Brutality (47 page)

“Ranting and raving distracted you, Dad?” Fina asked. “You’re losing your edge.”

Carl grunted in disagreement.

“You should be encouraged,” she said. “Agitated people are a sign I’m about to crack the case.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you talk to your drug addict?” Matthew asked.

“I did,” Fina said. “It wasn’t a very satisfying conversation. He thinks he can stop anytime.”

Her brothers nodded in understanding. They had dealt with addicts at various times in their professional lives and knew that the disease was pernicious. Money and status had little sway when it came to addiction.

They had returned to debating the Bruins’ season when Elaine appeared in the doorway.

“It’s time for dinner,” she announced.

Carl rose from behind his desk.

“Wait, Carl. Bring up that picture on your computer,” Elaine commanded.

He tapped a few keys without comment. Fina used to think that her father tolerated her mother, but she’d realized that what he actually did was ignore her. He would listen to the content of her speech and choose to act on the parts of it he deemed worthy of his attention. He let the rest of it—her tone and any requests in which he had no interest—roll off his back.

Fina started to follow Carl and her brothers out of the room, but was summoned back by Elaine.

“Fina, I want to show you something.”

Fina looked at Matthew, a raised eyebrow indicating her confusion. He shrugged his shoulders and made his escape.

“What is it, Mom?”

“Look at this picture.” She pointed at Carl’s computer screen.

Fina came around the desk and looked at the screen. The photo showed Rand with his arm around a woman—Karla—and two young children posed in front of them. Rand’s free hand was placed on the shoulder of the older girl, who looked to be about nine years old.

Fina took a step back and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Look at how pretty she is,” Elaine said. “And her children are, too. I don’t understand why you don’t want Haley to spend time with them.”

“I know you don’t,” Fina said, starting toward the door.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Trust me, Mom. You don’t want me to say any more.”

“You always think you know best, Josefina.”

She looked at her mother. “I guess that’s a trait we have in common.”

Fina left the room and tried to calm down before arriving at the dining room table, where she claimed a seat between Teddy and Chandler.

There was nothing like an armpit farting contest to take her mind off her troubles.

—

F
ina checked her e-mail before climbing into bed and was pleased to see that two of the three bomber candidates had responded. Darren Segretti wanted to meet her for coffee the following afternoon, and the other man, Zack Lawrence, invited her for a drink. She put the dates on her calendar and got under the covers.

Fina felt tired. Not the good tired she might expect after a night with Cristian, but the bad tired she got from spending time with her parents. The picture that Elaine had been so eager to show her erased any doubt Fina might have had about involving herself in Rand’s life.

She had to—and quickly.

31.

Dennis sent over a batch of Gus Sibley surveillance photos first thing Saturday morning, and Fina’s doorman brought them upstairs. She could have reviewed them via e-mail, but she was old-school about some things. Fina liked to hold things in her hands and examine them from all angles.

After showering and dressing, Fina examined the images while nibbling on a Pop-Tart. She hadn’t slept well, and the mental image of Rand touching his girlfriend’s daughter was even putting a damper on her appetite. He really did ruin everything he touched.

According to the investigator’s notes, the previous day Gus had spent six hours at his office, never venturing outside. When he emerged later in the day, he drove to NEU and spent three and a half hours in the field house. Before returning to his home, he stopped at a shopping area on Route 9 and ducked into a coffee shop for about five minutes. Once home, Gus stayed in the entire night.

All of the shots were exteriors; there was no way to photograph Gus inside without his noticing. He may have been up to no good in the confines of his office or the field house, but determining that would prove more difficult. At the coffee shop, the tail had snapped Gus carrying in an NEU travel mug before emerging with it and returning to his car. It seemed a little late for a refill at seven thirty
P.M.
, but some people mainlined coffee all day.

Fina pulled a magnifying glass out of a drawer and examined the pictures more closely. There were shots of Gus parking his car, walking to various buildings, walking from various buildings, and even some of him driving. Fina didn’t find anything unusual or odd about the photos, but she couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that she was missing something. Or maybe she was so anxious to find something that her mind was playing tricks on her.

