Desperate and Gorgeous Bk. 01 Ch. 03

Chapter Three

As summer heat gave way to fall chill, the sun rose later and later each day. Midnight black faded to purple, burnt orange, and finally, pale blue. The morning's light advanced over the sloping hills of rural New York. The light continued and autumn trees burst into view. Bright red and yellow leaves fluttered as a gentle wind breathed through the valley. The geese were migrating south for the winter, and flew over a house resting in a clearing.

A faint honking slowly pulled me up out of a deep, restful sleep. I hadn't turned the heat on yet, preferring sweaters and blankets this time of year. My face was chilly while the rest of my body was warm under the covers. I opened my eyes and saw specs of dust in the soft sunlight streaming through the windows. I was alone, and naked. I replayed the events from last night in my head, mostly amazed at what had happened, but there was a slightly bitter after-taste. Figuring I wouldn't be useful to anyone in the state I was in, I showered and shaved before stepping out into the living room.

Music came from the other side of the house and I wandered over to see Leah through the doorway in the gym. She was on her hands and knees facing away from me, and wore leggings and a sports bra, hair back in a pony tail. She raised one arm straight out in front of her, then the opposite leg reached behind her into a full body stretch. Music played on the phone resting on the mat nearby. Small beads of moisture glistened on the bare skin of her arms and shoulders, and the shallow valley that ran down the center of her back between bra and leggings. She shifted down and forward into a new position that pushed her hips into the floor, her back arched. Her butt looked incredible. Stop that, I thought, shaking my head as I pulled myself away. This needs to be a productive morning.

I sat in one of the stools at the kitchen counter and turned on my laptop as I thought about our next moves. There were problems to solve. In no particular order, there was a rock-solid legal case against Brooke that would put her in prison for the rest of her life, and Leah too for that matter once the police figured out she was the second woman in the video; a violent organized crime syndicate was looking to cut loose threads; my own associates, who would not turn a blind-eye if I started making waves; and I still had no idea who drove Leah and Brooke off the road that night.

A soft melody chimed on my computer, letting me know an email had come in. At the same time, my phone vibrated in my hand. The text was from one of my men at the hospital, saying they were releasing Brooke in an hour. The email was from the lawyer and had the same message.

"Leah," I called over my shoulder, "Can you come in here please."

She walked out of the gym with a towel over her shoulder. She looked like she could be on the cover of a fitness magazine. "They're releasing Brooke from the hospital. We should go pick her up."

She whirled around and started digging through the bags in her room. "I just need a minute." She came out with clothes in her hands and hustled into the bathroom. She pulled her sports bra off without closing the door all the way behind her. I saw a glimpse of the sides of her breasts from behind before looking away.

Twenty minutes later we were on our way to the hospital in the back seat of an SUV while another trailed behind us.

"Sir, you should know," Steve said from the front seat. "A car was parked down the road from the house all night. When we left, it pulled out behind us and is about a quarter mile back now."

"What do you think?" I asked.

Steve's eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror before returning to the road. "Nothing to worry about for now. They're probably just keeping tabs on us. When we get back to the house, if they're still around, we'll check it out."

Leah looked at me and fidgeted in her seat at the news. "It'll be ok. We all have parts to play in this, and right now yours is to get your sister home safe. Try to focus on that. My guys are very good at what they do, let them deal with whoever is following us. I'll figure out the rest."

"Thank you. It's nice to hear that."

When we were close to the hospital we called ahead to let the team know it was ok to bring Brooke out. The parking lot was crowded. We were in the middle of a long line of cars. Two of the guys in the car behind us got out and took up positions around the loading dock. I lost track of them as they blended into the crowd. The double doors on the side of the building opened. A burly man in sunglasses came out first, followed by a woman in a wheelchair. She was being pushed by another man in slacks and a buttoned-down shirt. I knew them from Steve's team. Once they were a few steps out of the doors the woman stood up dramatically, making a show of it. She said something to the man pushing her, clearly unhappy. Leah got out of the car and half-walked, half-jogged to her sister, while I moved to the front seat so they could share the back.

