Exposure (8 page)

Bear trusted nobody. Made the man too cautious. When Nico made underboss, the family’s power would go way up. No dreaming, just fact. Nico could outplay Bear any day.

Light drenched Bear’s sunroom, the Atlantic Ocean curling on the beach in the distance. The table was set with silver and china. Bear knew how to live it up good. To his right lay the morning paper, top half of the front page up. Nico knew he’d read the lead article. Nico had read it himself, three times. The numbers still boomed in his head. Six million, nine hundred seventy-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-two dollars. Total weight of the cash — five hundred thirty-two pounds. Largest take from a bank vault in U.S. history.

And
he —
Joel “Nico” Nicorelli — had done it.

Nico’s stomach growled as Bear’s wife, Marie, poured coffee. Nico hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. At the gurgling sound Marie gave him a smile.

Bear grunted low in his throat — the sound that had earned him his nickname. Everybody in La Cosa Nostra, from the street workers to the boss, had a nickname. It was your personal identity, what with all the Tonys and Franks. And it was part protection. The fewer people who knew your real name, the better.

“Good thing Martha made extra.” Martha had been the Terellis’ cook for years.

Nico tilted his head. His mouth watered, but he couldn’t eat till the boss said so. Marie set down the silver urn and left.

Bear turned his flat brown eyes on Nico. His black-gray brows hung low and bushy. He had a long face with a scar running up his left jaw to his ear. Got it years ago in some fight. The other guy got whacked.

One thing about Bear. When he called you to come in, you never wanted to see him rub that scar.

“So.” Bear guzzled his coffee. “Tell me.”

Already, the undertone. Just ’cause some G-men didn’t do what they’d expected. The Feds were the Feds.

“Went good.” Nico rested his wrists on the table. “Fifteen duffel bags. The van was packed.”

Bear flapped his fingers at a small pitcher of cream —
take it.
Nico poured some in his coffee. No invitation to eat yet.

The underboss lifted the steaming platter of eggs and ham and gave himself a large helping. “Money’s in the storage unit.” It wasn’t a question. He set the platter down and started cutting the ham into perfect squares. The man was weird with his food.

Nico nodded. “In twelve boxes by denomination. Lids taped down.”

The storage unit had been Nico’s idea. In the past week G-men had come down on some of the family’s businesses, wanting to see the books. Tax evasion, they said. Yeah, yeah, the old standby when they wanted to put on the heat and couldn’t get the family on anything else. But the timing was bad. The robbery was a go. What to do with the money until things calmed down? Bear wanted to delay. Stupid. Nico kept his head on straight. Let’s do it right under their noses, he said. With G-men already leaning on them, the Feds wouldn’t finger the family for the heist. Plus, those guys would be pulled away and put on the robbery since they were already in town, and the closest FBI office was two hours away in Newark. Something else — Giordano’s wife managed storage rentals. What a joint to stash the money — and Giordano wouldn’t even know about it. The Feds wouldn’t look for the cash so close to one of the bank employees — at least not right away. If they did get the bright idea — not likely — by then the money would be long gone.

Nico had sent one of his associates to AC Storage to rent the unit. Eddy used a fake ID and address and paid in cash. There’d be nothing to prove that empty unit was tied to the Lucchese family.

“And the getaway?” Bear put eggs and a piece of ham on his fork and shoved them in his mouth. Every bite would be exactly the same.

“We had a second van at the auto-wrecking shop. Me and Stump took the money from the duffels and put it in the boxes there. I loaded one duffel with Giordano’s cut in twenties. Don’t want the guy flashing big bills. Then we drove to the storage. Sammy and Paul crushed the van. Took the license plate off first.”

Bear gestured with his chin toward the newspaper. “Almost seven million. A record.”

“Yeah.” Some praise. But Nico kept a poker face. Most bank heists got you peanuts. He wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t know about Trust Bank’s huge daily deposits. That’s what made him seek out Giordano in the first place. Still, even he hadn’t expected seven million.

