Exposure (15 page)

Nico got the call to come in just before noon.

He was pacing the floor in his den in a rage. He’d swept liquor glasses and bottles to the carpet, kicked over the coffee table. Over and over in his mind ran that split second when he pulled the trigger — twice. Why couldn’t Giordano have just done what he was told? Nico should have kept his cool, fought the man, pistol-whipped him. Anything to keep him alive and get him into the car. Now cops were crawling all over that place.

Good thing Bear didn’t want the money out of there today. That one fact just might keep Nico alive.

He should have gone to the underboss and reported what happened right away. But he was too furious. Not a good frame of mind to be in when you met with Bear. Instead Nico burst through his own front door, shouting curses. In time he calmed down enough to send an associate to drive through AC Storage. Rizzo reported five police cars, some unmarked, and crime-scene tape around the apartment.

You could be sure the police had questioned those two renters Nico had driven by. They wouldn’t trace his unregistered Chevy. And he knew the one man who glanced up couldn’t have seen much of his face. But would Bear believe that?

After the associate reported, Nico got a call from Dom, one of his soldiers. Dom had heard from his friends on the police force that the homicide detectives were suspicious. Martin Giordano gets held up by a gun at night and shot to death the next morning? A little too convenient. The detectives were talking to the G-men investigating the robbery. Talk had even turned to whether the mob was involved. Did Giordano have any connections? Dom had insisted to his friend the Lucchese family had nothing to do with the heist.

“The cops can’t link Giordano to me,” Nico told Dom — not that he had to answer to any of his soldiers. “No way.”

“Sure, sure.”

“You hear anything about what the wife’s tellin’ the cops?”

“She ain’t tellin’ ’em nothin’. Said she was lyin’ on the bed with her little girl when she heard the shots. Then she was afraid to come out of the bedroom. She and the kid hid in the closet.”

So she hadn’t seen him. Or if she had, she wasn’t talking. “Thanks, man.”

“You bet.”

Nico hung up the phone and started pacing, trying to get his head on straight. You didn’t mess up with this much cash on the line and pay nothing. But he could still take care of things. Once the money was out of that rental, there’d be no way at all to prove a connection between him and Giordano.

He’d be okay with Bear. He’d be okay. As long as the boss didn’t start playing with the scar on his face. Nico had seen him do that maybe a dozen times. Every time somebody wound up whacked. A few times Nico had been sent to do the job.

The phone rang again. Nico knew who it was before he picked up.

“I want to see you,” Bear growled. The line clicked.

At the underboss’s house Nico did the only thing he could. He stuffed his rage at Giordano down in his gut and tried to play it cool.

“What’d you do?” Bear planted himself behind the massive cherry wood desk in his office. His arms were folded, the gray brows meeting over his eyes like one long thundercloud. On the wall behind him spread a leopard skin. Nico had never asked where he got it.

“He came at me, I had to shoot.”

“What, you can’t control your own guy?”

“My gun was out and he jumped me. I was still going to put him in the car and clean up, but I saw a cop car out the window and thought they were coming to question Giordano. I had to get outta there.”

“So now our money’s parked at a crime scene.”

Nico shook his head. “Don’t worry, the cops’ll be outta there tomorr — ”

“Don’t tell me what to worry about!” Bear smacked his palm on the desk. He pointed a thick finger at Nico. “I wondered about this guy from the beginning, but you vouched for him. Then you come back to me whinin’ he’s no good and how you’re gonna take care of it. I tell you how to do that. But you don’t listen.”

Nico clenched his jaw. Bear wasn’t hearing a thing he said. One mistake in all his years.
One
time —

“You got something to say, Nico?”

“I tried to do what you said. Sometimes things happen.”

“No. No. Things don’t just ‘happen.’
You
did this. That short temper of yours — that’s what did it.”

Nico bit back his answer.

Bear glared at him. “What about the wife and kid? How’d you expect to get Giordano outta there without them seeing you?”

“He told me they were gone.”

“And you just believed him.”

“He had too much money ridin’ on it to cross me.”

“Apparently he didn’t get the message.”

Nico said nothing.

Bear knocked his knuckles against the desk. “The wife — can she finger you?”

“Never saw me. She was busy with the kid.”

“You hope so.”

“That’s what she told the cops.”

Bear’s hard eyes drilled into Nico. He slid a hand to his face. One finger traced the scar along his jaw line.

Nico went cold.

“Listen to me good, Nico. I don’t want you thinkin’ with that mule head of yours. I just want you to do what I tell you. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“When you leave here, go home.
Stay
there. Tell your friends on the force to keep their ears out for any more word from the detectives on the case. We gotta be sure that crime scene opens up by tonight. When you hear it’s clear, call me. I want the money outta there long before dawn. Go at one a.m.”

“Where you want me to take it?” Nico tried to keep his eyes from that trailing finger.

“I’ll let you know. Right now I don’t care if we have to bury it in my backyard. I just want it out of there.”

“Okay.”

“Nothin’ goes wrong. Nothin’. We get the money. The cops and G-men stay clueless about the robbery
and
Giordano.”

“It’s done. I guarantee you. It’s done.”

Bear dropped his hand, but his gaze was cold. “You done a lot for the family, Nico. I’m givin’ you this chance to make things right. You understand?”

Nico swallowed. “Yeah. I understand.”

“Go.”

As Nico left the room he could feel Bear’s eyes shooting daggers at his back.

Kaycee closed her kitchen door and tested the lock.

They were out there somewhere. Watching.

Weight descended upon her, as if the sky bulged down. The staring eyes lasered holes in her back. She spun around and cast wild looks over the yard.

