To Hell in a Handbasket Page 19

  Roger returned with the drinks and handed them out before he took his seat. He watched Nick’s awkward progress toward the stage. “Is he going to make it through this ceremony? He looks kind of shaky.”

  Claire took a hefty gulp of her wine. “He’s got more than grief working against him. Judy just told him she saw Petrov on the ski slope the day Stephanie was killed. He’s still absorbing the impact.”

  “Shit.” Roger glanced at Judy, but she was focused solely on Nick, as if willing him from afar to make it through the emcee’s praise of his now-dead father and the short speech Nick would be obliged to give. “Double shit.”

  Claire couldn’t help her wry grin. “Precisely what Nick had to say on the subject.”

  Owen returned to their table and leaned over to whisper to them. “I’ve got two patrolmen scouring the premises for Petrov and Ivanov. No sign of either yet. As soon as the patrolmen finish, they’ll report to me here.”

  He slid into the chair Nick had vacated. “One of them, Officer Ramstead, will take the first watch over Judy. There’re a few things I should go over with you three.”

  He glanced at Judy then followed her gaze to Nick on the stage. With hands tightly clasped, the young man stood next to the emcee rattling off his father’s contributions, in time and money, to the Summit Foundation.

  “We won’t be able to tear her attention from Nick,” Claire said. “Tell us, and we’ll make sure she hears it later.”

  Owen cleared his throat meaningfully then looked at the two of them. “Ramstead, and whoever takes his place in the morning, should stay in the same room with Judy at all times. We can make an exception when she’s in the bathroom. No windows in there, I presume?”

  “Not in hers,” Roger said.

  “Good. I plan to sit outside your place in my cruiser tonight, after I check for Ivanov at the Hilton.”

  “I hope your wife’s not too upset about that,” Claire said.

  Owen rolled his shoulders, as if his jacket was binding him. “She’ll get over it. This kinda stuff comes with being a cop’s wife. I’ve arranged for someone else to drive her home. I need to be at your place. If Petrov makes a move for Judy, I think it’ll be tonight.”

  Claire sucked in a breath.

  “Keep her inside and away from the Continos’ house.” Owen glanced at Judy. “I know I’m asking a lot.”

  “Yes, you are,” Claire replied, “but we’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. What will you do if you can’t find Petrov?”

  “We’ve already got an APB out for him. I hope we flush him before he escapes back to Chile.”

  “At least in Chile, he’d be away from Judy,” Claire said.

  Judy leaned forward, her shoulders tense. Nick had started his acceptance speech.

  A Summit County patrolman in the familiar black and green-gray uniform approached Owen and whispered in his ear.

  “No luck yet.” Owen stood. “Let’s go.”

  Claire stood with him. “Judy won’t want to leave before talking to Nick.”

  Owen frowned. “Tell her to call him later. With Petrov on the loose, I’m nervous about leaving her out in an exposed area any longer.”

  Roger went over to Judy and whispered in her ear. When she shook her head vigorously, he pulled her up out of her chair with a firm hand on her arm. “You can call him after we get home.”

  “But—” Judy’s gaze remained on Nick as they escorted her out of the ballroom.

  He stumbled on his words as he watched them go.

  Claire caught his attention and mimicked putting a phone to her ear while mouthing, “She’ll call you.”

  _____

  When they reached the parking lot of their townhouse, Claire scanned the area, nervously checking for any signs of a lurking Russian hit man. As if there would be any.

  Owen pulled his cruiser into the space next to theirs, and Officer Ramstead parked his at the end of the block. The two men got out of their vehicles and approached Roger’s car.

  “Stay here until I can check the place out.” Owen held out his hand to Roger. “House key?”

  Roger handed Owen his keychain and showed him which key was for the door.

  Owen turned to Ramstead. “You watch the front door and the Hanovers.” Owen drew his gun out of a holster hidden under his suit coat and entered the townhouse silently.