The underboss took another precise bite. “A record means a lotta heat.”

“We’ll handle it.”

“Hope so. Now we got double the G-men.” Bear shot Nico a hard look.

Here it came.

For some unknown reason the agents leaning on them apparently pulled out of town yesterday afternoon. Probably itching to go home to their wives for the night. Nico had heard this just a couple hours ago. A friend of his — a paid informant — on the Atlantic City police force told him the cops had to wait two hours last night for the Feds to show. Meanwhile this morning one of Nico’s soldiers said the old G-men were back sniffing around. Red-faced for sure. Cut out for twelve hours and see what happens. Now some higher up was sure to hammer them over it, and they’d take it out on the family.

Nico lifted a shoulder. “They’re spinnin’ circles. They got nothin’.”

Bear’s eyes locked on Nico. “I put Slim on it. He says give him twenty-four hours and we can swallow the money.”

Nico kept his mouth shut. Bear knew he’d cold-cocked him. Slim, another captain. Always trying to muscle by Nico. Not this time. So the Feds went right instead of left. Figuring out how to launder the money wasn’t nothin’ like bringing it in. Nico was the earner.

Bear ran his tongue over his teeth — a signal he’d made his point and was moving on. But this wouldn’t be the end of it, Nico knew. Everything had to go down perfect from here. Bear picked up his mug and swigged coffee. “How about Giordano?”

Nico tapped the rim of his empty plate. Anger mashed around in his gut. Bear was starving him on purpose. “He came through last night. But he worries me.”

“Oh?”

“Guy was sweatin’ bullets.”

“You said he came through.”

“He did. Last night he did it up right. His nerves just made him look more the part.”

“So what’s the problem?” Bear waved at the food. “Eat, eat.”

Now that it was half cold. Nico reached for the platter. “He was
too
nervous. He blabbered. Asked me how we’d gotten into the bank when the doors were locked.” Nico took his first bite of ham and eggs. The velvety, salty flavor exploded in his mouth.

“Sounds like a decent question, comin’ from a guy who’s supposed to look like he might get popped any minute.”

“Maybe. But what’s he gonna do if the Feds lean on him day after day?”

Bear’s coffee mug stopped at his lips. “Think he’ll talk?”

“I don’t know.”

A sigh rattled Bear’s throat. He set down his coffee cup. “Why didn’t you take care of this last night?”

Nico bit back a smirk. “And have a murder attached to the heist?”

Bear grunted. He stared at his plate for a minute, then pushed more food onto his fork. “You told me Giordano was solid. You vouched for the guy.” Bear’s tone threatened.

“Giordano’s perfect. Got a sick kid who needs a bunch of medical tests. That’s reason enough to keep his mouth shut. Besides, without him I wouldn’t have known about the bank’s security system. What kind of locks on the doors. How many employees would be there after closing.” Nico kept his voice even. This was not the big deal Bear was trying to make of it, even on top of the Fed problem. Everything was under control. “I’m just tellin’ you he was more nervous than I figured. I’ll take care of him.”

“Take care of him now, Nico. Seven million’s a lot of money.”

That
he’d
brought in. “Sure.”

Bear wiped his lips with a napkin and stared out the window at the ocean. “What’s with this guy? Got a good job. Health insurance. Then he gets involved in somethin’ like this.” Bear shook his head. “A man gets greedy . . .”

Nico said nothing.

The underboss went back to eating. “The kid — boy or girl?”

“Girl.”

“How old?”

“Just turned four.”

Bear shook his head again. He had a four-year-old granddaughter. Nico knew he was crazy about the kid.

“And you got Giordano’s cut. A hundred thousand.”

“It’s in a closet in my house.”

“Make sure it gets put back.”

Nico clamped his jaws down. Seven million dollars, and the man was worried about a lousy hundred grand. Nico gestured with his hand —
yeah
,
sure.

The underboss sniffed. “You shouldn’t have brought him in, Nico. Now we got problems.”

