The Heart of A Killer (33 page)

Dante filled him in on what they’d found at Frank Pallino’s house.

“So someone broke into his house, beat up Frank and started to cut him, but something stopped him.”

“Yeah, it looks that way,” Dante said. “Maybe a noise, or maybe it was Frank’s dog, or it could have been Anna and me showing up. There’s no way to tell what it was that sent him running out of here before he finished the job.”

“He also changed the venue. Not the alley this time,” Pohanski said.

“I don’t think he could have gotten Frank to the alley where the first two murders occurred, since we’ve had it under surveillance,” Roman said. “We’ve beefed up security there, with cameras, lights and patrol units putting in twenty-four-hour rotation.”

“Well, that worked, but it didn’t help Frank any.” Pohanski shook his head. “This is a nightmare.”

Dante couldn’t disagree.

“Why Anna’s father?” Pohanski asked.

Roman looked to Dante, who took point on this one. Good thing he was such a master at lying. “It has to be about Anna. The flowers, the notes, people she knows and is close to. Now her father.”

“She wasn’t close to or related to George Clemons.”

“No, but we all were,” Roman said. “And that got Anna involved with the case.” Pohanski nodded.

“And then the notes and flowers started. He was trying to get her attention. Now her father. My guess is he’s either targeting Anna, or by killing her father the suspect wants her distracted, her attention diverted from the case.”

“He’s going to get his wish,” Pohanski said. “With her father in the hospital there’s no way she’s going to be able to put a hundred-percent focus on working the case.”

That’s what Dante was afraid he’d do. “You pull her off this case it’ll kill her.”

Pohanski leveled his gaze on Dante. “Better than the suspect doing it. Tell her to spend time with her dad. She doesn’t like it she can come see me. Right now she’s on leave.”

Fuck
. Dante didn’t want to be the one to deliver that news. “I’m heading to the hospital. You keep me informed if you find anything?”

Pohanski waved him off. Dante was torn between wanting to be on the crime scene every second and going over the area with a magnifying glass with the techs, and needing to be with Anna.

“I’ll let you know what we find,” Roman said. “You let me know about Anna’s dad.”

Dante nodded. “Thanks.”

He drove to the hospital, found out that Frank had been moved up to the ICU.

At least he was still alive.

But when he walked into the room and saw Frank lying there, Dante’s stomach sank.

His face was swollen and bruised and so were his arms. The parts of him that weren’t battered were as white as the sheet he lay on. He was hooked up to bags of blood, lines running out of his body, plus a ventilator that looked to be doing the breathing for him.

Shit.

Anna sat at his bedside rubbing his arm. She didn’t look in any better shape than her father, minus the bruises and wiring.

“Hey,” Dante said as he stepped into the room.

Anna lifted her gaze to his. “Hey. Where’s Rusty?”

“Your dad’s next-door neighbor—the one with the black Lab—is taking care of him for now.”

She nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

Dante stayed in the doorway. “How is he?”

She stood, and they walked outside the curtained room together and down the hall, pressing the button to leave the ICU.

Only then did Anna’s shoulders slump.

“Need some coffee?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t take it personally; he understood the trauma and anger. “How’s your dad?”

“It’s not good. Massive internal bleeding, broken ribs, damage to his lungs, broken legs. The suspect kicked him in the head, so there’s a brain injury, too.”

Dante sucked in a breath and tried to tamp down the fury that welled up inside him.

“He never woke up. I never got to say anything to him.” Her voice wavered as she lifted tear-filled eyes to him. “The doctors told me there’s no brain-wave activity. He’s not going to wake up, Dante.”

His fury turned to pain that wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed tight. “I’m so sorry, Anna.”

Despite the wall of brick her body presented, he pulled her into his arms anyway and held her. “We’ll make him pay, baby.”

She lay against him, unmoving. “I have to disconnect him. His organs are so damaged most of them aren’t usable for donation, but they can use bone and tissue. Dad would have wanted that.”

