Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (6 page)

“I’m here.”

“Okay, man,” Bart said. “You don’t seem too outraged by this.”

He heard a deep sigh from his boss, before Jack said, “Look, I appreciate this is hard for you to swallow, especially in light of what happened last summer. Did she actually say she was psychic? Did she use that word?”

Bart thought for a second before answering honestly. “No, but what the fuck does it matter what she calls herself? She’s still scamming people and I’m not gonna work with her. If Krustas wants to throw his money at a fake that’s his business, but she’s not getting me to do her investigating just so she can draw some bogus picture that has everyone claiming she did anything.” By this time, he was virtually yelling and growing more frustrated that Jack did not share his indignation. “Okay, Jack, you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“All I know is that when Krustas called to ask for our help, he also said he had asked someone to assist. He used to know her grandmother and said the women in this family have the ability to see things. I know you don’t believe and you don’t have to, but Krustas has hired her and you have to, at least, pretend to work with her.”

“You have got to be kidding?” Bart said, leaning back heavily against his truck headrest. “I do all the work and she gets to claim the glory of solving the case by psychic means.”

“Since when do we care who gets the glory?” Jack challenged him. Not hearing an answer from Bart, he continued. “We solve cases and who the fuck gets the glory doesn’t matter. FBI. CIA. DEA. Hell, the local police department.”

“I hear you, but I’m still telling Krustas what he’s gotten himself into.”

Jack chuckled. “Go ahead, but I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Boss, I gotta tell you, this whole conversation is shocking the shit outta me,” Bart confessed.

“I’m not telling you to believe her. I am telling you that you have to work with her because, right now, that’s what our client wants. But you also have to really work with her and not against her. You prove she’s a phony in the meantime…that’s fine. But your job is to assist Ivan Krustas, not discredit Ms. Romani. Got that?”

“Yes, sir,” Bart answered, frustration burning in him.

“Now what else do you have for me?”

“I need you to check out Sarah Dukakas. She’s Ivan’s housekeeper and was alone with Erik that night. They say she’s been with the family for years, including her parents. I figure Luke can dig up her finances. Also, a man named Roger Montague. Erik’s mom was out with him at a charity event that night.”

“What about Sergio?”

“Yeah, I was going to get to him. I got a bad feeling that, even from prison, he’s involved somehow. Ivan didn’t want to believe it, but I think I convinced him and Anton that Sergio can still be a threat.”

“You talking to Ivan this afternoon?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna talk to him about the psychic medium he’s hired.”

“Just remember, you’re on the job regardless of who he’s pulled in.”

“Got it,” Bart replied, disconnecting before tossing the phone to the console before running his hand over his face.
Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?
The more he thought about how she duped him with her innocent, doe-eyed appearance, the angrier he got.
My job might not be to discredit you, but I sure as shit will work to do just that!

*

Faith drove to
her apartment, angry tears streaming down her face.
Oh, grandma. This is why I never told anyone what I saw when I was little. No one understands.
She could not get the vision of Bart’s furious rant against her out of her mind. His accusations stung as his words sliced through her.
Asshole! Who does he think he is?
Pulling in a ragged breath, she parked her old car, leaning her head on the steering wheel for a moment before walking up the stairs to her apartment. Dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes, she walked the few steps to the worn sofa and plopped down. As she looked around at her meager surroundings, his words echoed.
You won’t be getting rich off anyone else.
She would have laughed if the situation were not so ridiculous.
Rich? What does he think I do?

Thirty minutes passed while she lay back on the sofa, trying to quell her racing thoughts. The images of his handsome face twisted in anger—in rage—were stuck in her mind. Pulling out her phone, she googled the name, Taggart. The first thing that popped up was an article about Arlene Taggart and other wealthy widows in Virginia Beach being taken in by a swindler who was caught before the women lost any money.
Great. Just great. Arlene Taggart must be the grandmother he mentioned.

Grabbing her art pad, she closed her eyes, willing her mind to focus. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she quickly began sketching, allowing her pencil to flow over the paper, freely drawing lines, circles, shapes, shades. Bart’s angry face rose from the page, his rage palatable in the portrait. She was panting by the time it was finished and tears of frustration came again.

Tossing the pad on the sofa, she rose and moved toward the kitchen, which was no more than a row of cabinets ending with a sink, next to a stove and refrigerator, both the avocado color of a long ago era. Eating a quick lunch, she rinsed out the dishes, stacking them back onto the drying rack.
I’ve never felt so alone. Not even after grandma died. Oh, Babushka, I miss you.

Walking back to the sofa, she picked up the art pad turning to a clean page. This time, her pencil flowed without anger or frustration. Slow strokes crossing the paper. Another image began to take shape. Another image of Bart appeared, but this time with the flirty, crooked smile he flashed.
Funny, he would wink at the waitress but didn’t pay any attention to her. But to me? This smile would come out constantly. For a while he focused on me…and it felt…special. Damn!

Sighing deeply, she turned off the lights and walked back down to her car. It was a little early, but she wanted to make sure she got there in time. She would have to tell Mr. Krustas that she would be unable to work for him.

As she headed down the road, she was restless as the image of a small boy, smiling in a windowless room filled her mind once more.

*

Bart arrived at
Constance’s house early for their meeting. Mrs. Dukakas opened the door to him, and said, “Mr. Anton Krustas will meet with you in the study, but he isn’t here right now.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to Mr. Ivan Krustas.”

