Mama Said (9 page)

The woman’s mouth moved a few times before words actually came out. “Help me.”

“Of course,” she whispered before grabbing the blanket from the couch and putting it over the woman. Next she yanked out her cell.

And then she heard another scream. This one didn’t come from her. She put her hand against her chest and willed her heart to slow. Somebody else was in the apartment. It sounded like a baby. But what if whoever did this to Vanessa was in the same room?

She dialed 9-1-1, and whispered the specifics to the operator as she approached the room down the hall. She didn’t have a gun, so she held out the can of pepper spray as if it were a .44 magnum and she was Dirty Harry. She let that persona envelope her as she tip-toed into the next room.

With shaky confidence, she pointed her weapon as if expecting to repel an army of bad guys. Instead, what she saw was even more frightening.

A baby was holding out his arms. “Mama.”

Then she did something very un-Dirty Harry-like. She fainted.

The next thing she knew a paramedic was hovering above her. “Ma’am? Are you all right? You must have fainted. Sometimes it happens as a delayed reaction to trauma.”

Embarrassed, she shifted to an upright position with his help. “I’m fine. How’s the woman—I mean, Vanessa?”

“They transported her to the hospital.”

“What about the baby? I’m pretty sure he needs asthma medication.” She gulped down the fear clogging her throat. She couldn’t help wondering how close she’d come to being face to face with the guy who’d attacked Vanessa.

“Fine. He’s staying with the neighbor across the hall until his grandmother comes for him.” He took her pulse, then listened to her heart. “Everything’s fine. The police will want to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded as she waited for the officer to come into the room. He gave her a quick smile when he entered, then opened up a small spiral notebook.

“I’m Officer Wilton and I’d like to take a statement from you. You might need to come down to the station later.”

“Sure, but I didn’t see anything. I came to the door and knocked and it opened right up. That’s when I saw her on the floor, bleeding.”

“How do you know Ms. Young?”

“Through a mutual acquaintance.” In a convoluted way, she wasn’t really lying.

“Then why were you here?” Skepticism evidenced itself in the way he stared as if measuring every speck of her body language.

“I wanted to know if she had some information about a friend of mine.” She couldn’t very well say that the friend in question happened to be dead. Even she knew that would be too much of a coincidence for the police to overlook. Later, when she got a chance to talk to Patrick, she could fill him in on the details.

“Give me your current information and we’ll get back to you about coming in to the station.”

“No problem. I’ll be in town for a couple of weeks yet.”

* * *

Despite her hellish afternoon, Gabriella showed up at work on time that evening. After the blow-up the night before, she didn’t expect Shane to swing by to pick her up, so she took a cab.

Mack seemed a little surprised to see her, although she didn’t know why. Patrick came in around midnight and motioned her over to his table in the corner. “I heard you had quite an afternoon.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Donna was upset about what happened to Annie, and wanted me to go with her to do a little digging. We found out the name of her sponsor. But then Donna’s son got hurt so I went there alone. And when I got to Vanessa’s she was bleeding and…”

“You didn’t see anybody? She didn’t tell you anything?”

She shook her head “Nothing. Is she going to make it? Do you know who did it?”

“Don’t know yet if she’ll make it. From what I understand, she lost a lot of blood. And as for who did it, don’t know that, either. She’s got an ex-boyfriend who looks somewhat promising, but we’ll see what shakes out. If they want you in for further questioning, ask for me. I’ll be around.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m going to get going. I just wanted to stop in to make sure you were all right.” He stood up.

She grasped his arm and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Patrick. That was really sweet of you.”

Of course Shane chose that exact moment to come walking in the door. They glared at each other on Patrick’s way out.

Prior to that moment, she’d anticipated making a grand apology to Shane, even if she had nothing to apologize for. Besides, she wanted to share with him what happened this afternoon and get his take on things from a private detective’s standpoint. Doing a little groveling might work to her advantage. But now, considering the scowl to end all scowls on his face, she didn’t dare come within ten feet of him.

