Society Rules (43 page)

“Why don’t you go help your Granny get your stuff together?” She spoke, looking at both kids. They moved at once.

“Hmmm, well, at least they do what they’re freakin’ told,” she thought, relieved by this knowledge. They returned so quickly that she was almost impressed.

“‘Bye, Grandma,” Cassidy hugged and kissed Marie, her expression one of complete misery. Marie knelt by the little girl’s side. “Don’t be upset, Cassidy, about forgetting to tell me . . .”

“No, Grandma,” Cassidy interrupted her, hastily, shooting an uneasy glace at Lockhart. “I’ll just miss you!”

Marie shook her head at the drama, and laughed. “I see you almost every day, honey!” Cassidy simply nodded, effectively hiding the slight tremble of her little lips by pressing them tightly together, and picked up her backpack, then walked toward Cassandra’s car. Jake followed, looking back once to blow a kiss to his grandmother.

“Alrighty then.” Cassandra turned her back on Marie, and trotted down the steps onto the walkway, carelessly stepping on several of the young purple tulips, newly emerged from their winter’s slumber.

“Get in!” she snapped brusquely at the children, the mask of civility already slipping in the wake of her victory.

The children obeyed instantly, while Marie was momentarily dumbstruck by the woman’s nerve.

Just you wait until I
do
speak to Will, Thought Marie angrily. I am going to give him a piece of my mind! What on Earth could he be thinking?

She folded her arms, watching the black P.T. Cruiser back quickly out into the road.

To send a person like that for his kids!

As the car prepared to speed away, Marie saw the clear images of her grandchildren, peeking out at her through the window. Their small faces were pinched with misery, causing a sob to catch suddenly in her chest. She swallowed as her throat tightened with a feeling of apprehension, and she closed the door, determined to reach Will as soon as possible.

She sat down on her sofa with her phone in her hand, deciding resolutely to press “redial” as often as necessary, until she reached her son.

Chapter 24

Will pulled his truck into the parking lot of the convenience store, and quickly scanned the rows of mud and salt encrusted vehicles. Baker’s bright red Nissan was hard to miss, but Will sure as hell didn’t see it now.

The tracking monitor was screaming its insistence that the target was nearby. Will forced himself to slow and look again, more carefully now, but a distinct feeling of resignation was blanketing his shoulders that were now hunched over the steering wheel wearily.

Baker had shed the tracking device. He was certain of it.

Heaving a small sigh, Will steered into a parking spot, and turned off the ignition. He pulled himself out of the truck and dropped to the ground lightly, bringing the monitor with him.

It led Will directly to the magnetic tracking bug, now neatly stuck to the metal paper towel dispenser that was hanging between the gasoline pumps. The magnet was pinning a small scrap of paper to the metal container, which Will retrieved with annoyance.

The note simply read, “Try harder, old man!”

Will laughed softly to himself as he crumpled the paper in his fist, and flung it into the trash container. Baker had also recently had the brilliant idea of turning off the location function of his cell as well, which was unfortunate.

Will walked slowly back to his truck, hands crammed in his pockets, thinking furiously. He had known that this was not going to be easy. He wasn’t crossing swords with rank amateurs here, this he already knew. Baker was a punk, yes, but a smart little bastard all the same.

He climbed back into his truck, and then rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He had a real problem right now. Having spent many long hours orienting eager and young new agents to the field, he repeatedly had to remind them that in spite of what they might have learned from watching “24”, or the Jason Bourne movies, it’s usually best to stick with the herd when facing an adversary.

But sometimes, what is best and what is possible are so far apart, they can’t even see each other.

He couldn’t bring in anyone from his work, he knew, nor did he want to involve any other outsiders, simply because it was too dangerous with Lockhart lurking around the edges of whatever Baker had up his sleeve. Besides, the status of the Society had to be kept top secret, and Will could not risk that little factoid getting out into the public view.

But he had to catch up with Baker, and soon. He wished he could simply put out an APB for a red Nissan Sentra. There weren’t many in this area.

He suddenly jerked his head up, a hopeful glint in his eye. Maybe there
was
someone he could call for help; someone who would understand his situation, and not demand any explanations.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.

