Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice) (18 page)

“Hey . . . there’s your favorite detective!”

Kelly’s step faltered as she and Lauren followed Shaun, a twin’s hand in each of his, toward the exit of the restaurant. It was Cole, all right. But he didn’t seem at all pleased to see her as he lifted a hand in greeting. His lips barely tipped up.

Disconcerted by his reaction, she returned his acknowledgment and picked up her pace.

“Kelly!” Lauren caught up and took her arm, tugging her to a stop near the foyer. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“He’s with friends.” Two women and three men, to be exact. She’d taken a quick inventory of the table.

“I think he counts you in that group.” Lauren looked past her with a smug twist of her lips. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be coming over.”

Doing her best to ignore the blip in her heart, Kelly turned toward him.

“Hi, Kelly. Lauren.” He stopped a couple of feet in front of them and smiled. A real smile. Warm and welcoming . . . and it lingered on her.

That was more like it.

“Hi. What a surprise to see you here.” Lauren motioned for the tall man with the twins to rejoin them and continued to chat, giving Kelly a chance to appreciate the gray tweed sport jacket that emphasized Cole’s broad shoulders and the same blue tie he’d worn the day they met. The one that matched his eyes.

Too bad she hadn’t chosen attire a little more flattering than a plain black skirt and simple sweater.

“We were just treating Kelly to a pre-Thanksgiving brunch, since Shaun and I are off to Columbus for the holiday. Otherwise we’d have her over for dinner, this being her first Thanksgiving alone and all.”

At Lauren’s emphasis on the word
alone
, Kelly tuned back in to the conversation. “I won’t be alone, Lauren. You know I’m—”

“Hey! That’s my candy!” Kevin yanked the wrapped mint out of Jack’s hand.

“Is not!” Jack tried to grab it back.

“Whoa!” Shaun broke up the disagreement by stepping between them. “Time to leave.” He smiled at Cole and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. Lauren, we’ll see you in the car.”

“I’m right behind you. And you two . . .” She leaned down to the twins’ level. “Behave!”

They dipped their heads, chastised for the moment, but Kelly was certain the dispute would erupt again once they were out of the restaurant. Jack was still eyeing the mint clutched in Kevin’s hand.

Rising, Lauren shot them an apologetic look. “Sorry. One of these days they’ll turn into civilized little creatures.”

Cole grinned. “Don’t count on it. My sister claims little boys never grow up.”

“Don’t tell me that!” She rolled her eyes, then leaned over to hug Kelly, dropping her voice. “Call me later, okay?”

Kelly hugged her back, whispering close to her ear. “If there’s anything to report.”

“There will be.”

With that, Lauren released her, gave a final flutter of fingers, and took off toward the exit with her usual long-legged purposeful stride.

“So . . .” Kelly shifted out of the path of a tray-laden waiter, trying to dredge up some small talk. “Are you having a nice weekend?” As soon as the words were out, she cringed. Talk about pathetic.

But Cole’s comeback wasn’t. “I am now.”

A rush of pleasure swept over her. That smooth response might be a standard male line, but it wasn’t one that had been used on her very often.

Like never.

The only problem was, it once again left her at a loss for words.

As if sensing her discomfiture, Cole hooked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the table behind him. “Would you like to join us? Maybe have a final cup of coffee? I’m with my brother, Jake, and his wife, Liz. Mitch is the detective who’ll be going with me to visit Rossi in Buffalo, and the woman with the light brown hair who’s probably giving you the once-over is his fiancée—my sister, Alison.”

Kelly checked out the table. Three of the four occupants were conversing, their perusal of her discreet, but Alison was displaying unabashed interest in her exchange with Cole. When she realized Kelly was looking her way, she didn’t seem in the least self-conscious. Instead, she smiled and lifted her hand in a friendly gesture.

“Your sister’s waving at me.”

He expelled a long breath. “That figures. She’s dying to meet you. Expect to be cross-examined if you join us, but I’ll deflect her questions if she gets too pushy.”

Kelly grinned. “I appreciate the offer. But I think I can handle her.”

“Yeah?” He studied her. “Maybe. She’s a lot more blunt with family members than with strangers. So do you want to join us for a few minutes?”

Meet Cole’s family or spend the rest of the day alone.

No contest.

“Sure.”

