Fractured (23 page)

Schmidt's voice broke through her thoughts. “I'm sure you're more than a little curious about how we do it. Especially after all you did to disgrace yourself in front of your lieutenant, as well as the Feds.”

“You ship drugs out of here. I haven't figured out how yet, but I'm sure I will eventually.”

“Ah-hah. Always the little terror, aren't you? You're like your father in that.”

How could he have known her father?

“Why don't you get to the point?” Not only was she curious, but she wanted to prolong the situation to give Landry and the cavalry time. Considering Schmidt's cockiness, he didn't have any fear in that regard.

He turned an innocent-looking crank on one of the machines and a wall shifted open. Where there was a solid wall moments earlier, now there was a room. One of the two men shoved her inside and followed behind before closing the door.

Inside the place was dark and damp, and that nasty smell was even more pungent. She stifled a cough and struggled to take each breath. They seemed oblivious.

She spotted mounds and mounds of powdery substance sitting in clear plastic bins along the side. They were lined up on racks like in a car parts warehouse.

Rolls of plastic were affixed to the side of a large steel table in the center. Off to the corner sat a scale. Large bottles of liquid were clamped onto the walls along the side.

“Yes, we ship drugs. Can you imagine that? Right under everyone's noses. It's so simple. I'm shocked we're the first people to think about it,” he said. “It's a shame you didn't figure it out yesterday, isn't it? What can I say, Detective? You screwed up.”

“You didn't care about me being back here because I never would have found this room?”

“Except that I could tell you were bothered by the smell. If only you could put your finger on where it was coming from.”

“As long as we've gotten to this point, you should at least show me how it works.”

“That's so cliché, Detective. Can't you get a little more creative? Take a guess? You're an intelligent woman. I'm sure you could figure it out if I gave you enough time.” He cackled. “Even if the place is swarming with cops, they couldn't possibly find us back here. There are no cars in the parking lot so sooner or later they'll give up, and we can dispose of you without much of a fuss.”

He didn't wait for an answer but continued his train of thought. “It's in the cardboard. Literally imbedded in between the sheets of cardboard. It's amazing how much dope can fit inside a simple cardboard box. Once it reaches its destination, it's a simple process to extract it once again.” He started to laugh, the sound so different than the man she'd first met a couple of weeks ago that it brought goose bumps down her arms. “But the best one is the bubble wrap. Inside each one of those little squares is a dime bag of heroin. Come on, now, you've got to marvel at the genius of that. And we owe it all to your father. He was the mastermind behind the process. Too bad he met an untimely end.”

“What?”

“He was a brilliant man. He figured out the way to move our product right under the noses of everyone without even one eyebrow being raised.”

She nodded as everything slid together in her head. “Then he wanted out. And you couldn't have that.”

“See, I knew you were bright. You're starting to see the picture.” He rocked back on his heels crossing his arms over his chest. “First he wouldn't give up his secret process. Said he was going to burn his notes so it couldn't be used again. But after we killed your mother, he saw reason.”

Her heart clenched inside her chest and she thought about all those wasted years. “Then you framed him for murder.”

“Not exactly. A little threat can even make an innocent man confess.”

She thought she'd seen evil before, but it was nothing compared to this man. “All my dad wanted was to be happy, and to protect me, but you wouldn't let him do that.”

“We couldn't. The process he'd developed was much too valuable. We were making millions every week.”

“So it's all about the money.” When she thought about all the time she'd spent on misdirected hatred toward her father, she wanted to scream. No, she wanted to attack Jonathan Schmidt with a knife and cut out his heart.

“Isn't it always?” He pointed to his chest. “It wasn't just me. Jonas helped insure Ty—sorry, your father—went along with the plan.”

She refused to speculate on Jonas's involvement right now. Bringing it up was clearly meant as another distraction. Instead, she pursued some unanswered questions of her own.

“Why did you go after Lou?” That part still didn't fit together in her head.

“He'd been talking to your father in prison. We weren't sure how much he knew.” “Except intimidation only goes so far. My father was getting ready to talk.”

Judging by the expression on his face, he didn't like what she'd said. If she could figure out a way to rattle his cage, she'd be able to make some headway. Right now he was in charge.

“It appeared your father had a change of heart on his deathbed. He wanted his freedom in exchange for information, but he wasn't trusting enough to give the Feds all the details until he got out. He told them about the process he'd invented way back when. At the time we were running it through a company on the south side. But they got greedy and we relocated the whole thing here a couple of years ago. He didn't know that, of course. Now we're planning on going nationwide with his invention. Ramirez here and his friends in the Kings and Aces are joining forces to help with distribution. Sort of like a McDonald's franchise. The money involved is astronomical.” He laughed again. “Unfortunately your father didn't get to share what he knew before fate ultimately caught up with him.”