He smoothed his hand down her back. “You ready for that?”

She pushed away, her expression so cold it worried him. “It’s not like letting him linger is going to bring him back. He’d be mad at me if I did that, and I’d only be doing it for me, not for him. He’s gone.”

“God, Anna. I’m sorry.”

There was a fire in her eyes as she looked up at him. “So am I. He didn’t deserve this. It’s my fault.”

“What? How can this be your fault? It’s the killer’s fault. Not yours.”

“If I’d caught him, my dad would still be alive and wouldn’t have had to endure the beating he got. No one deserves that. George didn’t, Jeff didn’t, and sure as hell my father didn’t.”

She wasn’t thinking rationally. Dante knew it, and yet he wanted to shake some sense into her. “This isn’t your responsibility to bear.”

She waved her hand. “Whatever. I need to go sit with him.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. I need to be alone with him if you don’t mind.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, Anna. Not right now.”

She pinned him with a hard stare. “Look, Dante, I appreciate you being here for me. But I can handle this. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“Don’t think you know what’s best for me. You don’t.”

She jammed the button and told the desk nurse her name. The door buzzed and she opened it. “Leave me alone for a while, okay? I need this.”

She closed the door behind her and left Dante standing in the hallway by himself.

He’d never felt more useless.

Anna held her father’s hand, letting her fingers linger on his pulse, his life force.

Even though he wasn’t really in the shell of his body anymore. Not his brain anyway. Some monster had destroyed him, had taken the laughing, sweet, wonderful man she knew and killed him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find the killer in time to save you, Daddy,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry I failed.”

She hated the tears that seemed to be falling endlessly. She grabbed another tissue and wiped them away.

“I know you wouldn’t want me to cry. You’d tell me to stay strong, not to grieve and to get my ass back to work.” She rubbed her fingers over his hand. “It’ll be hard for me to do that, but I will. I’ll make him pay for it, Dad.”

No response. Logically she knew there wouldn’t be one, but she couldn’t help but hope for a miracle. A tiny movement of his fingers, a smile, anything that would give her hope that he was still in there, even though the sensible, adult part of her knew all hope was lost.

She shuddered in a breath, pushing away the child within her that just wanted her daddy to wake up.

“I’m going to take care of Rusty for you, so you won’t have to worry about that. He’s going to be my dog. I promise I’ll look after him.”

Her only link to her father would be that dog. She’d cherish Rusty as if he was her baby.

She rose and climbed onto the bed to lie next to her father. What would it hurt? She couldn’t damage him. He was already gone, had a peaceful look on his face despite all the bruising from the beating.

She reached up to touch his face, willing him to open his eyes, to smile at her, to say it was all a joke.

But he didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes.

“What am I going to do without you, Daddy? I already miss you so much. Who am I going to go to for advice when I need it?”

The whir and beep of the machines that did his breathing for him reminded her that her father was, in essence, a machine now, kept alive by technology.

Still, he felt warm to her. His body against hers was her last few minutes of comfort, just as he’d always comforted her with a hug or by sitting next to her whenever she was hurting.

And when the surgical team came in to prepare him for donation, she slid out of bed, kissed her dad’s forehead and let them take him away. She sat in the chair in the empty room that felt so much emptier now without his presence.

“I love you, Dad. Say hi to Mom for me.”

She bent her chin to her chest and sobbed.

Twenty

A
nna managed to get through her father’s funeral, through smiling and small talk with all the well-wishers who’d brought food and condolences the days before and after. She was polite, she made conversation, did all the things that would have made her father proud.

The guys were all there with her. Dante, Gabe and Roman stayed by her, bolstered her when she thought she wouldn’t be able to do it. She’d tried to shake them off, tried to do this alone, but they refused to let her. She could go it alone if she wanted to, damn them all.

She loved them for it, because she wouldn’t have been able to get through those grueling days without them.