He took her arm, the gesture no more than politeness, but she liked his confident touch as he guided her through the maze of diners. The two men at the table stood, and Jake signaled a waiter. By the time she and Cole arrived, an extra chair had been added—between Cole and Alison, at his sister’s direction.

Once the introductions were finished and Kelly and the men took their seats, Alison jumped in.

“We’ve heard a little about you, Kelly, but not enough. Cole can be a clam when it suits him. You’re an artist, right?”

“You want to give her a chance to get her coffee before you start the inquisition?” Cole arched an eyebrow at his sister.

She shot him a disgruntled look. “This isn’t an inquisition.”

“Keep it that way.”

Stifling a smile, Kelly turned to Alison. “Yes, I’m a watercolor artist. As for Cole being reticent, I haven’t seen that. He’s told me a
lot
about you.” She caught Cole’s grin in her peripheral vision.

Alison narrowed her eyes at her brother. “I’ll bet.”

“I think you’re busted, Alison.” Jake grinned at her across the table, draped an arm around Liz’s shoulders, and spoke to Kelly. “Our sister is the curious type—and she takes a special interest in her brothers’ personal lives.”

“You guys make me sound like a meddler.”

“If the shoe fits . . .” Cole picked up his coffee and took a sip.

“You know . . . you three are going to give Kelly an entirely wrong impression.” Jake’s wife cast an amused glance at her husband and his siblings. “The truth is, despite their bickering and complaining, the Taylors are a close-knit clan.”

Kelly smiled at the blonde-haired woman. “I already figured that out. And I must admit I envy all of you.” She encompassed the three Taylors with a sweeping scan. “I always wished I had brothers and sisters. Or an extended family. Especially on holidays.”

A bittersweet pang echoed in her heart as she thought about all the holidays it had been just her and her dad—and all the holidays to come, without him. She was glad the waiter arrived with the food orders, interrupting the conversation. She was also grateful Alison responded with a lighthearted comment once they’d been served.

“Well, I can vouch for the fact that Christmas morning in the Taylor household was a free-for-all. Thanks to two brothers who always raced to see who could rip open their presents the fastest.” She spread some jam on her English muffin and took a bite.

“Maybe,” Jake conceded. “But we humored
you
on Halloween long after we were too old to go trick-or-treating. Remember the year she conned us into dressing like Tweedledee and Tweedledum so she could be Alice in Wonderland?” He aimed a grimace at Cole.

“I’ve tried to forget it.” Cole cut off a bite of his eggs Benedict and pointed his fork at Alison. “I think you still owe us for that one.”

“Repaid many times over in lasagna dinners.” Alison dismissed the claim with a breezy wave of her hand. “So what are your plans for Thanksgiving, Kelly?”

She managed to hold on to her smile. “Church in the morning, and later in the day I volunteered to help serve dinner at a homeless shelter.”

“Wow.” Alison stopped eating. “That’s a really generous thing to do.”

No, it wasn’t. Kelly wished her motives were more altruistic, but the truth of it was she hadn’t been in the mood to accept any of the invitations from members of her congregation, gracious as they were. If she did, she’d have to smile and laugh and make small talk through the whole meal. That would take far too much effort. And if she stayed home, she’d end up sitting around feeling sorry for herself.

“It’s no big deal.” She took a sip of her coffee and dismissed Alison’s praise with a lift of her shoulders. “A lot of people do a lot more.”

“All we’re going to do is sit around and stuff our faces at Jake’s.” Alison toyed with a bite of her omelet and gave Kelly a speculative look. “What time are you serving?”

“One to four.”

Her face lit up. “Perfect. Why don’t you join us for dinner after you’re finished? Mitch’s dad is coming too, and our mom and aunt. We’re not eating until five, so you could make it. We can feed one more, can’t we, Liz?”

“No problem.”

Too surprised to respond at once, Kelly risked a peek at Cole. He’d stopped eating, fork poised halfway to his mouth, and was staring at his sister. Obviously as taken aback by the invitation as she was.

Knowing his feelings about mixing business and pleasure, Kelly jumped in. “I appreciate the offer, but after inhaling the aroma of turkey for three hours, I think I’ll just go home, put up my feet, and have a pizza.”

“Pizza on Thanksgiving! Cole, convince her to come.” Alison leaned across Kelly and jabbed her brother in the shoulder.