“I said I’ll take care of it.”

“How you know it’s not too late? What if he talked last night?”

“Nobody beat down my door this morning.” Nico shifted in his chair. “He didn’t talk ’cause of the kid.”

Bear pressed his hands flat on the table and leaned back. “I don’t want him found. And I want you to do this personally.”

Nico’s anger rose. Any of his soldiers could have done the burn. That’s what they were there for. This was Bear’s way of rubbing his face in it. So much for pulling off a record heist.

“Sure.”

Bear’s fork poked up another bite of egg and ham. “The little girl — she lives with her mother?”

“Yeah.”

“And the mother knows nothin’ about this.”

“No.”

“How you know? A man doesn’t just find a hundred thousand dollars on his way to take a leak.”

“I warned him. Giordano knows he needs to sit on the money for now. If he tells his wife, so what? Guy’s in too deep. But now — don’t matter. He won’t get the chance.”

He wouldn’t even get the cash.

Bear chewed, then swigged coffee. “Never underestimate the vengeance of a woman. If she knows, then her husband goes missin’ — she’ll sing to anybody who’ll listen.”

Nico shrugged. “If she knows, I’ll whack her too.”

Kaycee awoke to the smell of blood.

Her eyes popped open. Her chugging brain took in the walls of Tricia’s guestroom, the framed print of flying mallards. White dresser.

No blood.

Kaycee let out a breath and rubbed a hand across her forehead. Her face and chest were hot. Deep in her mind the dream played on — the running feet and screams, the dead man on a dark yellow floor. She tried in vain to shake off the senses.

Her body felt heavy. She’d gotten little sleep.

Kaycee checked the digital clock on the nightstand. Six-fifty-five.

Tricia’s doorbell rang.

Rising up on one elbow, Kaycee frowned. The doorbell — at this hour?

She slipped from bed and crossed the room. As she pulled the door open she heard Tricia’s muted footsteps in the tiled entryway, the sound of a lock clicking open. Kaycee trotted down the short hall. She reached the foyer as Tricia, wrapped in a robe, opened the front door. Mark Burnett stood on the porch, still in uniform. His face looked grim.

Kaycee ran a hand over her bed-head curls. They had to be sticking out like Pippi Longstocking’s braids.

“Tricia, Kaycee.” He made eye contact with them both. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” Tricia stood back and held out her arm, ushering him inside. As he stepped onto the tile, she shut the door behind him.

Mark looked to Kaycee. “We got a call this morning from Ryan Parksley. Hannah’s missing. She wasn’t in her room when her stepmother went to wake her for school. Bed wasn’t slept in.”

Tricia gasped. Kaycee’s mouth creaked open, but no words came to her tongue.

“They think she ran away. Her suitcase is missing, plus a baby pillow from her bed. Also a picture of her mom that she keeps on the dresser.”

“Oh.” Kaycee’s voice blurted, thin and bleak. “I was at her house last night. She begged me to let her come live with me. She’s so unhappy at home . . .”

Mark nodded. “Mr. Parksley said you’d been there. You were the first person he thought to call, but of course you weren’t home. He and Mrs. Parksley phoned all Hannah’s friends they could think of. No one knows where she is.”

Kaycee’s gaze bounced to Tricia, who stood round-eyed, fingers pressed to her lips. Suddenly, worries about some nonexistent dead man and a dream seemed so insignificant. “Did you check around my house?” Kaycee asked. “Maybe she slept on the porch?” It would have been cold and so frightening. Kaycee couldn’t bear the thought of Hannah waiting for her, alone and crying.

“Yeah. She’s not there. Any idea where else she might go?”

“How about the black barn next door?”

“Checked that too.”

Kaycee stared at the floor, replaying conversations she’d had with Hannah. Other than the friends the girl’s parents would know to call, she could think of no one. She shook her head. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Mark nodded. “Chief Davis is on it, and Deputy Chief Norrel. I’m supposed to be going off duty, but I’ll stay till we find her.”