Kitabı oku: «Tough Justice: Twisted (Part 5 Of 8)»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

About Tough Justice

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Lara paced from her cubicle to the window and back, so panicked she could hardly think. She’d phoned the safe house dozens of times since the previous night, and always with the same result—that high-pitched tone, followed by an ominous recording. The number was no longer in service. The line had been disconnected.

But why?

Had Moretti finally found the Minnow family? Had she inadvertently led him to them or done something to tip him off? She stopped, her nerves almost at the breaking point, unable to get that awful image out of her head—that red target on the baby’s photo.

What if they were dead?

Calling on all her strength, she battled to compose herself, anger fueling her determination to think this through. Victoria was checking on the family and had promised to let her know the instant she had any news. And right now, that was the only thing she could do. No matter how she felt, no matter how desperately she wanted to mount a manhunt to find the Minnows, she had to sit tight and bide her time. Keeping their existence a secret was the only way to keep them safe.

Assuming they were still alive.

Turning toward the bank of windows, she gazed out at the surrounding skyscrapers, their top stories shimmering in the morning sunshine, their lower floors draped in perpetual shadow like the understory of a jungle floor. But everywhere she looked, she kept seeing Cass’s ashen face and the knife sticking out of her leg.

She hated feeling so out of control. She felt manipulated, trapped like a rat in an impossible maze, chasing down lead after lead to no avail. The note attached to the knife. The kidnapper’s rattle. That painting in the sewer. The mysterious blond guy and the black SUV. None of it led anywhere except to frustrating dead ends. And this continual apprehension, this constant fear that another crisis was about to erupt had her so on edge she wanted to scream.

But that was Moretti’s goal. He wanted to keep her off balance, to prove to her that he was in charge—even from prison. And damn if he wasn’t winning. While he sat there, issuing orders, her life was falling apart.

Unable to stand it, she pivoted on her heel and strode down the carpeted hallway to the elevator to go upstairs. Reaching her destination, she rapped on the psychiatrist’s door.

“Come in,” Dr. Oliviero called.

Not giving herself time to reconsider, she opened the door. She hesitated on the threshold, taking in the sunlight streaming into the room, the potted plants that added a touch of nature to the urban décor. Next to the windows were some armchairs upholstered in soothing shades of aqua and gray.

Dr. Oliviero was seated at his desk. He looked up as she approached, the dark eyes behind his silver eyeglasses warming into a smile. “Lara. This is a surprise.” He paused, his gaze darting to the calendar beside his phone. “Did I forget we had an appointment?”

“No, not at all. I was just passing by...” As if he was going to believe that, Lara. She mentally rolled her eyes. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Always.” He motioned toward the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable. Just give me a second to save this file, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Thanks.” Lara could guess what he was thinking. She’d avoided him for months, and now she’d stopped by twice in a matter of weeks. “I won’t keep you long,” she promised as she crossed the room.

He closed his laptop, then joined her beside the windows. “You know I’m here whenever you need me. For as long as you need me.”

“I appreciate that.” She settled in the chair opposite his, wondering how to begin. The psychiatrist waited patiently, something he was good at. The silence between them stretched.

“I’m in trouble,” she finally confessed. “This case I’m on... Moretti. He’s toying with me, manipulating me. And he’s winning. I’ve been running around like crazy, feeling off balance, trying to figure out what he’s going to do next.”

Dr. Oliviero folded his hands. “You feel out of control.”

“I am out of control. He’s orchestrating everything—what happens, when it happens, who it happens to. I’m just reacting and frantically trying to keep up. I need to get ahead of him, to get control of the situation, but I can’t. Everything I do—questioning people, tracking down leads—just makes me feel scattered. I’ve lost my focus, and I can’t seem to get it back.”

“Moretti.” His brows furrowed in concern. “You’re sure he’s the one behind this?”

“Not entirely. That’s the hell of it. I think it’s him, but whoever’s doing this is smart. He keeps mixing things up, confusing me to the point where I really don’t have a clue. There have been shootings, a stabbing, even a kidnapping.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s one person or two, whether it’s him or someone else. I’ve even begun worrying that someone in the FBI could be involved, either working with him or alone. I’m getting paranoid, doubting everyone. I don’t even trust my own judgment anymore.”

