Secrets Collide (Bluegrass Brothers) (2 page)

“Okay. I’ll pull up her parking space number. Let me lock the doors and we’ll go down.”

“Thank you,” Gemma sighed. She didn’t know what to expect. Maybe an empty spot and Gia’s abandoned cell phone. That would explain why her sister hadn’t answered the phone.

The guard locked the doors and he and Gemma headed to the bank of elevators in silence. He pushed a button and they descended into the garage as instrumental music played in the background. The metallic doors opened and she stepped out into the dark garage.

“It’s this way,” he said as he started counting off the parking spaces.

“Oh no!” Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at her sister’s black Lexus sedan parked in Gia’s reserved spot. “Where is my sister?”

An hour later, Gemma sat crying at the well-worn desk of Detective Peter Greene. “There has to be something you can do.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Perry, but your sister has only been out of touch for four hours and there’s no evidence she’s even missing. How do you know she didn’t just go home with a coworker for a one-nighter?” the young and overworked detective asked as gently as he could.

“My sister would never date a coworker. It’s against the rules and Gia doesn't break the rules. Please, can’t you just take a report?” The young detective pushed back his dark brown hair and glanced at the clock. Hanging her head in defeat, Gemma reached for her purse. It was almost eleven at night and clearly the detective just wanted to get home.

“Okay, give me her name again,” he said calmly as he pulled up a form on his computer.

“Gia Eleanor Perry. She’s thirty years old. Five-feet-seven and a hundred thirty-five pounds. She has short brown hair and green eyes just a shade lighter than mine. She's my identical twin and she was last seen leaving the International Press office downtown. Thank you. Thank you for believing me.” Gemma dried her tears and answered Detective Greene’s questions with a sense of relief. She didn’t know what else she could do for her sister, but at least she was doing something.

“What about your parents?”

“They passed away a few years ago. They didn’t think they would ever have kids, but surprise—my mom got pregnant when she was forty-six.”

“That’s all we need, Ms. Perry. I’m sending this out to my officers on the street and I’ll call you soon to give you an update,” Detective Greene said as he printed off a picture of Gia that she had just emailed him from her phone.

Gemma stood up and slung the big purse containing Fred over her shoulder. As if sensing something bad was going on, Fred had stayed silent in the bag for the past hour. Every now and then, Gemma would reach in to pet him and he would reassuringly lick her hand as if to comfort her. “Thank you, Detective Greene. Thank you so much.”

Gemma walked past the rows of empty dented metal desks and a few of the other on-duty detectives as she made her way through two swinging double doors and out into the small lobby on the third floor of the police station. She pulled out her phone and dialed her sister as she waited for the elevator. “Hi. This is Gia. I’m not here right now, but I’d love to talk to you. Leave a message.”

“I love you,” Gemma whispered into the phone as she stepped onto the elevator. The dirty doors closed as her feelings of hope disappeared.

Gemma stood outside the police station and stared at the cars driving by. She really didn’t know what to do or where to go. Should she go home and wait for the police to call? Should she go to Gia’s apartment and wait for her to come home? Deciding she couldn’t stand there forever, she started walking across the busy parking lot toward her car.

“Ms. Perry!” Gemma turned around and found Detective Greene running toward her. Oh, thank goodness! If they found her already, then Gia must've just been out. She was sure Gia would fuss at her for making such a big deal over a couple of hours, but she didn’t care if that meant her twin was safe and sound.

“You found her, didn’t you? I guess I did overreact.” Gemma gave a little grin and a shrug of her shoulders in embarrassment. “Where was she? How mad is she for having the whole police force out looking for her?” she asked with a shaky smile.

Detective Greene didn’t smile back and Gia then realized what she had known for the past couple hours . . . her sister was dead. Tears streamed down her face. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach as waves of nausea hit her over and over again. Detective Greene put an arm around her as she started to collapse. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but I need you to look at a picture.” Detective Greene held out his cell phone and showed Gemma the image on the screen. “Is this your sister?”