He lowered his fork to his plate without eating the bite of eggs Benedict. “You’d be welcome, Kelly.”

There was warmth in his voice—but the conflict in his eyes convinced her to hold her ground. “I appreciate that, but by four o’clock I have a feeling I’ll be ready to call it a day.”

He didn’t push her—much to Alison’s disgust, if the disgruntled frown she lobbed at her brother was any indication.

Kelly stayed another fifteen minutes. She answered some of Alison’s questions, artfully deflected others. She chatted with Jake and Liz, listened to a SEAL story from Mitch. Then she drained her coffee and picked up her purse.

“I’ve infringed enough on your family get-together, and I have some errands to run. I hope you all have a lovely holiday.”

She stood, and Cole rose too. As did the other two men. No lack of manners in this group.

“You’re not infringing, Kelly. We’ve enjoyed meeting you.” Alison smiled up at her.

“Thank you.” Despite Cole’s warnings, she’d found Alison down-to-earth, engaging, and fun to talk with. Much like Lauren. The kind of woman who would make a good friend. And maybe that could happen—if things progressed between her and Cole down the road.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

She considered the tall detective beside her. Another display of polished manners—or something more?

“That isn’t necessary. Your food will get cold.”

“Yeah, but his heart will be warm.” Alison smirked at her brother.

Cole’s neck grew ruddy as he took Kelly’s arm. “Eat your omelet, Alison.”

She gave him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”

After a flurry of good-byes, Cole escorted her through the maze of tables with a muttered, “Sisters.”

“I like Alison. She’s interested in everything.”

“Including her brothers’ personal lives, as Jake pointed out.” Cole pushed through the outside door, into a gust of cold wind. “You’d think she’d back off a little on mine now that I’m going to church again.”

Kelly stopped in the middle of the parking lot, buttoning her wool jacket against the chill as she swung toward him. “When did that happen?”

He shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “This morning. It was time.”

“So your sister’s prodding paid off.”

“No. If anyone can take credit for the prodigal’s return, it’s you. Our conversation last week gave me a different perspective on what happened with Sara.”

At the staccato beep of a car horn, Cole took her arm again and guided her out of the path of traffic.

“I’m over there.” She gestured toward her Focus, parked three cars down.

They completed the walk in silence as she mulled over this new development, rummaged for her keys, and hit the remote. He opened the door, and she tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, then swiveled back toward him.

He propped a shoulder against the car. “And for the record—there’s nothing I’d like more than to have you join my family for Thanksgiving. But I’d rather keep things professional until we wrap up your dad’s case. Assuming that happens soon, though, I’d like to celebrate the next big holiday with you.”

Christmas with Cole.

Now that was something to look forward to.

“I’d like that too.”

“Consider it a date.” Smiling, he pushed off from the car, waited while she slid inside, and closed the door.

She pulled away, keeping his image in the rearview mirror as long as possible, and her own lips curved up. Lauren had been right.

There
was
news to report from her impromptu coffee date with Cole’s family.

And it was all positive.

Marco hadn’t called. Neither had Eileen.

And Vincentio was beginning to lose hope they would.

He drummed a finger against the steering wheel and surveyed the house he’d visited four days ago. His son was the problem. No question about that. Eileen had been touched by his plea. If it was up to her, he’d already have a date with his grandson.

But Marco was a true Rossi when it came to holding grudges. To getting even. Too bad he’d shunned the family business. He’d have made an excellent don.

With a sigh, Vincentio turned the key in the ignition. Sitting here wishing wasn’t going to change his son’s mind. Besides, based on the information provided by his source, Eileen got home earlier than usual from school on Monday, and he didn’t want her to find him lurking in front of the house. That wouldn’t help his case. Better to lay low. Give her some time to work on Marco—and hope his son’s heart would soften.

In the old days, he might even have prayed for that favor. After all, attending church every Sunday had been part of the Rossi legacy. But it had been a tradition, nothing more, and he doubted God would be inclined to grant requests from unrepentant souls like him.

The corners of his lips ticked up as he shifted the car into gear. He and God were alike in that regard, both extracting a price from those who did wrong and showed no remorse. Examples of vengeance from on high were all over the Bible.