* * *

She finished the night without much drama and was anxious to get home. It had been a long day and she was exhausted, although she wasn’t too sure if she’d be able to sleep well considering what had happened this afternoon.

As she walked toward the door, he gave her the death stare from under hooded lids. “My stepbrother coming back to pick you up?” he practically snarled at on her way past.

She rolled her eyes. “Will you knock it off with the sibling rivalry thing? Aren’t you a little old for that?”

He harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest. “Hey, I’m not the one who invited him here.”

“For the last time—” She stopped and tapped her toe on the floor. “Never mind. Fighting with you isn’t going to get us anywhere.” At that moment she heard a beep coming from outside. “That must be my cab.”

He seemed genuinely shocked, as if taking the initiative weren’t within her make-up. “Why’d you call a cab?”

“Because I didn’t want to be indebted to you in any way, shape, or form.” With that she sashayed out of the bar with her dignity firmly intact.

CHAPTER NINE

Feeling victorious, Gabriella pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt and settled into bed about an hour later. The muted sound of light rain pinging against the windows broke the night’s silence.

After everything that had happened today, she was exhausted and drifted off. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when something startled her awake. At first she thought it was a dream that had her senses buzzing. As she took in slow, easy breaths to steady her pulse, she heard sounds from below.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand to check the time. Quarter till four. She must have been sleeping for only a half hour or so. Even as she tried to convince herself it was only her imagination, she strained to hear more.

Subtle sounds came to her, like the noises she heard when Carissa was working below. But not at four o’clock in the morning. Paranoia returned with a vengeance.

More than likely it was Shane, either trying to scare her or getting a head start on the day. Or maybe he was unable to sleep because he felt guilty for being such a cranky pants earlier. Okay, maybe that was her personal fantasy.

A shiver passed along her spine as she realized there was something much more valuable than cash downstairs. Potentially sensitive information was kept within file cabinets or on the computer.

Convinced now she had to do something, she punched Shane’s number into her cell phone and hoped he didn’t laugh at her. Then again, as anal as he was, the security system downstairs had to be top-notch so she shouldn’t worry. She was just about to hang up when he answered.

“O’Neil.” He sounded groggy, as if she’d awakened him.

“Please tell me you’re downstairs making a lot of noise to scare me.”

She heard him stir as if he were getting out of bed. “What’s going on?”

“I think somebody’s in the office. I was hoping it was you. Do you think it’s Carissa?”

“I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll call the police.” If Shane wasn’t blowing her off with excuses citing her imagination, she was officially scared.

“No, I can get there faster.” He hung up.

She should definitely call the police. But then she remembered the threats at the courthouse and the pseudo-interrogation the other night and it didn’t seem like such a hot idea after all.

But what if whoever was downstairs decided to come upstairs? Would Shane get there before they decided to hack her into little pieces?

She needed to calm down. Pacing was out of question, as that would only let the people below know there was someone upstairs. Instead, she eased into the bed and considered her best option for an easy-to-grab weapon. There were a couple of knives in the drawers in the kitchen, but she’d have to get too close to use one of those.

As her imagination began to spin out of control, she forced herself to think logically. If they were in the office, they were searching for something in particular. They would have no reason to come upstairs.

That slice of relief lasted only seconds. If they didn’t find what they were looking for, they might think more information was housed upstairs.

On cue she heard the unmistakable sound of somebody coming up the stairs. Since she didn’t hear any swearing, she assumed it wasn’t Shane.

Now what? Even if she called the police this second, they would never get there in time.

The only thing within reach that was passable as a weapon was the bedside lamp. After stuffing a pillow under the covers to make it look at first glance as if someone were in the bed, she slipped behind the door, the brass lamp raised above her head. She had no choice but to fend for herself and then flee. Then she’d call the police, regardless of Shane’s paranoia.

The knob on the door twisted and the door slowly opened. Her heart was beating so furiously it felt as if a giant fire hose pumped the blood inside her chest. She drew in one strength-gathering breath before bringing the weight of the lamp onto the back of his head.