The two women embraced in a fierce hug. "Oh my god I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. Are you ok?" Leah said. She stepped back but kept her arms on Brooke's shoulders. "How's your head? You're not dizzy are you? Are you sure you should be walking?"

A deeper voice than I expected answered. "Hello ma'am. My name is Joe Fisher and I work in the District Attorney's office. If you have a minute, I'd like to ask you a few questions." I looked and saw a man in a gray suit standing with Brooke and Leah. He looked to be in his forties. A uniformed police officer was with him. As I got closer, I saw the man's suit was wrinkled, and the knot of his tie was pulled away from his throat. There were bags under his eyes. Late forties. Brooke stared at him, hard, but Leah was frozen. "If you could just follow us to the car, we'll get this done in no time so you can get back to your day." The officer had a hand on Leah's shoulder and was guiding her to a nearby police car.

"I don't think I caught your name." I said and offered my hand to the man in the suit. He was surprised to be interrupted, and we locked eyes as we shook. He looked tired, but he held my gaze levelly. "Joe Fisher. Assistant District Attorney for the Greater Buffalo Area."

"Matt Peters. What's this all about? We were just hoping to get Brooke home so she can rest."

"Mr. Peters, I'm guessing you're aware that Ms. James was involved in an accident the other night. We're just trying to gather all the information we can about what happened. I'm sure you'd like to help us with that, so if you have a few minutes to answer some questions, you can certainly join your friend here and come with us to the station." His eyes never left mine. He sounded relaxed and confident, but we both knew how this conversation would go.

I tried to look regretful. "That was a terrible accident. What a shame. We'd be happy to answer any questions you have, and of course we have the greatest respect for law enforcement." I nodded to the police officer. "Just now though, our main focus is on getting Brooke home so she can rest and recover from her injuries, I'm sure you understand. But if you'd like to leave your card, we'll give you a call as soon as we feel up to it."

"Uh huh." Joe answered and reached a hand into his coat pocket. It came out with a beat-up old business card. "Matt Peters, you said?" I nodded. "We'll be in touch, Matt." He turned to Leah. "And I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, Miss...?"

"It was a pleasure meeting you." Leah said, and turned to walk away.

As soon as we were back in the car, Brooke said, "What the fuck is going on?"

"Honey, it's a long story. Seriously, are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine. Stop looking at me like that. Who the fuck are these guys?"

I glanced into the rear-view mirror. Brooke had the same dark complexion as her sister, Greek maybe? But her hair was streaked with purple. She wore a tight sleeveless tee shirt and ripped jeans, showing off a lean, fit figure. There was a deep bruise around her left eye but no other signs of injury that I could see.

"This is Matt," Leah began and gestured to me. "He has agreed to help us. I did not think it was wise to put too much in my letter, but the situation is more complicated than you may realize."

"How complicated can it be? I don't know who bailed me out," she looked at me. "If that was you by the way, then thanks, I guess. But my next move is to get on a plane and out of this clusterfuck. Where are we going?"

"We're on our way to Matt's house. He thought it would be safer if we stayed with him while you recovered and we sorted this all out."

I interrupted their conversation by asking Steve, "Any sign of our friends?"

"Andy is telling me the sedan from this morning is gone, but there's a Crown-Vic behind us. You want me to lose 'em?"

I thought for a moment. "No. They have my name now so they'll know where we are either way. A cop hanging around the house may not be the worst thing either, considering our other friends." Steve nodded in agreement.

"You're living with this guy?" Brooke asked sister, then looked at me. "And you think it's a good idea for the cops to be tailing us? I don't know what you two think you have figured out, but leave me out of it. I am not living with you."

"It would be best if we discussed this back at the house," Leah tried to calm her down.

"What's there to discuss? I need to get the fuck out of here as soon as -"

"You killed someone, Brooke!" Leah snapped. "If not for Matt, you would be in the back seat of that police car going to prison right now! But instead, you will be staying in a very nice home with comfortable beds, hot showers, and a wine selection that would put most restaurants to shame. You are not in position to question the way you are helped!"

I hadn't seen Leah angry before. Her eyes were cold fury.

