Burn in Hell_A Jake Carrington Mystery Page 22

  *

  It was going to be a hell of a night. First, he needed to tell Kyra what transpired between him and Mia. He also needed to question her again about Phil Lucci. Right from the beginning her connection to Lucci bothered Jake, but he ignored his instincts in order to get laid. Christ, what if she was involved in Church’s disappearance?

  Was she using him all along? How could he be thinking of Kyra this way? They met at Dina’s house, and Stack didn’t associate with Dina. The only thing that flagged Kyra was her gambling and the fact Jake didn’t like her dating Phil. Was he making this more than jealousy—and what right did he have? He was choosing Mia over Kyra. If she was involved, could he let her walk? What could she possibly be doing for Phil Lucci? All those questions spun around in Jake’s head, and as some answers dropped hard from his subconscious to his conscious mind, he repressed them and listed them as absurd. Shaking his head, he pushed up from his desk and made himself a cup of coffee. Standing by his window with his coffee, he emptied his mind and watched the change of shift. A quick glance at his watch told him the day was flying by. Three o’clock, he and Louie still needed to interview Mrs. Wade and Kevin Long. Jake rubbed his tired eyes, knowing his day was far from over. No sleep last night didn’t help matters either.

  Jake sat back down at his desk, picked up the reports he’d printed on Angelo Rainford, and read up on him. Like Phil, Angelo kept out of the system since he served his time. In his eyes, that just meant that they stayed under the radar, Angelo more so than Phil. There was no speculation about Angelo’s recent activities in Jake’s files as there was about Phil. He scratched his head. Either Angelo had gone straight or he was more cautious than Phil. Jake opted for more cautious, which made Angelo more dangerous. He turned to his computer, searched for a photo of Angelo in his prison files but came up empty. He’d have to search old records for a photo that would now be over twenty years old. There had to be a mug shot of him. Jake typed up his request and sent it out to the state police. He figured he should have something back by tomorrow.

  *

  Driving home to shower and dress before he picked up dinner, Jake ran his day through his head. He smiled when he replayed the Wade interview. Louie took the lead, easing Mrs. Wade through her previous statements, questioning this, pointing out that, in his quiet, fatherly manner. Jake had observed over the years how effective this method was for Louie, nailing a suspect or a kid to the wall. For her part Mrs. Wade relaxed, sinking deeply into her sofa, answering Louie’s questions and embellishing her answers as her confidence grew. Jake stood behind Mr. Long and waited for Louie to finish off Mrs. Wade.

  “I don’t understand why you keep asking the same questions, Sergeant.” Here we go, Jake thought. “Mrs. Wade, Dwight didn’t shoot himself.”

  “I know that, Sergeant Romanelli. Dwight wouldn’t do that to me or the kids. He loved us.”

  “Then how do you think he died?”

  “I don’t know, maybe he was playing a game. A stupid game,” she emphasized, almost yelling.

  “A game?” Louie scratched his head, tilted it right, and looked Mrs. Wade directly in the eye.

  She looked away from Louie to stare at Kevin Long, her husband’s best friend and drinking buddy. Kevin Long sat at attention. Jake knew he was aware of him at his shoulder. It didn’t take long after that for Mrs. Wade to break down and tell the whole story.

  It seemed Dwight Wade and Kevin Long had gotten totally shitfaced and decided to play Russian roulette with Dwight’s gun, thinking it was unloaded. Dwight lost. Long was the one who’d come up with the plan to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Jake thought how they dug themselves deeper into their lie. Both would face charges, Long for murder and Mrs. Wade for abetting after the fact. Jake felt sorry for the kids. They were always the ones who paid the highest price. Now they didn’t have a father or a mother.

  *

  Once home, Jake dressed for dinner, drove to the restaurant to pick up the food, and headed to Kyra’s. She looked tired, he thought, when she opened her door. She had on a deep blue T-shirt and jean cut-offs, showcasing her great legs.

  “Hi, let me help you with that.” Kyra reached for one of the bags Jake held.

  “I’m good.” He pulled back and walked past her to the kitchen, putting the food on the table. He noticed she’d already set the table with china and wine glasses. He’d been hoping for something stronger.

  “The table looks nice. You didn’t have to go to all the trouble. Paper plates would have been fine.”

  “No trouble.”

  Tension stretched between them as Kyra’s nerves danced all over him. Jake walked over to her, took her n his arms, and kissed her hello.

  “So…do we talk over dinner or eat first?”

  “Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

  “I’m not comfortable with either, truth be told. I’m getting dumped here, aren’t I?”

  He took her chin in his hands, tilting her face up so their eyes met. “I never meant to hurt you, Kyra. I do care for you and cherish our friendship, but I love Mia.”

  “I know. I knew that from the beginning. Unfortunately, my heart didn’t listen.” He wiped the single tear that ran down her face with his thumb.

  “Let’s sit and eat. I’ll tell you about our meeting last night.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  While they ate, Jake filled her in on his conversation with Mia. “I told her I needed the week with you.”

  “Why?”

  “We have your friend’s wedding Saturday. I promised to go with you…and I didn’t want to cut us off from each other that abruptly.”

