to be used against Daniel, she’d damn well be sure the person using her was the one they were looking for. And there was just one resource left to her.

Tag Donovan had given her his phone number the day he’d been tasked to follow her, and they’d wound up havinglunch instead. It wasn’t that much easier to call him than Daniel, but at least there weren’t any personal feelings involved.

Alex answered. They exchanged greetings, and Vivi said, “There’s something I need to tell the two of you. Are you free for lunch?”

“Maybe. We’re having lunch with Tag’s family. If his mother mentions marriage, I’m allowed to leave. Chances are I won’t actually get to eat—although Tag says she promised to be on her best behavior.”

Vivi laughed. “Then do you mind if I talk to Tag for a minute?”

Alex didn’t say anything, but she must have handed the phone over to Tag because the next voice Vivi heard was his. “Hey,” he said, sounding glad to hear from her. “How’s tricks?”

From anyone else that comment would have Vivi rolling her eyes. Tag’s cheerfulness was completely contagious, though. “Not bad,” she said, “considering I’ve been kidnapped, held hostage, and nearly drowned.”

“I heard about that,” Tag said. “I also heard you used to do readings for Anthony Sappresi, and when Pierce found out about it he tore a boat apart with his bare hands.”

“He was pretty mad,” she said. She could have set the record straight, but Daniel wasn’t the bigger issue here. “How about you?”

“I haven’t heard your side of the story,” Tag said, sounding grim.

Vivi didn’t want to tell Tag about her role in Tom Zukey’s death any more than he wanted to hear it, but it had to be done so she took a deep breath and dove in. Tag didn’t interrupt her once, and when she’d finished, it took him a couple beats to say anything, and then his question took her completely by surprise.

“Did you give Sappresi Tom’s name?” he wanted to know.

“Well . . . no.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself?”

“Aren’t you?” she asked Tag.

“If you want to know the truth,” he said, “I’m blaming Tom. He should have told me he was taking a meeting with Sappresi. By the time I found out and got there, it was too late to save him, and I almost died on top of it. And while we’re passing out blame, Sappresi gave the order.”

It was Vivi’s turn to be speechless.

“Trust me, I know how you feel,” Tag said into the silence, “but it’s just a waste of time to beat yourself up.”

Tag had been assigned to work on the case that had brought him into Alex Scott’s life, Vivi knew, when what he’d really wanted to do was find the man who’d killed his partner, Tom Zukey, because Tag had felt like he’d let Zukey down. So when he said he understood, he really did. Vivi wasn’t sure she was ready to let go of the guilt she felt over her part in Zukey’s death, but she was willing to put it aside for a little while. “Thanks, Tag,” she said. “Can I ask . . . Is everything okay . . .”

“Pierce is still alive, if that’s what you want to know. I figured you already got that much out of the agents.”

“What agents?”

“The ones assigned to watch your place.”

“There are agents on me?” she asked, but she didn’t hear Tag’s answer. She hadn’t been out of the house for most of a week, and okay, maybe she’d been a little shell-shocked, considering everything that had happened. Definitely too caught up to notice the attention focused on her. “Did Daniel . . .”

“I don’t know for sure if Pierce made the arrangements, but that would be my guess.”

“Well, who asked him?” she said before the little spark of warmth inside her spread. So Daniel had cared enough— No,
care
was the wrong word. If anything, it had been concern for her safety, most likely to save his own conscience. And since there was concern, there was still danger.

Tag had wisely chosen not to comment. She didn’t want to speculate on what was going through his mind.

“Can I run something else by you?” she asked instead.

“Sure.”

“If you thought someone was guilty of something, how would you go about finding out for sure?”

“You’re not going to do something stupid, are you? I could stick around a couple days if you want. Alex, too. She’s pretty good in the trenches.”

Vivi’s first reaction was to tell him to butt out, but that was more of a knee-jerk reaction to the way Daniel had treated her, so she reined her temper in. “I just need some advice.”

“If it was me, I’d start by going through everything that happened,” Tag said, “beginning from day one. Get it down on paper, that’ll help since this is your first time. Once you’ve done that, see what jumps out at you. There’s no such thing as a coincidence, keep that in mind. Every thread has to be pulled. One of them will lead you to the person you’re looking for.”

