LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

Frank Gucci, and I recognized that it was a traditional Ponzi scam. We would approach people to invest and, as we got new investors, use their money to pay dividends to the first wave of investors, increasing credibility and thus gaining an even larger third wave of investors.”

      “You pay out dividends,” Jack filled in, “while pocketing the serious investments. Everyone thinks it’s legitimate because they are seeing some returns, while you get rich off the continual influx of money.”

      “Yes. Dad had played around with something like it before, but on a very small scale. Now he was talking of asking for investments in the tens of thousands of dollars. This guy Frank had dreamed it all up, setting up the shell as an investment fund in small-cap companies. It was a piece of cake. They just needed Dad as the front man, to actually approach potential investors. He was very charming and benign, not a sinister bone in his body. Women loved him.”

      She had to close her eyes. She loved her father dearly, but that didn’t mean she approved of him. And yet the memories hurt, because she saw his laugh and his smile and the times he’d sneaked her oatmeal cookies. Her happiest times had been on his knee, and then everything had blown apart.

      “To make a long story short, I told my mother what was going on. I was scared for him. The other stuff had been small and the risk small. This was the big league, with millions of dollars at stake, but also the potential to go to federal prison for wire and interstate mail fraud—”

      “Among other things,” Jack said dryly.

      “Exactly. So I told, and two days later when I returned home, I found my mother’s dead body at the foot of the stairs. Moments later, my father walked in. If…if you could’ve seen the look in his eyes, Jack. So much horror. So much pain. I’ll never forget that look.” Her voice grew soft. “I’ll never forget what I did to my parents.”

      Her gaze swung to him slowly. “They killed her, Jack. Frank and his friends were afraid she’d go to the police, and this wasn’t small-time stuff. They killed her because I told, and my father cradled her head on his lap and begged her to come back to life for him, not to leave him. He begged her to stay….”

      I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.

      She blinked back the tears. It didn’t help. “My…my, uh, father left. We both knew the police would arrest him. He had a rap sheet. He was always questioned for the local crimes, regardless of involvement or not. So he left and I sat there until the police arrived.”

      “But they caught him,” Jack filled in. “They arrested him, anyway.”

      “Eight months later,” she said. “He just walked into police headquarters and said, ‘I think you want me for murder.’ He didn’t look like Stan anymore. He was old and worn and so thin his clothes hung on him. They booked him for murdering my mother immediately and he didn’t fight it. When I was finally allowed to visit him in jail, he told me not to worry about anything. It was his fault my mother had died, his fault because he should’ve gone straight as he’d always promised her. He told me I’d be better off without him.

      “I begged him to fight the charges, of course. I told him we could live together, just him and me. We’d be all right. He just kept shaking his head. He went to prison. I was sent to live with the Brattles.

      “Six months later, I saw the news report on the discovery of a body. A man named Frank Gucci had been pulled out of a pond. He’d been shot to death. He had a reputation for money laundering and racketeering.”

      She looked at Jack squarely. “My father would never tell me, but I believe to this day that he shot Frank Gucci. He’d gotten justice his own way, but at a huge price. My father wasn’t meant to be a murderer, Jack. When my mother died, something inside him gave up. He’d done what he felt he’d had to do, but it hadn’t made anything right. He died shortly after in prison. He didn’t eat. He didn’t fight. He just withered away.

      “So yes, my parents loved each other. Yes, they died when I was twelve, because when my mother died, she took my father with her. Yes, it was accidental, because my father never would’ve done anything to intentionally harm my mother. And no, it has nothing to do with my job or respectability or character now. My father was a con man, Jack, but not me. My father shot a man. Not me. I grew up hard. I learned right from wrong by watching it play out in front of my eyes. I paid my way through college, I passed the CPA exam. And I moved to Grand Springs, where I have been one hell of a city treasurer, and Olivia Stuart became a second mother to me. I told her the truth about my past six months into this job, just in case she had doubts. She told me we all make mistakes, but we all learn and move on. She certainly didn’t feel it was an issue. She believed in me.”

      Her tone very clearly implied that this made Olivia Stuart superior to Jack Stryker. He was quiet for a moment. His expression was turbulent. Abruptly, he dragged his hand through his hair.

      “I don’t know,” he said curtly. “You do spin a good story.”

      “Oh, yes, that’s what I like to do, Stryker. Mess with your mind.”

      “Well, you’re doing one hell of a job at it.” He looked at her fiercely. “Dammit, Josie, I did enjoy last night. I did mean it when I said I wanted to see you again. I went to work this afternoon, and even Stone said he’d never seen me smile so much. Then suddenly he’s shoving this stack of papers under my nose, and I’m reading about how the woman I spent the night with had a con man for a father who murdered her mother. For God’s sake, Josie, I’d just heard you tell me how in love they were with each other. How do you think that made me feel?”

      “I don’t know,” she said tightly. “But maybe you could’ve asked me about it.”

      “I can’t just ask you about it. I’m a cop.”

      “Well, I didn’t kill Olivia Stuart, and I can’t believe you people are searching my house because of something my father did twenty years ago. How is that probable cause?”

      “There’s more to it than that.” He wouldn’t look at her again.

      “What do mean by that?” she demanded.

      “I’m not at liberty to discuss the investigation with you. But as a detective, I can recommend that you call a lawyer.”

      She stared at him a moment, then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Dammit, Jack, can’t you trust me at all?”

      “I…I don’t know.”

      “God, you spent the night with me. Do you really think I could kill someone?”

      He looked away. She could see that he was struggling as much as she was. “I want to believe in you, Josie,” he said at last. Her elation, however, was short-lived. His gaze returned to her steadily. “But I can’t.”

      “Jack—”

      Stone abruptly walked into the kitchen. He looked at Josie, and she saw hurt and condemnation in his eyes. She felt as if she were in a dream, sucked into the Twilight Zone, and roaring filled her ears. What now? What now?

      Stone held up a syringe and a vial. “We found the syringe in your bedroom, Josie. Along with the vial labeled Pure Potassium. Ms. Reynolds, you have the right to remain silent…”

      She began to sway. Her gaze went to Jack. His expression had gone cold. As she watched, he reached behind him and pulled out the handcuffs.

      “Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—”

      “This, this is ridiculous,” she whispered hoarsely. “Why would I do such a thing? Jack…”

      “We’ll have to audit Grand Springs’s books. Maybe they’ll reveal the truth.”

      She recoiled. And the pain was too much. She wanted her mother, she wanted her father, she wanted Olivia Stuart back. She was so lost and there was no one to save her. Once more, a Reynolds was being thrown into jail and there was nothing she could do.

Скачать книгу