Her gaze fell on the storage shed. Had Hannah crept in there sometime this morning, now too afraid to show herself? Kids could be like that. They did stupid things when they were scared.

Like adults.

She headed over to the shed, hearing the grass swish under her feet, feeling the sun on her head. Her chin lifted, and she drew in a long exploring breath through her nose. No smell of blood. That sense hadn’t returned since she’d been on the stairs . . .

At the shed Kaycee pulled back the creaky door. Its musty, dirt-drenched odor leaked out.

Empty.

She let the door fall shut and headed for the garage. Twice she stopped to look behind her.

The small garage was dim. Kaycee hit the button to open the rollup door. Eyes flicking in all directions, she passed around the front of her PT Cruiser and got in. She pulled the car key out of her purse and tossed the handbag on the passenger seat. Buckled her seatbelt.

Backing out the driveway, she reached for the remote button clipped to her visor to shut the garage door. Her fingers slid over the top of the visor — and hit a slick edge.
What was that?
Kaycee snatched her hand away and braked. The visor snapped down.

A photo slipped out and into her lap. A five-by-seven of the dead man on the dark yellow floor. One side of the picture was smeared with red.

“Ah!” Kaycee flung it away. She thrust the car into park and fumbled with her seatbelt. Shoved open her door and threw herself out on the gravel. One foot slid out from under her. Her legs scissored until the foot took hold. Kaycee righted herself and swiveled toward the car, panting.

For a long moment she stared at the picture on the passenger seat floor. It lay face up and vivid. The dead man looked so real. Any minute now he’d sit up, right out of that photo.

Her right fingers felt sticky. She jerked up her hand and saw red.

Kaycee moaned. In her peripheral vision she saw more red on the door where she’d touched the handle. She jumped away.

Slowly Kaycee’s fingers raised to her nose.

They smelled like blood.

Something inside Kaycee snapped. She bolted around the car to the house.

At the back door she grabbed the knob and twisted, knowing it was locked, knowing the key was in her purse in that violated car. Knowing they were here, so close, watching and laughing. They wanted her to think she was
mad
.

But now she had evidence. Something to take to the police.

Tears burned her eyes. She swiveled around and stumbled two steps toward the yard. Threw back her head and shouted, “Where are you?” Kaycee’s throat closed up and her muscles went stiff. “What do you want from me?”

Mocking silence.

She strode across the grass and turned in complete circles, looking, shouting. “Come
out
here! What do you
want
?”

Motion from next door caught her eye. Kaycee wrenched around and saw Mrs. Foley, gaping at her like she was nuts. Kaycee’s mind bleached white. “Is it
you
?” she screamed. “Are you doing this to me?” She stomped toward the old woman. “Why are you doing this?
Why
?”

Mrs. Foley whirled and disappeared into her house. The door slammed. A lock clicked.

Kaycee pulled up short, breathing hard. She blinked through hot tears, logic slowly returning to her mind. What on earth was she
doing
?

Grimacing, she peered at her blurred right hand. The red was smeared all over.

That blood she’d smelled while climbing the stairs. Maybe it wasn’t from her dream at all. Maybe it was
this
blood now, on her fingers.

How had she known this would happen?

Was it from the dead man?

Helplessness and panic whirled inside Kaycee. What was happening? Who was doing this to her? They were taking over everything. Her house, her car, her
life
.

Her gaze cut to her car in the driveway. Its engine was still running, the driver’s door open.

Hannah.
She had to go find Hannah.

Kaycee’s fingers curled inward. Okay. Whoever these people were, they’d made a big mistake this time. That photo and blood were evidence. Just wait till the police got hold of it.

Mouth firming, Kaycee bent over to swipe her bloody fingers against the grass. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the car.

She closed the driver’s door. At the passenger side she peered through the window. The photo hadn’t moved. Somehow, she’d thought it might.

Screams rose in her mind. Footsteps and running. A door opening to bright sun . . .

Wait. That detail wasn’t in her dream. She’d seen a bright light but not a door opening. Where had this come from?

Kaycee pressed both hands against the car, leaned in and breathed.

Slowly the sounds and sights in her head faded. Kaycee pushed hair off her hot cheeks and gathered what courage she could find.

It took all she had to open the car door.

Her purse sat on the seat, her house key inside. Kaycee forced her gaze to the horrifying picture. She needed to put it in a plastic zip bag for protection. But she couldn’t leave it here while she returned to the house. She didn’t dare. By the time she got back out here, it could be gone.

Kaycee drew the key from her purse and stuck it in her pocket. Gingerly, as if it were made of flesh-eating acid, she picked up the picture by a corner that wasn’t stained with blood. Holding it out in front of her like the tail of a dead mouse, she made her way to the back door.

Their eyes watched.

The blood on the doorknob glistened as she inserted her key.

Inside the kitchen she laid the photo on the counter and snatched a large plastic bag from a drawer. She slid the photo into the bag. As she closed it, blood smeared inside the plastic. She lowered her eyes and swallowed hard, steadying herself.

Quickly, she washed the residue of blood off her hand.

She picked up the bagged picture and carried it to the car. Set it on top of the Cruiser while she checked her seat. She didn’t want to sit in blood. She saw none there, but the inside handle of her door remained smeared. She’d clean it up later.

Kaycee checked the visor. No blood there either. She pushed it up.

With two fingers she slid the bagged picture off the roof of the car, then got behind the wheel. Kaycee laid the photo on the passenger seat near her purse. She tried not to look at it, but it pulled at her eyes. Her gaze sidled to the picture.