"Whoa, whoa. Ok jeeze, fine, take it easy." Brooke held up her hands in surrender. She was silent for a moment, before smirking, "Comfortable beds huh?"

We got back to the house and I gave our newest roommate a tour. We went slow since Brooke was moving slow. She walked with a slight hunch and her leg or hip was clearly bothering her. She coasted from one piece of furniture to the next, using them for support. When we got to the bedrooms I said, "You two can take the guest rooms over here. You'll have to share a bathroom, but there are plenty of towels in the closet." I glanced at Leah who gave me a grateful look and nodded.

We moved into the office next where I sat in my work chair and the women settled into the couch. Brooke rejected Leah's offer to help her sit, and half-collapsed into the cushions.

"Here's the deal," I began. "The Sanabrias won't be happy they lost a load of product, and the fact that the cops are holding it complicates things for them. Right now I bet they're looking into who would be exposed if the coke ever got traced back to them."

Brooke interrupted. "If I can't get on a plane, then just let me talk to Felix and I'll explain. We've worked together for years, he knows how much shit I do for them. I'll make up for it."

I nodded. "You can do that, but they're missing three-point-two-million dollars, at street value. How long will it take you to make that up? Plus, we still don't know who drove you off the road that night. If you left here by yourself you may not make it very far. And the Sanabrias really won't like that you got out of jail so fast. They could think you're cooperating, and then you might find out your buddy Felix isn't really your buddy after all. Even if you got there you may not make it back." Leah looked at her sister, worried.

"Jesus Christ," Brooke was frustrated. She stood up fast and kicked the table by accident. "Ouch fuck!" She fell to the ground holding her leg, and Leah and I rushed over to her. A black metal object fell on the floor by her side. "You keep a gun in your table?" She looked at me, surprised, the pain in her leg forgotten. I carefully picked it up and checked the safety, felt around under the table for the hidden latch, and replaced the hand gun before helping her up and returning to my chair.

I continued where I left off. "So the safest thing for both of you right now is to stay here until we get this figured out."

Brooke said, "Ok, I've heard enough. Who are you and why are you helping us?"

I considered how to answer her. "I work for another cartel that operates primarily in the south. I deal with the logistics and bookkeeping of the business. And I'm not doing this purely out of the goodness of my heart." I pointedly didn't look at Leah. "There's a potential opportunity here for us to expand, which is the reason I'm in the area in the first place, and I would like your help with that when the time comes. But things are heated right now and I haven't quite figured out how to approach it. For now our top priority is keeping the two of you safe and out of jail.

"Speaking of which, it's not great that the District Attorney sent someone to meet you at the hospital. And now they know about Leah and me too, so we need to make our next move fast. Why don't you two take some time to catch up while I make a few calls."

They agreed and left me to work.

That night, a plain gray rectangular building stood stalwart in the dark. A haven for nighttime travelers, a threat against those who would do them harm. Hours ago, the nine-to-fivers filed out into the late afternoon sun. Most went home in their personal cars but a few drove away in black and white sedans, red and blue lights dull on top. Some time after, when there was still purple in the sky in one direction, the last of the day's workers shuffled out of the building. Janitorial staff and those clocking overtime said their goodbyes and wished each other nice weekends. Once the building had been deserted for a long while, and there was slim chance of anyone returning for a forgotten item, a light turned on in a basement office. Minutes later, a wisp of smoke uncoiled through the open window, and a man quickly walked to the last car in the lot, a heavy duffle bag hanging off one shoulder. He dropped his keys at the door, before getting in and driving away.

"The actress?" Joe asked Detective Moore, who sat at the desk across from him. It was Saturday morning and the rest of the building was empty.

"It appears so."

Joe leaned back in his chair. "Interesting. Maybe she's just here to support her sister." He thought for a moment. He sighed, "I guess it doesn't change much, although we might have to deal with cameras. Walk me through the facts again?"

