L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (73 page)

At headquarters after they finished, Rico came over and sat in the chair next to Jordan’s desk. “That took guts.”

Jordan shrugged off his jacket and vest. “No, not guts. Just facing my own demons.”

“It’s about time,” Luke mumbled.

“Hey,” Jordan said to Rico. “Thanks for showing up. You and Macy must’ve just got back.”

Rico shrugged, his dark eyes still glowing from the bust. “It’s my job. Besides, if DeMatta was going down, I wanted in on it.”

Luke paced around his desk and Jordan could see he was still jazzed, too.

“Let’s get a beer,” Rico said.

But just then Carlyle called over, “St. James, Ledbetter wants you at his office in the morning. Apparently he’s got some issues.”

Jordan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Why doesn’t he come here?”

“I asked the same thing. He said it was personal, between you and him.”

***

Laura jerked awake from a fitful sleep and glanced at the clock. Freaking 6:00 a.m. Time to get up. For the first time since she’d opened the shelter, she didn’t feel like facing the day. She wanted to stay in bed and hibernate. Away from all her problems—and she seemed to have so many. Her worst fear was that she’d simply exchanged one problem for another.

After the FBI left last night with her books and DeMatta’s money, she’d wanted to collapse in a heap. But she’d had to stay calm, had to assure everyone that things were okay.

That the FBI thought she was somehow involved with DeMatta was ludicrous. Jordan had said he’d help her work things out, but she didn’t know how he was going to do it. He worked for the LAPD, not the FBI. As far as she knew, someone could knock on her door any moment and take her downtown. A possibility she’d already discussed with Rose and Phoebe, just in case. Rose said she’d stay at the shelter for the night.

Laura had been on edge ever since Cait had identified the photo of DeMatta—and even with the police doing double duty, the waiting was excruciating. Jordan’s phone call in the middle of the night telling her DeMatta was in custody gave her a modicum of relief.

But he couldn’t give her all the information right then, he said, and would come over in the morning and explain.

The phone rang, the sound seeming louder than normal, piercing her sensitivities. Her hand trembled when she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hi, it’s Jordan. Did I wake you?”

Her nerves untangled as a wave of relief washed over her. “No, I was awake.”

“Can I come over, or would you rather talk somewhere private?”

“Somewhere else.” In just a half hour, everyone would be up, vying for the bathroom and complaining about not having time to get ready. “Name the spot.”

After taking down the address, she got up, showered and threw on a pair of jeans and a baby-blue T-shirt with a black sweater over it. On her way to the kitchen, she heard a banging against the outside of the house. She peered out the window and saw a teenage boy who looked as strung out as anyone she’d ever seen.

It was the boy Brandy had been living with before she came to Victory House. Her drug supplier. The guy who’d pimp his own girlfriend to get more money for their habit. A story she heard all too often.

“Can I help you?” she said, opening the door.

“You! You’re the reason she won’t see me anymore.”

Laura girded her reserves. “I will help you if you want me to, but I won’t allow you to stand out here and disturb my neighbors.”

He wavered on his feet. “D’ya think I give a flying shit what you think? D’ya think I give a flying shit what anyone in this fucked up, shit hole world thinks?” His voice rose an octave with each ranting sentence.

Laura might’ve been wary, but given his condition, she was sure she could push him over with one finger. “If you don’t want my help, go home or I’ll call the police.”

He waved his arms. “I don’t got no home to go to.”

That was probably true. But she knew no one could help someone who didn’t want to be helped. “Are you hungry? I’ll give you some breakfast.”

He stared at her. “Really?”

“Really.”

He started inside just as Phoebe drove up. “What’s going on?”

“He’s hungry. I’m going to fix him something to eat.”

“And then what?”

She took Phoebe aside. “I’ve got to leave to meet Jordan. If I fix him some food, can you call someone to help him? The men’s shelter, maybe.”

Phoebe nodded. “I’ll be back in a minute after I put my stuff away.”

Laura hurried to make some scrambled eggs, enough for Cait, too, when she woke. The child had stayed up late last night watching girl movies with Alysa and Claire, so Laura didn’t expect it would be soon.

As Laura finished scooping the scrambled eggs onto the boy’s plate, he stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

“You’re nice,” he said. “How come you’re nice.” He looked at his food. “I didn’t think you’d be nice.”

He was obviously too far gone to remember she’d sent him away before and had even called the police on him once.