“Fate? Don't you mean a bullet from one of your goons?”

“Technically, it was one of your goons. But, hey, you say potato, I say potahto. Please, Detective, you've got to see the genius in the process.”

Matthews no doubt had taken out her father. “Excuse me for not wanting to nominate you for the Nobel Prize in science.” Her father. How trapped he must have felt. “How did you meet my father?”

“Enterprising people frequently hook up together. You should know that.”

“But how?”

“He befriended me when we were in juvie together. He grew up as a childhood friend of Jacob Lacey, but he was looking for a way out of the life which is probably why he hung out with me thinking I might be the key to securing riches.” He laughed bitterly. “That didn't turn out so well for him.”

Her whole life had been altered because of this man and his greed. “You're heartless.”

“No, I'm a businessman. I wouldn't even let my own father interfere with my plans.”

“You killed your father?” Even though she should have expected as much, his revelation still shocked her.

“He'd retired some years ago but decided to make an impromptu visit to the facility. He recognized right away the process didn't smell the same. I tried to convince him it was new chemicals I was using, but I knew he suspected more. Unfortunately, a couple of days later, he was mugged while going to his favorite restaurant. Shame they never caught who did it.”

Nathan stopped their conversation when he pointed to the closed-circuit TV in the corner. “Looks like we have company, boss.”

When she spotted Landry as he broke through the front entrance with the help of a torch and a good old-fashioned battering ram, she nearly wept. Somehow he'd survived.

Following behind him were several CPD officers, and guys with FBI emblazoned on their bullet proof vests. Malone followed up the rear. Amazingly, she was happy to see him as well.

She wanted desperately to scream, pound on the walls, anything to let them know where she was, but knew that effort would be fruitless. Transfixed, she watched as they broke through the door leading to the warehouse section and rummaged among the boxes.

“They know we're in here somewhere. They'll find us sooner or later. You can't sit in here indefinitely. And once the Feds are onto you, they'll be all over until they figure it out.”

Schmidt didn't respond, but the smug look on his face said it all. At least until Malone motioned to the machine on the left.

Oh, my God, somehow they knew.

“What the—” Schmidt lost his cool for the first time.

Landry walked over to the machine and turned the lever, and all hell broke loose.

Avoiding a full-out ambush was easy compared to this. Landry held his breath as he manipulated the wheel on the machine. Clockwise, counterclockwise. He just wanted it to open. But so far nothing was happening.

He glanced at Malone, who nodded his approval. But still Landry felt like they might have the wrong information. If she wasn't here, they'd lost valuable time.

“Why'd we listen to Matthews? He was still higher than a kite when he came around.” Landry was losing the modest amount of patience he had. Isabella could be somewhere dying. He didn't want to consider the idea she might already be dead.

“Calm down, Landry. The trip is here somewhere. Matthews had nothing to gain and everything to lose by lying to us. He knows that unless his information is good, they'll be no deals with the State's Attorney.”

Landry blew out a breath, re-examining the machine with the flashlight in his hands. Holy crap. “I think I found it.”

* * *

He was alive. Hope surged through Isabella while Landry fiddled with the machine. He looked confused at first, but soon his movements became purposeful. Somehow he knew exactly what he was doing.

While the three bad guys were mesmerized by the screen, she eased her way into the corner, even though it was closer to the noxious smell. She maneuvered through the cuffs until her hands were in front rather than in back.

As she settled into a crouch, the door began to move. She made her body as tight as possible. From this angle, it would be nearly impossible for any of the bad guys to get off a good shot at her, or, worse yet, use her as some kind of shield.

“Give up, Schmidt. There's no place to go.” Malone's voice bellowed through the factory.

In response, Schmidt dumped over a steel table. The threesome cowered behind it, shooting off a couple of rounds.

“Where is she?” Landry shouted from the other side of the door.

Isabella felt like weeping at the sound of his voice. He was safe. She was safe. They might both get out of this alive after all.

“Why don't you come in and get her?” Nathan's shots were wild, a couple hitting the frame right next to her.

“I'm fine, Landry. They can't get to me without exposing themselves.”

“Stay put. I'm coming in.”

“No. Offer the first guy out an immunity deal. I'll guarantee you one of them will cave.”

“Or get shot in the back,” Schmidt mumbled.

Nathan pointed in her direction and all three looked at something over her head. She knew she was in big trouble when they smiled.

