Identity (36 page)

A nine-by-twelve mailing envelope with no return address was the only thing of interest. Fina waited until she was inside the condo before ripping open the top and pulling out the contents.

It stopped her in her tracks.

There were half a dozen photographs, all of which featured Haley from a distance. The first two showed her with a group of friends outside her school. Another featured her on a field hockey field wearing athletic gear. The remainders were shots of sidewalks and parking lots. Fina felt her stomach lurch and a light sweat appear at her hairline. The envelope didn’t contain a note, but the message was clear.

Someone had Haley in his sights.

•   •   •

Fina scooted into the lobby of Cristian’s apartment building behind a young woman who was on the phone. The woman paused in her conversation and glared at Fina.

“I’m visiting Detective Menendez in 4F,” Fina insisted. “You can follow me up there if you like.”

The tenant returned to her conversation, and Fina sprinted up the stairs rather than wait for the painfully slow elevator. She knocked on his door and heard murmurs behind it.

“Fina, what are you doing here?” Cristian asked. He was wearing jeans and an untucked T-shirt, holding a beer. She peered around him but didn’t see anyone, just heard noises emanating from the kitchen.

“I need to talk to you.”

He took a step out into the hall. “This isn’t a good time.”

“I’m sorry. I can tell you’re busy, but it’s urgent.”

Cristian exhaled loudly. “It’s always urgent with you.”

“Just look.” Fina handed him the envelope. He gave her his beer, and she took a long pull from it.

Cristian flipped through the photos, frowning. “I assume she’s okay.”

“I spoke with Patty on the way over here. I didn’t want to alarm her so I didn’t say anything specific, but Haley seems to be fine.”

“Cristian! I think the chilies are done roasting.” A woman appeared on the threshold. She was young—in her late twenties—and very pretty. Her long hair was shiny and wavy, her complexion olive-tinged. She looked wholesome, with her bright eyes and smooth skin, not like the kind of woman who’d get choked in an elevator or throw any punches.

Cristian stood awkwardly between the two women.

“I’m Fina, a friend of Cristian’s,” Fina finally said, extending her hand.

“Cindy,” the young woman answered. Her grip was firm and warm.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt,” Fina said. “It’s a family crisis.”

“That’s okay. You guys don’t need to stand in the hallway.” Cindy beckoned them in.

“Right,” Cristian said reluctantly. “Come on in.”

Fina followed them into the kitchen. “Do you have any thoughts?”
She nodded at the photos in Cristian’s hands. Cindy stirred a pot on the stove. Fina took another drink of Cristian’s beer, a motion Cindy followed with her gaze.

“You’re not going to get anything from these.” He put the photos back in the envelope. “No return address. I doubt there are any prints.”

“Do you and Pitney have any leads that might point me in the right direction?”

Cristian shook his head. “Nope, and I’d be on it already if there were a credible threat.”

Fina nodded. “I know. Shit. I’ve got nothing.”

“The list of people you’re annoying can’t be exhaustive.”

“You’d be surprised.” Fina drained the beer and put the empty on the kitchen table. Cindy picked up hers and sipped it delicately.

“Keep an eye on Haley and work it from the other end,” Cristian suggested. “That’s all I can tell you.”

“Maybe I need to draw this guy out again. I’m assuming it’s the same one I met in the elevator.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Cristian reached into the fridge and pulled out a fresh beer. He popped off the top and took a swig. “Do not do that.”

Cindy moved the pot off the stove. She pulled on a pair of oven mitts and took a pan out of the oven.

“That smells amazing,” Fina said, sniffing the air.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Cindy offered.

Cristian did not look pleased at the invitation.

“No, thank you. I’ve barged in enough. I just wanted you to know what’s going on,” she said to Cristian.

“I wish I could do more.”

“It was nice meeting you, Cindy.” Fina walked back to the front door with Cristian trailing behind her. He handed her the envelope.

“Look, I know this scares you, but the chances of anyone actually doing anything to Haley are slim.”

“But not nonexistent. I can’t believe we went through all that shit
over the summer and I might have put her right back in the middle of things.”

“It’s not your fault, Fina.”

Fina rubbed her eyes with her palms. “I hate this. I hate this feeling.”

“I know.” Cristian pulled her toward him and hugged her. “Calm down, and don’t do anything stupid. Haley will be upset if you get yourself killed.”

Fina pulled back a few inches and looked at him. “What about you? Will you be upset if I get myself killed?”

He looked at her with a sad smile. “Go home. Maybe Milloy should come over and keep you company.”

Fina stepped back. “Pushing me into the arms of the enemy? You must really like her.”

Cristian shrugged.

Fina walked back to the stairwell and slowly made her way down the four flights to the lobby.

Back at Nanny’s, she opened her computer and contemplated watching the surveillance footage provided by Korfa Mahad, but her heart wasn’t in it. Reviewing surveillance footage was tedious and time-consuming, but you had to pay attention. Space out at the wrong moment and you might miss the very thing you’d waited hours to see. Fina knew she should rally and watch, but she was tired and grumpy. Once in a while she just couldn’t rally, not unless her life depended on it, and tonight, it didn’t.

Instead, she took a long, warm shower, put on her cozies—as her young nephew referred to loungewear—made herself a fluffernutter, and poured a tall glass of milk. She curled up on the couch, eating and watching reality TV.

Things weren’t going the way she wanted them to, and quite frankly, it was pissing her off.

After a quick shower and a few Oreos the next morning, Fina sat down at her laptop and started reviewing Korfa’s footage. She was able to fast-forward through it, but it would still be time-consuming reviewing the tapes from both gas stations.

She hadn’t slept well the night before. Her mind kept ricocheting between thoughts of Haley, which scared her, and Cindy, which annoyed her. Now she had to fight to stay focused on the images in front of her. Half an hour in, there was a knock on her door.