“I didn’t mean to wreck your stuff. I just got so mad when I couldn’t see Brandy.”

Placing the pan back on the stove, Laura stopped in her tracks. “Wreck my stuff?”

He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “The blankets and stuff. I’m sorry. I just wanted to see Brandy.”

Oh, God. “
You
ruined Cait’s quilt?”

His eyes bugged out and he jerked to his feet. “I d-didn’t want to. I just got mad because I couldn’t see Brandy. You needed to be punished.”

“You broke in here?” she repeated incredulously.

Suddenly fear shone in his eyes. He shoved to his feet and the chair scraped backward and crashed to the floor. The boy turned and, obviously panicked, stumbled toward the door and fell down the stairs. He scrambled to his feet and started running.

“Wait!” Laura called after him. “It’s okay.” But he didn’t stop and she didn’t have time to go after him. What did he mean? Who told him she was keeping him and Brandy apart?

Phoebe came back into the kitchen. “Where is he?”

“Gone.” Feeling incredibly weary, Laura sighed. “He said he was the one who destroyed Cait’s quilt. All because he couldn’t see Brandy.”

Phoebe didn’t seem surprised. “Lots of things are done in the name of love.”

While Laura was relieved to know who’d broken in, she couldn’t sit around and talk. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“We’re cool. Really. I can take care of things quite well.”

Laura smiled. “I know. And I don’t give you enough credit for all the things you do.”

“Get out of here,” Phoebe said, her discomfort with the compliment undisguised.

On the freeway, Laura got out the address Jordan had given her. His home, he’d said. It would be easier to talk there. Good. She’d been curious about the other parts of his life, whether he lived as if he had tons of money, or as if he was an officer of the law? The Brentwood address gave her the answer…and made her realize just how far apart their lives were. Also good. A strong dose of reality would help her get back on the normal road again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

JORDAN ENTERED THE FBI field office headquarters building on Wilshire Boulevard and went directly to the screening desk.

“Special Agent Ledbetter will see you in the conference room on the fifth floor,” the guard at the desk said after Jordan had signed in. He gave Jordan a visitor’s badge.

Jordan hoped to hell this was quick. He had to meet Laura. In the few hours before coming here, Jordan had gone through every scenario Ledbetter might come up with. But none would be reason enough to get him down here. And he’d said it was personal. Jordan couldn’t think of one thing he had in common with Ledbetter, personal or otherwise. Except that they both worked in law enforcement.

“St. James,” Ledbetter said, when Jordan walked into the room.

Three other agents sat in chairs at the long mahogany conference table.

“Have a seat.”

Jordan did as asked. “What’s up, Phil? I know you didn’t ask me here to chat about old times.”

Phil gave a weak laugh. “No, you’re right there.” He cleared his throat. “This is not my deal. One of my agents made a request to talk to you, but since he’s undercover, this is a high-security clearance issue. I want your assurance you won’t mention it to anyone.”

Though wary, Jordan couldn’t think of any reason not to agree. “Okay. You’ve got my word.”

“Good. Wait here.” With that, the four suits left the room.

Waiting, for what he didn’t know, Jordan drummed his fingers on the shiny table. His nerves twitched, and he got more tense as the minutes passed. He stood. After a few minutes of pacing, he finally heard voices outside, and then the door opened.

If ever there was a time he could’ve been knocked over with a feather, this was it.

Nick Stanton entered the room.

“Good morning,” Stanton said.

Jordan was certain his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. Finally he managed, “You’re an undercover agent?”

Stanton nodded. “On this gig for four years. Ever since the Kolnikov murder.”

Jordan’s hands went clammy. “Your meetings with her were part of the sting?”

He shook his head, his blond brows drawn together. “No. Something else brought me to see her initially.”

“Something that will help my case?”

Stanton narrowed his gaze, as if debating some deeper issue. Hell, the question wasn’t that tough.

“It’s about what you said to DeMatta,” Stanton said.

“What I said to DeMatta?”

“About Anna Kolnikov being your mother.”

Jordan had already blocked it from his mind. He’d admitted it, then forgot it. He squared his shoulders. “If you’re wondering if I have some kind of inside information on Kolnikov and DeMatta because of that, I don’t. I only found out she was my mother after she was murdered.”

“That’s not it.” Stanton sat in a chair and indicated Jordan should do the same. “I was raised by my father and stepmother in New Paltz, New York. The same town where Kolnikov grew up.”