  “So, after next Monday that’s it? No more contact, phone calls, or visits?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant, I just…” Frustrated, he didn’t know how to finish his sentence.

  Kyra put down her fork and looked at him. “Jake, Mia’s not going to want me around, and who can blame her? I need this week with you also—you’ve come to be a big part of my life. You’ve helped me to overcome—so much.” She waved her hands around.

  Jake watched Kyra push her plate away. He didn’t have much appetite either. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and brought it to his lips. They sat in silence for a while, time slipping away before Jake got up to clear the table.

  “Leave the dishes, Jake. I have less than a week with you and I want to use you good—so good you’ll be too tired for her.”

  “I’ve never known you to be vindictive.” Jake quirked an eyebrow.

  “Who knew?” She grinned.

  They walked into the living room, sat on the couch together. Jake liked Kyra’s choice of music. She’d set the mood with a bluesy jazz CD playing in the background. Loud enough to enjoy, quiet enough to talk. She had two candles burning on the coffee table, offering the only light in the room.

  Jake automatically reached over, draping an arm around Kyra’s shoulder to draw her closer. He kissed the top of her head and listened to the music, knowing it was not the time to bring up Phil Lucci. Once again, he tabled the subject. Was that for Kyra’s sake or his?

  “A penny for your thoughts.” Kyra turned so she could look up at him.

  “I’m happy and sad, Kyra. I know my decision hurts you…”

  “It did, Jake, but I’ve been expecting it since the moment I decided to date you. You were always honest with me. I’m trying to be grownup here—so don’t make me cry, okay?”

  Pulling her closer, he whispered into her hair. “Okay.” She abruptly turned, banging her head into his chin. “Christ, Kyra.” He rubbed his chin.

  Laughing, she said, “Sorry. I just wanted to look at you.” She swung her legs over Jake’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  His voice hoarse, he said, “Kyra, I don’t think we should—”

  “Then don’t think,” she answered, kissing him.

  He wrapped his arms around her tightly, returned her kiss. How was he going to be able to give her up? Had he
made the right decision? Why was he questioning himself now?

  “I want to be fair here, Kyra.”

  “I have you until Monday, Jake. So for the rest of the week Mia doesn’t exist, understand?”

  “I don’t want to hurt…”

  “Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  *

  Kyra kissed him again, unbuttoning his shirt as she trailed kisses down his chest while she pushed her hands between the material and his skin. She loved the feel of him and would miss him. Hurt—but relieved—she wouldn’t have to lie to him anymore. Kyra planned on using him for the short time he still belonged to her.

  Jake picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. Their lovemaking was tender, consuming and distant at the same time. Or was all that in her mind? Had Jake already checked out or had she? She got the physical release, but emotionally, she was empty. She fought her tears. Was this her punishment for gambling—the loss of all that was good in her life? Christ, how Catholic was that, she laughed inwardly. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…Words from childhood that held no meaning for her now. She was beyond redemption.

  She felt Jake’s arms draw her in, not realizing ’til he did that she’d turned away from him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No, I need you here tonight.”

  “Okay.” He tightened his grip around her. She felt safe for one more night.

  *

  In the morning, she woke to the smell of coffee and eggs and knew she’d also miss being waited on. Walking into her bathroom, she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. The last thing she wanted to do was face him with morning breath. What a way to ruin a good cup of coffee, she thought, brushing her teeth.

  “Hey,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

  “She lives.” He laughed.

  “Barely. Where’s my IV?”

  “Coming right up, ma’am.” He handed her a cup of coffee, smiling as he watched her sip it.

  “Thanks.” Looking over the rim of the cup, she took a deep breath and asked the forbidden question. “Are you coming back tonight?”

  “I want to.”

  “Do you want to have dinner here?” They were treading water as though they were strangers, she thought.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll make it. What do you want?”

  “I’ll bring it, Kyra, that way we get to visit.”

  “Don’t like my cooking, huh!” She laughed.

  “It’s not that…eat your breakfast and stop busting my chops.” He grinned.

  After breakfast, they finished dressing. Jake left for work an hour before Kyra. She was going to make the most of the week and enjoy Jake to where he wouldn’t soon forget her. If she felt like crying, she’d do it alone, because it was her own stupidity that got her involved with a guy who admitted he was in love with another woman.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Angelo walked into Phil’s office. “Here’s the plan I came up with to get rid of Stack.”

  Phil took the file Angelo handed him, studied it. After a few minutes, he looked up. “This is good. I like it. This way there’ll be no body in Wilkesbury or here, so no one will look at us.”

  “That’s the plan. Why don’t you call him and get him down there? That way his accident will happen in another jurisdiction. We won’t have to worry about Carrington investigating it.”

  “Even better, Ang, I’ll tell him I want to discuss his phone call.” Phil smiled.

  Angelo laughed. “That’ll put the fear of God in him.”

  “Maybe I’ll also tell him I want to discuss some new business. I don’t want to scare him away.” Phil tapped his finger to the side of his head. “Find a place on Route 16. I don’t want it anywhere near here. Let’s cover all the bases.”

  “When are you going to call him?”

