My knuckles hovered near the door.
It was one thing to sneak along the sidelines and gather information illicitly and undetectably, but it was a whole different crime to actively interfere in an investigation, and that was exactly what I was about to do.
Knox was zeroing in on Ed Carver and could very well be successful. He could’ve already discovered Emme and was taking her home. The additional facts I’d learned might mean nothing.
Or they were everything.
I left Jack and Perry’s hotel chilled. But this must be done smart and with a delicate touch. Like that of a shark, starting wide and circling closer until it could sink its teeth into the prey. What better place to start than with Emme’s fiancé? If I were wrong, it’d be a lot easier to excuse my questions for desperate curiosity with a flailing grip towards any potential anomalies in Emme’s life, including the sins of her father. On the outside, no one would blame me for crawling toward this new discovery. Propriety was a decent ruse, because I would’ve pursued this anyway. I’d be a fool to leave this stone where it was.
I sent a quick text to Becca who was holding down the fort at my apartment, going through everything that had been gathered, in case there was anything in my previous research that could point to this. Everyone was in position on the game board, and I couldn’t shake the notion that perhaps it was all pre-arranged by this silent killer. The bodega surveillance, Knox bolting out of the precinct, the kidnapper’s call, Ed Carver’s name turning from curiosity into full-on assault.
They’re getting the message, believe me.
It was who was being communicated to that bothered me the most. The kidnapper wanted someone in Emme’s circle to pay. An individual that made the kidnapper so angry he was willing to grab an innocent woman and hold her under the threat of death. Emme wasn’t one to mingle with danger, or at least the Emme I had known. She didn’t seek out the darker parts of the city or enjoy risking her life as an adrenaline junkie. If anything, she was attracted to the bright lights. Possibilities were her lure. That was Emme. It was difficult to believe that two years changed her so much that she now dabbled in the shadows. No, I was far more interested in her new fiancé and what he was interested in.
A latch clicked, and I was back to the present. The door opened and inquiring brown eyes regarded me, though they were hazy, a little sloppy. It wasn’t simply grief clouding his vision. A highball glass full of brown liquid was held stiffly in Dave’s hand.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his words clipped.
The automatic urge to measure up held my tongue. I was sandy-haired, the strands resembling more of a beach after it rained. His was a mass of black coal. My skin was on the fairer side, the sun preferring to gift me with a red forehead every time I dared to spend more than twenty minutes outside. His was olive-toned, mole free, with dark scruff along his jaw. Dave Hamid was slick with money, as evidenced by his partly opened, white button-down and black slacks. I was a pit bull in the courtroom, as evidenced by my wrinkled taupe suit, the ketchup stain on my right pocket, and the black eye.
Nothing was more like a swift kick to the balls than the love of my life finding—and marrying—the exact opposite.
I held out my hand. “Spencer Rolfe. Assistant District Attorney.”
His palm met mine firmly, but no recognition sparked his eyes when I said my name.
“We met in the police precinct a few hours ago. I’m part of Anthony Knox’s task force.” Not entirely a lie.
“Uh-huh.” Dave didn’t sound happy at all. “So, what do I owe the honor?”
I replied pleasantly, “I’m here with a few follow-up questions.”
“I can answer your inquiries right here,” Dave said and propped a shoulder against the doorframe. “You’re gonna come in here and ask me the same shit Detective Knox did, and the guy before that, and the guy before that, and I’m going to give you the same answers because guess what? I don’t. Fucking. Know.”
“You’re selling yourself short. You have facts that no one else does—you’ve been the closest to Emme for how long? A year? It’s why we keep asking you the same questions from different people. I may notice something the police before me might’ve missed.” I risked adding, “As Emme’s fiancé, I’d think you’d be more than happy to answer the same questions one hundred times if it meant getting her home.”
Dave stiffened. “Don’t talk to me like it’s my fault Emme hasn’t been found yet.”
“It’s no one’s fault but the person that took her.”
“You guys have hounded me for days, treated me as a suspect and then as an idiot because I couldn’t remember what she was wearing that day or what kinda mood she was in. Yet no one on your side has accomplished shit considering I’ve had four different people ask me the same damn things and we’re all in the same positions we were the second she was taken.”