“I know where she lived and I know your history, or at least I thought I did. I guess your prison record was just a setup for your cover.”

Stanton nodded. “True. But the reason I wanted to talk—” He cleared his throat. “Prior to meeting Anna Kolnikov, I’d learned she was my biological mother. I went to see her. It…it was a shock. I’d had all these fantasies about what she’d be like, what kind of relationship we’d have.” His blue eyes darkened. “Later, when I heard she’d been murdered—well, that was another blow.”

Jordan stared at the guy. It couldn’t be. He searched the man’s face for something familiar. He could see a resemblance to Kolnikov…even something of himself looking back at him. The eyes, maybe. Then he shook his head, reeling from the implications. “This is like some weird science-fiction movie where nothing is as it seems.”

“You can imagine how I felt standing in my SWAT gear with a gun on you and DeMatta—and then hearing we were half brothers.”

Half brothers
. Jordan steadied himself against the boardroom table. “You were on the DeMatta case because of her murder?”

“No, the DeMatta sting has been on the boards for years. And now that we’ve finally got him, it’s a bittersweet victory. Nobody can help the people he’s murdered…or their families.”

Jordan knew the feeling. All his life he’d wanted to know his real mother. Believed if he found her, she’d fill in the gaps he’d felt all his life because he didn’t know who he was, never felt he belonged.

“What…what did you think when you met her?”

Stanton shoved to his feet. “At first? Disappointment. Disgust. Hate. A whole raft of emotions. But afterward, I realized I felt the way I did not because of who she was, but because of my own expectations. What I’d wanted her to be. No matter who she was, she couldn’t possibly live up to my fantasy. When I came to grips with my own issues, I couldn’t hate her. I just felt sad.” He reached into his pocket.

“This is a photo of Anna Kolnikov and my father.”

Jordan hesitated. When he looked at the photo, his mouth went dry. The young blond girl in the picture appeared sweet and innocent, fifteen at the most. Just looking at her took his breath away. “She didn’t look like that at all in her later years.”

“I know. She didn’t when I first met her, either.”

Jordan started to hand back the photo.

“You keep it. I have another. They only knew each other a couple of months before she became pregnant, and he left before I was born.”

Which meant the guy wasn’t Jordan’s father. He’d probably never know who he was. Not that it mattered.

The worst part was that he’d thought solving Kolnikov’s murder would be the end of it. That he’d be able to sleep at night knowing he hadn’t let her down. But it wasn’t the end of it, and Jordan’s gaze was drawn to the photo again. He’d felt exactly as Nick had when he found out about his biological mother. Disappointment, disgust, hate, he’d felt them all. And still, he’d been compelled to know more about her. “What was she like?”

“We only met four or five times. And…”

Jordan knew the words Stanton had left unsaid. It was hard to reconcile the photo with the person she’d become. He cleared his throat. “In my investigation, I learned she helped some people.”

Nick looked surprised. “Oh?”

“I heard it from more than one person.”

The other man nodded. “That’s good.”

“And we found a witness. A former girlfriend of DeMatta’s who’d gone missing. She used to work for Kolnikov and she’s willing to testify about DeMatta’s part in the murder.”

Nick rubbed his hands together. “Justice does win out in the end.”

A smile formed as Jordan looked at Nick—the man who said he was his brother—and as strange as that was, he felt a bond of some kind. They had a history. They had the same DNA. “Yeah, it does.”

He wondered what Laura would think of what he’d learned today. But Nick Stanton was undercover. He couldn’t tell anyone. Remembering that Nick still thought Laura was involved with DeMatta, he asked, “Why were you following Laura Gianni? And Alysa, why did you get her involved?”

“All part of the sting. I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge the details.”

Jordan understood. “Laura’s never worked with DeMatta.”

Nick’s forehead furrowed. “You sound sure of that? We were at her husband’s funeral when DeMatta gave her the money.”

“Her ex-husband. And yes, I’m sure. The money DeMatta gave her was the stash you collected last night. She never spent a penny. I’ll give you a copy of my report when it’s completed.”

Nick’s eyebrows arched. “You sound involved in more than just an investigation.”

Jordan drew a resigned breath. “Yeah. I’ve been on the case a while.” Fact was, he was as involved as a guy could get.

He was in love. Still.