*     *     *

Captain Nick Broccato was a twenty-two year veteran of law enforcement, continuing a long family tradition of first completing a prerequisite stint in the military, followed by enrollment into the police academy.

Seventeen years were given to the NYPD, and the last five in faithful service to the Vermont State Police.

Nick steadfastly refused to move into any desk or office position, preferring to spend his time outdoors, even if it meant viewing it mostly from the slightly darkened interior of his cruiser.

He didn’t mind taking the promotions, though, and his only requested perk was Sundays off. Saturdays he would work any time they asked, but Sundays were for family.

He was born in the Bronx, and had that certain rhythm that comes with the classic accent, making him sound exactly like an extra in a mafia soundtrack.

Nick also unwittingly carried the attitude; that genuine and absolute confidence in your own willingness to act, coupled with the unshakable belief that you will prevail against all odds.

This, combined with his formidable six foot six inch frame, surrounded by two hundred and seventy pounds of pure muscle, made Nick a force to be reckoned with. He was a forty-year-old masterpiece of strength.

A man who could make even the hardest of criminal minds back up, and think really,
really
hard about whether crossing him was worth the potential outcome.

Nick’s coal black eyes could either melt with concern and sympathy, sparkle and shine with humor, or burn black with an intensity that had made more than a few evil doers come very close to needing new pants after a confrontation with him.

His wavy hair was still dark, with no sign of gray pushing its way forth to give away the passage of time. Nick’s big secret however, known only to his boisterous family and a very few close friends, was that he was a gentle giant.

Good natured and kind, he had endured being dressed up and used as a living doll by his seven sisters, suffering this with a saintly and indulgent patience.

Classical music was another passion, and he blasted it throughout his home while cooking huge feasts for his family on Sundays, which were often day-long events.

No one, but
no
one
knew his very deepest secret, however; and he feared that his image might never recover from its exposure.

Nick loved flowers.

The bulbs he’d carefully selected, one by one and with the greatest of care from Boulevard Gardens last fall, were just starting to peek through the muddy soil around his home, and Nick was ecstatic. He couldn’t wait to see how his careful orchestration of colors and breeds played out in full bloom.

He kept a small and well-abused copy of The Botanical Encyclopedia in the glove compartment of his cruiser, carefully concealed in a black zippered cloth case. Identifying plants and learning their correct Latin names kept him occupied, and he practiced . . . liking the sound of them as they flowed from the lips, much like his beloved classical music.

The fact was, there were very few things that could make Nick genuinely angry, and they all involved breaches of trust, or any dangerous disregard of the law. If you were someone who put others in danger, then Nick took great pleasure in becoming your worst nightmare.

He had seen so much in his career that had threatened to harden his deceptively tender heart, but the terrorist attacks on 9-11 had overshadowed any kind of horror he ever could have imagined. Many police officers and firefighters lost life-long friends that day, in the line of duty.

But Nick had lost more than just friends.

Candace Lowry.

The shy and quiet girl had become the love of his life, and worked in the restaurant on top of the Twin Towers. She was lost as well. He’d planned to propose to her, and in a magnificent way that would have truly exposed Nick for the sentimental man he was. He’d had the whole scenario mapped out in his head. He was playing host for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, and planned to make his intentions known to Candice, on his knees and surrounded by those he loved the most.

But the opportunity was lost, forever.

Although Nick struggled on for another year, his mental state declined to the point where he had created an unending state of sullen depression. A sharp contrast to the joyful soul he once was. He continued to descend until finally, alarmed, his friends and family staged an intervention. Only with their insistence did he consent to seek help.

“A head shrink!” Nick had barked, angrily at the time. “How can they fix
this
? What’s going to make it better?” But, the sight of his mother and sisters’ tears convinced Nick to give it a try.

Just for their sake, he told himself. He had promised that he would go, and he was a man of his word. But to his surprise, he found that it
did
help him to finally release his repressed grief and suffering, as well as the guilt he held, for a secret known only to himself and his shrink. In the end, a change of scenery was just what the doctor ordered.

Literally.

He knew he could never move far, because he couldn’t bear the thought of his family not being close to him. However, Nick need not have worried. As he stopped by his sister’s house to borrow more packing tape, he was shocked to see her little studio apartment in the process of being packed up by a couple of burly and competent-looking men.

