Enemies and Playmates (16 page)

The man said nothing. Jesse rubbed his temple. If he let the guy go, he’d have nothing. Not even a name. And the guy would be free to come after him for a payback. At least if he got the cops involved, he’d have a name and that might lead him somewhere worth traveling to. The guy would be locked up for awhile. Of course he’d have to go through the motions, maybe file assault charges.

Damn.

***

Tim handed Jesse a folder containing a small stack of printed pages. He said, “His name is Dominic Forenzi. He’s got a few priors for assault. Never made it to court. Two were dropped when the victims refused to testify. The other was witnessed by two off-duty cops. Some crazy plea bargain got him a fine, no time in.”

Tim’s eyes darted around the station. No one was paying any attention to them. “Yeah, but be careful,” he said. “And you didn’t get that from me.”

Tim grudgingly gave a little nod of assent. He said, “They’ve got Forenzi in holding. You planning on pressing charges for the assault?”

“No. But you’ve got him on the gun charge, right?”

“He’s got a permit.”

“A permit?” Jesse had nearly shouted the words. He took a long breath, which did little to calm him. “How the hell can he have a permit if he’s been convicted of an assault charge?”

***

Jesse parked in front of a large gray apartment house. He double checked the paper in the file. Apartment 302. He sprinted up the rickety stairs to the third floor. Outside the door, he paused, listening. Silence. He knocked, waited, knocked again. Still nothing.

Using his electric lock pick, Jesse was inside Forenzi’s apartment within seconds. He relocked the door behind him and fumbled in the dark until he found the light switch. He stood in an unremarkable living room. Decent furniture, relatively clean. A few beer bottles had been left on the high-end glass-topped coffee table. A dirty ashtray. A Penthouse magazine.

A quick search of the living room turned up nothing but dust balls. The bedroom was cramped, smelled like dirty feet. A bed that looked much too small for a man Forenzi’s size. Tangled covers tossed over a blue sheet. A dresser with the typical stuff on top. Cologne. Loose change. A nightstand holding a stack of Penthouse.

Forenzi certainly lived alone. Probably didn’t have much company either.

A glance at his watch told him he had less than forty minutes. He opened drawers, searched through t-shirts and socks. He found Forenzi favored Calvin Klein boxer-briefs. Mostly black. Information Jesse could have easily lived without.

A small metal lockbox beneath the pile of underwear caught his attention. Jesse set it on the dresser and popped the lock. Inside was a stack of photographs. Digital prints. All were candid shots, most likely taken without the subject’s knowledge.

Jesse sifted through them until he found one that was familiar. Deanna Bryant, the woman Chris Nyles was accused of murdering. Why would Forenzi have a picture of her? Had he been the one contracted to kill her? And, if so, had he subcontracted Nyles to take care of it for him? Were the rest of the people in these photos also dead? Or marked to die soon?

The last photo in the pile was Thomas Foley. The newly elected senator had died a few months ago. Supposedly a suicide.

Also in the lockbox were a few extra clips for the Glock Forenzi carried. And a key that probably belonged to a safety deposit box.

Jesse replaced the items, relocked the box, then put it back beneath the Calvin Kleins. A search of the closet told him that Forenzi liked Levi’s, J. Crew shirts, and hiking boots. The nightstand drawer held a bottle of lubricant that Jesse refused to touch and a box of Trojans. Nothing he needed to see there.

The only other room was the kitchen. A five minute check and Jesse now knew that Forenzi liked an assortment of frozen meals, peanut butter, lots of jelly, Michelob, and chocolate milk. A lot of good that was going to do him.

Forenzi did not have a computer, which struck Jesse as odd. Didn’t everyone have a computer these days? At any rate, the lack of one made the search much easier. And quicker. After a glance around to make sure he hadn’t left any sign of his visit, Jesse slipped back out to his car with fifteen minutes to spare.

***

Jesse pulled into a drive-thru for a burger and fries. He parked in the lot and called Lauren while he ate. As they talked, Jesse left out a few details of his day. Like his run-in with Forenzi and his recent break-in. The less Lauren knew, the better for her. At least for now.