Dr. Oliviero pursed his lips. “This person knows you well. He knows how much that would bother you.”

She pictured Moretti with his mocking eyes. “Yes.” No doubt about it. And it was a brutally effective tactic. It made her feel ten years old again, as powerless as the day her mom had died. Her world had been destroyed that day, leaving her defenseless, unprotected. And with her father under suspicion, she didn’t know who to trust.

“This is definitely directed at me,” she agreed. “He’s been killing the people around me, writing me notes, even targeting victims who have my name.” She forced herself to admit the truth. “I’m scared, Dr. Oliviero. I’m afraid that I can’t beat him, that he’s too strong.”

“That’s what he wants.”

“I know.”

“And yet, no one is invincible.”

“I know that, too.” Hadn’t she told herself that very thing? “But I’m finding it hard to believe right now. He has me at a disadvantage. I have to regain my focus or more people are going to die.”

Dr. Oliviero leaned back in his chair. For a moment he didn’t answer, and she shifted her gaze to the window, watching a jet’s contrail streak the New York sky.

“I want you to do two things,” Dr. Oliviero finally said. “First, I want you to think back to a case where you felt cornered, where everything seemed to be against you, but you persevered and won.”

“But—”

“Humor me. Tell me about that case.”

Lara sighed. This sounded like a waste of time. But she’d asked for his help. Now she had to cooperate, no matter how pointless the exercise seemed.

“All right. There was a case, right after I’d joined the Bureau. It was a joint investigation with the SEC. It had to do with insider trading. I went undercover as an administrative assistant at an investment banking firm. We knew someone was stealing non-public information. He was passing it along to his coconspirators who used it to make illegal trades. We already had experts analyzing the data. My job was more personal, to get to know the people at the firm and try to make a connection that way.

“It was harder than I expected. Investment banking is a high-pressure business. Everyone works long hours. And with competition that cutthroat, no one confides in anyone else.”

“But you didn’t give up.”

“No.”

“And you won.”

“Yes. One of the bankers had a girlfriend. I started getting my hair done at the same place she did and was able to gain her trust. It turned out that she was making a lot of trips to Las Vegas. She was trading on the banker’s advice, laundering the profits through a casino out there, and then funneling it back to him. We finally connected the dots, and everyone involved served time.” In fact, that success had proven to her that she’d chosen the right career. “But that was nothing compared to this.”

“I understand. You’re facing a far more formidable adversary this time, someone who knows you well and is using that knowledge against you. He’s playing on your emotions—not just your fear of failure, but your guilt.”

“My guilt?”

“Your strength is your weakness, Lara, and he knows that. You’re conscientious and driven, but that also makes you feel responsible for whatever goes wrong.”

“I don’t just feel responsible. I am responsible. That ledge jumper asked for me, and he got shot. People are being murdered because they have my name, or because they’re someone I’ve questioned about the case. Cass was stabbed because of me. Victoria’s daughter was kidnapped to rattle me. There’s no doubt that I’m to blame.”

Just like Xander once said.

“And he’s using that sense of guilt to trip you up.”

She heaved out a sigh. “Well, it’s working.”

“Only if you let it.” Still holding her gaze, he braced his elbows on his knees. “I mentioned two things I wanted you to do. The first was to tell me about a case where you prevailed, even though the odds were against you. I wanted you to remember that when you persevere, you can succeed.

“Now I want you to go deeper. I want you to tell me about a more recent case, one that affected you even more deeply. The one you don’t like to think about.”

Her heart lurched. “You mean Andrew Moore.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I don’t—”

“You’re strong enough, Lara. And it’s time to deal with this.”

“I already have.” She’d spent the past year anguishing over her failings and coming to grips with her mistakes. “I’ve already put it behind me and moved on.”

“Have you? Really? Because I believe that unless you confront it—meaning you’re willing to talk about what happened—you won’t be able to fight back. And then he will win, Lara.”

Her defenses rising, she crossed her arms. The last person she wanted to discuss with Dr. Oliviero was Andrew Moore. But she refused to continue running from her problems.

And deep down, she suspected the psychiatrist was right. Unless she truly confronted her past, she’d never reclaim control of her life—and the people around her would pay the price.