“Your girlfriend managed to squeeze herself underneath a container full of highly toxic materials. Quite flammable, too.” Schmidt shouted the information to anyone who'd listen.

Right now she didn't know if those three meatheads had a collective brain between them, but she'd rather err on the side of caution than be stuck in the corner and engulfed in flames.

“Don't be stupid. Taking out a cop isn't the way to go with this and you know it,” Landry said, his voice calm.

“You've backed me into a corner. That means if I go down I take at least one of you with me. And the easy target right now is that girlfriend of yours,” Schmidt yelled from behind the table. “Unless, of course, I get my demands met.”

“Trust me, Isabella.” Landry's voice sounded like a beacon of hope.

Suddenly she knew what she needed to do. She refused to give into vulnerability any longer. “Cover me. I'm crawling out.”

Landry and the others began to shoot. With her hands still cuffed behind her back, she managed to crawl to the edge of the door before Landry grabbed her to safety, then undid her cuffs.

“How did you know about the secret room?”

“Matthews. He'd been back there a couple of times before.”

“I need a gun.” She held out her hand and somebody tossed one her way while the guys inside started to return fire.

Isabella wanted vengeance. Somebody needed to pay for the destruction of her family. Her mother—dead. Her father—dead. Her childhood—destroyed.

A bullet whizzed past. Landry moved to shield her.

“Damn it.” He swore before grasping his leg.

From that point on, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Malone shouted for an ambulance. Stunned, she could only stare in shock as he grasped Landry under the shoulders and scooted him back as far as he could out of the line of fire. “Throw in some tear gas and close them in there for a few minutes.”

As Isabella's mind finally processed what had happened, she scooted alongside Landry. Blood spurted everywhere. “Noooo.” She pressed her hand against his thigh to stop the flow. Instead of letting up, it seeped between her fingers. With trembling hands, she removed the handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it around his leg, tying it as tight as she could. Landry's coloring had suddenly gone from normal to pale. She felt his wrist, recognizing the weakness immediately.

She grasped his shoulders. “Do not die on me, Landry Taylor. I'll never be able to forgive myself for being so stupid.”

His eyes fluttered closed while he gave her a slight smile. “I knew you loved me.”

“Landry.” She shook him. “You have my lucky handkerchief. You're going to be okay.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Seconds later, paramedics arrived, strapped him on a gurney and rushed him away. The speed with which they moved ratcheted up her fear even more.

Sitting on that blood soaked factory floor, she hung her head and wailed so long and so loud she was pretty sure they heard her in Indiana. Malone sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Don't give up. He's young and strong and stubborn as hell. He's going to make it.”

“But there's so much blood.” That's all she could see: blood everywhere. A person didn't have to be a police detective to know that couldn't be good.

“Let me take you to the hospital.”

Malone didn't wait for her to respond, instead escorted her to the car and buckled her in. She wanted to believe Landry would be all right, but thoughts of the past scaled up her back and hung tight making her think she'd already lost him. Just like the others she loved.

He patted her hand. “I've been around a lot longer than you, and I know in my gut when an officer's not going to make it. I'm telling you right now he's going to be all right.”

She shifted her gaze toward him. She desperately wanted to believe his prediction, but a sick feeling in her stomach told her otherwise.

They arrived in the waiting room where the admitting nurse told them they had rushed Landry right into surgery. He was still alive. She clung to that thought.

One by one Landry's relatives began to arrive until nearly the whole waiting area was filled with Taylors. “Isabella.” His mother hugged her first, followed by his father, grandmothers and a whole host of other relatives while guilt crept inside her and held on.

“Why now when he was so close to—” His mother didn't finish her train of thought as emotion bubbled over, robbing her of speech.

Isabella chewed on her fingernails and fought against the grief. Sooner or later they'd learn the truth: It was her fault their loved one was in surgery fighting for his life. He wouldn't have been there except for her.

Unable to stay entrenched with his family knowing the part she played in his injury, she began to pace. Stark terror prickled up the base of her neck and throbbed at the back of her skull. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. She needed to escape.

“Don't even think about it.” Malone brought his arm over her shoulder.

“What?” She couldn't look at him. Instead she kept her head down.

“You're thinking about skipping out.”

Finally, she managed to raise her eyes to look at him. “These are his family members. It's my fault he's here.”

“You didn't shoot him.”

“If it wasn't for me pushing this thing so far, none of you would have been put in the line of fire. I'm thankful—” She couldn't finish the words. Losing Landry would be bad enough; knowing it was her fault would be unbearable.

“Don't go blaming yourself for this. Being a police officer is a risky profession.”

Instead of responding, she jumped when she spotted the doctor coming into the waiting room. His mother grasped her hand and squeezed.