Too bad God wasn’t on his side, though. He could use some divine intervention with his ill-timed police interview too. As it was, he’d have to put his fate in the hands of Thomas Lake, whom he was scheduled to see in—he checked his watch—forty-five minutes.

Vincentio eased away from the curb. It was a shame the boy’s father had died six years ago. Walter had been smart. Savvy. Skilled. His son had seemed sharp enough the few times they’d talked, but the younger man didn’t know his history like Walter had. Or have his father’s experience.

Still, this should be a simple matter. When he’d been hired for the job, Carlson had had no idea who’d employed him, so there couldn’t be any evidence to link the two of them. Nor was there any now. If Carlson had made mistakes, he was the one in the hot seat. And if he
did
get caught and tried to finger his employer, there was no proof.

But the whole thing was an aggravation.

Expelling an annoyed breath, Vincentio drove slowly past the house where his son and daughter-in-law and grandson would be celebrating Thanksgiving in three days while he sat home alone. He’d give five years of his life to be with them for the holiday, to be welcomed at their table.

Perhaps this delay was for the best, though. It would give him a chance to clear up his little problem. And if he was smart, Carlson would be working very, very hard to erase any doubt about the cause of Walsh’s death.

Because this whole mess was his fault.

Vincentio’s fingers tightened on the wheel. He didn’t blame the detective for the tulip note. That was a freak coincidence. But he should have stuck close to his desk, just in case there were any unexpected glitches. Instead, according to the information his contact had provided, he’d missed the daughter’s visit—and his opportunity to convince her the note wasn’t worth investigating—because he’d taken a vacation shortly after putting the case to bed.

That had been unprofessional. And Vincentio had no respect for amateurs—especially ones whose lack of foresight and planning could destroy his hope of a relationship with his grandson.

And that would be the outcome if Marco got wind of this.

Fifty feet ahead of him, the stoplight at the intersection changed from yellow to red. Somehow he’d missed the green-to-yellow transition.

Smashing the brake pedal to the floor, he braced himself as the car skidded to a halt behind an SUV with mere inches to spare.

Heart hammering, he sucked in a deep breath. That had been close. Too close.

And he didn’t like close calls. Behind the wheel—or in business.

By the time the light changed to green, his pulse had slowed. But thanks to Carlson’s botched job, his nerves were still vibrating. As they would continue to do until the man got the heat off of him.

He had a powerful incentive to make that happen too. Carlson knew Vincentio Rossi didn’t tolerate failure. Mistakes brought consequences, as he’d instructed his contact to tell the detective.

And they weren’t pretty.

“Cole! Wait up!”

At Mitch’s summon, Cole turned, his hand on the door that led to the detective unit’s waiting room.

“Cutting out early?” Mitch grinned as he joined him.

“I wish. Sarge asked me to deal with a domestic violence situation before I call it a day.”

“Not the best way to end a Monday.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I wanted to check on the flight time tomorrow. Alison and I were hoping to get together for dinner first.”

“Forget it. The flight leaves at seven. We can grab a burger en route to the airport, eat there, or scrounge up a meal during our two-and-a-half-hour layover in Chicago.”

“What time do we get into Buffalo?”

“Two in the morning. And our meeting with Rossi is at eight.”

Mitch shot him a disgruntled look. “I bet we’re on puddle jumpers too.”

“I took what I could get.” Cole shifted aside to let another detective exit. “Open seats less than a week before Thanksgiving are as scarce as clues in Alan’s double homicide case. You want to leave your car here and drive together?”

“I guess.” Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe Alison can meet me for lunch.”

“You saw her Sunday, and you’re going to be with her all day Thursday. What’s the urgency?”

“It’s called attraction. You know . . . like what you feel for Kelly—only stronger.”

The ribbing from his colleague didn’t sit well with Cole. “Speaking of my sister, I have a bone to pick with you. She says you told her I was smitten.”

Mitch’s ears reddened. “I don’t recall using that exact term. She must have come to her own conclusions after she grilled me about the two of you.”

“I thought SEALs were trained to hold up under interrogation.”

One side of Mitch’s mouth hitched up. “Not the kind Alison dishes out. Let’s just say she has a very persuasive technique.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Hey. We’re talking about my sister here. I don’t want to hear this.” Cole pushed the door open and called over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

Mitch’s chuckle followed him as he crossed the pavement toward his car, and his lips twitched. He was glad Alison had found someone like Mitch. His colleague was a lot more worthy of her than that jerk of a Legal Aid attorney she’d been serious about, who’d walked out on her after the accident that had almost taken her life. And he’d never seen his sister happier.