  Claire, Roger, and Judy huddled together in the cooling car, with Ramstead standing guard and puffing clouds of condensation in the brisk night air. A few minutes later, Owen waved to them from the doorway. They climbed the steps and went inside.

  Before Claire could say anything to her, Judy grabbed the phone and punched in a phone number, tossing her coat on the floor as she waited for the rings.

  “Mrs. Contino, this is Judy. Please ask Nick to call me as soon as he gets home. It’s important. And, Mrs. Contino, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I want to help—” She listened for a while, as tears came to her eyes. “Yes, I understand. Goodbye.”

  She grabbed a tissue to wipe her eyes. “Mrs. Contino can barely talk, she’s so choked up. I wish I could do something.”

  Claire rubbed Judy’s back. “So do I, honey, but grieving is a long and difficult process. We can’t go through that for her. Or for Nick.”

  “But I could be there when he needs to talk. If you’d let me.” She ground out the last four words.

  “We feel for Nick, too,” Claire said. “But our first concern is your safety. How do you think Nick would feel if something happened to you?”

  And if keeping Judy safe means breaking up her relationship with Nick, then by God, I’ll do it, no matter how much it hurts her.

  Judy eyed her mother suspiciously, as if she had heard Claire’s thought. “I need to go to the bathroom.” She frowned at Officer Ramstead. “So you’re to be my shadow, right?”

  He cleared his throat and glanced at Owen. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m going downstairs.” She turned and walked to the staircase.

  “She’s not mad at you,” Claire said to the officer, “just that you need to watch her.”

  “I understand.” Ramstead hurried down the stairs after Judy.

  “If you’re all set here, I’ll head over to the Hilton,” Owen said. “I’ll keep Ramstead posted via his police radio and be back as soon as I finish there.” He opened the door, made sure the lock was set, then closed it behind him.

  Claire collapsed on the couch, too wrung out with tension to even remove her coat. She just unzipped it and threw it open. Her stomach growled, notifying her that one glass of wine did not constitute dinner. She glanced at her watch. A few minutes after eight o’clock. “Have we got anything to eat?”

  Roger shot her a surprised glance from the kitchen where he had been pouring himself a glass of water. “You didn’t get enough to eat at the party?”

  “I didn’t get anything to eat there, and I don’t think Judy did either.”

  Roger opened the cupboard doors. “Raisin bran, tortilla chips, microwave popcorn, baked beans—”

  Ugh. Beans. “How about popcorn?”

  He put a bag in the microwave oven and brought Claire a glass of water and the ibuprofen bottle.

  “Thanks, honey, for knowing exactly what I needed.” One of the benefits of being married for twenty-six years. Claire downed the pills, then dug into the popcorn when Roger brought over the bowl.

  A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, making Claire jump and spill the remaining popcorn.

  Roger went to the door. “Who is it?” He waited then opened the door.

  Nick stepped inside, his eyes dark wells of sadness, and nodded at Claire and Roger. “Mrs. Hanover, Mr. Hanover. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that Judy got involved in our troubles. I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

  Even if it means leaving her? “We need to have a long talk, Nick. It’s our right to know exactly what’s going on, for Judy’s sake.”

  Looking even more mi
serable, Nick jammed his hands in his pockets. “Can I talk to Judy first? There are some things I need to say to her in private.”

  So, maybe he does realize he has to leave her.

  “She’s downstairs,” Roger said. “But a policeman’s with her. Unfortunately, he has to stay in the same room.”

  Nick grimaced.

  Claire’s heart went out to the young man. “I’m sure he’ll keep whatever he overhears to himself, Nick. Go on. She’s anxious to see you, too.”

  Head bowed, he clumped down the stairs.

  Claire knelt on the floor to pick up the spilled popcorn.

  Roger bent down to join her. “Actually, he seems like a nice young man.”

  “Stuck in lousy circumstances, unfortunately.” Claire tossed a handful of kernels into the bowl. “Circumstances I don’t want Judy involved in.”

  Roger glanced down the stairs, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If only there was some way . . .”