Rusty had come home with her the day after the funeral, seemingly lost to be at her place instead of her dad’s. He looked for her father in every room, and then finally seemed to realize that his master was gone and attached himself to her instead.

Two lost souls without their daddy. Rusty would look up at her with his soulful brown eyes, the saddest look on his face.

Yeah, she understood. That look broke her heart, and as she wandered aimlessly around the house, or did some packing up around her dad’s, one thing became clear—she absolutely had to get back to work.

She thought endlessly of ways to get back on the case so she could find the bastard who killed her father.

It was the only thing that compelled her to get up in the morning, get in the shower and get through the day—find the killer.

But Pohanski refused to relent, insisted she needed more time to heal before she came back to the job.

Fuck the healing. She needed to work. She’d heal when they caught the killer.

And she was already tired of babysitters. Roman had come over this morning to have coffee with her. She loved these guys, really she did, but she was tired of them watching over her, staring at her as if they expected her to snap at any moment.

Right now he sat at her kitchen table rolling his coffee cup between his hands, his attempts at small talk woefully pathetic. She wanted to talk about the case, about the progress in finding her father’s killer. They wouldn’t tell her anything.

“So Tess has a new client,” Roman said.

She had to make an attempt to at least act interested. “She does? That’s great.”

“Yeah. First Third Bank, their corporate branch, which means she’s going to be busy for the next few months doing their books.”

“I imagine she will be. How are the two of you doing?”

He smiled. “Pretty good, but you know how that goes. Since this case began I’ve hardly had any personal time. And now she’s got this new client. So I’m busy, she’s busy. We don’t get to see each other as much as either of us would like.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes.” Really, she didn’t, but she was glad Roman had someone like Tess in his life. “If you like her, you’ll make it work.”

Then silence. Blissful silence. She glanced down at the display on her cell phone. “You on duty today?”

“Honey, we’re all on duty until this killer is caught. Pohanski is on the rampage about it since—well, since your dad. He’s got us all working double shifts. I just wanted to stop by to see if you’re hanging in.”

“I’m hanging in just fine, Roman. You really don’t need to check up on me.”

He slid his hand over hers. “I don’t mind checking up on you. I know how hard this has been on you.”

It would be a lot less hard if everyone stopped reminding her of it. “I’m doing all right. I’ve been clearing some of the junk from my dad’s house. Figure I’ll sell the place at some point.”

Rusty came into the kitchen, rounded the table and sat by Anna. She rubbed his ears.

“How’s the dog?” Roman asked.

“He’s okay. Sad. Misses my dad, just like I do. I try to give him extra attention and love.”

Roman nodded. “Same thing you need.”

She laughed. “Is that why you’re here?”

His expression went serious. “I care about you. You know that. And a little extra attention is exactly what you need right now. You never look after yourself.”

“What I really want to do right now is get back on the job.”

Roman frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea so soon?”

“I think it’s a great idea. I’m going crazy here.”

He twined his fingers with hers. “I know you think you are, but it takes time to heal after losing someone.”

She almost shot off that he wouldn’t know anything about that since he’d never had any family, but closed her mouth. Was she really that far on the ledge that she would hurt someone she loved? She had to get out of here before she burned bridges permanently. “It does. I know it does. But you know me, Roman. I don’t idle well.”

He smiled at that. “No, you don’t. But I worry about you.”

“You all worry too much about me. I’m happiest when I’m working.”

And unhappiest when she had to lurk within her own thoughts and dark memories.

Dante stepped out of the bedroom, dragging her away from that darkness.

“Hey,” Roman said, standing.

“What’s up?” Dante asked.

“Just came by to say hi to Anna before I headed off to work.” Roman put his cup in the sink and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for coming over. I’m fine, really.”

“You need anything, holler.”

“Will do.” She walked Roman to the door and opened it, smiling at him and hoping she could get him out the door.

She didn’t understand when his smile died.

“What?”

She followed his gaze, going cold at the sight of the flowers just outside the door.

“No.”