Ravenous (24 page)

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Authors: V.K. Forrest

BOOK: Ravenous
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Chapter 24
“T
here’s nothing here.” Mai dropped onto the couch that had no cushions; though no longer strewn all over her living room, they were still in a pile on the floor. She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and they’re going to kill my dad and there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do about it.” She sounded beyond feeling any emotion. She’d been working for hours, going through her shop with Kaleigh while Liam worked in the house, but now she was out of energy, and hope, it seemed. She opened her eyes. “How long before they come after me, Liam?” she asked matter-of-factly.
He was picking up books off the floor and passing them to Kaleigh. They’d already gone over the entire upstairs, the laundry room, and the half bath downstairs; the only room left after they finished the living room was the kitchen. He was checking each book for papers or hidden objects before he gave it to Kaleigh to replace on the bookshelves. They’d been at it for almost six hours. In the end, Liam had been glad he’d brought Kaleigh with them. She’d served as a pair of extra eyes and hands in the search. She’d also provided a buffer between him and Mai.
Mai was pretty upset. Upset with him, with her father, with herself, and Liam didn’t know how to handle her. He didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, which made him feel inadequate. He didn’t like feeling inadequate. But maybe there was nothing
to
say.
“How long?” she repeated.
“There’s no way to say.” He held a coffee table book that featured glossy photographs of antique clocks. He had the same book somewhere. “But I have a feeling the Weasel will be contacting us before it comes to that.”
“Before or after they kill my dad?”
He saw no reason to sugarcoat the situation. It was bad. But it wasn’t hopeless. “Before. The Weasel’s top priority is to get his diamonds back.”
He wasn’t sure Mai was really listening.
“It’s getting dark.” She glanced at the windows. Shadows were lengthening in the room and they’d had to turn on the lights a little while ago so Kaleigh and Mai could see what they were doing. “He’s got to be scared. What if he’s hurt?”
“Your father’s a smart man. A survivor. He made it out of Saigon, didn’t he?” Liam passed the clock book to Kaleigh. There was nothing in the books, nothing in the house to help him help Mai. “He’ll be okay. At least for now.”
Mai pressed her lips together. “You think so?”
He walked over and sat down beside her. The couch was hard without the cushions. He got up and retrieved the sliced-up cushions from where they’d stacked them. “Get up,” he said. She rose and let him replace the cushions.
She sat down again. “You really think he’ll be okay?”
He took her hand in his. “I do. I don’t know how to explain it to you, but I just have this feeling in my gut that, at least for now, your father isn’t in imminent danger.” He paused for a second. “Now, we need to think through this again. Go about it logically. We have to accept the fact that Donato had the diamonds, otherwise the Weasel wouldn’t be going to all this trouble, not at his age. So, if the diamonds aren’t here, where could they be? You said neither your dad nor Donato drove a car anymore.”
She shook her head, clasping his fingers. “Dad lost his license a year ago. A couple of fender-benders, then he accidentally ran a red light and almost caused an accident. He actually surrendered his license before the state revoked it. Uncle Donato didn’t have a license or a car when he came to live with us.”
“No public transportation here, so that means you had to drive them where they wanted to go,” he said, thinking out loud. “Think back since Donato arrived. Did he ever get you to take him somewhere like a storage facility, maybe?”
“No.”
“To meet someone you didn’t know?”
“No.”
“And, to your knowledge, he didn’t own any property anywhere?” Liam hadn’t been able to find any public record of her uncle owning property, but he just wanted to be sure.
“No,” Mai answered. “Not as far as I know.”
Which didn’t really make sense, Liam thought. He’d found records where the IRS had seized multiple properties, as well as bank accounts, when Donato went to jail. But he’d had time to make money and buy property after he got out. A man like Donato, who was even reasonably successful in his day, would have made plenty of money. Of course, maybe he just got good at hiding it after tangling with the government and going to jail.
“What do you think, Prince?” Kaleigh asked. She walked over to where the dog slept in a little wicker bed near the foot of the stairs. She sat on the floor and began to stroke his smooth back. “Did Uncle Donato hide the diamonds here in the house, or somewhere else? Did your daddy Corrato tell you?” she crooned. “Does the smart little doggie know where the jewels are hidden?”
Liam stared at the dog, then shifted his gaze to the dog bed. He remembered the night he’d brought Corrato and Mai back to the house to collect their belongings. Corrato had tried to bring the dog basket, but Mai had made him leave it. The incident had seemed meaningless at the time. Now he wondered. Why had Corrato wanted the dog bed and no other possessions beyond a change of clothing and some crossword puzzle books? Was he just worried about the comfort of his canine companion, or was it something else?
“You’re a good boy. You know that?” Kaleigh scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Sometimes I wish I had a dog,” she said over her shoulder to Liam and Mai. “But Mom says no dog. She doesn’t want to clean up after it in the yard. You ever have a dog, Liam?”
“Pick up the dog,” Liam said, letting go of Mai’s hand and springing off the couch.
“What?” Kaleigh frowned, looking at him like he was crazy.
“I said, pick up the dog.”
Kaleigh pulled the rat terrier into her lap protectively and scrambled to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He grabbed the dog bed and began to examine it carefully. It consisted of a fuzzy faux-sheepskin cushion in a little rattan or wicker or some kind of crappy basket. He flipped the bed over; there was nothing on the bottom. He pulled out the bedding and dropped it on the floor. He found nothing on the inside of the basket and no place to hide anything. The weave was loose enough that he could see his hand through it. He picked up the sheepskin cushion. It smelled like dog. And dog food. He began to squeeze it, starting at one side and moving toward the other. He’d almost given up the idea when he felt something hard.
