Ian chuckled to himself. She was fun to work with, though he suspected this was a nervous laugh, and yet she was also committed and dedicated. He had to wonder why she was still single. She was a beautiful woman, confident, and had a pleasing personality. Maybe she was too confident. Lots of men had a problem with that. Maybe this last guy was like that.

  Ian joined her at the door.

  “Ready?” she asked, her hand already raised to knock.

  He nodded.

  “Let’s give him a chance to answer before I get annoying.” She grinned and knocked.

  Turned out he was spared of hearing her annoying voice, as Olivo came to the door right away.

  They displayed their IDs.

  “Detectives Steele and Blair,” Londyn said as they’d agreed she would lead the questions. Men like Olivo were often macho and condescending to women, underestimating their abilities, which might allow Londyn to ask questions Ian could never ask.

  “Your son, Carlo, has come up in an investigation,” she said. “We’d like to have a word with him.”

  “What’s he supposedly done?” Olivo asked.

  “He’s eighteen, so we’ll need to talk to him about that.” Londyn smiled, but there was an edge of steel in her voice that said it wasn’t optional.

  He stood back. “Come in, and I’ll get him. He’s in his room.”

  Surprise. The boy had not been kidnapped.

  They entered the house, which had Roman columns in the entryway with a wide hallway leading into a sunken family room with a two-story fireplace. But Olivo led them to a formal living room, where the furniture was traditional with fancy carvings and the lampshades were finished with fringe on the bottoms.

  He gestured at the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Thank you, but no.” Londyn gave him another smile.

  “Nothing for me,” Ian said, trying not to sound too gruff and disapproving.

  “I’ll be right back with Carlo.” He spun and strode out of the room.

  Ian watched him until he turned into a doorway. Ian faced Londyn. “I don’t know how you can smile at him like that.”

  “Took lots and lots of practice in front of a mirror.” She shook her head. “I started out trying to be a tough guy, hoping men would take me seriously, but half the time they didn’t. One day I figured out I could get more with a smile. Not all the time. I have to judge the guy first, but the first time it worked was the day I started practicing.”

  “Whatever works for you,” he said. “You think he’s really going to produce the boy?”

  She shrugged. “Not sure how he can get out of it, but he’s a slimeball, so I figure he’ll try something if his son isn’t here.”

  Ian heard footsteps heading their way on the Italian marble floors and bit back his comment.

  Olivo entered first, a nervous teen behind him. The boy wore faded jeans with ripped knees, a black-and-white striped button-down shirt, and black-and-white sneakers. He had his right hand in his pocket when he strode into the room.

  Ian needed to get a look at that hand. He stood and held his out to shake. The kid looked back at his dad, who took Carlo by the shoulders and directed him away from Ian and into a chair. The boy sat and kept his hand in his pocket. But then he picked up a pillow with his left hand, and shielding his right hand, he slipped his hand free of the pocket.

  Not exactly subtle.

  Olivo was frowning at him. Ian glanced at Londyn, who hadn’t missed anything. Ian nodded at her to begin.

  “Carlo, I’m Detective Steele, but you can call me Londyn.” She gave him a more sincere smile than Olivo had earned.

  Carlo nodded but didn’t speak.

  “I have to first ask if you want your father present while we talk to you.”

  Carlo glanced at his dad, who was sitting rigidly in a chair across from Londyn.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want him here,” she said softly. “But I wanted to ask because, in my experience, most eighteen-year-old men like you prefer to stand on their own and not hide behind their daddies.”

  Ian wanted to high-five Londyn. She’d just made it hard for Carlo to say he wanted his daddy there.

  “Of course you want me here, son,” Olivo said, his tone hard as steel. “We don’t have anything to hide from each other, right?”

  “Right,” Carlo said, but he didn’t sound all that convincing. “It would be good if he stayed.”

  The kid was either smart enough to recognize that his dad would help him through the interview or too afraid of his dad to send him away.