“I get it, you’re pissed, but so am I. There’s nothing worse than feeling like a useless ballsack while Emme’s enduring the worst. It might seem like we’re going in circles, but I promise you, we’re not. Knox is out there going in one direction and I’m here pursuing another, and you’re here thinking of anything that could be useful, because the tiniest detail could lead us to her. And we’re going to keep doing that until we come to the right conclusions.” I spoke my next words carefully. “I will pick you apart until I succeed.”
Dave squinted, and that somehow made the whites of his eyes acquire more red veins. “You’re personally invested in this.”
I didn’t hedge. “Yep.” And added, “You know who I am.”
“Right, Mr. Prosecutor. Mr. Formerly Known as Emme’s.”
By all appearances, I seemed relaxed. But my hands had fisted. “Were you supportive of Emme’s career?”
He chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek, maybe surprised that I didn’t rise to the bait like he wanted me to. But would it ever feel pleasant to crack my knuckles against his nose.
“What’s Emme’s job got to do with any of this?” he asked.
“How about the fact she was taken while in the midst of performing it?” I replied. “I don’t waste time with stupid questions. So how about you do the same with your answers.”
Dave remained in the doorframe, his stance oozing defiance. But his better judgment must’ve gotten in the way because he said, “Yes. I’m supportive.”
“Tell me about her work,” I said as he stepped to the side. Our shoulders came dangerously close. One ill-placed touch and he would gladly wrestle me to the floor, and I would grin and meet his swings. I hope my black eye told him as much.
“I always thought it was one of those pretend jobs.” Dave held up his empty glass, widening the space between us as he headed to the bar. “I suppose I should offer you a drink.”
I surprised myself when I said, “Yeah, sure.”
Maybe the burn of bourbon would diffuse the instant aggression that formed around the two of us. I followed him through the small foyer and into an open main room, one wall completely covered in twelve-foot windows.
“She’s a party planner.” Dave stood in front of the small, black bar just off the kitchen. The clink of ice in glass was our soundscape, the city not having the wherewithal to make noise this high up in the clouds. I stood in front of the window, hands in my pockets, staring out at the staggering buildings—both in thought and in view. A geometric vision of metals and halogen lights, so bright and intimidating the stars couldn’t compete with the blaze.
Three seconds and Emme was beside me, gazing out at her home, her brows furrowed. Whenever she had a problem, or a layered thought, she’d always frown, her eyes shifting sideways until she solved it. This would’ve been her spot, right here. I wondered how many times her feet replaced mine and she looked out on this urban empire and thought, I’m happy.
“Great view,” I said as Dave handed me a glass. He didn’t gesture us to the couch, but remained beside me, both of us including downtown Manhattan in our discussion.
“It ain’t half bad,” Dave agreed. “You know, Emme always stood where you are right now.”
My wry, sad grin was a faded reflection in the window.
“I thought Emme’s work was cute,” Dave continued. “Her day involved picking out the right cupcakes, and don’t get me wrong, I like a girl who keeps busy. When I first met her, I thought she was just doing it until she found the right guy. You know, those jobs girls get after college that aren’t really careers, more of a holding place until the right husband comes along.”
I covered my derision by taking a sip of bourbon. A long one.
“Both of us have those kind of careers that require constant networking, so she understood me. Either I was going to her shit or she was going to mine. But she never shied away when thrown into a group of strangers.” He laughed, but it was laced with sadness and liquor. “Next thing you know, I’m being told my boss’s wife hates roses and loves lobster and we should have them over for dinner with gardenias as our centerpiece.”
“Emme’s—she’s a stickler for detail,” I said.
“No kidding. And Emme was good at it. When I met her she was planning sweet sixteens. As of last week, she was in the midst of putting together galas. She craved more of a challenge, and with the types of people she was meeting, she was getting there. And you know what? She didn’t need me.”
Dave remained shadowed in the apartment, but his face flashed with the city in front of him. A multitude of reactions crossed his expression, and I recognized every one.
“Instead, you realized you needed her,” I said. “I bet that was an unexpected kick in the ass.”
“Yeah. She’d take me to her events and I’d have her arm, but people would look to her first. And I found myself…proud. She glowed, man, and I was the luckiest guy in that room, I’ll tell you.” He looked down at his glass and said quietly, “Even luckier when she said yes.”
