You’ll be given a new name, a new identity, a new life. In return, you’ll testify against—”
“I didn’t ask you to come here today. Do you have a warrant to be here?”
She was scared to death. Beneath her heavy ice-princess attitude, she was nearly shaking with fear. Harry looked closer, eyes narrowing.
“Is that blood on you?” he asked. “Just beneath your ear?”
It was dried, but it was definitely blood. He felt a rush of anger, a wave of disgust.
She reached up, as if to rub it away, or maybe to cover it from his view. “My shoulder,” she said lamely. “I scratched myself and …”
“What did they do?” He couldn’t keep his hatred of Trotta and everyone connected to organized crime from ringing in his voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t sound so convincing this time. Harry had to put hishands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. What was it about this woman?
“They gave you a sneak preview of what was going to happen to you, and told you not to go to the police,” Harry guessed. She tried to pretend she didn’t know what he meant, but he could tell he was right. “Alessandra, please, don’t you understand that by listening to them, you’re doing exactly what they hope you’ll do? You stand no chance of winning on your own.”
“I’ve heard Trotta’s planning to use you as an example,” George added. “He will kill you, and he’ll make it hurt.”
They weren’t getting through to her. She straightened her narrow shoulders and lifted her chin. “This is private property. Please remove yourselves from my yard. You’re welcome, of course, to stand out at the curb for as long as you like.”
Frustration made him grit his teeth, but Harry knew when it was time to beat a retreat. He also knew that he wouldn’t win any points by laughing aloud at her haughtiness. He took out his card and held it out to Alessandra Lamont instead. “Call if you change your mind.”
She didn’t take the card, didn’t move. She just stood there, shaking slightly, but otherwise firm in her belief that her way was the only way.
Harry dropped his card and it fluttered to her feet. “In case you decide you want some help,” he added.
“I won’t,” she told him.
“That’s too bad. Because if you don’t, you’re probably going to die,” he told her tightly, and walked away.
When Alessandra got home from the mall, the money was gone.
She’d found it, all of it, exactly where she’d expected—buriedin a locked metal box underneath Griffin’s double-damned azalea.
She’d called the number on the card Michael Trotta had given her, and Ivo’s frighteningly familiar voice answered the phone. He’d told her to wait for him—he’d be right over to pick up the money. But she’d left it on the dining-room table and gone out. If she never saw Ivo again, it would be too soon. And she didn’t doubt his ability to get through a locked door.
Besides, she’d had to go to the mall. Right after she found the money, she’d gotten a call from a Mrs. Wong in the foster-care division of Social Services. She wanted to know if Alessandra would consider providing foster care for baby Jane Doe.
Just like that, her luck was changing. A meeting was set up for tomorrow morning.
It was the kind of meeting to which she couldn’t wear her floor-length Christmas skirt. She needed to look good. She needed to look capable.
Alessandra went into the bathroom and filled the tub with warm water. She’d allowed herself no more than a quick shower after she’d found the money. But now that it was over, she deserved a long, leisurely soak, a chance to gather herself before the morning’s meeting.
She left her blouse and the black velvet skirt she’d worn to the mall on the bed in the room she’d been sleeping in since Griffin moved out. The plastic bags with the purchases she’d charged to her last usable credit card were on the floor. New underwear from the
“I didn’t ask you to come here today. Do you have a warrant to be here?”
She was scared to death. Beneath her heavy ice-princess attitude, she was nearly shaking with fear. Harry looked closer, eyes narrowing.
“Is that blood on you?” he asked. “Just beneath your ear?”
It was dried, but it was definitely blood. He felt a rush of anger, a wave of disgust.
She reached up, as if to rub it away, or maybe to cover it from his view. “My shoulder,” she said lamely. “I scratched myself and …”
“What did they do?” He couldn’t keep his hatred of Trotta and everyone connected to organized crime from ringing in his voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t sound so convincing this time. Harry had to put hishands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. What was it about this woman?
“They gave you a sneak preview of what was going to happen to you, and told you not to go to the police,” Harry guessed. She tried to pretend she didn’t know what he meant, but he could tell he was right. “Alessandra, please, don’t you understand that by listening to them, you’re doing exactly what they hope you’ll do? You stand no chance of winning on your own.”
“I’ve heard Trotta’s planning to use you as an example,” George added. “He will kill you, and he’ll make it hurt.”
They weren’t getting through to her. She straightened her narrow shoulders and lifted her chin. “This is private property. Please remove yourselves from my yard. You’re welcome, of course, to stand out at the curb for as long as you like.”
Frustration made him grit his teeth, but Harry knew when it was time to beat a retreat. He also knew that he wouldn’t win any points by laughing aloud at her haughtiness. He took out his card and held it out to Alessandra Lamont instead. “Call if you change your mind.”
She didn’t take the card, didn’t move. She just stood there, shaking slightly, but otherwise firm in her belief that her way was the only way.
Harry dropped his card and it fluttered to her feet. “In case you decide you want some help,” he added.
“I won’t,” she told him.
“That’s too bad. Because if you don’t, you’re probably going to die,” he told her tightly, and walked away.
When Alessandra got home from the mall, the money was gone.
She’d found it, all of it, exactly where she’d expected—buriedin a locked metal box underneath Griffin’s double-damned azalea.
She’d called the number on the card Michael Trotta had given her, and Ivo’s frighteningly familiar voice answered the phone. He’d told her to wait for him—he’d be right over to pick up the money. But she’d left it on the dining-room table and gone out. If she never saw Ivo again, it would be too soon. And she didn’t doubt his ability to get through a locked door.
Besides, she’d had to go to the mall. Right after she found the money, she’d gotten a call from a Mrs. Wong in the foster-care division of Social Services. She wanted to know if Alessandra would consider providing foster care for baby Jane Doe.
Just like that, her luck was changing. A meeting was set up for tomorrow morning.
It was the kind of meeting to which she couldn’t wear her floor-length Christmas skirt. She needed to look good. She needed to look capable.
Alessandra went into the bathroom and filled the tub with warm water. She’d allowed herself no more than a quick shower after she’d found the money. But now that it was over, she deserved a long, leisurely soak, a chance to gather herself before the morning’s meeting.
She left her blouse and the black velvet skirt she’d worn to the mall on the bed in the room she’d been sleeping in since Griffin moved out. The plastic bags with the purchases she’d charged to her last usable credit card were on the floor. New underwear from the
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