  “Okay, then let’s get started.” Londyn sat back, crossed her legs, and smiled at Carlo again, coming across like she was there for a family visit. “Perhaps you can tell me where you’ve been the last four days.”

  He shot a look at his dad, sheer terror in his eyes.

  “The family has had kind of a lock-in the past few days,” Olivo answered. “I even took time off of work. Sort of a time to unplug and get to know each other better.”

  “Sounds nice,” Londyn said, her focus still on Carlo. “What kinds of things did you do?”

  “Um, played video games?” It was said like more of a question than a statement.

  “I did give him and his sister some gaming time.” Olivo gave his son a patronizing look. “But we also played cards and board games. Did puzzles.”

  “You like all those games, Carlo?” Londyn asked.

  He shrugged.

  “I’m more into sports than sitting around,” Londyn said.

  Like Ian, she’d read the report Nick quickly put together on Carlo, which said the boy was an athlete. “You like sports?”

  He nodded, and his eyes lit up. “Baseball.”

  “Any good at it?”

  “All star,” Carlo answered, and he and his dad both straightened their shoulders.

  Londyn reached out to the table, grabbed a decorative ball from a metal bowl, and tossed it to him. The boy knocked the pillow down and caught the ball with a bandaged hand. He winced when contact was made, though from pain or fear, Ian couldn’t tell. The bandage covered the spot where the end of his index finger had been.

  “What happened to your finger Carlo?” she asked.

  The kid looked panicked and glanced at his dad. “I can’t do it. Not after what I’ve been through.”

  He jumped to his feet and fled from the room.

  Olivo got up and stepped into the hallway. “Carlo, come back here.”

  Ian’s phone chimed, and he looked at the text from the ME. Fingerprint for the finger matched a juvie record for Carlo Olivo.

  He held the screen out to Londyn.

  She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “We press the son if he comes back. If not, we lean on Olivo.”

  Ian nodded. “You keep taking lead.”

  Olivo returned and directed his focus on Ian. “I’m sorry my son was rude. He’s had a rough time.”

  “I would imagine so,” Londyn said. “Since someone cut off his finger and sent it to you as proof that he’d been kidnapped.”

  Olivo whipped his gaze to Londyn. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she said. “We intercepted the package containing his severed finger.”

  “When? Where?”

  “It was delivered by drone but wound up at the wrong address,” she said. True, though perhaps not the full truth.

  “You have it? You have his finger? You must give it to me so we can see if it can be reattached.”

  That would never work, but now that they’d confirmed the finger belonged to Carlo, they would return it to the family. “We’ll be glad to arrange for you to pick it up at the medical examiner’s office.”

  Olivo gave a quick nod, his lips pressed so tightly they were white.

  “Must make you mad to see the way your son was tortured,” Ian said.

  Olivo curled his fingers but didn’t speak.

  “And you would want to get back at the person who took him,” Londyn added. “I know I would.”

  “That would be human nature.” Olivo stared at her, his gaze hooded.

  “And if you knew who cut off his finger, perhaps you even ordered a hit on that man’s life.”

  Olivo scoffed. “You must be nuts if you think I have those kinds of connections.”

  “Not nuts,” Londyn said quietly, making the man lean forward to hear her. “But we do know you run the biggest drug operation in the area and have for years. That kind of position gives you all sorts of resources to take out the person who harmed your son.”

  “Even if what you’re saying is true, which it is not, you’re assuming I know who kidnapped him.”

  “Of course you do,” Ian said. “It was one of your lieutenants. Gilbert Flagg Jr. Known to all as Junior. The man you had killed four days ago.”

  16

  Ian didn’t like having to grill the kid after what he’d gone through, but after peppering Olivo with a string of questions, the father didn’t confess to killing Junior. That would’ve been too easy. So, Ian was going to take the kid down to the precinct and separate him from his dad to see what they could learn. Ian would then interview Olivo. Except Olivo called his attorney as they stepped out the door. Ian figured the lawyer would tell them both to clam up. Didn’t matter. Ian would still try.

  He gritted his teeth and escorted the pair down the sidewalk. Nearing Ian’s car, a woman popped up from behind the bushes that lined the far side of the driveway.

  She raised a gun and fired.

  Olivo dropped to the concrete.

  Ian grabbed the kid and tugged him to the ground behind the car. Londyn dove in after them and quickly called for backup.

  “My dad.” Carlo struggled to get up.

  “Too dangerous.” Ian held him down. “If you promise me you’ll stay here, I’ll go after him.”

  “I promise,” he cried out. “Go! Go!”

  “No additional gunshots.” Ian looked at Londyn. “Ready to move?”

  She nodded.

  They popped up above the hood. The woman, who Ian could now identity as Karen Flagg, stood over Olivo. He lay on his back, his eyes open. Blood gushed from three chest wounds. Looked like there was nothing they could do for Olivo.

  But they did need to take Karen into custody without anyone else getting hurt. The gun dangled from her hand, and her focus was on Olivo.

  Ian raised his gun. “Put the gun down, Karen.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with pain.

  “Put it down slowly,” Ian directed when she didn’t move. “On the ground right beside you.”

  Her gaze fixed on Olivo again, she set the weapon on the concrete. She never took her gaze off Olivo when she stood back up, her eyes almost as fixed and lifeless as Olivo’s.

  Ian and Londyn made their way around the car slowly, carefully. Ian reached Karen first, and he kicked the gun out of the way. “On your knees, Karen.”

  She dropped down silently, continuing to stare at Olivo.

  “Now on your face, hands behind your back,” Ian said, following protocol, though he likely didn’t need to be so cautious with her. She’d done what she wanted to do and was more than finished emotionally.

  She complied, lowering her body and bringing her face-to-face with Olivo. “You deserved it. You killed my son.”

  She started weeping, and her pain saturated the air. Ian felt bad having to cuff her, but murder was murder, no matter a person’s motive.

  He secured cuffs on her wrists with a quick snap and signaled for Londyn to search the woman. Londyn took control of Karen, and Ian felt for a pulse on Olivo. Nothing. No surprise.

  The door to the house opened, and a woman Ian assumed was Olivo’s wife came out. She took one look at Olivo and screamed.

  “Tirone!” she called out. “No. No.”

  Carlo ran to her, and she swept him into her arms, covering his eyes to keep him from looking at his father.

  Despite Olivo’s criminal behavior, Ian’s heart broke for his family. He had no idea if they knew about his criminal ways, but regardless, they were grieving.

  Ian stepped up to them. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s gone.”

  She screamed again, the anguish piercing Ian’s heart and bringing the teenage daughter outside too. She looked at her dad.

  “No!” she cried. “No.” She turned to her mother. “First Carlo’s finger, now this. What’s happening?”

  Was it really possible that these people didn’t know who Olivo really was? What he did? Maybe the kids had been protected, but Ian figured after all these years that the wife knew or, at least, suspected Olivo was a drug kingpin. If she did, it didn’t lessen her grief.

  A patrol car siren broke the quiet, and the vehicle soon screamed down the street. When the officer bolted toward the driveway, Londyn got Karen to her feet and turned her over to the officer to secure in his car.

  “Who is she?” Carlo drew away from his mother to watch Karen being loaded in the cruiser.

  “Let’s not talk about that now,” Ian said as more sirens blared on arriving vehicles. “It’s going to get a little crazy out here. Let’s go inside.”

  He signaled for Londyn to take charge of the scene and escorted the distraught family inside and closed the door. They went into the formal living room. The mother and daughter huddled together on the couch. Carlo sat in the same chair as before, and Ian took the chair where Olivo had stonewalled them in the interview.

  “I’m Detective Ian Blair with the Portland Police Bureau.”

  The older woman looked at Ian, but her gaze was unfocused. Grief stricken. “Vittorio. Tirone’s wife.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Why?” She eyed him. “You brought this to our house.”

  “I didn’t. Your husband and his business dealings brought this on you.”

  She clamped her mouth closed and lifted her chin, but it trembled as did her hands.

  Ian wasn’t going to get anything from her. He looked at Carlo. “You knew your kidnapper, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Junior. He came to parties at our house. He was a lot of fun, before. I think he might’ve worked for my dad.”

  “Gilbert Flagg Jr.,” Vittoria clarified.

  “How did your dad free you?” Ian asked, ignoring the mother for now. “Did he pay a ransom?”

  Carlo shrugged. “He just appeared one day when Junior was gone.” He held up his injured finger, his face anguished. “After Junior did this. How could he do that to me? We were friends.”

  Ian wanted to tell the boy that friends didn’t exist in the drug world, but that wouldn’t help him.

  His mother tightened her grip on the daughter’s hand. “Tirone figured out where Junior would take Carlo—a cabin where he’d gone hunting last year with Tirone. When Junior left Carlo alone, Tirone moved in and brought our boy home.”

  She sounded so proud of her husband, and Ian had to wonder again what she knew about where their money really came from.

  “What did you know about Junior?” he asked instead.

  “He was an associate and wanted to move up in Tirone’s company,” she said. “But Tirone didn’t think Junior was ready, and he told him no. That was when Junior took Carlo out for a drive and never brought him back. He demanded ten million dollars. Tirone wouldn’t pay it unless he had proof that Junior had Carlo. We never got it but it didn’t matter. Tirone had located our son.”

  “Do you know Mickey Snipes?” Ian asked.

  She nodded, looking more wary than when he’d mentioned Junior.

  “He’s been charged with Junior’s murder, but we believe Tirone ordered Snipes to take Junior out.”

  “No,” the daughter said, a defiant look in her eyes so reminiscent of her father. “Daddy wouldn’t do that.”

  Ian knew better, but he wouldn’t share details. He would wait until they were over their immediate shock and question them individually. Who knows, each of them could have information about their father’s illegal activities.

  Malone sat on Reed’s sofa next to Ian. She couldn’t quit shaking her head. She couldn’t grasp that Karen Flagg had shown up at Olivo’s house with a gun and killed him. But a mother’s wrath was something to behold. Malone had seen the fierce protectiveness and need for vindication in her work with battered women. She just never experienced it going to this length.

  “Did you interview Karen?” Malone asked.

  Ian nodded. “She said she left home on a whim and built up her courage on the way.”

  “But she couldn’t know that Olivo ordered the hit on Junior, right?”

  “She said he’d sucked her son into his drug organization, and that was enough for her.”

  Malone thought about what it meant to have Snipes behind bars and Olivo dead. “So, will you wrap up Junior’s investigation now?”

  “Pretty much. Londyn is at the cabin where Carlo had been held in case there’s any evidence that could help us prosecute Snipes, but I would assume Olivo had the place cleaned of anything incriminating.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Now that Olivo is dead, we’ll lean on Snipes to see if he admits Olivo’s involvement for the record. We’re still searching his computer, so that might tell us more about his organization. We came up empty on searching Olivo’s house and business both. Forensics is still looking at his home and work computer, too, but he had to be hiding things elsewhere. Maybe a central storage area that they all used. We might never find the location.”

  “But if Snipes talks,” Malone said, “it might help to further dismantle Olivo’s organization.”

  “One thing is for sure.” Ian locked gazes. “If Olivo sent the photo to your house, you and your family should be safe now.”

  “Right. I didn’t think of that.” She mulled it over in her brain. “I wonder if it’ll be enough for Reed to let me go home alone.”

  “It’s not enough for me. Not yet.” He took her hand and held it tightly. “We should give it some time to see if you receive another threat. I don’t think you need an entire Nighthawk team detail, but someone should be with you at all times.”