“She makes small talk look easy, doesn’t she?” I asked, refusing to be sucked back to the moment—the moment she said yes to us and the ruin that followed after. “Pretty sure she could thaw the iciest of men.”
Dave nodded into his drink. “She enjoyed challenges. Making people warm to her was one of them. Emme hated it when she sensed someone didn’t like her. As strong as she comes across, it actually hurt her feelings when a person didn’t smile back.”
“Anyone in particular you remember?”
Dave shrugged, and I watched the movement through his reflection. “Do I remember any altercations? No. At least, nothing that would make me think the dude would want to kidnap her. But she was meeting lots of powerful people, so who the fuck knows what these rich assholes do at night, right?” His brows crunched together as he frowned. “Sorry. Inappropriate. I keep thinking…”
“Don’t do that to yourself. The nightmares make it worse.”
He turned to me. “You really think it’s one of these guys at her events? That one of them took her?”
“Tell me more about the kinds of people she met at those places.”
“The money types. Emme dealt mainly with the wives, but the husbands and partners always turned up at these shindigs, too. Wall Street guys, investors, oil people, middle-aged trust fund kids, you name it. Hey, I think your people were even there once.”
“My people?”
“Yeah, the last event we were at. Some charity fundraiser for the NYPD, NYFD, somethin’ like that. I remember ‘cause some young dude introduced himself to Emme and she seemed pretty taken with him.”
“You remember who that was?”
“Uh…tall guy, stuck next to his father like glue. Oh yeah, his dad’s some bigwig TV guy.”
A buzz started at the top of my spine. “You could be talking about Nicholas Irving and his dad, Pete Irving.”
“That’s the one!” Dave announced it like I’d won the lottery. “Nick, he and Emme chatted a while. I think because—she asked him initially who he…hang on…” His eyes narrowed. “I think your name was mentioned at some point.”
“You ever meet any Tabernathys?” I asked. I’d missed the charity event a few months ago because I’d been sick with the worst cold in all of modern history. Not much got me down, but that fucker did. And I’d had no idea Emme had a hand in planning the fundraiser.
“The who?”
“Big crime scandal a few years ago. Oak Tabernathy and his son went to jail. I think his son might be out on probation about now. But they were big swinging dicks in their time, might be getting back into the rich circles. You ever see Oak’s wife or son at these events? Melody or Stone?”
“You think Emme’s been taken by a crime family? With stupid names?”
“I’m crossing a shit-ton of avenues off my list. This is just one of them.”
“Nah. Don’t think so. Although, what’s that case all over the news right now. Torres?”
“Torro.”
“Yeah, that guy. His father was there. Rippled the gossip fountain when he walked in.”
“Max Torro’s father’s dead,” I said blandly, though my grip tightened around the crystal holding my bourbon.
“Yeah?” Dave frowned at his reflection. “Well it was someone with the Torro name, because that’s the only thing people were talking about for at least an hour.”
“Could’ve been his uncle. Juan Manuel Torro.”
“Sounds about right.” Dave nodded. “Had some balls on him, that old man. Because the fundraiser was mostly people like you.”
“Lawyers?”
He waved at my outfit. “Government suits.”
When Dave didn’t elaborate, I pushed. “Like who?”
“City types. The ones high up on the chain. Who’s your boss? That guy was there. District Attorney. Nice dude.”
“Abrams is a good man.” I finished my drink, then held the empty at my side.
Dave tipped his glass to his mouth. “The wife sucks, though.”
“You two spend some time with them?”
“Of course,” Dave said, letting out the first genuine laugh I’d heard. “The connections that guy could give me—and Emme, holy shit.”
I offered up my own amused chuckle. “You had to butter him up pretty good, then.”
Dave smiled, showcasing his bleached, straight teeth. “I remember, I dared her to go score his wife as a client. It’s what we did to have some fun at this stuff—challenge each other to win over tough sells. And whoever succeeded, the loser had to…well.” Dave’s expression glossed over as he fell into his memory. “We had a lot of fun with this, both at the event and at home. She shook my hand to solidify the bet and went right over there. Emme didn’t have to do much because she one-upped me. Figured getting to Abrams first would automatically win over the wife. Abrams warmed to Emme in a second. I think all she did was smile and introduce herself. You’d think a guy like that would be busy as fuck at a political fundraiser, but he spent a lot of time with her.”
“Did you hear what they were discussing?” I asked.
Dave shrugged again. “He was asking her about her job, how she liked it, where she wanted her career to go, how interested she was in politics. Social fluff. I think I flagged three passing waiters to refill my drink as I waited for the convo to finish. But she had him, for sure. Abrams’s attention was on her the entire time.” His forehead creased with confused lines. “Someone could’ve popped off a gun and he would probably keep staring at her.”
“Did you think he was interested in her or something?”
Dave met my eyes in the window. “I’m not a jealous guy. If someone appreciates my girl, I kind of enjoy it because in the end she comes home with me, not him. But Abrams, he did nothing but ask her simple questions.” Dave shook his head. “If I told anyone else this, they’d think I was crazy.”
As Dave instinctively shuffled away, I kept close, keeping him in the present. “It’s the smallest of details, Dave. I want to hear it all.”
“Look, I’m not trying to talk shit about your boss. He’s the guy with the political smile, seems to enjoy every party he’s at, but do you not notice his eyes?”
I pretended thought. “In what way?”
Dave pointed to his own. “They’re always one minute behind. He’d laugh at Emme’s response to his questions, but that laugh was dead until his eyes caught up. It was like a delay of some kind. Fucking freaky.” Dave paused before laughing off his observation. “I guess it’s because I’m still new at seeing political guys up close.”
“They’re human, but more of a refined version of our species.” I shrugged. “Or clones.”
Dave offered a half smile, the first genuine reaction he’d given since I knocked on his door. “I wish you were there to see it, though. Abrams listened to her with that stare of his. Like a…viper or something, I don’t know. Stupid. Doesn’t matter anyway, since after all that he didn’t seem interested in applying Emme’s skills.”
“She didn’t get him or his wife as a client in the end?” I asked. “That’s surprising.”
“I know, right? This Abrams guy stood too close to her, wanted to know too much about her.”
“Emme never talked to him again after that?”
“It was as if they never chatted. Weird, now that you have me thinking about it.”
“Was it something she said? Do you remember the last topic they discussed?”
Dave studied me. “Not exactly.”
“You must remember something. To have a guy talk so intimately with your fiancée and then to suddenly cease the conversation…something odd must have occurred.”
“I agree with you, but whatever it was, I didn’t hear. And it wasn’t serious enough for Emme to mention it later. All she said was that it sucked he didn’t want her card and that she really thought he liked her.”
“You sure?”
Dave took a minute to think. “You know…I mean, maybe it’s nothing, but I kinda remember someone coming up to them. Yeah—the Torro guy. He struts up and suddenly the DA has places to be, people to see.”
I stared out, new facts clinking against the old. “You said he asked her about her career. How it was going, what she liked about it, that kind of stuff?”
“Besides that, what DA scuttles away when a crime lord enters their talking circle?”
“Could’ve been because there’s an active trial against Manny Torro’s nephew,” I said, then directed him back. “You were saying Abrams mainly focused on Emme’s career?”
“Yup.” Dave held up is glass in inquiry. I shook my head, and as he wandered back to the wet bar, he said, “He also asked the basic social questions, like where she was from, if she had a family back home. I joked that if he wanted I could pull up her resume, but he didn’t seem too entertained by my funny.”
Instead of waiting for Dave to return, I spun on my heel and followed him. “Did Emme answer him? About her family?”
Dave glanced to the side, then startled. “Jesus, man. You also a cat?”
“Did she mention her family?” I pressed.
“I…guess.” Dave inched away. “She must’ve, yeah. Emme would’ve politely answered all his questions.”
“You think she mentioned them by name?”
Dave set his glass down on the bar. “I have no idea. Maybe? Does one usually name their parents in polite conversation?”
“With DA Abrams, yeah, they do,” I said, then set my empty glass next to his. “Thank you for the drink, Dave.”
“That’s it?” Dave asked as I passed him and went for the door.
“Yep. Sorry to have disturbed you.”
“What kind of interview was this?” Dave asked as I stepped out into the hallway. “I barely gave you anything.”
“I have enough,” I said, then shut the door on his perplexed face.