The tears dried instantly as a shocked Gemma stared at the image of her sister on Detective Greene’s phone. She looked as if she were sleeping, except for the fact she was lying on a patch of dirt and her face had no color to it. “Yes, that’s Gia,” was all Gemma was able to say until the twisting of her stomach was so much that she leaned over and threw up while Detective Greene kept a supportive hand on her back.

“What happened?” Gemma asked, wiping her mouth as Detective Greene helped her stand upright.

“We think she was mugged. Her purse is missing. She was found behind the parking garage at International Press. We’re looking at security cameras now. I’m on my way over there and I’ll come by in the morning to talk.” Detective Greene waited for Gemma to nod before he asked, “Can I have an officer take you home?”

“No, thank you. I’d rather be alone right now,” Gemma murmured as she stared slightly off into space. Her world seemed over; she didn’t even know what she was supposed to do next.

Detective Greene pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Call me anytime. Please take your time getting home. I really would feel better if you let one of my officers drive you home.”

Gemma looked up into his worried faced and gave him a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you so much, just please take care of my sister and find whoever did this.”

“I will,” Detective Greene promised. “And I’ll have a patrol car check in on you soon, okay?”

Gemma nodded and then walked to her car in a daze. She was conscious of Detective Greene being picked up by an unmarked car as he looked back at her one more time. She pulled Fred out of the bag and held him tight to her chest as she sat in the driver’s seat, letting the tears flow freely as her body was wracked with sobs.

CHAPTER TWO

Gemma pulled into her sister’s parking space at the apartment complex and stared at the cement wall. There was a crack running along some of the blocks and she followed it until it ended. Gemma debated leaving, but she didn’t know where else to go. Her home would seem so empty. She had needed to feel her sister again so she found herself driving to Gia’s apartment. But she stayed in her car, hesitant to go upstairs. The pain would be too much to bear.

Gemma knew she didn’t need to wait for Detective Greene to tell her when her sister died. She had known the second it had happened. She had felt it. She had lived it right here in her own car. Gemma had felt the pain, the fear, and finally the moment her sister could no longer fight. That’s why she was here and that was why she needed to find the courage to go upstairs. She needed to feel a connection to her twin again to help with the anguish washing over her.

“Come on, Fred,” she said softly as she put her windblown dog back into the large bag.

Gemma felt as if she were in a nightmare as she made her way to the elevator and pressed the eleventh floor. It didn’t seem real. The walls blurred and she couldn’t focus on anything but the red elevator numbers as they ticked off the passing floors. When the doors opened, she pulled out her keys and headed to the end of the hall to her sister’s apartment. She heard every
clink
of the key as she pushed it into the lock.

“What the hell?” Gemma turned the handle. The door was unlocked. Suddenly she remembered that Gia was mugged and her purse taken. The killers would have her address and her keys. What if they were still here? Anger like she had never felt filled her as she shoved the door open. “Come out, you bastards!” she yelled into the apartment as her pulse throbbed in expectation.

Her breathing quickened as she hurried through the apartment, turning on lights and flinging open doors, but luckily, there was no one there. She set her bag down on her sister’s couch and Fred popped his head out and looked around as Gemma sat next to him on the white couch. She grabbed the dark blue decorative pillow and pulled it to her, hugging it while rocking as tears flooded her eyes once again. When she smelled her sister’s flowery lotion on the pillow, it felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Fred jumped out of the bag and rested his head on her leg in silent support.

“It’ll be okay, buddy,” she choked out. She wiped her eyes and held on tight to the pillow as she looked around the room. It was then she noticed that her sister’s usually spotless place was a complete mess.

“Looks like those assholes were already here.” She shook her head, feeling violated at the thought of those killers pawing through her sister’s things.

Gemma pulled out her cell phone and dug around the back pocket of her jeans for Detective Greene’s number.

“This is Greene,” his gruff voice rang out over the phone.

“Detective, this is Gemma Perry. I'm at my sister’s apartment and it’s been ransacked. It’s a mess. My sister would've been so upset,” she trailed off.

