Wicked Bad Boys (17 page)

I
get to my apartment
, and suddenly I wish I had stayed at the office. Rob is waiting on the curb in front of my building. I should have known he would show up, the way he acted last night at the precinct. I don’t want to talk to him, but as I need him to keep the information flowing our way, I walk up to him.

“Rob, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my impatience to myself.

“I came to apologize.”

“How did you know I would be at home?”

“I called your office earlier. Look, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You should probably talk to Jonathan.”

“I’m not sorry about hitting him.”

“Then why are you apologizing?”

“I’m sorry you saw me at my worst again.”

“You think
that
was your worst?” I ask, remembering how he almost destroyed a man’s life and got off the hook with a mere warning.

“Let’s not go there again.”

“You’re right. I accept your apology, Rob. I’m a little busy now…”

“Can we please talk?”

“Talk about what?”

“About us,” he admits.

I’m not having it. I’m not going down that road, and I tell him something to that effect. He holds on to my arm to stop me as I’m walking up the steps to my front door.

“Please, Rebecca.”

“Rob, if you respect me, then accept that I’m not doing this. Not now. Besides, I have a busy afternoon.”

“Well let’s talk some business, then.”

“Business about what?”

“Jonathan and Solomon Sloan.”

He has bundled them together, and I’m wondering what new information he has that brought him here.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I ask. I’m ready to hear what he has, but I’m not willing to let him inside my apartment. “Let’s walk.”

We cross the street and get to the closest entrance to Central Park. It’s the afternoon, and the trail is not too crowded. There are few people on bikes, and a couple moving down the walkway just ahead of us. They’re deep in conversation, and I think that’s how Rob and I probably look, except he’s not said a word to me yet.

“Tell me what you have,” I instruct him.

“The evidence from the Rushton girl is coming back this afternoon.”

“Okay what else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“No, Rob. It’s not. That’s all you have?”

I hear the anger creeping up in my subdued tone. I’m ready to turn back and tell him to go to hell for wasting my time. He’s lucky I need him. I look at him and wait.

“No. That’s not all.”

The man is drip feeding me the information. He obviously is trying to warm me up to him or something.

“Then tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know the details, but I want you to let the Sloans know that Internal Affairs is investigating Matheson.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just tell them what I said, Rebecca. They’ll know what I mean.”

I’m frustrated. He has told me nothing, and now he’s treating me like a messenger to the Sloan family. “Is this information going to help them, or hurt them?”

“Either way, it’s going to hurt them. Sometimes, justice catches up to the bad guys, and when it’s bad, nothing can help. Not even your firm.”

“Do you mind telling me more? Tell me, Rob. I can see it in your face. You’re hiding something. I came to you because I trust you. Now trust me, and tell me.”

He pulls me off the path, and turns to face me again. All around us, flowering plants explode with buds and color. Birds sing. It’s a stark contradiction to the ominous look on Rob’s face.

“The Sloans are going down, Rebecca. Be careful, because if you or Kara tries to save them, you may all go down too.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving me empty words like this. I need facts. Do you have any facts? Or are you going to make this into another crucifixion before the evidence tells us otherwise?”

He lets me go and turns to walk away, but looks back and says, “You had to throw that in my face, didn’t you? I’m done, Rebecca. Get your facts from someone else in the department.”

He hurries away, and I try to catch up, but he’s moving too quickly. A small group of teenagers run into my path, throwing a Frisbee at one another. By the time they pass me, Rob is no longer in sight. I let out a frustrated breath and head back. I’m cut off. I have no one else in the department.

Suddenly, I remember who my boss is. Kara must have other people at that precinct that she can talk to. I phone her, but she does not reply. In a way, I’m glad she didn’t answer. This is not the type of thing she would want to talk about on the phone. I phone the office, and the assistant tells me she’ll be back within the hour, and has an opening in her schedule shortly after she returns. I tell her I’m on my way, and quickly drop my things off in my apartment before I leave again.

The pace of this investigation is flying. With every minute that passes, I get the sinking feeling that we’re not travelling anywhere tonight.

I
t’s
a thirty minute drive to Grand Central Station—if it’s the middle of the night. That’s not the case right now, and with the rush-hour traffic from New Jersey, I’m in my car for almost ninety minutes before I get there. I plug in my Bluetooth on the way over to phone my father and let him know I’m where I’m headed.

The relief in his voice annoys me. I’m almost angry that Mandy gave me this key. After everything he’s put her through, she still turns out to be gracious, and Dad is still as obnoxious as ever. I listen to him as he gloats about getting through this really soon. He’s not learned a thing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up celebrating this coming weekend by repeating the faux pas with more girls.

If he were not my father, I would probably be at the end of my rope. I’d probably turn the fucker in, just for what he did to Mandy. I’m so sick of it, I tell him I can’t talk right now, and promise to update him later on before I fly out. He stops me to ask what her answer was about Warrior.

“I’m not sure you want to know her answer over the phone, Dad,” I tell him. I don’t know why I’m sparing him. I should spit it out just the way she said it, so he can feel it, and know some of the pain Mandy is feeling right now.

“Don’t hold out on me, Jonathan,” he barks out at me in that demanding, impatient tone he likes to put on. “Tell me what she said. Tell me right now. Is she going to help me with Warrior or not?”

“Are you sitting down?” I have to ask. He needs to understand how serious this is.

“Don’t worry about me,” he answers. “I can take it. Lay it out for me, Jonathan.”

I tell them exactly what she said, practically verbatim, and there’s silence on the other end of the line. He stands to lose out on tens of billions of dollars if he agrees to her terms. I know my father. His silence right now is not consent. His face is probably beet red with anger. He tells me he’ll talk to me later, and my guess is the man is about to cry. He should cry. He’s fucked things up enough. Maybe it’s time for him to get this wake-up call to stop him in his tracks.

I find a hotel parking spot down the street from Grand Central Station, and before leaving my car, I open my trunk to empty my workout duffel bag. I don’t want anyone seeing me leave the post office with that thing. The area is always crawling with cops, and there are CCTV cameras everywhere, so you never know who’s watching. If I want to get this evidence out of here, and destroyed for good, I need to be discreet.

The anticipation is getting to me. As always, the place is buzzing with activity when I get inside. I walk to the south entrance, find the bay of lockers, and before I open it, I walk over to an empty seat nearby. I look around. There are just two or three people milling about this smaller area. None of them look suspicious, and none of them seem to notice me.

I fake a sneeze to see if I can get their attention. Maybe they’re intentionally avoiding me so that I don’t make them. The two men standing around look over at me, and the woman sitting a few seats across from me looks up and tells me “bless you” before looking down at her tablet again.

I feel good enough to take a chance. I pull the key out of my pocket and I walk over to the bay of lockers. I open it quickly, and I think my face goes white as a ghost. I can’t see it myself, but the blood drains out of my face and neck.

I practically run outside to get to my car, and when I’m safely inside, I phone Mandy. Mandy doesn’t lie. She never does, but when she answers, I can’t control my tone of voice.

“What’s going on, Mandy?” I demand.

“Jonathan. What’s wrong?”

“Why did you move the trunk?”

“What are you talking about? I told you where it is.”

“Nothing’s in the locker,” I tell her calmly. The calm in my voice is actually pure panic. I’m so panicked I don’t know how to react.

“That’s not possible,” she tells me. “I put it there two nights ago before you saw me at dinner with Michael.”

“Was anyone there with you?”

“No. I was alone.”

“What about Michael?”

“No. He was waiting for me at the hotel.”

“Do you think anyone saw you?”

“I don’t believe anyone did. Jonathan, are you sure nothing is there?”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I tell her. “Mandy, I need you to come clean with me. Please tell me what’s in the trunk, and tell me if there’s anything in there that may be mine.”

She doesn’t say a word. She’s probably in shock. After a few moments she says, “Unless you and your father have both been up to no good, you have nothing to worry about. There’s nothing in there I would ever think could be from your hands, Jonathan. I know you, son. You are the gentlest, kindest human being I know. Don’t you ever forget that.”

The words she picks to describe me don’t even register. I’m too worried about where this trunk is, who could have taken it, and what they’re about to do with it. I tell her I have to talk to her later, hang up, and instantly phone my father. He doesn’t answer. I send him a text with the numbers 911. It’s our mutual code for ‘get your ass over to my condo so we can talk’.

I get home, and he’s not there. I try phoning him again. He doesn’t answer. I call his office. His assistant says he’s in a meeting. I tell her to get him out of the meeting and on the phone right now. I tell her it’s urgent, and she’s worked for my dad long enough to know when I’m serious. She puts me on hold and a minute later, my dad is comes on the phone. I can’t talk to him, or tell him anything. Who knows, someone can be listening. Instead, I tell him to meet me at the condo immediately. That it’s urgent. Worse than urgent.

