Progeny (24 page)

“Where do they live?” I asked.

“Savannah area.”

A white sedan drove down the street toward us. It slowed as it came near.

Kathy, our realtor, lowered the driver’s side window of the sedan. “Hey, guys. Meeting the neighbors already?”

“Yup,” I said.

“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll go get the gate open.”

“Thanks,” Callie said.

Kathy smiled, raised her window, and pulled down the street. She made a left toward the property.

“I guess we should probably get over there,” I said.

Callie nodded.

“Nice meeting you guys. If you have any other questions about the area, stop by,” Pat said.

“Thanks,” I said.

He smiled and headed back through his gate toward his house.

Callie and I walked back down the street.

“He was nice,” she said.

“He’s probably just trying to talk up the place so we buy it and raise his property value.”

Callie swatted my arm. “He was nice, and you know it.”

I smirked. We rounded the corner. The gates were open in front of my car. I caught the back of Kathy’s sedan as she drove down toward the house. Callie and I hopped in my Cadillac and started down the brick driveway, lined on both sides by old oak trees. Beyond the trees, a white picket fence followed us toward the house.

The barn came up on our right with a turnoff leading to its doors. We slowed to look. The listing said the barn was eighteen hundred square feet, and it looked as much. It was light blue with a tin roof, matching the photos of the house.

“Do you want to go look at it now?” Callie asked.

“House first. If everything is good there, we’ll take a quick look.”

“What if we like this place?” Callie asked.

“Then we’ll schedule another appointment with an inspector.”

“Works for me.”

We continued on. The quarter-mile driveway opened up, and the big blue-and-white tin-roofed home came into view. The home had distinct right and left sides, appearing as though it was two houses, separate but attached. I assumed one was the original and the other the addition. The brick driveway turned into a circle at the front of the house. A large overhang at the front of the porch covered the area of the driveway at the front steps. An old fountain bubbled away at the center of the circular driveway behind some small landscaping shrubs. We parked next to Kathy’s car and stepped out.

“I want it,” Callie said.

I laughed. “Shh.”

“What?”

“We need to work on your negotiating skills.”

“Oh, whatever.”

I took the home in from right to left. It was big, probably larger than Callie and I would ever need. The listing put it at four thousand square feet, more than double the size of my condo. Kathy stood under the white overhang of the porch and waved us up. We walked over and climbed the steps.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Callie said.

“Did you guys want to view the house or the grounds first?” Kathy asked.

“House,” I said. “I know there is a lake back there, and I don’t want it to influence my decision.”

Kathy let out a chuckle. “Fair enough.” She opened the front door.

We entered the foyer, a staircase to our left and a living room to our right. I stared down at the flawless wood floors. Kathy led us through the home. She went on at length about everything that had been upgraded, restored, and modernized. The home was gorgeous. The photos and virtual tour I’d looked at online, while impressive, didn’t touch the real thing. The craftsmanship was amazing. What the neighbor had mentioned, about them putting more into the house than the asking price, was probably more of a reality than passing comment. Callie fawned over the kitchen, the second room we entered. Every appliance was new and top of the line. The countertops were a light-green marble. The old cabinets and woodwork were refinished and flawless. If the kitchen was selling Callie on the home, the giant master suite sealed the deal—tray ceilings, more closet space than we could ever fill, a huge fireplace, and a master bathroom that you could live in. We spent an hour walking through the house. I wanted to see the grounds and needed to get Callie outside before she started talking numbers.

Kathy took us out to the back porch, which overlooked the rest of the grounds down to the lake. She showed us the gazebo at the back of the porch and walked us down toward the dock.

“Five acres,” Kathy said. “The boat dock down here has a screened-in area as well as a bunch of seating. Do you own a boat?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I said.

“Well, there are two boat lifts attached to the dock as well. Do you fish?”

I nodded. “We both do.”

“Well, the fishing is supposed to be great here.” She walked us out onto the dock overlooking the lake. The sun reflected off the calm water. I spotted a single fishing boat in the distance.