  Claire sat back on her heels. “I don’t see how it’s possible. The Russian mob is worldwide. If they want Nick, they can reach out and grab him wherever he goes. He’s stuck. His father made damn sure of that.”

  She pursed her lips. “But Judy isn’t stuck. Not yet. No way is she going to be the wife of a criminal.”

  Shaking his head, Roger dropped the last popcorn kernels into the bowl and brushed off his hands. “It’s a damn shame.”

  As Claire rose with the bowl, a whooshing sound downstairs froze her in place. “What was that?”

  His brow furrowed, Roger said, “I don’t know.”

  Claire stood and called, “Judy!”

  No answer.

  “Nick? Officer Ramstead?”

  Nothing.

  Roger’s gaze darted around the room, then he dashed for the fireplace and grabbed the poker. “All I could think of,” he whispered to Claire.

  He motioned her to get behind him as he slowly made his way down the stairs, hugging the wall.

  Claire followed. When they reached the bottom step and turned, she craned her neck to see around Roger’s head and shoulders.

  The back sliding glass door stood wide open. A frigid breeze slapped the vertical blinds against each other.

  “Did they go outside?” Claire asked. “Where’s Officer Ramstead?”

  A toilet flushed and the two turned toward the bathroom. The door opened and the policeman stepped out. He looked around. “Where’d they go?” Then he spied the gaping sliding glass door. “Crap.”

  He ran out and around the side of the townhouse. The roar of an engine turning over filtered in through the open doorway. Soon Ramstead returned, chest heaving.

  “That was a Range Rover with the two of them in it. I couldn’t catch them.” He bent over and leaned his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

  “Why’d you let them out of your sight?” Roger asked.

  “The two lovebirds were so engrossed in whispering to each other, I decided to take a leak. Never thought they’d bail on me. I was supposed to keep someone from getting in, not her from getting out.” He groaned and stared at Claire. “What the hell do they think they’re doing?”

  “How should I know? I can’t believe they would do something this stupid. All we can hope is that they went to Nick’s house.” And that no one followed them.

  Anxious to get Judy back under police protection, Claire pointed to the radio on Ramstead’s belt. “Can you contact Detective Silverstone on that?”

  He keyed the radio. “Ramstead calling Silverstone.”

  “Silverstone here. I’m almost there. Hold a couple of minutes.”

  Ramstead tried to raise him again, but got no response.

  Claire shivered. “Roger, could you close that door?”

  As Roger slid the sliding glass door shut, the front doorbell rang.

  “That must be Owen.” Claire ran upstairs, fear gnawing at her brain and jumbling her thoughts. What if the kids didn’t go to Nick’s house? What if they couldn’t be found until it was too late?

  “Check first before you open it,” Roger called as he and Ramstead clomped up the stairs behind her.

  “That you, Owen?” she asked through the door.

  “Yes.”

  Claire opened it and ushered him in. “Thank God you’re here.”

  Owen’s eyes went wide. “Why? What happened?” When he saw Ramstead climbing the stairs, Owen repeated, “What the hell happened?”

  “The gal and her boyfriend took off.” Ramstead slumped onto a kitchen stool.

  “We think they’re on the way to Nick’s house,” Roger added.

  Owen slapped the kitchen counter, startling Claire. “Damn idiots. Petrov’s even more likely to find her there.”

  Seventeen:

  Over the River and

  Through The Woods

  Owen went into command mode. “Ramstead, get in your cruiser and head back to the station. Round up some backup and some more weapons and meet me at the Contino house.”

  Ramstead nodded and loped out the front door.

  Owen pointed a finger at Claire and Roger. “You two stay put while I head over there.”

  “No way.” Claire grabbed her coat. “You can’t keep us here when our daughter’s in danger.”

  She didn’t have to say anything to Roger, who had already shrugged on his coat. Good man.

  Owen glared at them then blew out a breath. “All right. But I don’t want you speeding after my cruiser and putting yourself in danger once we get there. Ride with me.”