“All right.” Dreading it, she forced her mind back to Chicago, to those final days with Andrew Moore. “I liked him. He wasn’t what I’d expected. Maybe I wasn’t what he expected either. Maybe that’s why he trusted me, why we got so close. Too close.” Her face warmed, her stupidity shaming her even now. How could she have made such a huge mistake?

“That didn’t stop me from doing my job, though. I continued gathering information even during our affair. We were getting ready to make the bust.”

“Did that bother you, that you’d be arresting Andrew Moore?”

“Of course.” The guilt had nearly driven her mad. “I wanted to warn him, to get him out of harm’s way, but I was torn. I couldn’t blow the mission. We had too many people undercover—people who’d be in danger if the truth got out—and I couldn’t predict what he would do. So in the end, I didn’t tell him. I waited.” Despising herself all the time.

“We still hadn’t found Moretti. Until we did, we couldn’t make the bust. We knew he’d just relocate his organization and set up shop again somewhere else unless we put him behind bars.”

But the noose had been tightening around her. The closer she got to Andrew Moore, the greater the chance that she’d blow her cover, a mistake that could have gotten them all killed.

“Andrew didn’t suspect you were FBI?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t think so.” Maybe he’d sensed her desperation. Their lovemaking had taken on a note of urgency toward the end. Or maybe she’d imagined that—just as she’d imagined what he’d felt for her.

“I decided to help him find his buddy’s sister. I figured that even if I was going to bust him, even if I was going to put him in prison, at least I could help him save that girl.”

“You wanted to make amends.”

“Yes—which was idiotic, considering how badly he’d lied to me.”

“But you didn’t know that then. You were making decisions based on the information you had.”

True enough. But it still galled her that she’d let her emotions blind her to the truth.

“So, what happened next?” Dr. Oliviero asked.

She knotted her hands, forcing herself to return to that awful night. “I’d learned that some girls were being moved, transported out of Chicago for a special event, a play-off game that would attract a lot of johns. I had information that his friend’s sister might be involved, so I went to the warehouse to find out.”

“Was she there?”

“Not that I could tell. But Andrew showed up. I figured he was doing the same thing I was, looking for that missing girl. But I couldn’t get close enough to him to ask.

“After the trucks left, I tried to find him. I had to stay quiet in case Moretti’s people were still around. I was on the point of giving up when I heard a voice—a man’s voice. It sounded like Andrew’s, but the voice was deeper, and it had a different cadence, like the rhythm was slightly off.”

She inhaled. This was the hard part. The moment when her world had fallen apart, when she’d learned that everything she’d once believed was wrong.

“I got as close as I could and hid. I didn’t want to barge in on whatever Andrew had going on. I thought he’d arranged a meeting. Then I worried that someone had surprised him, that he might be in trouble and need my help. But when I peeked around the corner, I saw that he was alone. He was talking on the phone. But I still didn’t understand.”

She closed her eyes, the lengths to which she’d gone to deny the obvious sickening her even now. “I thought he’d put the phone on speaker, that the voice belonged to whoever else was on the line. But then I heard him giving orders to move some cargo from a south side warehouse to headquarters later that afternoon. And I realized the voice was his.”

She met Dr. Oliviero’s eyes. “I still didn’t get it. I knew Andrew was sharp, probably the smartest man I’d ever met. I figured he had a reason to change his voice.”

“Did he?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah. He had a reason, all right.”

“And what was that?”

Andrew Moore—the wounded ex-soldier, the arms commander she’d come to admire and respect, the tortured man she’d confided in, made wild and passionate love to—was a total myth. Instead, the man she loved was a monster.

“Andrew Moore was Moretti.”

Chapter Two

As mistakes went, it was colossal one. Falling in love with a man like Moretti had to be the most revolting thing she’d ever done.

“You hadn’t suspected the truth? That they were actually the same person?” Dr. Oliviero asked her.

“No. I was shocked. I just stood there, reeling at the discovery. All this time, I’d been searching for Moretti, and he was the man I was sleeping with.” The head of a brutal empire. The man who’d single-handedly ruined thousands of lives. The monster who’d condemned innocent children to a hellish existence, who’d tortured and killed without conscience.

