Page 76 of Facing the Enemy
We took our usual places at the kitchen counter while he pulled up info on his phone. “What a relief.” He took my hand. “Two things here. One is Luke’s body has been found.”
“Where?” I whispered.
“In his car on a back road near Kingwood. My guess is it’s not a random location. The car’s being searched as we speak.”
I could only imagine the blood. Not going there. “That’s relief for his wife. I hate this for her. Every victim we’ve encountered has nightmares to live with, and I remember them all.”
“We both do. A bit of good news—we have a positive on John Smith.”
“Who is he?”
“Peter Florakis, last known address in New York City. Person of interest in a car bombing and murder. The victim worked for a crime syndicate. Florakis is wanted for questioning in two additional murders in that city. He’s an expert in avoiding arrest and disguise, but we can get a BOLO on him.”
“Details on the other crimes?”
“I’ll send you his file, and I need to call Ethan. Inform him of what we’ve learned.” He reached into his pocket for his burner phone and placed the call. Gage shared the update about Peter Florakis. “He’s a professional and knows that we’d ID him. Would you like to join your family?” Gage caught my attention. “You’ve made a dangerous decision. If you change your mind, give me a call.”
“Ethan is playing the hero?” I said.
“He believes Florakis will be calling him any day for client info. My concern is Ethan living through the repercussion when Florakis discovers the previous data is worthless. We have a team with eyes on the Mercury home, but Florakis is slippery, or he’d be cuffedby now.” Gage deposited his burner into his pocket and pulled out his work phone. “I’m texting the FIG to find us everything on Florakis.”
My need-to-be-in-control hero. I longed for a little osmosis to seep into my reasoning. My head whirled with how to find Florakis. “We need family info. Last known address. Files on past charges. Anyone we can interview. And what about a handwriting comparison?”
“No match to what we have.” Gage lifted his gaze from his phone’s screen. “Risa, even superheroes need to recharge.”
I tilted my head. “I’m not running or flying. But I want to put on my superhero cape and handle my job like a professional.”
“You will, Risa. I know you. Let me take care of you.”
I remembered what I was doing before ... finding Luke. I eased onto the sofa and lifted my laptop lid. “None of those in our database resemble Harvey Sinclair, the man who posed as a lawyer who handled private adoptions.” I studied the screen. Nothing had surfaced.
Gage eased beside me. “Try the artist’s sketch of Sinclair with Norman Peilman and Peter Florakis.”
I pointed. “Florakis’s brown eyes, square jaw, and bald head by no means resemble Peilman or Sinclair. Their body builds are different too. Have the Wades seen Peilman’s and Florakis’s pics?”
“Good one.” Gage sent Alex and Nanette Wade in Des Moines the pics.
Within minutes the couple responded. Both recognized Peilman as the man who’d impersonated a police officer.
After the FBI and police left the scene with what remained of a friend, I took a deep breath and stared down the hall.
“Don’t go back there,” Gage said. “There’s no reason.”
“Darlene repacked my overnight bag from the weekend, but I need clothes to wear to work tomorrow.”
“Okay, I agree going to the office will keep your mind off gruesome reminders.”
I raised a brow. “You’re now my keeper?”
“I wear that label every day. I’m trying to help. Honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea to visit that area, not with the blood in thebathroom. Besides they said they might return tomorrow. Tell me what to pull from the closet and bathroom, and I’ll get it.”
He sounded like Darlene, and I understood his protectiveness. His personality pushed him to fix me. Honestly, I’d do the same for him. The nausea had passed, yet my skin felt clammy, and I was drained mentally and physically. Dizziness had replaced my inner sickness. I recognized definite symptoms of shock, and I’d monitor it.
“Thanks. I’d argue with you but not today. In my closet on the right-hand side is a black jacket and pants. On the opposite side are four or five long-sleeved white blouses. Just pick one. My black pumps are on the floor.” I shook my head. “I need underthings too, and they’re in the two upper drawers of my dresser.”
“Okay. If I run into problems, I’ll holler.” He started toward my bedroom and turned. “Shouldn’t you have more than one outfit?”
“I suppose so. Beside the black jacket is a navy-blue one, and beside the black pants are navy pants. Oh, navy pumps. Add an extra blouse and underthings. I already have pajamas and jeans packed.”