  The four of them rushed out of the townhouse. Claire and Roger climbed into the back seat of Owen’s cruiser while Ramstead loped to his cruiser. Owen reversed with a jerk, and Claire scrambled to buckle her seat belt as he accelerated out of the parking lot.

  “You got any idea why the two of them took off like that?” Owen shouted over his shoulder.

  “I can’t understand it,” Claire said. “We told Nick about Petrov, so he knew how much danger Judy was in. I can’t believe he would expose her to more risk like this.”

  Owen frowned into the rearview mirror. “Maybe he’s in cahoots with the Russians.”

  Leaning forward, Roger gripped the back of the front seat. “If so, he’s a great actor. Even when he didn’t realize Claire was listening, he told off Ivanov. Maybe he thinks he can protect Judy better at his house. They probably have an alarm system and guns.”

  Owen slapped the steering wheel. “Why the hell do private citizens think a gun in their hand makes them more competent than a trained cop?” He made a fast turn that threw Claire against Roger.

  She worried her lip while staring out the window at the darkened landscape whooshing by. Is Roger right? Is Nick that stupid? Or have we seriously misjudged him, and has he really given in to the Russian mob?

  Owen turned onto the Continos’ street and passed a black Range Rover parked in a snowplow turnout. He slid to a halt, backed up, and directed the patrol car’s headlights at the back of the Range Rover.

  “Damn.”

  Claire craned her neck to see the license plate. “Damn what?”

  “The plate’s Ivanov’s. That means he or Petrov or both are here. And they don’t want the Continos to know. The vehicle looks empty, but I need to check it anyway. Stay here.”

  Owen unholstered his gun, snatched a flashlight out of his glove compartment, and climbed out of the cruiser.

  Claire’s throat constricted with fear. She grabbed Roger’s hand.

  His gaze was grim as he covered her hand with his other hand. “Don’t panic yet, honey. Judy and Nick may not even be in the neighborhood.”

  “That’s another reason to panic,” Claire answered. “If they aren’t here and Petrov followed them, there’s no way we’ll be able to find them before he kills Judy. How will we know where to look?”

  Hunkered down, Owen approached the Range Rover from the rear, then stood with gun drawn and shone the flashlight through a window. After running the beam over the whole car, he l
aid his hand for a moment on the hood. He flashed the light around the car, across snow being swirled and shifted by the wind. He seemed to pick up a trail and followed it for a few feet.

  He stopped, aimed the flashlight off in the direction the trail took, and panned the light over the area. With a shake of his head, he holstered his gun, turned the flashlight off, and returned. He got in and drove away.

  Claire gripped the edge of her seat. “What did you see?”

  “The car was empty, but the hood was still warm. They must have arrived a few minutes ago. Two sets of footsteps led off in the direction of the Contino house.”

  A few moments later, Owen pulled into the Continos’ driveway and parked behind a black Range Rover—probably the same one Nick and Judy rode away in.

  So much for not panicking.

  As Owen opened his car door, Claire tried to open hers, but it wouldn’t budge. “Why won’t my door open?”

  “That’s the way police cars work, so the criminals in the back won’t bolt on us.” Owen got a thoughtful expression. “Maybe you two should stay here until Ramstead and my backup arrive.”

  “With two Russian mobsters prowling the neighborhood?” Roger asked. “We’d be sitting ducks in here.”

  “You won’t be any safer outside.”

  “At least we could run or hide behind something.” Roger slapped the seat. “Let us out!”

  “On one condition.” Owen stared them down. “I don’t want you going in the Contino house until backup arrives. You’ll find a place to hide and stay put until I say so. Understand?”

  Claire nodded and Roger said, “Yes.”

  Owen pressed a button on the dash of his cruiser, and the locks on the back doors released. Claire and Roger quietly exited the car and crouched between it and the Range Rover while Owen reconnoitered. He waved his hand, and they all ran toward the front door. Claire slipped on the ice and fell hard.

  “You hurt?” Roger offered an arm.

  “I bashed my knee.” She struggled to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain.