Haunted Destiny (28 page)

“We all make mistakes, Julie. But back to what you did...” Kieran hesitated. “So you left the shop and that was it,” she said hopefully.

“Well...”

“Oh, Lord. Julie, if you wanted to hurt him, you should've just called animal control or the police. I'm sure they would have taken action for what he did to the dogs. You might have gotten him fired just for that. In any case, he would've been in trouble somewhere with someone.”

“Trust me, he's already going to be in enough trouble,” Julie said.

“And why is that?”

“They're going to find out that the Capelleti Diamond is gone. And Gary was the last one to handle it.”

Kieran's heart slammed against her chest. “No! You didn't—did you? Did you steal the diamond, Julie? Tell me you didn't. That's grand larceny!
Did you steal that diamond?
”

“No, don't be ridiculous,” Julie said.

“Thank God,” Kieran murmured.

“I'm no good at stuff like that! I'd never try to steal anything. I was just setting Gary up. Making sure his boss and everyone there knew he had a
reason
to steal it, what with a new girlfriend and an expensive divorce.”

“Get to the point!”

“Well, the point is... I had your brother take the diamond for me. I admit I don't know that many, but Daniel's the best thief I've ever met—besides you, of course.”

* * *

Craig Frasier headed down the hall to the office of assistant director Richard Eagan and ran into Mike Dalton, who was approaching their boss's office from the opposite direction.

Mike grinned at Craig. “I'm baa-ack!” he said happily.

“Glad to see it.” Craig grinned in return and couldn't help asking, “So, how's the ass?”

Mike gave a nonchalant shrug. “Every part of me is doing fine. As for you, you're just a wise
ass
kid,” he said.

They'd been partners for five years, and at thirty-four, Craig hardly considered himself a kid. But he and Mike were more than partners; they were friends, as well. Although they could joke about it now, they'd been chasing a suspect in the murder of an up-and-coming politician in the Poconos when Mike was injured. He'd dodged behind cover to avoid a bullet from the Beretta the supposedly unarmed suspect had suddenly stopped to fire and caught the bullet in the left buttock as he took his dive. Craig had taken down their suspect, winging him in his right shoulder. The Beretta had gone flying, and the suspect had been arrested—in pain but alive. He'd provided information on his coconspirators in the murder, and the crime had been solved. It had been a good day for their unit, but Mike had spent several days in the hospital after that, and then a month at home on forced medical leave.

Mike had informed Craig that it was his fine solid ass that had saved the day. An embarr
ass
ing injury, Craig had pointed out, one that had resulted in all the inevitable remarks.

Naturally, even as they teased him, his coworkers were grateful that his injury wasn't worse and that he would easily recover.

“Good to have you back,” Craig said, and he meant it.

In Mike's absence, he'd been paired with Marty Salinger, the new nerd on the block, a by-the-book-until-the-pages-ripped kind of nerd. Craig had just about crawled out of his skin every time Marty insisted on backup when the clock was ticking or refused to make a move without direct permission.

Craig had made it through some hard situations, situations in which going by the book was no help. He'd worked undercover in narcotics, and more than once, fast thinking had saved his life—and the lives of others.

Marty would learn. Sometimes the book was important and gave them what they needed; sometimes, a good agent was better off making split-second decisions without it.

But hell, Craig himself had learned from Mike. Mike had been with the agency twelve years; he had experience and resolve. At five-eleven, he was shorter than Craig by four-plus inches, but he was lean and fit and determined to stay that way. He and Craig spent hours training. They both ran, and participated in the various sports events the agency sponsored.

They both spent long hours at the gun range, too; shooting skills had to be kept sharp when you worked in the field.

Mike had been offered desk jobs over the years. He didn't want them. It would happen soon enough, he'd told Craig, but he still had work to do making sure he had Craig trained properly. It wasn't entirely meant as a joke.