Unlike in the movies, he didn’t crumple to the ground, but her clumsy move did stun him to the extent she was able to flee through the open door. She ran down the stairs as if the devil himself were chasing her, and tore open the door to the outside.

She ran smack into Shane. Her body a mass of quaking nerves, she hardly felt him grab her biceps.

“Gabriella, stop singing and get into the car.”

Still rattled, she slipped inside his car and hit the power locks. Though she stopped singing, she started humming in the hopes of alleviating some of the feelings of terror coursing through her. When she spotted the keys dangling from the ignition, it took every bit of willpower to not put the car in gear and take off for parts unknown. Instead, she fired up his iPod and tried to soothe the staccato beat of her heart.

Even with the windows up and the music on, she heard shouting, mostly curses, coming from inside the building. It was then that she remembered she hadn’t told Shane about the guy upstairs. She tried to think of a way to warn him without getting herself killed in the process. As she was working on the problem, the guy in question barreled out the door. She knew it was the same guy because of the patch of blood on his t-shirt. To her relief he didn’t pay attention to her, choosing instead to keep on running down the block.

Seconds later, Shane and another guy tumbled out the door. While she’d bet on Shane in a foot race, this guy had a head start. Undeterred, Shane ran around the corner after him, and out of her sight. If she weren’t such a chicken, she would get her butt out of the car to try to help. But that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

Gabriella chewed on her fingernails, listened to music, and watched the same corner through the ever-increasing rain. She hadn’t heard any gunshots earlier, nor had she seen a gun. But what if other guys were waiting around somewhere with guns?

If she hadn’t listened to Shane earlier and had called the police, they would be here by now. She cursed him in English, Spanish, and, for good measure, Italian. Just as she was about to let out another litany of curses, Shane came around the corner. Alone, but in one piece.

* * *

Shane couldn’t begin to sort out what those guys were after. Could be connected to Marcos, could be any number of clients.

Gabriella got out of the car and joined him as he walked toward the office. Her teeth chattered from the cold and rain and, more likely, a heavy dose of fear.

Once inside, he let out a string of expletives. It was much worse than he’d expected. They were well on their way to destroying the place when he got there. Then again, he’d traded some pretty hard punches and was responsible for some of the broken furniture.

“What did they do, shred every piece of paper you have?” She tiptoed around the mess.

Shane rubbed his throbbing jaw. Guilt overtook him every time he looked at her. “Somehow I lost the son of a bitch. He had to have a car waiting for him somewhere.”

“Did you know there were two of them? Another guy came upstairs. I hit him over the head with a lamp.”

Shane stopped as a fresh wash of guilt peppered his spine. “Did you see him leave?”

“He ran out right before the other guy.”

“What did he look like?” The guy he’d traded punches with wasn’t familiar. More than likely he was some hired muscle.

“Young. Skinny. Kind of scruffy. Do you think that cop that threatened you hired somebody to do this?”

What she said kind of made sense as some kind of twisted vendetta. But in reality it could have been any one of a number of people.

“I get threats all the time. Normally it’s bull. Besides, O’Brien’s a loser. He wouldn’t have the nerve.” He tried to think about who else might want to get even with him, but the list was way too long. “I wish I knew what they were after. Maybe somebody wanted to screw with me.” He shrugged. “They must have stumbled on the extra key card in Carissa’s desk in order to get upstairs into your apartment.”

“How’d they get in to begin with?”

He pointed toward the broken window in front. “Takes some balls to do something like that. Either that or they were high.”

“At least they didn’t have guns.” She brushed her fingertips along his face. “You have a scrape on your cheek.”

For the first time since he’d gotten there, Shane felt like smiling. “You should see the other guy.”

She
tsk
ed. “What are you going to do now?”

No doubt she wanted him to call the police but wouldn’t come right out and say it. He ignored her implication. “I’m going to get something to board up the window and call it a night.”