How could she have been so blind?

Lara covered her face, filled with loathing and self-disgust. “I didn’t want to believe it. Even then I was trying to make excuses, to justify what he’d done.”

“Your reaction was perfectly normal. You loved him. You’d formed a set of beliefs about him. When a view like that gets altered that drastically, it takes time for it to sink in. And denial is a typical first response.”

She’d denied it, all right. The truth was simply too horrific to accept. “I couldn’t believe how thoroughly he’d conned me, how effortlessly he’d lied.” That all this time, he’d been putting on an act, hiding his identity and true nature from everyone—especially her. Then again, she had been doing the same thing to him.

“So what did you do?” Dr. Oliviero asked, his voice gentle now.

“I knew I had to act fast, to get out of the warehouse before he spotted me. And I had to get word to my boss that I’d found Moretti. So I left right away.” She’d been terrified that he would see her, that he’d discover that she’d learned the truth. But she’d managed to escape undetected and get the information to her handler.

“I’d heard him arrange a meeting with his top commanders for later that night. We knew it would be our best chance to take him down, so we scrambled to make the bust. We had surprise on our side, but we didn’t have much time. And we knew if we didn’t catch him, we might never have another chance.”

“Were you the one who arrested him?”

“No, I stayed away. I couldn’t afford to blow my cover in case something went wrong and I had to resurrect my part. My boss took him down instead.” It had been a major coup. They’d captured all the syndicate’s major players, along with various, low-level operatives—not to mention Moretti himself.

“How did you feel during all this?” the psychiatrist asked.

“Numb. Honestly, I didn’t feel anything.” She’d gone into zombie mode—writing reports, attending meetings, analyzing the data and mopping up all the loose ends.

“And later?”

“I collapsed.” Physically, mentally, emotionally. She’d gone to ground in her apartment, overwhelmed by the horror of what she’d done. Hating Moretti. Despising herself. Unable to believe how foolish she’d been. Afraid there was something wrong inside her, really wrong, that maybe she’d secretly sensed the truth—and hadn’t cared.

“I went over everything he’d said, every moment we’d spent together, trying to figure out what I’d missed. How I could have possibly been so clueless.”

“And what did you decide?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I missed anything. I think Moretti was just that good.”

That elicited a nod. “He’s a sociopath. He doesn’t have a conscience. He doesn’t care how people feel. That makes it easy for him to lie. But you do have a conscience. That isn’t a flaw, Lara; it’s a normal, healthy thing. That’s how you discern right from wrong.”

“It didn’t stop me from having an affair with a criminal.” And not just an ordinary criminal, either. The boss of a major syndicate. A man who was evil incarnate.

“All of us make mistakes,” Dr. Oliviero reminded her.

“I know.” And she’d paid for hers. In the past year, she’d been through hell and back. She’d been emotionally beaten and battered, her confidence shattered. But she’d come out stronger. And wiser. Definitely more cynical. And far less trusting, especially when it came to men.

She’d suffered in other ways, too. But she was not going to talk about those. There were some things so private that even Dr. Oliviero didn’t need to know.

“I thought it was finally over,” she continued. “I thought I could move past it and get on with my life. That’s why I took this job with the Crisis Management Unit. It was something new, something I knew I’d be good at. I was ready to begin again.”

“But it’s not over.”

“No. Moretti is fighting back. He wants to destroy me now. And he won’t stop until he wins.”

“Or you beat him once and for all.” Dr. Oliviero leaned toward her, his expression intent. “You’re going to do it, Lara. You’ve got the skills, and you will succeed this time. I have no doubts about that.”

“It sure doesn’t feel that way.”

“That’s because you’ve let him shake your confidence and get inside your head. You just need to remember that you can succeed, that you’ve done it before. Take those skills you’ve learned and apply them.”

“I’ll try.” She rose and shook his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the impromptu session.”

“Stop by whenever you like. I’m always here for you. But Lara...” he added just as she turned to go. “Even after you stop him, this won’t be over completely. Not until you take one last step.”

She cocked her head. “Which is?”

“You’ll have to forgive yourself.”

“That might be harder,” she admitted.