“We’re facing east, so no sunsets, but I’m sure you get a great sunrise from out here,” Kathy said. “Come on, let me show you the deck.”

We followed her back up the dock. To the right was a fifty-foot deck built around a giant oak tree. We stepped up and looked out over the water. I turned and looked back toward the house. A breeze rustled the Spanish moss hanging from the oak trees.

“I can see why people have weddings here,” Callie said.

Kathy smiled. “The place is something else, huh?”

Callie looked up at me. “What do you think, babe?”

“Um,” I said.

“I’ll give you guys a moment. I’m going to go get the shop area opened up. You guys can meet me over there when you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Kathy started across the property.

“Well?” Callie asked.

I let out a breath. “It’s nice. It’s also a lot of money.”

“Carl, look at this place. I know you love it. I’ve been watching you as she’s been showing us around. I don’t think your jaw has come from the floor.”

“I said it’s nice.”

Callie took my hand and pulled me to the edge of the deck overlooking the lake. “Is this us?” she asked.

I looked her in the eyes.

She smiled. “I think we should make an offer, contingent upon an inspection. What do you think?”

I didn’t respond.

“Carl?” she asked.

I dug into my pocket.

“Hey.” Callie tugged at my free hand. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“You first,” I said.

“Huh?”

I pulled the ring box from my pocket and knelt.

The clock on the edge of my desk read a couple minutes after ten, Monday morning. Sunday had come and gone, and I mostly slept through it. The brief spells I was awake were filled with wedding talks and conversations about the house. I’d never seen Callie happier.

I let out a breath and began to arrange the stack of paperwork that needed to be completed on Carmen Simms and Angel White. Hank tapped at my office door and walked in. He took a seat across from me at my desk.

“What time are we supposed to be out there?” Hank asked.

I checked the time. “An hour or so.”

Hank leaned back in his chair. “Is she actually going to talk to us or give us some crazy-person ramblings?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What are they going to do with her?”

I tapped the top of my desk. “Put her into some kind of secured mental-health facility until she goes to trial. Then, who knows. I can’t really see them sticking her in a regular prison.”

“Yeah. She obviously needs some help. But for what she did, she deserves to be in a padded cell for the rest of her life.”

“Probably not too far off from what will happen,” I said.

Hank stretched. “So she said yes, huh?”

I smiled. “The ring is on her finger.”

“Good. I was starting to think you were never going to do it.”

“I’m patient.”

“No, you’re not,” Hank said. “So what’s up with that house?”

“Having an inspection this week. We’ll see how that goes.”

“Callie knows that Karen and I are going to move in with you guys, right? I mean, you’ll have the extra space and all.”

“Funny,” I said.

Bostok banged on the glass behind my head.

“Guess he wants us,” I said.

Hank and I headed next door and walked into the captain’s office.

“What’s up, Cap?” I asked.

“Sit,” he said.

Hank and I did.

“I just talked to Rick. We have a couple things.”

“Okay,” I said.

“The main thing. Angel White is, in fact, Carmen Simms’s daughter.”

“How?” I asked. “I thought Cynthia Redding was her mother.”

“No clue on the specifics, but it’s undeniable. One of the boxes we took from Angel White’s house had a bunch of old paperwork belonging to Carmen Simms. The guys dug through it and found a birth certificate for an Angel Redding.”

“Is it legit?” I asked. “I mean, it could have just been something she had made up to show Angel when she arrived, claiming to be her mother.”

“It wasn’t, though. It was real and recently confirmed. Rick took a DNA swab from Carmen Simms’s body when he went back with the coroners to the Pinellas medical examiner’s office. When he heard about the birth certificate yesterday, he took a trip over to Tampa General and got a swab from Angel White. He came back and ran a mitochondrial DNA test from the samples he took. It was a match.”

“Hmm. Like mother, like daughter, I guess,” Hank said.

“And father,” I added.

“Well, two are dead, and one will never see the light of day again.”

“You said that was the main thing. Did we get anything else?”

“Just working on a few things to give us a complete picture—bank and cell records from Angel White. With those, hopefully we can place them at each scene, including the out-of-state ones. We’ll work with those jurisdictions and coordinate with everything we get,” Bostok said.

I nodded. “Did we contact Braird and let him know he can return home?” I asked.

“He was informed he could leave yesterday.”

“Good,” I said.

“That’s about it as far as where we are with everything. What about you two? What’s on the agenda?” Bostok asked.

“Paperwork and heading over to try to speak with Angel White at the hospital in a little bit here,” I said.

“She’s still there?”

“Until they transfer her, they are keeping her there, under guard.”

“When are you guys leaving?”

“We’re supposed to be there in an hour,” I said.

“Good. On a different topic, I just talked with the major. He seemed to like my recommendation for captain. I’m pretty sure that’s going to grow some legs. I’d suggest you brush up on your public speaking for the oral boards. Your track record will get you most of the way, but you’ll need to instill confidence in the panel that you can handle the position.”

“How long do I have to get prepped?” I asked.

“Three weeks.”

I nodded. I’d been through the oral boards a number of times. Trying to convince my peers I was a good cop was never fun, but it was part of advancing.

“Appreciate the recommendation, Cap,” I said.

“I can’t think of a better candidate. Rawlings, like I said, if Kane gets my desk, you should probably be prepared for the Lieutenant’s test.”

Hank smiled and nodded.

“That’s all I wanted to talk to you guys about—just a heads up. Now, go get back to work.”

I smiled, stood, and started for the door.

“Kane, one second,” Bostok said.

Hank left the captain’s office.

I turned back toward the captain. “Yeah?”

“What have you got going on next weekend?”

“Nothing that I know of.”

“We should get together. I have a little insight for you on the oral boards and what they’re looking for.”

“Okay,” I said. “Obviously, I’ll do the same for Hank if it gets that far.”

Bostok nodded. “Congrats on the engagement as well. Rawlings told me earlier.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

“We’ll talk later in the week and get something set for the weekend. Pop back in after you talk with Angel White.”

“Will do.”

I headed back to my office and got back to the paperwork. A knock came on my office door a couple minutes later.

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened.

A tall man in a black suit walked through the doorway. He had short black hair with a little gray mixed in. His normal graying goatee was a full beard. Agent Faust carried a folder under his arm, and his face said the visit wasn’t social.

“Faust. How’s it going? How was the vacation?” I asked.

“Good, as far as vacations go. I got something here that I want you to take a look at, though. That’s the reason for my visit.”

“Sure. Grab a seat.”

He slid out a chair opposite me at my desk, took a seat, and scooted forward. He opened the file he was carrying, pulled a photo from inside, and slid it over to me.

“This landed on my desk this morning,” he said.

I turned the photo around and looked at it. It appeared to have been captured by a security camera. It showed a large bald man carrying a briefcase.

I was confused. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be looking at or how it related to me. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Look closer.”

I stared at the photo. I was still at a loss.

I slid the photo back toward him. Faust slid it back and slammed his fingertip down on the man’s wrist. “Tattoos,” he said.

“Okay. So?”

“That’s Andrei Azarov.”

“What?” I looked at the photo more closely. It had been captured from the side and above. The guy looked to be about the size that Ray was, but Ray was dead, and the grainy photo showing some tattoos wasn’t going to convince me otherwise.

“Ray is dead, Faust. No way could he have survived what happened to him.”

“Well, he did. And that’s him. He shaved his head, but I assure you that it is one-hundred-percent Andrei Azarov.”

As I stared down at the photograph, an uneasy feeling came over me. “How are you so certain? Where did this photo come from?”

“We have some people working on something. Our agents met with this guy face to face to broker a deal.” Faust tapped on the photo. “The agents said that his face was all scarred up. Anyway, they exchanged some merchandise. We took prints from the goods that traded hands. Our guys ran the prints.”