AAA Storage Company

Pasadena, California

 

Durango stood in the middle of the narrow storage container, papers in his hands that had changed everything. He looked at them again, reading the words scrawled on them, things falling into place that never would have made sense without these. He’d never been more wrong about a person in all his life.

“Where are you?” Gracie demanded as Durango answered her call.

“A storage unit. Where are you?”

“Jackson’s. I just got a call from that guy in the Marshals Service that I told you about. And, boy, I think you’re going to be a little shocked by what he had to tell me.”

“That Cormac Delaney is really Daniel Sartori? And that his father killed his mother?”

“How’d you know that?”

“It’s a long story. Tell me yours first.”

“Well, it seems that Delaney was ten when his father went berserk one night and broke into his wife’s house in Apple Valley and butchered her right in front of his son. Seems they were separated, and she was claiming abuse on his part against both her and her son. He didn’t like their dirty laundry being aired in public, so he killed her. The cops arrived, and the kid told them everything. Sartori, Sr. was arrested and put in jail, but posted bond somehow. He then began harassing the cops and anyone involved in the case, including the kid. He kept tracking him down, filling him full of bullshit. They even had the kid living with the lead detective on the case at one point, and he had to have him moved because the father made threats against the cop’s wife.”

“Christ, that’s intense!”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stop. The kid was constantly pulled between the cops and his father, getting notes and letters, and the guy would show up at his school, in the park, everywhere the kid went. They even put him back in jail multiple times to keep him away from the kid, but the wife, it turns out, was an heiress, and he had access to the money for quite a while before someone figured out that her will placed it all in a trust for the kid.”

“So, he kept getting out because he could afford to hire high stakes lawyers.”

“Exactly. And then it comes time for the trial. The kid’s nearly fifteen now because the wheels of justice run damn slow in California. But when it’s time for the kid to testify—an eyewitness to the crime—he lies and says it was a stranger who killed his mother, not his father. The case falls apart, and Sartori goes free.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, well, turns out the moment Sartori got free, he went after the lady prosecutor who was working his case. Raped and beat her, then slit her throat.”

“Jesus!”

“Yeah. Then he disappears. The feds put his kid in witness protection, thinking the guy might find him again and finish him off. But, as far as they know, the old guy dropped off the face of the planet.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because Delaney’s been investigating his crimes for the past thirteen years.”

“Is that what all those case files were?”

“Yeah. He can’t prove it was Sartori, of course. But he’s been compensating his victims’ families.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. I found a storage unit. It’s filled with legal documents, most relating to donations he’s made to these families anonymously. He bought one family a house. Several others he bought cars. Most of them he sends checks every month in the amount of what their dead loved one might have been earning at this point in their lives. He’s taking care of his father’s victims’ children and parents and significant others.”

“Wow, that’s—”

“Yeah. And I think he’s doing it because his father never let him forget what he did for him. He was sending him letters, giving just enough detail of each crime he committed since his acquittal in his wife’s murder—just enough detail to allow Delaney the information necessary to learn the victims’ identities.”

“Still?”

“No. They stop in 2005.”

“Maybe the asshole died.”

“That would be my guess.”

“Then he’s not a bad guy.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Then where’s Wren?”

That was a very good question. Durango stepped to the door of the storage unit and looked out at the cool California afternoon.

“She was on a plane with him yesterday. Maybe they’re looking into one of the cases he hasn’t solved yet. Or maybe…” He really didn’t know. Why hadn’t Wren checked in?

“You should go to her father’s, see if she’s contacted him.”

“Yeah, I guess I should. It’s not far from here.”

She let him go a second later, promising to be waiting at Jackson’s when he was ready to go home. He was locking up the storage unit when his phone rang again.

“Forget something, babe?”

“No, but I have news I thought you might want,” Andres said.

“Sorry. Thought you were Gracie.”

“Not a problem. I’ve done that once or twice.” Andres cleared his throat. “We located Sartori’s plane. You won’t believe where it landed this morning.”

“Where?”

“Right here in Los Angeles.”

“No kidding? Any sign of Delaney at either of his houses?”

“Not yet.”

“What about Wren’s father’s place?”

“We pulled our guy off of there, but I could run out and check.”

“No, I’m just up the road. I’ll go. Send someone to her condo, okay?”

“Will do.”

Maybe this would be over by the end of the day. Durango certainly hoped so. He was ready to sit down with his woman and enjoy their first day of marriage together.

Marriage. A dumb smile burst over his expression. He never thought he’d be so happy to be married.