She followed so close behind him when he went into the back storage room she’d practically attached herself to him. “What do you think they wanted?”

“I don’t know, but they wouldn’t have gotten much. Every night Carissa sends any new data to a remote back-up system, and I put the important stuff on my memory stick.”

“Any hot cases you’re working on that somebody might want to see disappear?”

“That’s the thing about detective work. There are always somebody’s secrets you’re dredging up. I guess it depends on how much they have to lose if I uncover the truth.”

While looking at her was a great distraction, he fought against it. Between her skimpy attire, long, sexy legs, and tousled hair, focusing on her for more than ten seconds was a bad idea.

“When you put it that way, everybody’s a suspect.” She shrugged and looked around, oblivious to the nasty thoughts tumbling through his brain. “Do you want me to help you clean this up?”

Thankful for the diversion, he surveyed the room. If they did that, they’d be there until daylight. Besides, there was only so much of her dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and thin t-shirt with no bra that he could take. “Naw, we both need to get some sleep. I’ll come back and help Carissa in the morning.” He grabbed her arm. “Get what you need for the night. You’re staying with me.”

* * *

There was no way she was going to argue with him. While she’d like to think she was brave enough to pretend life was normal and stay alone in the apartment upstairs, she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be in that place all by herself, even if it would be morning in another hour or two.

She got into his car with the barest of necessities—toothbrush, hair brush, flip-flops, underwear, shorts, t-shirt, and her Florida Gators rain slicker.

“I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

He glanced at her. “Besides tonight?”

“Yesterday I thought somebody followed me home from the club—”

“What? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because the cabbie lost them. At least I’m pretty sure he did. And you were already being…ahem…difficult.” She huffed out a breath. “And then today I found Vanessa dead—okay, not quite dead, but for all the blood she—”

“Who the hell is Vanessa? And why am I just hearing about this now? Start from the beginning.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“When I got into the cab the other night I kept seeing headlights shining into the backseat. Then the cabbie noticed it, too. At first I thought it was you, trying to catch up with me to apologize for being an idiot about Patrick, but that would be a big giant…ah, hell no. Anyway, the cabbie lost whoever it was. And Vanessa, who I found bleeding in her apartment, was Annie’s sponsor.”

She sucked in a breath and continued. “Donna had to leave because her son got hurt so I tracked down Vanessa at her apartment. When I got there, she’d been stabbed and her baby was screaming in the other room. Then I fainted. It was a total cluster you-know-what.”

She couldn’t tell in the dark car, but she was pretty sure he rolled his eyes. “You called the police?”

“Of course. I’m not police-phobic like you. If you must know, that’s why Patrick came in tonight—to make sure I was all right, which was pretty darn sweet of him.”

“Sweet? Yeah, right. And you didn’t tell me—”

“Because, as usual, you were being Mr. Cranky Pants. But now that you’re being halfway civil, did you ever see Annie with a boyfriend?”

“No, why?”

“Her counselor said something about her hooking up with some stable older guy and that she thought Annie was clean. She was just as surprised as Donna that she went back to her old ways and overdosed.”

“Addicts are good at fooling people. Relapse is part of the cycle.”

“I get that but…the whole thing seems weird. Nobody is buying that she went back to drugs. Even if she did, how do you explain her sponsor getting stabbed? Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

He shook his head but didn’t say another word. Which worked out fine since it didn’t take more than ten minutes to get to his place. He pulled into a garage in back of a brick three-story building. From the look of things, the building was probably at least seventy years old, but even from a superficial in-the-dark once-over, it appeared immaculately kept. Then again, she would have expected as much from him.

“Is that Lake Michigan over there?” He seemed distracted and she was itching to fill the silence. She never did well with long stretches of quiet.

He nodded and put a key into the back door lock. “I live in Lincoln Park, a yuppie haven. It’s a mix of old and new buildings, with the lake and the park only a couple of blocks away. You haven’t been able to do much sightseeing since you’ve been here, have you?”