It would be nice to find a little of that kind of happiness himself. And maybe, after the Warren case was put to rest once and for all, he might follow in his siblings’ footsteps. Because though he hadn’t admitted it to Mitch, Alison’s assessment of his feelings for Kelly were accurate.

He was, indeed, smitten.

“Can I offer you a beverage?” Thomas Lake gestured to a chair at the round conference table in his office.

“No, thank you.” Vincentio took a seat. Not the one the attorney had indicated. He was in charge here, and Lake needed to know that. “Let’s just get this over with. What do you need from me?”

The fortysomething man retrieved a leather notebook from his desk, picked up a Mont Blanc pen, and sat in the chair beside him. “I’ve reviewed your file, and I have one main question. Do we have anything to worry about?” He pinned him with an intimidating look designed to ferret out the truth.

It probably worked on most people.

Vincentio wasn’t one of them.

No one intimidated a Rossi.

He stared back. “You tell me.”

Lake held his gaze for a few seconds, then broke eye contact. Excellent. The pecking order had been established.

“Mr. Rossi, I’m sure you know that attorney-client privilege provides legal protection of confidentiality.” His tone was more conciliatory now. “It will be very difficult for me to represent you properly in a discussion with the police without full disclosure.”

Vincentio considered him for a moment. He didn’t intend to admit anything. To anyone. “Young man, I will tell you the truth. And I will tell you what you need to know. Nothing more. If, after I do that, you feel you can’t represent me, I’ll find other legal counsel. Are we clear?”

The attorney gave him an assessing look. Then he opened his notebook. “Why don’t you say what you have to say and we’ll go from there?”

“Fine.” Vincentio linked his fingers over his stomach. “James Walsh was a trusted employee of mine many years ago. Due in large part to his testimony, I spent the prime years of my life behind bars. There was no love lost between us. However, he disappeared after the trial. I assume he went into the Witness Security program. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.

“Last week, a St. Louis County police detective called to tell me they were investigating the death of a John Warren. In your conversation with him, the detective said they suspect Warren was actually James Walsh. I’m assuming that name led them to me. And thanks to our connection, I’m also assuming they’ve concluded his death was murder rather than suicide.” He leaned forward and fixed the other man with a steely gaze. “That may be true. But I can tell you with absolute certainty there is no evidence linking me to his death. None. That’s what you need to know.”

Vincentio sat back and re-linked his fingers. If that didn’t suit Lake, he’d find someone else to represent him. Or handle the detectives himself. Why did he need an attorney anyway, when there was no way the police could pin Walsh’s death on him?

“How did you know it was suicide?”

At Lake’s quiet question, Vincentio frowned. “What?”

“How did you know the police thought Walsh committed suicide? I didn’t mention that.”

“You must have.”

“No. I haven’t talked with you since I discovered that piece of information.” He tapped the end of his pen on the blank piece of notepaper in front of him. Watching. Assessing. Much like Vincentio used to scrutinize his associates. Looking for cracks.

“The detective must have mentioned it when I talked to him.”

“Are you sure?”

No, he wasn’t. He’d been thrown by the call. All he remembered clearly was that it had been brief. Perhaps
too
brief to get into details like cause of death.

Maybe he did need someone to watch his back after all. His mind might not be as sharp at seventy-four as it had been at forty-seven.

And maybe he’d underestimated Lake.

“Good catch.” It was a grudging admission, but the man deserved his due.

“I’m trained to pick up discrepancies, Mr. Rossi. So are the police. A slip like that could cause major problems.”

That was true. One wrong comment might not be enough to send him back to prison, but it would be more than enough to give the police license to make his life miserable.

And if that happened, any hope of spending time with his grandson would evaporate.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “You have a point. Are you willing to represent me based on what I’ve told you?”

Lake set his pen down and steepled his fingers. Letting him sweat for a few moments. “Here’s my deal. We can punt through this first round. If it goes beyond that, I’ll need more information.”

That was fair. And prudent.

“Agreed.”

“All right.” The man repositioned his notebook in front of him. “Now let’s talk strategy.”