Mystic Hearts (23 page)

Panic
that Gloria would do something crazy tripped her heart. She coughed to plunge
it back in rhythm, but it wasn’t enough to stop the sour taste from reaching
the back of Charlene’s throat. “I don’t want to discuss him. Not now. Later.
Okay?”

Gloria
nodded but her hazel eyes kept questioning.

“Thank
you. I’m sneaking out the back door. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m
glad you’re back…almost back.” Gloria smiled, reminding Charlene that the BOFs
didn’t corner the market on good people.

****

“Hey,
Missy.” Larry stopped beside her desk and picked up his messages. Other than a note
from the Director, keeping him up-to-date on the ‘need to know case’, the rest
were junk. “Thanks for covering for me.”

“No
problem. A Rona Thomas is waiting to speak to you. She’s sitting in the chairs
outside your office.”

Larry
glanced over his shoulder to the back wall to a light-skinned female in her
early twenties with pink and purple hair. She gripped a red baseball cap in her
lap as if it was her lifeline. The toe of her tennis shoe lent leverage for her
bouncing leg. She embodied nervous energy.

He
turned his attention back to Agent Missy Richards. “Did she give a reason for
wanting to speak with me?”

Missy
tilted her dark hair toward the girl. “She mentioned that she hoped you’d hurry
before anyone notices she’s missing. About that time you entered the office, I
directed her to the chairs.”

He
lifted the message in his hand. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

As
Larry approached, Rona’s eyes grew wide and she sat straighter.

“Hi,
Ms. Richards, I’m Special Agent Newman,” he stretched out his hand. “How may I
help you?”

“Can
I talk to you in private?” she said, her voice quaking, and she diverted her
gaze to the floor.

“Sure.
Come into my office.” The minute he turned his back to open the door, Rona took
a gulp of air and wiped her hands on her jean-clad legs.

Someone
or something had her running scared.

He
stepped into the office, breathed in the aroma of his morning coffee, and waved
his arm to the chair on the opposite side from his desk. “Have a seat.” He
balled up and trashed the Director’s message, and parked himself in his chair,
the faux leather groaning under him.

Rona’s
gaze flicked over the few organizers he kept on his desk for files, his closed
laptop, his empty coffee mug that read, “Work Sucks,” a departing gift from
Jake, and bare walls. “Man, your office is boring.”

Larry
braced his elbow on the armrest of his chair and leaned his chin against his
hand. A person who’d made the effort to come to him wasn’t concerned with his
office furnishings. “What can I help you with?”

Her
gaze flashed to his, her body vibrated in way that let him know she risked a
lot by being here. “I don’t want anyone to know I came here.” She plopped her
cap on her hand and rubbed her hands together between her legs.

Larry
got a good look at the hat. An ‘I’ stitched in the center, the Impalers’
insignia. “Got it.”

“I
have this friend. I think he’s in trouble…eh….going to cause trouble.”

Larry
picked up a pad, clicked his pen, and jotted down Rona Thomas and Impalers.
“This friend, he have a name?”

She
sliced a hand through the air and gave a quick shake of her head.

Friend,
Larry noted.

The
Impalers’ gang Rona was mixed up with was a small-time outfit that engaged in
the run of the mill crimes in the Northern Virginia area. From the information
Steve dug up, only a few members had branched out into violent crimes. Given
her small stature and soft features she didn’t look like she’d participate in
anything more than growing weed. “What type of trouble?” he asked when she
didn’t give a name.

Expression
serious, her gaze did a constant tour of his virtually empty desk. “Mouse is
threatening people.”

“Mouse,
is he the friend?”

She
nodded, her eyes drifted to his. “He’s threatening the guys, saying they’ll
regret crossing him.”

 
“Does Mouse belong to the Impalers’ gang too?”

Her
mouth dropped open, shock registering in her features. “You know?”

He
pointed the end of the pen at her head. “You’re wearing the hat.”

“Oh,
right.”

“I’m
not sure what you expect or want from me,” Larry said. “Without details, I
can’t help.” His cell vibrated. “Excuse me.” He tugged it out of the holder on
his belt and looked at the image Jake sent him. A newspaper clip of Charlene
and Andrew Smith’s wedding party. Larry brought the phone closer. The image was
fuzzy. Other than seeing a white dress, dark suits, and a splash of purple, he
couldn’t make out anyone. He pressed his middle finger and thumb on the screen
to spread the image. In the caption, Randy Millstone of Colonial Beach was
circled in red.

“Huh?”
Why would Jake circle this guy’s name?

An
address followed.

Impatience
and urgency ripped through his gut. Jake and Charlene must have talked about
more than what he was informed, for Jake to send him this info. “Ms. Thomas,
something has come up and I need to leave.” Larry stood.

Bolting
upright, she flashed a palm. “Wait, please! If you’d come to Greenwood Manor
and talk to Hulk, he could give you more information.”

Larry
dropped back in his seat. “You have my attention.”

“Mouse
has confided in him. Every morning Hulk and I check the fences and feed the…”
She scraped her teeth over her lower lip then the upper one. “Arrest us for
trespassing, bring us in and interrogate us. He’ll break.”

“You
want me to arrest you?”

“Well,
I expect you’ll release me after you find out the information you need.”

Larry
eyed her, his senses on high alert. “An Impaler wants to work with the FBI?”

“To
stop Mouse from acting stupid. He wants to bring in other gangs.”

Larry
arched his brows. “What gangs?”

“I
don’t know, that’s why you need to question Hulk. Listen, I got involved with
this gang. I was bored with my life, wanted a little excitement, so I dyed my
hair, and joined. I don’t want anyone hurt.” Her words rushed out in a hurry,
desperation lacing them. “Please!”