Sometimes, taking a break was actually the best way to get work done. In Fina’s experience, if she forced her mind to wrestle with a particular puzzle, her progress tended to slow, but if she focused on a different aspect of the investigation, her subconscious might do the difficult work for her. With that in mind, she called Bobbi Barone and arranged to go over to her house to look through Liz’s memorabilia.

Bobbi’s kitchen was free of the floral arrangements and casseroles that had threatened to overrun it nearly two weeks earlier. The table now looked to be command central for her thank-you note writing operation.

“It never seems right that the bereaved have to write thank-you notes,” Fina commented.

“I agree.”

“You could just not write them,” Fina said.

“No, I couldn’t,” Bobbi insisted, and gave her a scolding look. “People have been wonderful, and I want to show them my appreciation. Anyway, it gives me a task to focus on each day and then cross off my to-do list.”

“I suppose,” Fina said, not sounding convinced.

“Do you want some coffee?” Bobbi asked.

“No, thanks,” she said, following Bobbi out of the kitchen. “How do you want to do this? I can take the stuff with me or sort through it here; whatever is most convenient for you.”

Bobbi thought about it for a moment. “Why don’t you take a look at the boxes and decide. I told you there were only a couple, but I was wrong. It might be too much work to haul them out of here.”

“Okay. Lead the way.”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor. A bathroom and three other open doors greeted them at the top. Fina assumed the room with the queen-sized bed was Bobbi’s. A second had a couch and a table with a sewing machine. Fabric was draped over the edge of the table, and tissue-paper patterns were stacked in a basket.

Bobbi stepped into the last room, which had two twin beds with a small dresser between them. There were sliding closet doors opposite the beds.

“This is where I keep the girls’ things,” Bobbi said, sliding open the closet doors. One side of the closet was filled with clothes, most of which seemed to be for warmer months. The other side was stacked with bankers boxes.

“Yikes,” Fina said.

“I know, and they’re not labeled,” Bobbi said sheepishly. “It was one of those projects I always meant to get the girls to do, but it never happened.” She brushed her hand along one box. “I don’t think I can bear to go through them right now.”

“Of course not,” Fina said. “Just leave me to it.”

“You sure you don’t want any coffee?” Bobbi asked as Fina maneuvered the first box off the stack.

“No, thanks. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Bobbi left, and a minute later Fina heard the dulcet tones of the local classical radio station drifting up from the kitchen.

Sitting on the floor, the boxes arrayed around her, Fina was able to make quick work of the first few, which dated from the girls’ high school years. The Barone girls were involved in a range of activities, including soccer, softball, the honor society, the school newspaper, and the international relations club. There were programs and certificates and stacks of photos from games and events.

Fina dug into a box of correspondence next. There were birthday cards and letters from summer camp and a sampling of romantic missives. Fina put aside Liz’s sisters’ items as soon as she identified them as such; no need for Fina to be a witness to Dawn’s and Nicole’s awkward years. But she took her time reading Liz’s letters. From what Fina could tell, she’d had a couple of particularly close friends in high school and maintained limited correspondence with them in college. There was one boy with whom she traded notes in high school, but he was no longer in the picture once freshman year of college arrived.

When her phone rang, Fina pulled it from her bag and pushed herself up to one of the beds.

“Hello,” she answered, stretching her back.

“Fina? It’s Greta Samuels.”

“Oh, hi, Greta.” Fina owed Greta a phone call since she’d volunteered to break the bad news to her, but Fina didn’t want to have that conversation now. She also didn’t want to have that conversation until Risa sent the letter detailing her reasons for not donating her kidney.

“I need to be in touch with Risa.”

“Really?” Fina asked, and stood. She shook out her legs to get some blood flowing and wandered over to the window that overlooked the backyard. Since Bobbi’s property bordered a state park, all she could see were snowdrifts and bare trees.