Fina peeked through the peephole and unlocked the door for Hal. He was dressed in his typical uniform of dress pants and a button-down shirt that appeared to be made from a synthetic fabric.

“You look better than last time,” he commented, lowering himself into one of Nanny’s chairs.

“Thanks. I feel better.” Fina went into the kitchen and got him a glass of ice water, which she placed on the side table next to him.

“Thank you.”

Fina settled back onto the sofa. “So, what do you have for me?”

Hal popped open his briefcase and removed a file. He did most of his work electronically, but it wasn’t unusual for him to provide a paper copy, which Fina was then instructed to shred.

“I can understand why Dimitri Kask would be bitter about the waterfront deal.”

“Why’s that?” Fina took the proffered file. She looked inside, but the columns of numbers were a foreign language.

“It has the potential to be incredibly lucrative.” Hal had some water. “Not only that, it could be a landmark, one of those iconic places that people associate with a city. Not right away, of course, but over time.”

“I wonder why Hank didn’t want him involved.”

“That I can’t tell you, but depending upon Mr. Kask’s personality, being left out could be quite a blow,” Hal said.

“He seems like a decent guy, but who knows. I’m sure his ego is oversize.”

“It usually has to be to attain the level of success he has.”

“Any thoughts about the future of the project now that Hank is dead?” Fina tossed the folder onto the coffee table.

“So far, all systems go.”

“Hmm. Okay. What about the other thing? The charities?”

“Now, that’s rather interesting.” Hal sat up straighter in his seat. Hal loved to investigate things, but he also loved reporting his findings to Fina. Occasionally, she tried to move things along, but he was such a nice guy that she didn’t like to spoil his fun.

“So, you know that Juliana Reardon is essentially the patron of the Reardon Center?”

Fina nodded.

“Apparently, Danielle Reardon is in the process of establishing the Hank Reardon
House
. It was going to just be the Reardon House, but since he died . . .” Hal gave her a knowing look.

“What’s that exactly?”

“It’s like the Ronald McDonald House, except not just for kids. A place for families to stay when their loved ones are in the hospital.”

“How far along is the process?”

“They haven’t announced any formal plans yet, but all signs point to it. The sale for the land is about to go through.”

“I imagine that requires a lot of cash.”

“Millions, over a long period of time. Eventually, you want something like that to be self-sustaining.”

“I’ve been wondering if Hank got tired of funding the Reardon Center, especially if Danielle had her own project that required his checkbook.”

Hal shrugged. “Both places seem like worthy causes. It’s too bad he couldn’t do both.”

“I agree. Can you look into a piece of property for me?”

“Sure.” Hal pulled out his phone and prepared to type in the details.

“Forty-four Oak Street in Cambridge. It’s next to the Reardon Center. I’m wondering if Juliana is looking to expand.”

“That’s got to be expensive,” Hal said, tucking his phone into his pocket.

He got himself unwedged from Nanny’s chair, and Fina walked with him to the front door. “Make sure you shred those documents when you’re done with them,” he told her.

“I promise,” Fina said. “Keep in touch.”

Hal left, and she returned to her laptop.

Another hour watching traffic on Korfa’s surveillance tapes confirmed the hunch she’d had all along.

Generally, she believed it was better to know something than not, but in this case, ignorance had been bliss.

•   •   •

Fina spent Saturday afternoon confirming her suspicions with multiple viewings of the security tape and treated Sunday as a day of rest. If the good Lord got a day off, why shouldn’t she?

“You wanted to speak with me?” Juliana Reardon said on the other end of the phone on Monday morning.

“Yes.” Fina pulled herself away from the computer screen, where she had queued up the critical footage once more.

“Well, I just finished up some meetings at the center. We could grab a quick lunch,” Juliana suggested.

“That would be great.”

They made a plan to meet in ninety minutes.

Fina skipped the footage back thirty seconds and watched it again.

There it was, clear as day.

Rosie and Tyler in Tyler’s car, driving by Korfa’s gas station at one in the morning—when they’d claimed to be snug in their beds. She cursed them under her breath. This was probably what the police had on Rosie.

Fina grabbed her bag and headed out the door. On the way down to the parking garage, she wrapped her hand securely around her gun. She’d told Cristian she wanted to draw out her nemesis, but in reality, she wasn’t looking forward to the encounter and wasn’t sure how she’d do it. She breathed a sigh of relief once the car door was securely locked behind her and she was on her way to Ludlow and Associates.

Scotty wasn’t in his office, but his assistant told her to wait; he was due back any minute. Fina was smashing buttons on the Magic Genie when he came through the door, a legal pad under one arm and a bottle of water in the other hand.

“Hey. What’s up?” he asked as he dropped into his expensive leather desk chair.

“Those little stinkers were lying to us.”

“Which ones?”

“Rosie Sanchez and Tyler Frasier.”

Scotty nodded his head and started thumbing through a pile of file folders on his desk. “Go on,” he said.

Fina grabbed a diet soda from his wet bar and sat down in the chair across from his desk. “They both claimed that they were asleep in bed when Hank was killed, but I have proof that they were gallivanting around town.”

Scotty found the file he wanted and spread it open. “Gallivanting? Tell me more.”

“I don’t know more, but I know neither was where they claimed to be, and they both have possible motives for killing Hank.”

“We only represent Rosie.”

“I know, but we may end up representing Tyler.”

“I can’t worry about a non-client.”

“Fine. Let’s focus on Rosie. What are we going to do?”

Scotty sat back in his chair and twirled a ballpoint pen between his fingers. He frowned. “This isn’t good.”

“Do your clients really pay you eight hundred dollars an hour for that kind of pronouncement?”

“Hey, ‘I don’t get paid unless you get paid,’ remember?”