They made plans to meet at McGuire’s for lunch at noon the next day. When Jesse hung up, his mood was much lighter and he wore a goofy grin. He used to make fun of people like himself. Good thing no one was around to see him acting all love struck.

The grin was still in place when he reached his apartment but immediately vanished when he noticed his front door was ajar. He waited a moment, listening for any noise from within. Why the hell didn’t he have his gun with him?

Jesse reached inside and flicked the wall switch. Light flooded the living room. A search through the apartment told him he was alone. But the place was in shambles. Drawers had been dumped, cabinets emptied. Even his refrigerator had been ransacked, which had to be out of pure spite. It wasn’t like he’d be hiding something in the mayonnaise jar.

The one stroke of good luck was the intruder had not been able to crack his safe. Probably had not even found it hidden behind the false wall in his closet. The thing had cost Jesse a small fortune and had just proved its worth. And, since it weighed about forty pounds and was secured to the back of the closet wall with heavy bolts, taking it was nearly impossible. That was if it had been found to begin with.

Jesse stood amongst the rubble, trying to determine whether anything was missing. The computer in his office had been left on but, thankfully, remained in one piece. Whoever had been there couldn’t have gotten anything useful. Jesse kept a USB flash drive on his key chain that held the sensitive data. He kept nothing on the computer itself. And the history was automatically wiped from the computer daily.

From what he could tell, nothing was actually missing. So this had definitely not been a robbery. This reeked of Covington. In an odd way, the mess brought Jesse a bit of pleasure. It meant that Covington was at least a little nervous. And nervous men made mistakes.

He plopped into a chair and stared at his scattered belongings. He was thinking that he should get up and clean but his body had other ideas. Exhausted, both physically and mentally, he promptly fell into a deep sleep. His dreams were of Lauren as he snored softly in the midst of the disarray.

15

Lauren took a break from her report and went down to the kitchen. She was still smiling from the sound of Jesse’s voice. Silly how happy it made her when he called. And she was ridiculously excited about meeting him for lunch tomorrow. So much for her reluctance to get involved with him. When it came to Jesse, she’d lost her self-control. She wasn’t actually sure that she’d ever had any.

As she was pouring herself a glass of orange juice, her father stepped into the room. He set his briefcase on the table, gave her a look with those icy blue eyes. “Just the person I wanted to speak with,” he said.

“What now?”

Alex stiffened. He fixed his eyes on Lauren and stood silent for a moment. His icy glare seemed to be boring a hole right through her. Finally he said, “I’ve been much too tolerant of your defiance. You will address me with respect.”

Lauren didn’t meet his eyes, nor did she reply. Alex motioned toward the table. He waited while Lauren took a seat, then he sat beside her. He watched her, apparently waiting for her to look at him. Or to say something. She did neither.

Lauren picked at her nail polish. Champagne Toast or something. She’d done them early that morning. She scowled as the color flaked off. A bad habit. Why did she bother painting them?

“Perfect,” Alex said. “The knowledge would only hurt her. That particular indiscretion was completely out of character for me. It is now over with and we can all move on.”

“I have homework to finish.”

Lauren started to get up but Alex put his hand firmly on her arm and held her in place. “Not yet. We have one more topic to discuss.”

“If you had done as I instructed, this discussion would not be necessary,” Alex said. “However, I understand that you are still seeing him.”

“Not my business?” Lauren’s voice rose with her anger. “You’re threatening to kill the man I’m dating and you say the reason is none of my business?”

The slap knocked Lauren’s head backward. Alex stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides. He gave a slight nod and his lips curled into a smile. “You always did have plenty of bravado. It’s too bad you’re female.”

Lauren wanted to spit in his face. Instead she took a deep breath. Her face stung, though she would never give her father the satisfaction of seeing her wince. She said, “You have no right to do this.”

“Of course I do. It is my right, as well as my obligation as a parent, to protect my child.” Alex smoothed his already perfect hair. His smile died away as he said, “You certainly have no moral dilemma when it comes to living in my home. Or enjoying the education I have paid for. While I appreciate your lust for the man, you need to keep in mind that lust will die away. For both of you. You cannot be naïve enough to believe this man intends to stay with you forever, to care for you, provide for you.”