He tells me this meeting is too important. He tells me he has to stay, because it’s to do with Warrior and getting alternative interim funding. He tells me how important it is, in light of Mandy’s demands. He stresses that he has to find the finances somewhere, and the people in that office are the key. I can’t believe this man doesn’t trust my judgment right now. I know when he finds out that trunk is gone, and Mandy doesn’t know where it is, he will flip.

I don’t know what to do. I’m tempted to drive to his office and burst in, and wrestle him out to somewhere private so we can talk. His office is across town. There’s no way I’ll get there quickly. I have to do something now. I drive to Kara’s office. I’m positive she knows more than anyone else, and definitely more than Rebecca.

I get up to Kara’s floor, and I don’t even wait for her assistant to tell me I can go in. I storm into Kara’s office. Rebecca is sitting there. I’m just as shocked to see her as she is to see me.

“Kara, Rebecca. I’m sorry for barging in like this. Kara, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent and it can’t wait.”

She looks up at me. She doesn’t look at all surprised to see me, even though I haven’t been in her office for years.

“Rebecca, I need to speak to Kara privately, but do you mind if we have a word in your office first for just a minute? Kara do you mind?”

They both nod, and Rebecca rises from her seat and follows me out to her office. She closes the door, and I pull her in close and hold her in my arms. She looks up at me and kisses me warmly.

“What’s going on, Jonathan?” she asks.

“It’s a long story. I can’t get into it now, but I want to tell you something before everything goes to hell.”

She looks up at me her eyes questioning, curious.

“It doesn’t look like we’ll be going to the Bahamas right now, unfortunately.”

She nods. She’s not surprised. I’m worried about that. “That’s all right. Another time is fine too. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now. I probably won’t be fine for too long, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, and no matter what they say about me, I care about you, Rebecca. The time I spent with you has been beautiful. I have not cared for another person the way I care for you. The part of me I shared with you, well…that was the real me, and what I feel for you will never change. I’m going to speak with Kara now, and when I’m done, I’ll come back to you, if you’ll be around.”

There’s a confused expression on her face. She nods. I wish I could tell her more. I’m positive there not enough time to explain any more to her. I feel the walls closing in on me. The knot in my gut is on high alert. I ask her to wait in her office until I speak to Kara. I sense her disappointment, but she respects my wishes and waits.

As I’m walking to Kara’s office, my heart sinks. Coming out of the elevators are Bateman and Miller, and they’re accompanied by four uniformed police officers. I have no doubt in my mind they’re coming for me.

R
obert
, Detective Miller and four uniformed officers approach as Jonathan is walking into Kara’s office. They stop him and tell him they’re here to ask him a few questions in the presence of his lawyer. How would they even know he was here?

Kara must have heard the commotion and comes out of her office.

“Jonathan, get into my office. Don’t say a word.” She turns to the detectives. “May I help you?”

Detective Miller speaks up. “We have a few questions for Mr. Sloan here.”

“May I ask what your questions are about?”

“Ma’am, it’s about the murder of Doreen Rushton.”

“Miller, you know you’ve worked with me before. You should know better than to show up here with questions that have not been vetted in advance, particularly because I’m guessing you don’t have a warrant. Am I correct in my assumption?”

“That’s right, ma’am,” he answers. “Still, we would like your client’s cooperation. We only have a few questions.”

“Great, and I would like a million-dollar pink diamond tiara, but we don’t all get what we like, do we, Miller? I’m sure you understand I will be advising my client not to answer any questions. Now go and do the proper groundwork. Don’t come back here unless you have a warrant, and have sent the questions ahead of your visit, preferably by appointment.”

“Miss Henry, you must understand we wouldn’t be here unless we had good reason to.”

“Miller, you’re wasting my time. I’ve got meetings. Come back when you’re prepared.” She turns to me, like the officers are no longer there. “Wait for me in your office, Rebecca. I need to finish that chat with Jonathan.”

The officers and Detective Miller turn to leave, but Robert comes over to me and tries to pull me aside.

“Rebecca, can we have a word?” he asks.

“I can’t speak right now.”

“Please,” he insists. “I just need a minute.”

I turn to Kara, and she nods her okay. My guess is he can tell me why they’re here and what their questions are, off the record. I lead him into my office and close the door behind him.

“Why did you let these guys come down here? You know what Kara is like. She won’t give an inch of leeway when it comes to her clients.”

“We received another anonymous tip,” he informs me. “That Jonathan Sloan was at the condo building the night Doreen Rushton was killed.”