Now that memory made Craig think about Marty. One day he would probably be a good field agent; Craig just didn't want to be the one stuck teaching him. He liked knowing that Mike had his back. He was always afraid Marty would be checking some manual to see if it was all right before he entered the fray.

Luckily, everything had been straightforward during the weeks Mike was out recuperating. Craig and the new kid had been assigned to a gang shakedown. Intelligence had been good, and they'd made a number of arrests without a drop of blood being spilled.

Craig had recently come off that detail, and with Mike newly returned that day from medical leave, they were being called in to see the assistant director.

“You know what this is about?” Craig asked.

“Not a clue. Hey, this is New York,” Mike said. “Could be anything.”

The New York State office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was the largest in the country, and since New York City had such a massive population, most of the agents were assigned to the city and its environs. The New York office had agents assisting with cases across the country. However, since 9/11, the delegation of duties had changed somewhat. There were now special divisions in the New York office that handled practically everything, from fraud and income-tax evasion to organized crime, gangs, kidnapping, murder, terrorism and more. The units worked together to assess a situation and strategize the best approach. After all, as people often said, Al Capone had been brought down not by a hail of gunfire but by the brilliance of an accountant.

Within the different divisions, there was a small group of agents who'd earned a place in one of Eagan's special task forces. Craig and Mike fell into that category, so a trip to Eagan's office was always intriguing. They never had any idea what the assignment might be, except that it was usually in conjunction with another law enforcement agency.

The director's assistant indicated that they should go on in. “He's waiting for you,” she told them.

Craig opened the door for Mike. “After you, my friend. I've got to watch out for the elderly and the injured.”

“Don't you mean you should step aside for maturity and experience?” Mike said. “But never mind.
You
go first.”

“Ah, but I don't want the door catching you in the ass—the back, I mean—if you go in last,” Craig said.

“Low blow!” Mike protested.

Craig inclined his head. “Okay, we'll call it maturity and experience.” He held the door and followed Mike in.

Richard Eagan was looking out his window when they entered. “Take a seat,” he said, turning toward them. “File folders are in front of you.”

Eagan was a ramrod of a man. Fifty-plus, he was as fit as a teenager—something he worked at with the same discipline he observed in the office. He was a decent man, but he hadn't kept one of his six wives for more than a year; none of them had truly grasped his overpowering dedication to his work.

Craig knew that because the last two had cried on his shoulder. Marleen, wife number six, had warned him, “Don't let this happen to you, Craig. When you find the right woman, find a balance between work and life. I was all for Richard saving the world. What I didn't realize was that he never meant to save himself.”

He knew that Marleen had been genuinely worried about him. Too many casual relationships had lasted only until he was working around the clock again. Truth was, he had his own reasons for not pursuing a serious relationship. He'd actually begun to explain, but then he'd stopped.

They just don't make them like the one I lost anymore.

He sat quickly and Mike did the same, and they picked up their folders, scanning the material.

“Jewelry store robberies?” Mike said. “I've been following this on the news, but—”

“There's been a change,” Eagan said. “Two thefts in the past two days. And now, two dead.”

Craig glanced at him in surprise. The NYPD had been dealing with the rash of jewelry store robberies. Every one of the five thefts that had taken place during the previous weeks had been within the five boroughs of NYC and fallen under the jurisdiction of the city police. Even with the two deaths, it still seemed to be a situation the NYPD should be handling.

“They're killing people now?” Mike asked. “I hadn't seen that on the news.”

“It hasn't been on TV yet. I'm having a press conference with the chiefs of police and the mayor in an hour. We've been holding off, pending notification of next of kin. And, of course, to coordinate efforts between agencies.”

“We're in?” Mike asked.

“Yeah. State lines and all, since now New Jersey's been hit, too. Twice. Anyway, it's all hands on deck. You two will be lead, but you won't be the only special agents involved. Hell, every law enforcement officer in New York and the tri-state area will be alerted and working on it. The last two robberies took place right over the bridge in Jersey City. The elderly gentleman who owned one of the stores was staying late, doing his books, when he was shot and killed.”