  “Now’s a good time.” Phil checked his watch first then punched in Stack’s cell number.

  After he hung up, Phil smiled. Anticipation built within him. Call him sick, but he liked dishing out punishment to people who deserved it. And Carl Stack deserved everything Phil planned for him. Now that Stack was dealt with, Phil could turn his mind to Kyra to decide what she deserved. What most women deserved, in his opinion, was a good swift punishment so they understood who was in charge. Without warning, he was jolted back a few years to the first encounter with his mother, years after she’d deserted him.

  She walked out the door when he was nine and never looked back. Left him to defend himself against an angry drunk of a father. Phil recalled every beating, every nasty word his father spoke to him. Phil Sr. was a poor excuse for a human being—a lazy, foul-mouthed, fist-swinging drunk who expected people to wait on him hand and foot. Phil really didn’t blame his mother for leaving. What he blamed her for was leaving him there; then telling him he was exactly like his father. He cursed her for walking out. Ah! If she could only see him now he thought, as he looked around his spacious office with his leather furniture and pricey art and his view of the lake. She should’ve had more faith in him.

  *

  Louisa Lucci was a beautiful, naïve woman who wanted so much out of life but had settled for Phil Sr. when he got her pregnant. He promised her the moon. What she got was a life of hard work and abuse. The day she walked out of Phil Lucci’s house all she had were the bruises from the last beating, no hope, and a few dollars, but she was determined to survive—and survive she did, until her son caught up with her on that rainy Monday morning in June…

  Sitting in the café he studied the waitress. A beauty in a used up kind of way. Tall and thin she looked about sixty, though he knew she was only around fifty. With her head down she walked over to his table slipping the pencil from behind her ear as she grabbed her pad from her apron pocket.

  “What can I get…” Ah, finally, recognition. A least she knows her own son, he thought. “Phil?” How could she not? He was cursed to look exactly like the old man.

  “Yes, Mother.” He liked the stunned, fearful look on her face.

  “I-I…how are you?”

  “Really, Mother, after all this time, that’s all you have to say to me?”

  The conversation never improved after that. He left the restaurant and parked a block away. And each day as she left work she walked by his car. He’d just sit and stare. On the fifth day, he got out of the car and walked up behind her as she rushed by. He pulled her into an alley. She jumped when the rats scurried from under the discarded newspapers. He grabbed her arm tighter, pulling her deeper into the alley. He wasn’t even going to validate her by killing her in her apartment.

  He was going to leave her where she belonged, with the garbage.

  “This is for leaving me with that bastard.” He took out his knife from its sheath, brought it up, digging it deep into her skin then cut her still beautiful face.

  “No man will want you now, but that doesn’t matter,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Because you’re not leaving this alley alive. Do you understand that, Louisa?”

  “Yes,” she cried. “Please, Phil, what do you want? I have some money stashed away.”

  “Where?”

  “In my closet in the red hat-box.”

  “Louisa, I’m going to take your money and your life. What I wanted was a mother.” He kissed her cheek, watching her shudder at his touch. Then he spun her around to face the wall and slowly dragged his knife across her throat so she felt every serrated edge of the blade. He stood there as the blood shot out of her neck and the life drained out of her body; then he dropped her to the ground and walked away from her, just like she walked away from him. It was his nineteenth birthday. He laughed when he remembered it.

  “Hey, Phil, I lost you there.” Angelo shook his arm.

  “I’m just reminiscing.”

  “Uh-huh, anything good?”

  “It depends on how you look at it.” Phil s
miled. He never once regretted killing Louisa. Her punishment fit her crime, in his opinion.

  “Let’s discuss Kyra,” Phil said.

  “Why don’t we wait and see how your meeting goes with Stack first?”

  “Getting squeamish in your old age, Ang?”

  “No. To be truthful, Phil, I don’t think she did anything to deserve your wrath.”

  “You don’t, do you? Well, she did, and I make the decisions here.”

  Quietly, Ang said, “We make the decisions here, Phil. You’re talking to me now. I think doing anything to her will bring down a lot of heat right now and with everything we have going on, we can’t afford any heat.”

  “You don’t think there’ll be heat killing Stack?”

  “I know there will be, and we can handle that—but I understand that Carrington is a passionate guy who’ll hunt down anyone who hurts what’s his. Ask the guy sitting on death row who killed his sister.”

  “From what I understand, Ang, he’s dumping her this week for his old girlfriend, so that won’t be a problem.”

  “Even if he dumps her, he’d still come after whoever hurts her, Phil. It’s just not worth it—plus, she’s kept her side of the bargain. She’s a good contact to have.”

  “We’ve paid her too much. If she continues, we need to renegotiate her fee.”

  Phil wasn’t giving in, just buying time with Angelo, in his opinion. Kyra needed to go, no matter what services she performed.

  “That can be done, but not right now. We also need to find a back-up for her in case she gets fired or quits.”

  Or dies, Phil thought. His mind went to the many ways he could accomplish that act because he was definitely the one who was going to do Kyra up close and personal. She would pay for her arrogance and her rejection. The thought thrilled him so much he had a hard-on.