“You mean you’re not even here about hard evidence you found on the girl?”

“Unfortunately, no. Doreen Rushton may have gotten away from her attacker before she died, but her killer left no evidence on her. There’s no hair, no fibers, no DNA, nothing. The only connection we may be able to draw to the killer from her body is the knife wounds on her arms. We’ve already tried to get a warrant based on the circumstantial evidence that Doreen was seen with Solomon Sloan earlier that night.”

“Well, of course the judge won’t grant a warrant based on that alone. What is this, amateur hour at the NYPD? Whoever it was in the DA’s office that tried to get that warrant signed, they have to be grasping at straws.”

“Are you surprised? Were still talking about Rushton’s niece, aren’t we? That’s why we’re here. Kara should know that, and she should be ready to give us something, you know?”

“Come on, Rob. That’s the reason she’s taking a hard line. She knows everyone in the NYPD and the DA’s office are desperate to pin this on someone fast. They just want to get the chief, the Mayor, and the senator off their backs. We know how this works. The faster you close your case, the faster things go back to normal. This may be inconvenient. but were not going to have our clients get strung up in this major media circus just to make your lives easy and convenient. The sooner you and Miller realize this, the sooner you can find the real killer or killers.”

“Wait. You said killer or killers. This is supposed to be a two-way street, Rebecca. Do you know something about the murders?”

“You know I don’t have any more information than you do, except you seem to be flip-flopping between Jonathan and Solomon Sloan. Now, is there anything more? I have things to do today, Rob.”

“No. That’s it,” he answers, and turns to leave.

I let him, but I do take the time to thank him for the information. After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure he would be forthcoming at all.

I head to Kara’s office to let her know what I found out. I knock, and she tells me to come in. Jonathan is still in her office. I sense from the look on his face they were having a serious conversation. She tells me to make it quick, because she needs to finish her private conversation with Jonathan. I’m a little concerned about this secrecy. I thought I was in the loop on all the details, but the two of them look like they’re hiding something.

I give them the update, and she appears relieved. She tells me to take her limo and get over to Solomon Sloan’s office, or track him down however I can. The four of us need to discuss a strategy right away. She does not want to wait until tomorrow morning. Jonathan gives me the two addresses where his father may be at meetings. Both are in the immediate area, so I grab my purse and hurry out.

I should have left on foot. There’s so much street traffic that taking the limo ends up adding to the travel time. By the time I get to the first address, Mr. Sloan has already left. I phone him up, and I’m surprised when he answers.

“Solomon Sloan,” he says.

“Hello Mr. Sloan. This is Rebecca Clark, from Henry, Miles and Rothman.”

“Hello Miss Clark. How can I help you?”

“Kara asked me to let you know she’d like you to come down to the office now. It’s urgent.”

“Well, Miss Clark, as usual, Kara’s timing is not convenient. Still, I know when she says it’s urgent, I need to get down there. Let her know I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you Mr. Sloan. See you then.”

I hang up and take the limo back to the office, and I arrive at the elevator bays at the same time as Mr. Sloan. He remembers me from Long Island.

“Good to see you, Miss Clark.” He greets me with a handshake and the famous charming Sloan’s smile I’ve started to enjoy to seeing on Jonathan’s face. Their resemblance is striking. Solomon Sloan could pass for Jonathan’s older brother. When you combine their dashing looks with their classy style of dressing and flirtatious yet polite interaction with women, it’s no surprise at all that the Sloan men get this kind of reverent attention from the opposite sex.

“Nice to see you to, Mr. Sloan,” I answer, keeping my professional tone, especially because of the familiarity that I feel. After all, I’m sleeping with this man’s son, and there’s still a possibility I’ll be travelling to the Bahamas with Jonathan tonight.

“Do you know what this meeting is about?”

“I think it’s best we speak when we get to Kara’s office,” I tell him, fully aware of the people standing nearby, and the sensitivity of the topic.

He nods. I can tell he understands why we should wait. Discretion is crucial at a time like this. This is when people get sloppy, and it only takes a few words for the wrong messages to get out to the public. We get up to the law office floor and head right to Kara’s office. By now, she and Jonathan would have had time to finish their private chat, which I’m still wondering about.

What I’m most curious about is what Jonathan meant by what he said in my office before the police arrived. What is he expecting me to find out that is so different from what I’ve already begun to learn about him? Does it even relate to this case? How much worse can it be than what I’ve already seen in his file, like that second degree charge? I hope he lets me in on what that was about. Soon.