“I thought that might be the case. I've already sent an officer over to secure the premises. Try not to touch anything. Use a tissue or a glove. We want to be able to get fingerprints,” Detective Greene instructed. “Can you tell me what was taken?”

“Um, her computer is gone.” Gemma walked around growing more and more confused. “But that’s all.”

“That’s all? TV and jewelry still there?” he asked, perplexed.

Gemma walked into the bedroom and opened the jewelry case sitting on the dresser. “That's all I can tell is missing. Jewelry and other valuables are still here.”

“Your sister was an investigative reporter; did she ever investigate dangerous people?”

“All the time . . . do you think this was planned?” Gemma asked as her heart stilled. She instinctively went to the door and looked into the empty hall as if the killers might be there waiting to be caught. She shut and locked the door and set the security chain before going back into her sister’s bedroom. 

“I’m beginning to think that. The crime scene screams professionals. Who would want your sister dead?”

“I don’t know. She was working on something, but she didn’t tell me what. Hold on. She has a drawer filled with flash drives for storing her research and notes.” Gemma hurried from the bedroom, down the narrow hall, and back into the living room. Gia’s desk was on the far side near the kitchen, overlooking the fire escape. 

Using a tissue, Gemma opened the top right drawer and looked in. “Empty. All her flash drives are gone.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Detective Greene said as Gemma heard the sound of a car being started.

“Okay. I’ll sit tight.”

The boss watched his right-hand man, Sergei Klimov, look up from the reporter’s computer and curse in what had to be Russian. “That
suka
had nothing on her computer,” Sergei yelled as he threw the laptop into the wall. The screen cracked and broke when it fell onto the floor.

“Tell me you've found something on those flash drives,” he growled. He felt his anger radiating from his thin frame. This was why he hired help like Sergei and all the other little minions. They were supposed to take care of these things for him. That’s why he was the boss.

He knew a man like Sergei held power simply because of his physical strength—and the fact he was a psychopath. While he himself stood only five-feet-eight inches or so and probably weighed half of what Sergei did, there was no way Sergei would ever cross him. While he may not look physically intimidating, he was quite possibly the most powerful man on the planet.

He could overthrow a dictator, a president, or even an entire royal family with a flick of his manicured hand. With one press of the button on his phone, a country could be bombed or a satellite shot down. Of course, people had to pay heavily for him to issue those orders.

At any given time, he was orchestrating arms deals with rebels, pirates, and warlords while running a highly profitable sex-trafficking ring. His men ran the black market for guns, weapons, and stolen goods. He had just sold
The Portrait of a Young Man
by Raphael on the black market for $100,000,000 to a private art collector in France. The portrait, rumored to be a self-portrait of Raphael dating back to the sixteenth century, had been stolen from Poland by the Nazis during World War II. While the Polish ministry had been on a wild goose chase for decades all through Europe trying to locate it, he had broken into an old bank vault in Austria and had stolen it for himself.

He had more money than many nations and more people of power in his pocket than all of the lobbyists in D.C. He had done it all by himself, too. The idea started when he was just a child, sitting in his room thinking, while his mother
worked
.

His mother had been a prostitute. He realized it by the time he was five. Men had come in and out of their small row house in New Jersey day after day. She was beautiful and they gave her things. They even gave him things. Later his mother had told him her body was marketable and she was going to use that to her advantage. She had her eyes set on the governor of New Jersey and a better life for her family.

She wasn’t shy about the fact that his father was her high school sweetheart who had died in Vietnam along with so many other men. She later told him that her heart had died that day and the only way to put food on the table was to use her body. She started off small, with city council members and influential merchants. They received free groceries and a bus pass that month.

By the end of the year, she was the mistress to the governor and her son was starting first grade in the best private school in the state. But, she hadn’t stopped there. She moved on to senators and eventually the vice president of the United States. All the while, the boy had listened and learned. These men had real power and he learned by listening to them talk on the phone when they visited his mother. Sometimes they held meetings at his mother’s new condo, and he’d be able to stealthily observe, study, and discover the secrets of the game. For his eighth birthday, his mother gave him a camera and he had realized a new way to get the power he had been dreaming of.