The detective pulled out his notepad and flipped halfway through the book. Hand-written notes were scrawled on the page. "At eleven forty seven PM we received a call from a phone that was later identified as belonging to Ms. Brooke James, twenty-one years old. Dispatch answered but nobody was on the other end. At eleven forty nine PM we received another call from the Applegreen on interstate one-ninety." His voice was flat and emotionless. He had read a thousand police reports over the years and they all sounded the same. "The store manager reported an accident in the parking lot. When we arrived at the scene there were two cars, both in bad shape. The front of a gray sedan was crushed and a woman, identified on the scene as Ms. James, was found unconscious in the driver's seat. She was transported to the county hospital where she was confirmed to have a concussion, as well as contusions on her right arm, right ribcage, and both legs." He flipped to the next page.

"They performed a blood test which came back positive for alcohol and cocaine. The driver's side of a red van was severely damaged, and Ms. Meredith Cunningham, sixty-six years old, was pronounced dead at the scene. Approximately forty pounds of cocaine were located in the trunk of the sedan, which is registered to Brooke James. According to the store manager, there's a video that shows the accident play out. We haven't had a chance to review it yet." He closed the notepad and looked up.

Joe turned the report over in his head again. It sounded cut-and-dry, but he didn't know who the man at the hospital was. "Ok well let's take a look at the video and see if anything jumps out. And nothing on Matt Peters? From the hospital?"

Detective Moore considered his notepad again. "Twenty-seven years old. A CPA for a small accounting firm. Nothing on his record, not even a speeding ticket. I checked in with a few guys at the Lockport station and he seems to be a stand-up guy. They all spoke highly of him. Maybe the sister was meeting with her accountant when she heard about the accident and brought him with her? Seems like a stretch, I know."

Joe's phone vibrated, which he ignored. "I doubt it," he answered. "Keep digging on him. And I want to look into the nail salon that posted her bail, make sure that's on the up-and-up. Something isn't right about all this."

He stood. "Thanks again for coming in on a Saturday, I appreciate the help." They were about to shake hands when Joe's phone rang again. This time he answered, holding up an index finger to the detective. "Hello. What? Jesus, was anyone hurt?" He paused, listening. "No, I'm coming down, Gallo will want someone there." He hung up. "There was a fire at the Colonial Village station. You want to take a ride?"

When Joe arrived there was yellow caution tape stretched wide around the perimeter of the scene. Police officers stood watching while groups of firefighters carried hoses around the outside of the building, searching for any remaining flames. The building, or what was left of it, was a blackened husk. Scorch marks were painted around the edges of the windows and doors, their frames empty. The roof had collapsed in one corner and you could see it hanging limply through an open window on the second floor. Smoke streamed into the sky from more than one place, and the air tasted like ash.

Joe walked up to an officer standing in the road directing traffic. "What the hell happened?"

"Some jackass left a toaster oven on in the evidence room. We got the call at six this morning. This isn't my station so I don't know the guy, but what a fuck-up. The union will have a hell of a time with this one."

Joe's stomach dropped. The evidence room.

A memory from months earlier came to him. Sitting in Gallo's office getting reprimanded for the Anderson case falling apart. "What a cluster-fuck. How the hell, in the year of our lord twenty-twenty-three, does evidence get mishandled? Get the fuck out of here. Now I have to clean this up." At the time Joe didn't think it was worth explain how it wasn't his fault. Now he wasn't sure.

He approached Moore. "Tell me the evidence from the James case wasn't stored in this station." The detective didn't answer. "Ok, well there's digital backup in the system right?"

Moore was steady. "In theory, yes. Any evidence gathered at the scene is entered into the system and catalogued as soon as it gets to the station. Photos and videos are uploaded digitally and stored in the database. In reality, there's such a backlog that it can take weeks before it all gets entered."

Joe's hands were clammy. "I need to talk to whoever can access that database. Now."

An hour later they were sitting with an older, heavy-set woman with gray hair. "I'm getting overtime for coming in today, right?" She asked.

"Yes, yes. You're in charge of entering evidence into the database for the Colonial Village station?"

"That's me," she answered.

"I need to know what you have on file for an accident at a rest stop on one-ninety from a few nights ago. Meredith Cunningham was killed, Brooke James is the suspect." The woman glanced down at the keys and started punching them one by one with her index fingers, slowly.