And downright impossible if anything happened to the baby.

* * *

Lara was still struggling to follow the psychiatrist’s advice an hour later as she sat at her cubicle, poring over her notes on the Moretti case. She couldn’t let Moretti spook her. She had to have confidence that she could beat him at his game. She’d learned a lot during her time undercover and was so much smarter than before.

But even Dr. Oliviero’s pep talk wasn’t helping her solve this case. She kept combing over the evidence, and nothing made any sense. She felt lost in a labyrinth, unable to find the exit, knowing she was overlooking something vital that would point the way. She finally tossed down her pen, her frustration veering into despair.

What was she missing here? How were these events related, aside from their apparent connection to her? Or was she trying too hard to link them all? Maybe someone else was involved in this case besides Moretti—but if so, who?

Just then, Victoria poked her head over the wall of her cubicle. “Lara,” she said softly so no one would overhear. “I’ve got news.”

Lara’s heart lost its beat. She held her breath, both eager and afraid to hear what she had to say. “What is it?”

Her boss cracked a smile. “The baby and her family are fine.”

Lara slumped back in her chair and released her breath, the tension that had kept her up all night escaping in a crazy rush. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Victoria stepped into her doorway. “It turns out there was some sort of glitch with the phone lines last night, and the service shut down. I just got a new number from the marshal. I’ll forward it to you.”

Lara struggled to take it in. The family was safe. She closed her eyes, more relieved than she could express.

“Still...that note he sent. I know what you’ve done. He must be talking about that family. And remember the photos I got of the safe house? The one with the bull’s-eye on the baby’s face?” Not to mention the charm the kidnapper sent—all indications that someone knew about that child. “And the timing of this—the phone going out at the same time Cass was stabbed. Do you think—”

“That Moretti had someone mess with the lines?”

“Yes.” It would fit his MO perfectly—to draw out the torture, heightening her fear and anxiety to a fever pitch, and then finishing her off with his Grand Finale.

“I wondered the same thing,” Victoria acknowledged. “I’ve got people checking that out.”

“Maybe we should move the family again. If they’ve been compromised...”

“I’d rather not do that until we’re sure.”

“But—”

“Lara, we can’t keep moving them around. The constant upheaval isn’t good for them. They need to start leading a normal life. I want to make sure it’s necessary before we make them leave.”

Lara forced in a calming breath, trying not to imagine the worst. Victoria knew what she was doing. WITSEC would keep that baby safe. She had to focus her energy on stopping Moretti, not worrying about things she couldn’t control.

“Speaking of that note, how’s Cass this morning?” she asked.

Victoria sighed. “You can see for yourself. She’s in her office, writing up her statement about the attack.”

“She’s here?”

“She insisted on coming in.”

“But she just had surgery last night.”

Victoria glanced toward the tech room before answering. “She’s not doing too well. She said she had a rough night.”

Lara didn’t doubt that. Cass had been a wreck at the hospital the previous night. The entire team had kept her company, waiting until the doctor released her, then loading her into Victoria’s car for the trip to the safe house they’d arranged. She’d looked shaken, weak and thoroughly traumatized, despite their attempts to cheer her up.

“She’s supposed to keep her leg elevated. She should be in bed for the next few days.”

“I know, but I couldn’t convince her. She didn’t want to be alone, even with an around-the-clock protective detail. She feels safer here at work.”

Lara understood. It was a classic reaction to a violent attack—jumping at shadows, worrying that an attacker would pounce at any minute and be hiding behind every door. And the effects could last for months.

“Have you heard back from forensics yet?” she asked. “Any clues about who might have stabbed her?”

Victoria shook her head. “I got the initial report. About the only thing of interest is that he was most likely left-handed.”

Lara’s heart missed a beat. “Moretti is left-handed.”

“Moretti’s in prison.”

“Could he have gotten out?”

Victoria’s mouth went flat. “Not a chance.”

“You’re sure? Because—”

“Lara. Calm down. He’s locked up in a federal maximum security penitentiary. There’s no way that he got out.”

“You’re right.” She was overreacting. And that was exactly what Moretti wanted. He wanted to rattle her nerves, ensuring that she wouldn’t think straight—just like Dr. Oliviero said.