“You said there were two murders?” Craig asked, flipping through the folder he'd been given.

Eagan nodded gravely. “There was a murder at the next store that was hit, too. A night manager was there, and a cleaning woman was working in the showroom. She was abducted, then murdered in the alley behind the store.”

“What about the manager? Any idea why he was left alive? Did he see anything?” Craig asked.

“He was in a back office. When he came out, they grabbed the woman as a human shield and dragged her away. They shot at him and missed, and apparently were in too much of a hurry to care,” Eagan said.

“Video surveillance?” Mike asked.

“Yes, but the thieves wore hoodies and ski masks,” Eagan said.

“Are we
sure
that these thieves and the ones who hit the Diamond District are the same?” Craig asked.

“Same MO. Breaking in after closing time, they wear gloves, so no prints. And all the security footage shows the thieves wearing the same disguises,” Eagan said.

“But it's
not
the same MO anymore,” Craig muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it's changed,” Craig said. “Escalated. Five robberies with no one hurt. And now we have two dead. Seems odd to me that they've suddenly become violent.”

“Maybe they got desperate for some reason,” Mike suggested. “The pressure of time or whatever.”

Craig shrugged. “Maybe these are copycats. Copycats who kill.”

“Could be,” Eagan said. “Get up to speed, see what you can find. And let's hope to hell we're not looking for two different sets of thieves. Jewel heists are one thing, but murder...”

* * *

“What is the matter with you?” Kieran demanded. Her voice was harsh, even though her words were almost whispered.

She wasn't meeting with her best friend and her miscreant youngest brother at Finnegan's. No way could she have done that without Declan getting wind of it. Didn't matter that he wasn't at the bar right now. The customers, the servers, everyone—even the damned walls—seemed to have eyes and ears.

She'd met them at a nondescript chain coffee place down the street from Finnegan's instead.

Daniel looked sheepishly at Kieran, turned to Julie, then back to Kieran. “Julie's like a sister to me,” he said defensively. “And her scumbag husband deserves the worst. Kieran, he could've killed those poor dogs, not to mention the emotional crap he's been putting Julie through!”

Daniel was obviously a Finnegan. Everyone in the family had some shade of red hair. Declan's was a medium-reddish brown, Kieran and Kevin were a darker auburn, while Daniel had the lightest coloring among them. Her uncle had once said that visiting the hospital after the twins, and later Daniel, were born seemed pointless, since he'd gone to see Declan and they'd all looked like the same baby.

At the moment Kieran figured she really did resemble her youngest brother. Her expression was pretty much the same. She completely shared his indignation at the man who had hurt Julie in so many ways.

But she—unlike her brother and, apparently, Julie—had acquired some common sense.

Julie had an excuse; she was an emotional mess.

As for Daniel...

The diamond was still in his pocket. Kieran was aware that all three of them were now in on the theft of a flawless stone worth at least half a million dollars.

“Let me rephrase this. What the hell were you two thinking? You're talking grand larceny!” Kieran said.

“But I don't
want
the diamond!” Julie insisted. “I don't intend to keep it. I just want to get him in trouble for stealing it. Or losing it, if his boss feels like giving him the benefit of the doubt.” Petite Julie, with her short blond hair and big brown eyes, looked as innocent as a newborn babe as she stared at Kieran. “You know how his store works. Each sales agent is responsible for a certain collection of diamonds and other stones. Any of the associates can show them, but the sales agent has to count and log them in at the end of the day. I just—I just wanted Gary to suffer for a while. I wanted him to sweat it out. When there's a count, it won't be there. He'll be in major trouble. I couldn't care less about the stone itself.”

“Oh, God!” Kieran said, sitting back and crossing her arms. “There's been a rash of jewelry store holdups. Don't you two idiots see? You're in the same category now.”