“Then what?”

“Then you have to decide the best way to handle it.”

“What would you do?”

“Call the authorities.”

She had to give him credit, he hadn’t even hesitated over his answer. But she wasn’t fooled. “I asked you what you’d do.”

“Take the fight to them,” Tag said with a shrug in his voice. “You wait, they have the upper hand. But that’s me. You’re a civilian. You should call . . . I’ll give you Mike Kovaleski’s number,” he amended because he knew she wouldn’t go to Daniel.

“Thanks,” Vivi said, taking down the number he gave her. “Good luck on your trip.” And she disconnected, her mind already spinning with possibilities.

If she was going in search of Joe Flynn, she’d have to wait for the dinner hour, anyway, so it wouldn’t cost her anything to try Tag’s suggestion.

She dug out a legal pad and a pen, and made herself a cup of herbal tea, which she hated but which also promoted clarity of mind. She drew a line down the middle of the paper from top to bottom. The left side was for a list of names, the right for the high points of each incident.

She began with the bachelor auction, putting a quick note on the right side of the sheet for what she considered important moments of the evening—the arrival of the hit men pretty much covered it. The left side stayed empty. There were too many people to list, even if she’d known their names.

Then she remembered that Daniel thought the reason for the contract was personal, so Vivi wrote down Patrice Hanlon, Alex Scott, and Cassandra Hobbs. They’d all been present at the auction, and they all had a personal relationship with Daniel. And since those names made some other points of the evening seem important, she added Daniel’s deal with Patrice to buy him, and the helicopter showing up to rescue them on the right side. No coincidences, Tag had said.

Next was the incident at Cohan’s. Again, Patrice’s name went on the left, along with Rudy Manetti’s and Joe Flynn’s. The right side had only three entries. Daniel had been there because he had a dinner date with Patrice, Joe Flynn had shown up, and so had the hit men.

She took a short break to make herself lunch and kept going while she ate, writing down whatever seemed to stick out, no matter how inconsequential it seemed. The car that had almost trapped them in Daniel’s cul-de-sac after she’d trashed his house to save him from the fire—a BMW, which in retrospect seemed out of place in the mostly working-class neighborhood. The fact that the hit men hadn’t really shot at Daniel after that because, Daniel had rightly concluded, they’d wanted to capture him instead. Before they’d switched to trying to capture her . . .

Tag had told her to go over the facts to see if something jumped out. Well, something was jumping—or more like someone.

Patrice Hanlon.

Somebody must hate Daniel pretty badly to want him dead, Vivi thought. If she’d hated somebody that much, wouldn’t she want to see the takedown?

Patrice Hanlon had been there at the first two attempts to kill Daniel. Patrice had made sure she didn’t touch Vivi the one time they’d met. Fine, she’d been shot and flying on painkillers, but Vivi knew Patrice hadn’t missed the part about her being a psychic—a psychic who was helping Daniel. It wouldn’t have taken much for Patrice to connect Vivi to Sappresi. And it was after that last phone call Daniel took from Patrice that the hit men knew who Vivi was and began to focus on her.

Suppose Patrice thought there was more than a collaboration going on between them, Vivi postulated? Daniel thought the hit men wanted to use her against him. Maybe that was another thing he was right about. Maybe whoever wanted him dead, also wanted him to suffer first. Whether or not Daniel felt something for her— Okay, it was a big
not
. But the murderer wouldn’t know that, and no matter what was between them, he would still put himself in danger to save her. Saving her was the right thing to do, and he was all about “right.”

It was a lot of maybes and ifs, but when Vivi looked at all the pieces she felt like she was getting a pretty complete picture. Tag would have gone after Patrice, but that didn’t feel right to Vivi. She didn’t have the skills to take on a woman who had a homicidal maniac like Hatch at her beck and call. Allegedly. Tag had suggested she call Mike Kovaleski, but Mike had never been her biggest fan. Mike would also want proof, and she didn’t have any. So she called Daniel and tried her theory out on him—or rather she blurted out, “Patrice Hanlon hired the hit men.”