Except he’d screwed up any chance they might’ve had to be together. She probably hated him for all his platitudes about justice, and then judging her in the process. He’d hurt her, unfairly.

***

Laura pulled into the drive and checked the address again. Her battered van seemed out of place in the ritzy upscale neighborhood. She gave a dry laugh. Upscale was an understatement.

Jordan opened the door before she even had a chance to knock. “Come on in. I’m glad you’re here.”

She forced a smile. Under other circumstances, she might be glad, too.

“Let’s go into the living room.”

She followed, her gaze drifting over the designer furnishings. A black leather couch with straight clean lines faced a flagstone fireplace. Two chamois-colored chairs flanked the couch, and the Oriental area rug in black and tan in the middle of the floor obviously cost a fortune. The same with the black lacquered coffee table. The room was immaculate, as if it had never been used. “Have you lived here long?”

“Since I graduated college. I guess that’s long.” He motioned for her to sit on the couch. “My mother finally got tired of seeing the place empty and just recently decorated this room. The rest of the house isn’t so nice.”

She sat, tried to find a comfortable position, but her body felt as stiff as a surfboard. “It’s nice.” Why was she so edgy? This was an informational meeting and nothing more. He’d tell her about DeMatta, then tell her what she and Cait needed to do…and then she’d go home.

“Before we get into other things,” she said. “I have to tell you I discovered who broke into the house. It was Brandy’s old boyfriend. He was angry at me for keeping them apart.”

Jordan sat next to her, faced her with one arm slung across the back of the cushions. “Where did you hear that?”

“He told me. I caught him hanging around the shelter this morning, obviously high on something. He left in a hurry and I don’t think he’ll be back. At least I hope not.”

His gaze lingered. “That’s good to know. What about the phone calls? Did he make those, too?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’d have no reason to say the things the caller said. But he did say someone told him I was to blame for keeping him from Brandy.”

His head jerked up. “Who?”

“I asked, but he ran off.”

“You think it was Brandy?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. She wouldn’t do something so destructive.”

“Ever trusting.” He smiled.

“Until I know otherwise.”

He nodded. “Well, if things go as I expect they will, we’ll find out soon enough if the phone calls were from DeMatta or one of his hired goons. The paint, too.”

He kept looking at her, making Laura even more uncomfortable. “So, is Cait going to have to do anything else?”

“I don’t know. Once we get all the evidence in place, we may be able to make a case without involving her. The black car belonged to the FBI. They were scoping you out because of your past contact with DeMatta.” He reached into a gym bag on the floor and pulled out a tiny red tennis shoe in a Ziploc bag. “Do you recognize this?”

“Oh, God. That’s Cait’s. She wore the shoes to Eddie’s that night. I couldn’t find it later and worried that I missed it when I collected her things. But, luckily, no one else found it either.” She looked at him. “Until now. Where’d you get it?”

“It turned up in a search of DeMatta’s office. It’s prime evidence if you can identify it as Cait’s.”

“It is. They were new and when she discovered it was gone, she was heartbroken.” Her chest constricted as the significance of it hit her. “That means he’s known all along that Cait might have been there.”

“Looks that way. And there’s reason to believe someone in the department leaked him the information that I was talking to you—his motive for the threats.” He slouched against the couch.

“Do you think he would’ve carried them out?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t in any hurry and he knew where you were.”

“Odd. Maybe he has a soft spot for kids?”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. With all the evidence we’ve got, DeMatta is going away for a long time.”

Laura placed a hand to her mouth, as if what he’d said was too good to be true.

“I’m hoping it won’t be necessary for you or Cait to testify, but if it comes to that, you’ll have to be in a protection program.”

She nodded. “If it means I can finally live a normal life, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“We also have a witness who will testify about the Kolnikov murder.”

“Oh—you found Anna’s killer?”

“I can’t discuss the details, but I think so, yes.”

Laura blinked back tears of joy, but the darkness in Jordan’s eyes said he didn’t share her happiness. He’d made it clear early on what he thought of people like Anna.

How could she blame him, given the woman’s reputation? And most of it being true. Still, her guilt weighed heavily on her. She had to set the record straight. “Anna wasn’t the horrible woman you believe her to be, you know. Yes, she did illegal things, but for her, it was the only way to survive. She’d been on the streets since she was a teenager. She didn’t have family or anyone to help her. Just people like DeMatta who exploited her from a very young age.”