A small smile crossed her face as she nodded and turned toward the dining room. Bart walked behind her, seeing Ivan sitting alone, at the end of the table. Ivan looked up and nodded toward the housekeeper.

“Can you bring Mr. Taggart some refreshment, please.”

“No, no, thank you,” Bart assured Mrs. Dukakas. “I’ll just take some coffee if it’s not too much trouble.”

The older woman patted his arm, saying, “You’re a good man to help us. Have a seat and I’ll take care of you.”

He watched her walk out of the room before sitting down, facing Ivan. The haggard look on Ivan’s face suddenly halted Bart’s words. He wanted to demand that Krustas admit Faith was a phony, but the words choked in his throat.

Ivan spoke after a moment of watching Bart silently struggle. “You’re a man on a mission this afternoon but, for some reason, you’re hesitating to say what’s on your mind.” He set his fork down on his plate, pushing it back before pinning Bart with a stare. “My grandson is missing and I don’t have time to beat around the bush…or have someone else do so.”

Duly chastised, Bart nodded. “I want to understand what you hope to gain from employing Ms. Romani. Do you know her? Did she approach you? What did she promise you? Did she talk about finding Erik using some kind of gift of sight?”

The moment was broken as Mrs. Dukakas brought in more coffee. Ivan glanced up at his housekeeper and said, “Mr. Taggart is wondering about Faith. I’m not sure he has any.”

Bart looked between the two, seeing a fleeting smile at the inside joke that passed between them. Mrs. Dukakas left the room and Bart looked back for an explanation from Ivan.

“Bart, I knew Ms. Romani’s grandmother. She and I grew up near each other. We were from the same heritage. We may claim Russia as our ancestor’s country but our heritage is of Russian gypsies. You are a man who looks for truth in facts. We appreciate there are many truths found in faith.”

“I do have faith, Ivan,” he countered. “Faith in family, faith in God.”

“Faith in love?” Ivan asked.

“Yes,” Bart answered without hesitation. He looked past Ivan’s shoulder, lost in thoughts of his grandfather. Drawing himself up, he shared, “My grandfather taught me to have faith in family, God, and yes, in love. I’ve never found it myself, but I saw it every day with him and my grandmother and between my parents. But when I was a SEAL on a mission or investigating crimes, I needed facts. Substantial evidence. Not some mumbo jumbo.”

Ivan leaned back in his chair, carefully considering the young man in front of him. “There’s a world of difference between the swindler Cecil Nastelli, who your grandmother dealt with last summer, and Faith Romani.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s the difference?”

Ivan stood, picked up his coffee, and motioned for Bart to follow him. The two men made their way to the comfortable study, sitting back down in easy chairs.

“For years, there have been those, particularly women, who have what can be called second sight. Yes, many have exploited it, calling themselves psychic and charging money for their gift. Others use it cautiously. For good.”

“And you think that’s what Ms. Romani is doing? Hell, Ivan, be reasonable. She goes to crime scenes, gathers clues, and then claims to have seen the images she draws.”

“Her grandmother had the gift. It skips a generation and Faith has it also.” Ivan watched the look of disbelief mixed with disgust cross Bart’s face. “But, regardless of your opinions, I want Ms. Romani on the case. If you do not think you can accommodate, then I’ll be forced to negotiate with your boss for another investigator.”

Bart stiffened at the insinuation he could not do his job. “That won’t be necessary,” he stated forcefully.

Just then, the housekeeper walked to the doorway. “Ms. Romani is here.”

“Send her in and call for Anton as well.”

Bart was not happy, but as he stood to greet Faith when she appeared in the hall, Ivan leaned over, whispering, “And for the record, she did not contact me. I contacted her. And she refuses any money I have offered.”

Bart jerked his head around but did not have a chance to question Ivan further since Faith was walking into the room.

“My dear, join us.”

Bart’s gaze stayed on her as she walked toward him cautiously, the look of a mouse approaching a cat on her face. Her long hair pulled back away from her face in a simple headband, its length still flowing down her back.
She refuses any money Ivan has offered. She doesn’t dress expensively, so what’s her game? Does she dress down to gain pity?

As she crossed the room, her timidity lessened with each step. By the time she sat in the seat Ivan had indicated, her spine was steel and she pierced Bart with her glare.
I am not going to be intimidated!

“I’m glad you’re here,” Ivan spoke, breaking the pointed silence. “Anton will be joining us in just a few minutes. Dmitry was sent back to the university since his presence is not needed at this time. I know Jack has given Bart information on my possible enemies; I will have Anton brief you from our family’s perspective.”

Faith’s gaze shifted between the two men in the room. “Do you still want me involved?” she asked, sure that Bart had already painted her as a fraud to Ivan.

“Of course,” Ivan said. He sat down next to her, reaching out to grasp her cold hands. “Bart and I have discussed his concerns. They are not shared by me,” he promised.

“I…I don’t know what to say—”

“Faith, I knew your grandmother, as you know. We grew up in the same neighborhood. She was beautiful…fun…and special.”

Her eyes held his as he continued to speak. “I knew her gift. I perceived it passed to you. Whatever it is…whatever you can do, I want you to do it. If it is using your psychology and knowledge of people or any insight you may have…I just need to know you will assist in bringing Erik home to me.”