Either
she witnessed true hostility and told him the truth or The Impalers had upped
their game to target agents. “Where and when?”

“On
the corner around nine o’clock. Remember, you don’t know me.”

Larry
penciled it on the notepad. “I’ll be there.”

****

As
Charlene turned onto the familiar side street lined with fishermen’s homes, she
regretted not seeing Randy Millstone since she’d moved away.

Half
way down the street, she slowed in front of the box-shaped house. The turquoise
trim identified the house from the rest on the block, Randy’s home. She parked
the car on the dirt and gravel shoulder.

Randy,
bent over with his back to her, weeded a chrysanthemum bed. A white lattice,
enclosing the crawl space, acted as a backdrop and made the already rich colors
of the red, purple, and yellow blooms more vivid.

Charlene
watched him for several minutes, working up the guts to question him, before
she turned off the engine.

Gravel
crunched under her feet as she made her way to the sidewalk. Seagulls squawked
and the light scent of fish floated through the air. She never understood why
Randy stayed friends with her ex. The well-mannered, kind man outshined Andrew
in every aspect as a human being.

Closer
she moved toward him, the more her nerve cells jumped, similar to how Gloria
couldn’t stop bouncing. A man that she’d known for years, who was best man in
her wedding, shouldn’t elicit a nervous reaction from her, yet here she was.
Guilt had a way of making her uneasy.

Before
she reached him, he stood and faced her.

Olive-skinned
with crinkles at the corners of his eyes, enhanced by the time he spent in the
sun… Graying at the temples of his dark hair, revealed the tough life he led,
and added to his fisherman’s charm.

He
looked good.

“Charlene.”

The
lilt in his voice eased the tension building between her shoulders and slowed
the fluttering in her stomach. “Hi, Randy, it’s good to see you.”

“You,
too.” He pulled her into a massive bear hug.

Memories
of how well he treated her and Henry surfaced. She shouldn’t have stayed away.
Andrew may have been a jackass, but not Randy, never.

He
released her and stepped back. “What do you need?”

“You
were always direct and to the point.”

“No
other way to be.”

She’d
take the same tactic. “I’m looking for Andrew.”

He
folded his arms across his chest, stretching the cotton material over toned
muscles. Dirt covered his hands and sleeves. “I figured.”

Her
skin prickled, not from the water’s continuous breeze this time of year, but
from his watchful eyes. She diverted her gaze and skimmed the houses and
colorful yards bordering his. In the middle of autumn, flowers in this
neighborhood flourished. “I don’t know how everyone keeps the blossoms looking
so beautiful this late in the year.”

“Tender
loving care.” His powerful gaze toured her as if he read her mind. “You’re
stalling.”

“Have
you seen him?”

“I
have.”

She
waited for him to be forthcoming. When he didn’t, she asked, “Would you
elaborate?”

“No.”

She
rolled her eyes and gazed at the water a few blocks over. Coming here wasn’t a
good idea. While Randy’s loyalty to Andrew puzzled her, she’d respected it and
wouldn’t push. “Okay, Randy.” She turned toward her car and hesitated, debating
the wisdom of walking away from the only link to finding him.

When
Andrew left her and Henry with no money and a pile of bills, Randy had contributed.
Not having much money himself, his actions had said a lot about his character.
Coming from a turbulent background, he couldn’t stand for people to be
mistreated. She twisted to tell him about Andrew’s latest stunt and flinched.

He’d
moved closer. “Where’d this come from?” He pointed to her face, and something
dark flashed over his features. The pulse in his jaw ticked.

The
turmoil of reactions that kept her stomach in an uproar lodged in her throat.
She blinked back the tears, fighting to emerge, and remained quiet. “You know
where.”

“Is
there any more?” His intense gaze lowered from the bruise to her neck and
lower, as if inspecting her for injuries.

A
lone tear broke through. She wiped her cheek. “No.”

“I’ll
kill him.” His tight monotone reinforced the molten rage flickering behind his
dark eyes. His fists clenched into massive lumps at his sides. “Is Henry okay?”

“He
is.” She shook her head and gulped down the growing swell of emotion. “Andrew
wouldn’t touch him.”

“I
didn’t think he’d ever hurt you either.”

Her
gaze locked on his and her breath hitched. He was right. When she and Andrew
married, the thought of him harming her emotionally or physically hadn’t been a
possibility.

“Damn,
 
when he split the way he had, I figured he’d
lost it. Him hurting you puts him on the all-time-low, shithead lists.” Randy placed
his hand on his hips, his face twisting between anger and frustration. “I gave
my word not to give his whereabouts. I can’t renege. I owe him.”

She
scraped her teeth over her lower lip. “You’ve always had a peculiar loyalty to
him I’ve never understood.”

“Yeah.”
Randy pulled her into his arms.

Chapter Fourteen

On
his drive out to Colonial Beach, Larry tried to think about Greenwood Manor’s
case and what his visitor had told him earlier, to no avail. Charlene and the
issues she was having with her ex along with wondering why Jake felt it
necessary to send him Randy Millstone’s address ran rampant in his head.

Fifty
yards from his destination, he slowed the Suburban to a stop on the shoulder of
the rural road and scoped out the area near Millstone’s residence.

Ranch
style houses lined the road. Identical chain-link fences separated yards and at
the rear of the perimeter, the sandy beach and the Potomac River. A barking dog
paced the length of the fence.

He
tugged out his binoculars from the console between the seats and scoped out
Millstone’s home. Green shutters, flower beds, and a man and woman hugged. From
the information he compiled at his office before heading out, Millstone was of
Italian descent. Dark hair and tanned skin confirmed the chances the man he
looked at was the best man in Charlene’s wedding. He focused on the woman.
Long, brown hair reached her shoulder blades.