“I’ll be damned,” he whispered.
“What is it?” Mai asked.
“Kaleigh, scissors, a knife, anything I can use to cut this open.”
Kaleigh ran to the kitchen, carrying the dog under her arm.
Mai got up to join Liam. “What did you find?”
“Feels like a key,” he said, trying not to get his hopes up. “A small key.”
Kaleigh was back in a few seconds. She handed him a steak knife. Mai and the teen watched as he cut open the dog bed and extracted a small brass-colored key on a plastic key chain. It looked shiny and new.
“You recognize this?” he asked, holding the key up for Mai to see.
She shook her head. “I have no idea what it is or where it came from. I certainly don’t know how it got in there.” She studied it in his hand. “Is it for a drawer or a box or something? It looks too small for a door on a storage facility.”
“It’s a key to a bank lockbox.” He read aloud the name of the bank.
“That’s where we do our banking,” Mai said, staring at the key.
Liam fingered the key. “You have a lockbox?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have anything of value to lock up. I keep car titles and stuff like that in one of those fire boxes in my office.”
“Do you know if your dad or your uncle rented a box recently?”
“I don’t know how they could have. As I said, they don’t drive. I take them to the bank once a month for them to deposit their Social Security checks.”
Liam looked at Mai. “You use the drive-through window?”
She chuckled. “A drive-through for two seventy-something guys? Of course not. My dad and Uncle Donato always insisted on going inside. They got all dressed up once a month just to walk in and cash their checks.”
“And you didn’t go in with them?” he guessed.
“No, I wanted my dad to feel like he still had some independence. I always waited in the car.”
Liam smiled.
“You think Uncle Donato put the diamonds in a lockbox at the bank?”
“Possibly, but since the key was in Prince’s bed, I’d bet you the lockbox belongs to Corrato, not Donato. Or at least the box is registered in Corrato’s name. Donato has nothing in his name that I’ve been able to find, so he probably doesn’t have any bank accounts or lockboxes . . . at least not under his own name. “
“We have to get into that box!” Mai looked up at him. “But I don’t know how we’re going to do that. My name’s obviously not on it. The bank won’t let me go into it, even if I have a key.” Her shoulders slumped. “So the key is useless.”
Liam glanced at Kaleigh. “Did I hear Aedan was in town?”
The teen’s tired face lit up in a smile. “Yup. Got in two nights ago. A tussle in London with some—” She cut herself off and offered a quick grin in Mai’s direction. “He’s home,” she said quickly.
Liam slid the key into his pocket. “I think it’s time to call it a night, ladies. We can’t get into the bank until tomorrow morning anyway.” He offered his hand to Mai. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go back to my place and get some sleep.”
“I don’t understand how you’re going to get into my father’s lockbox. Does this guy, this Aedan, work at the bank or something?” She looked at Kaleigh. “What kind of trouble was he in, in London?”
Liam put his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one. We’ll get in that lockbox.”
She turned to him, looking into his eyes. “I don’t like these secrets of yours.” She searched his gaze. “But I guess it’s a little late for me to say that now.” She pressed her lips together. “You think the diamonds are in that lockbox?” She sounded afraid to be too hopeful.
“I think something is important enough in that box that your father was willing to deceive you.”
“I’ll kill him,” she murmured, shaking her head as she walked out of Liam’s arms. “If you live through this,
Babbo,
I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”
“You got some salsa?” Corrato ignored the big ox with the gun near the door and spoke to the skinny guy seated at the opposite end of the rickety kitchen table.
He didn’t know exactly where he was. They’d put a cloth bag over his head when they pulled him into the van. But he was pretty sure they were in New Jersey. He’d been able to tell when they went through the toll booths on the Jersey turnpike. No E-ZPass, so they’d had to stop to pay tolls. They were holding him in a crappy apartment, possibly in an abandoned building. He couldn’t hear any neighbors, but he could hear the sound of cars driving by, through the blackened windows. He was two stories up.
Corrato stuffed a forkful of chicken enchilada into his mouth. It was takeout, served in one of those tinfoil pans with a cardboard lid, but it was decent. The corn chips in the paper bag were stale.
The two thugs who had kidnapped him hadn’t hurt him. Just scared him. The scariest part was when they’d grabbed him off the road and he’d dropped Prince’s leash. Corrato had begged them to let him bring his dog, but then Prince had taken off, something he never did. Corrato had cried as the dog ran away, but later, lying on the floor of the van that stunk of old fast food, he’d decided that Prince knew what he was doing. His faithful companion would go back to the apartment and warn Mai and that odd boyfriend of hers. Liam would know what to do. He’d come for Corrato. And if he didn’t?
C’est la vie
. Corrato figured he’d lived a good life. Everyone had to die someday. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too painful.
He looked up at the skinny guy again. He’d heard the big one call him Alejo. The Weasel hadn’t even hired Italians. These guys were Mexican. They’d spoken Spanish all day and Corrato hadn’t been able to understand a word. He’d always meant to learn some Spanish. It would have come in handy beyond knowing the four-letter word for
hand.
“You hear me, Alejo?” Corrato said. “I asked if you got salsa. These enchiladas are a little dry.” He pointed at the takeout container with his plastic fork.
The other two weren’t eating, which ordinarily would make him feel uncomfortable; his mother had taught him better. But they were the ones who kidnapped him, right? They could starve for all he cared. They weren’t getting his chicken enchiladas or his rice and beans. Or the stale corn chips. This was the first thing he’d eaten today.
“Shut up, old man. We got no salsa.” Alejo sucked on a cigarette.
Corrato waved his hand in the air. “You shouldn’t be smoking in front of me,” he complained. “You’ll give me lung cancer. The Weasel won’t be happy. And don’t call me old man. My name is Corrato Ricci. Mr. Ricci, to you.”

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