Page 59 of Deadly Target
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Once again, Olivia found herself at the hospital with Victor. Tracee was in surgery, the shooter still on the lam. Various law enforcement agencies were claiming territory rights to the crime scene while Tracee fought for her life and Victor burned with guilt.
He paced the waiting room, speaking to different people on his phone. His boss in DC, members of the SCVC Taskforce, Roman, and agents who worked with him in the FBI. He’d already spoken to Tracee’s manager, agent, publicists, and a whole bunch of other people. Surely, he’d be hoarse soon.
They had all these pieces to the puzzle, but none connected the dots enough to get an arrest warrant for Alfie, who was in the wind anyway, it seemed. He’d not returned her call and it appeared no one was at his house. All they had was inconclusive evidence.
On top of that, she was harboring a fugitive and trying to deal with her feelings about her father who sat next to her in the waiting room reading a Popular Mechanics magazine as if this was a normal occurrence.
“Did you even stop and visit mom?” she murmured under her breath.
He cut his eyes to her for a second before going back to the magazine. “Don’t be a smartass. Of course, and she said you haven’t called in weeks. What’s up with that?”
“All she wants to talk about is my love life, or lack thereof. Can you blame me for not wanting to call her on a daily basis?”
“She’s your mother. She worries.”
Story of my life.“Why are you both so worried about me? I’m a trained federal agent who is quite capable of taking care of herself.”
He made that condescending noise in the back of his throat and turned the page. “You’re thirty years old and haven’t had a serious relationship since God knows when. You call that taking care of yourself?”
“I just turned twenty-nine!” She wanted to toss her hands in the air, but tamped down her emotions instead. “I don’t need a man to take care of me, and my age has nothing to do with it. And, by the way, the reason I haven’t had a serious relationship is because of you.”
“Sure, blame it on your old man.” He flipped another page. “Your dysfunctional relationships are not because of me, and you should stop blaming others and take responsibility like a true adult.”
What was this now? “Are you seriously playing psychiatrist with me?”
“Look, kid, I know your career putting us bad guys away has consumed your life. I get it. But maybe you need to knock that chip off your shoulder and find something—someone—that makes you happy.”
She was getting relationship advice from her father—the irony was almost too much. On the flip side, he and her mother were celebrating their thirty-fifth anniversary soon, and had obviously been through some pretty traumatic experiences together.
She looked at Victor, who now stood at the window, shoulders thrown back and feet planted, as though ready to take on the entire world.
Her dad followed her gaze. “You and the director, huh? He doesn’t care you’re a hitman’s daughter? Did you tell him?”
Oh, Lord. “Of course, I did. He doesn’t hold it against me.”
“His dad was one of those union guys back in the 80s, wasn’t he?”
She cut her gaze to him. “Wait. You knew him?”
Another page flip. “I had to come out and do some business back then for Ralphie. Set up a couple clubs for local contractors. If I remember right, Dupé was part manager of one of the big concrete companies. He and the owners resisted joining.”
Everything in Olivia went very still. The “clubs” her father was referring to extorted payoffs from the heads of companies. If the owners refused to pay, the mafia threatened them with physical harm or labor disruption.
If Victor’s father had been part of the resistance, then it may have been why he ended up dead. “Please tell me you did not…”
Victor appeared in front of them, sliding his phone into his pocket. His voice was low, controlled, almost automated. “Can I speak to you alone for a moment, Liv?”
She felt a sudden heat rush over her, an old but familiar guilt that her father might be responsible for yet another murder that had ruined someone’s life, a whole family’s life. She stood slowly, feeling slightly shaky as she did. “Of course.”
She followed him to the far corner. The normal light in his eyes was gone. He spiked a hand through his hair and she saw a muscle jumping in his tight jaw. “The judge is going to let me round up the courthouse shooters, but I’m guessing they’ve already gone to ground, especially if Alfie is behind all of this. Roman is meeting me at the address Barone gave you. It may be bogus, and could actually be a trap, but I wanted to ask if you want in on it.”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need. If you want to stay here until Tracee is out of surgery, I can help Roman.”
“I don’t think I can stand here and do nothing any longer. One of Roman’s people looked into Tracee’s recent communications and could find no link to Barone, but I’m guessing there’s a burner phone in her apartment. I want to go back there and search the place thoroughly.”
If Tracee was truly the woman Alfie had spoken to on the phone, then there had to be a burner.