“He's out of surgery. The shot nicked his femoral artery. A couple more centimeters and he would have bled out. Barring complications, he's a strong young man and should be fine.”

“Thank God.” Landry's mother pulled her into a hug.

Isabella tried to revel in the good news, but couldn't. Instead, a sinking sensation took root in her chest and didn't want to go away. Landry nearly died. How many more would die because she was on some kind of crazy mission?

She broke away from the family and sat down in one of the blue plastic chairs in the waiting room as emotion threatened to drown her.

“Great news about Landry.” Malone didn't wait for a response, instead sat beside her. “Did I ever mention you remind me of my daughter?”

Somehow she managed a smile. “Do you not like her much?” After what she'd seen tonight, she had to respect the way Malone played his hand, especially when he didn't know who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. To think she'd spent all that time hating him seemed kind of crazy now.

“Actually, I love her very much, which is why I tried to keep you out of trouble.” He smiled for the first time since she'd known him.

“Nobody's been able to do that so far.” Somehow she figured this relationship with Malone would last well beyond this final chapter.

“Not too shocking.” He folded his arms across his chest. She got the impression that he was fighting the urge to hug her. “You're a good cop, Isabella. I feel bad your father never got a chance to say his goodbye.”

“Wasn't it your job to keep him away from me?”

“By the time we got him out of prison, he was very sick. We had to take him straight to the hospital. For a while we didn't think he would make it. Being able to see you one more time is what must have kept him alive. I knew he'd be a sitting duck if he went by you. But I was working on a plan while he was recovering.” He smiled. “He got tired of waiting, took matters into his own hands and escaped from the hospital.”

“He shouldn't have tried to see me.” She couldn't help but think about what would have happened had she been home at the time instead of going off on a wild goose chase courtesy of Matthews. What would their reunion have been like after all that time? Would she have fallen victim along with him, or would she have been able to save her father's life?

“Actually, if you ask me, he did the only thing a father could.” He shook his head. “He loved you very much. You were all he talked about.”

Regret hung around her like leaden weights strapped to her chest. “It seems weird to not hate my dad. I spent so many years thinking of him as the enemy, and now it turns out I was wrong.”

“It sucks to be wrong, doesn't it?”

“Especially since I can't do anything about it now.”

“It's too late for you and your father, but if you got rid of that chip on your shoulder and gave Taylor a chance, I think you'd be headed in the right direction.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Everybody encounters bumps in the road. They only become mistakes if you don't learn from them.”

* * *

Isabella walked up to the front door of her apartment and let herself in. Even though she felt more exhausted than she'd ever been in her life, she knew she'd never sleep despite the fact it was close to eight in the morning by now. This kind of exhaustion seeped into every fiber of her body so that even walking felt like she was carrying along a fifty-pound dumbbell. There was absolutely nothing she could do to change what happened. Somehow she had to make peace with the idea.

Unable to make it as far as the couch, she slid down the wall until her butt hit the hardwood floor. She had screwed up badly. She'd thought Malone was the enemy, but instead he was working for the good guys. She thought her dad was a bad guy, but it turned out he wasn't one at all—or at least not in a very long time. She thought she had everything under control, but instead she had gotten Landry shot.

Rubbing her hands along her face, she brought them through her hair as if doing that would somehow erase her stupidity. But it didn't work.

She didn't know what to do. She needed distraction to keep from sorting through her feelings, but nothing came to mind. All she could do right now was wallow in self-pity, which wasn't getting her anywhere.

At some point she must have fallen asleep. Vague memories of pain, remorse, blood and Landry haunted both her sleeping and waking moments. But along with the memories came clarity.

* * *

For a few seconds, Landry couldn't remember anything. But seconds later, it all came rushing past.

Isabella trapped. The betrayal of Jonas. Searing pain that traveled through his body until every inch of nerve endings hurt.

Now in a hospital bed, immobilized, with a white bandage covering his leg from thigh to knee, everything came into focus. His family surrounded him, each of their eyes expectantly waiting for him to say something. But what he said probably surprised them more than anything.

But they took it in stride because it was all about trust.

* * *

Isabella had accomplished a lot in the last five days. Since they wanted a fresh start, she'd found Lou, Cynthia and Junior a nice apartment over the border in Wisconsin. Next, she secured a job for Leo at the coffee shop cleaning up at night. Her Aunt Carmen had heard about what happened and called. They'd talked for over an hour. But the hardest part, she'd yet to accomplish.

Constantly surrounded by family, Isabella hadn't had a chance to tell Landry what she needed to. Now that he was released from the hospital, she had the opportunity to make things right.