“What’s up with this?” he demanded.

“What, did you think we were lettin’ you go alone? We’re movin’ too, Nicky! Pretty much all of us, ‘cept for Uncle Manny. Says he’s gotta retire, first.”

Nick had been moved to tears by this news. A good Italian family always tries to stick together, but this kind of sacrifice was totally unexpected. The family up and leaving the area where they had made their home and built their lives for so long?

Uprooting everything. For
him
?

And so the entire Broccato clan made the pilgrimage over to central Vermont.

His mother was a true matriarch, and had chosen the location of South Burlington, based on her declaration that “at least there are some decent supermarkets here!”

Nick was snapped up immediately by the Vermont State Police, and felt an instant acceptance. He also felt the beginnings of peace and serenity that had eluded him since that dreadful Tuesday in 2001. It was a new beginning, so different from where he’d come.

He had the respect of everyone he worked with, and his years of experience as a New York cop served him well.

Nick could size a person up in less than thirty seconds, and could read one’s intentions like a book. He formed his opinions and his loyalties quickly and unflinchingly. The fact that he was a multi-generational, dyed-in-the-wool law enforcement officer to the bone, made him trust his instincts completely.

A natural-born cop, and proud of it.

During his time in central Vermont, he had worked with William Taylor exactly twice, forming an instant liking to the guy. He knew him to be honest, ethical and full of integrity; traits he valued above all, and Nick always made sure to embrace those very values himself in his every action.

The two veterans had formed a tight friendship, speaking often by phone, trouble-shooting together, although neither had the time for a quality “hang out” very often.

The officer was parked in his cruiser this morning, pulled into a quiet corner of a supermarket parking lot, half-dozing in the sunbeam warming the interior of his car. His beloved and dog-eared book of botanicals was open in his lap, along with a half-dozen or so leaves he had picked up, not recognizing their shape.

He jumped at the sudden command of his cell phone, and sighed as he picked it up, looking regretfully at the leaves as he set them aside for now. Much to his surprise, the call was from Will Taylor. Answering quickly, Nick greeted his friend warmly.

He instantly detected the traces of strain in Will’s voice, and felt his body slip into a cop’s natural alert mode automatically. “What’s wrong, Will?”

“Hey, Nick. Are you on duty this morning?” Will asked.

“Yeah, man. What do ya need me to do for ya?”

Will sighed with relief. Although he’d known he could count on this man, just hearing his reassuring voice, offering up his assistance blind, made him sure he’d made the right call.

“Listen, Nick, I would really appreciate it if you could help me find a red Nissan Sentra, two-thousand six model, but off the books, man. The driver will be a male, by himself, most likely. Twenty-six years old, and just so you know, he’s a Fed. He works with me.”

“Well, yeah, Will. I mean I can help you, but what’s the problem with this guy? I’m guessing he’s armed, then?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s armed. But Nick, I don’t want you to do anything but find him, and give me his location. Then I need you to just back away, ok? I don’t want to bring you into anything dangerous.”

Nick was already on the road, speeding back toward town. He choked back a laugh. “You don’t want to bring ME into anything dangerous? Gimme a break, bro!’”

“No, I mean it, Nick. I am surveilling this person, because he is a double-crosser. I think he’s about to throw his partner under the bus, and that partner would be me. I’m not really into allowing that to happen, if I can help it, but this has to be off the record. No one at the department knows about any of this right now, and it has to stay that way. He’s got a female agent helping him, but she’s not with him now.”

Nick listened carefully, all trace of humor gone. He did not like people who would screw over one of their own.

Especially your own partner.

“Can you at least tell me what it’s about?”

Will hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but he couldn’t tell him this story. Not now. “Nick, I—I just can’t . . .”

“Say no more, buddy. I know you got your reasons, right? You don’t need to tell me nothin’. We’ll get this guy, and then you can handle it your way.” Nick’s Bronx-laced words of confident assurance were oddly soothing.

Will choked out his thanks, and gave him Shawn Baker’s last known location. He once again warned Nick just to find him, and nothing else.

“Yeah, well I’m gonna hold him in the place I find him, ’till you get there, so know that! I’ll speak to you soon Will, right?” And he hung up.