“It’s an emergency.” Greta’s voice sounded strained.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“I woke up yesterday not feeling well, and it’s just gotten worse. They’re running some tests, but I need to talk to Risa.”

“About what exactly?” Fina asked.

“That’s none of your business!”

Fina sighed. “Does this have an impact on your transplant?”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to discuss it with her.”

“Greta, I’m sorry that things aren’t going well, but there’s nothing Risa can do for you at the moment. She’s still trying to figure out her next steps in this process.”

“But things have changed,” Greta said.

“Why don’t you have your doctor call me, and then I can give Risa his update.”

“You’re just trying to keep me from her,” Greta said.

“I’m trying to protect her.”

“From me?”

Fina was quiet for a moment. “I suppose so.”

“But I would never do anything to hurt her.”

“You already have, Greta. It drives me crazy that you don’t get that!”

“If I die, it’s going to be your fault!”

“No, it’s not, and comments like that only make me more reluctant to put you in touch with her. Your illness is nobody’s fault; it just sucks.”

“You’ve never liked me,” Greta said bitterly.

“Initially, I didn’t have any feelings about you, but you’re right—I’m not your biggest fan now.” Fina looked at her watch. “Give your doctor my number. Tell him I’m your niece if you have to, and I’ll pass his information on to Risa.”

“I don’t understand why we have to involve him.”

Fina was quiet for a moment. “Because I don’t trust you, Greta. It’s not that hard to understand. He can call—”

A dial tone buzzed over the line. Fina pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. “Seriously?” She’d been starting to feel a twinge of guilt about not telling the truth, but when Greta hung up on her like a tween, it offset any misgivings Fina was having.

She plopped back down onto the floor and picked up where she had left off. She tried not to think too much about Greta as she sorted through piles of yellowed notebook paper. Liz and her friends were in college just as the computer revolution was getting under way, so letters and cards hadn’t yet been replaced by e-mails and texts. She flipped through ticket stubs from concerts and team photographs. Fina found receipts from a trip to Fort Lauderdale and a few dried flowers tied with a faded ribbon.

She was halfway through the boxes when Bobbi hollered up the stairs to offer her a turkey sandwich. Fina joined her downstairs for lunch and asked questions about the materials she’d just sorted through.

“If it’s too painful to talk about Liz, I understand,” Fina said.

“I want to talk about her. That’s one of the things I’m afraid of,” Bobbi said, brushing potato chip crumbs from her hands. “That no one’s going to talk about her anymore.”

“If you talk about her, I imagine people will follow your lead,” Fina said. “They’re probably just trying to be sensitive even if they’re misguided.”

Bobbi told Fina more stories, and half an hour later, they reluctantly decided to return to their respective tasks. Fina climbed the stairs back to the past, and Bobbi cleared the dishes and contemplated the future without Liz as she composed more thank-you notes.

Two hours later, Fina was ready to accept defeat when she came upon a small bundle of letters held together with an elastic band. She started with the oldest one and read through the stack, shocked and vindicated by what she read. They were love letters, of a sort. Liz’s missives were urgent and optimistic in tone, but her boyfriend’s responses were more measured. She seemed to be pushing for more, and he was pulling back, tempering his feelings with caution. Since letters from both were included in the stack, Fina assumed the ones Liz had written had been returned to her at the end of the relationship, or perhaps she’d claimed them rather than leave them in her boyfriend’s possession.

But it was the last letter that Liz had written to Kevin Lafferty that gave Fina pause.

No wonder she wanted her letters back.

Senior year of college, when she was the leading scorer on the NEU women’s soccer team, Liz Barone got pregnant.

—

F
ina wanted nothing more than to jump in her car and track down Kevin, but she had a coffee date with a possible felon; she’d be a fool to miss that.

Her meeting with Darren Segretti was at a Dunkin’ Donuts in Chelsea, a curious choice for a potential date, but an excellent choice in Fina’s book. It was a public place that was frequented by cops, and it had delicious snacks. All blind dates should work that way.