“Mild? Lady, you got no idea.”
“What’s that mean?”
“One Saturday night, Paige was here with me. We woke up next morning, Bert was standing over us with a gun at my head.”
“Jesus, Cruz! What did you do?”
“Laid there like a turkey. What could I do? Lucky for Paige and me, he turned around and walked out. He wanted to feel like a big man, scaring us that way.”
“And Paige still let him work here?”
“I wanted her to get rid of him, get a restraining order. But she wouldn’t do it; she felt bad about dumping him after he helped her out.”
“Did you tell the cops about that after she was killed?”
“Of course. But the only other witness couldn’t speak for herself. It sounded like I was trying to cover my ass. That morning when he had the gun—I didn’t think had the balls to do it. But I guess he musta grown the balls, ’cause now Paige is—”
His voice had grown thick, and Claudia looked away, embarrassed for him. She began to talk about what had transpired in Las Vegas. He listened in silence until she reached Annabelle’s description of Paige’s murder.
A sound like a wounded animal escaped his throat. Cruz dragged himself out of the chair and stumbled to the bathroom. The sound of his dry heaving and sobbing squeezed Claudia’s heart. She had been an insensitive jerk, blurting out the story so baldly. It was obvious that he had cared deeply for Paige—the second woman in his life to face a violent death.
“I fucked up big-time,” Cruz said when he returned. “I get this job so I can watch out for Annabelle, and Paige ends up getting murdered and my daughter kidnapped by a jealous psycho. Now she’s back under Giordano’s dirty thumb.”
“How about DNA? If you can prove paternity, you could sue for custody.”
“How the hell am I gonna get her DNA? Giordano hates me for making a chump of him with his wife.”
Claudia grinned at him, feeling the first glimmer of optimism since she had walked through the door. “I gotcha DNA right heah,” she said, handing him an envelope that she took from her purse. “Annabelle used my comb last night. Hair follicles are a good source of DNA. I checked the Internet before I came over. You can send this to a private lab and get paternity results overnight.”
Despite his swollen lips, Cruz cracked a pained smile. “Claudia, if my face didn’t hurt so freakin’ much, I’d kiss you.”
Chapter 37
Jovanic turned the Jaguar onto the private road that led to the Giordano estate. It was four days after Annabelle’s return home, and the media had decamped once again.
“Did you bring the lab results?” Jovanic asked.
Claudia patted her purse. “Of course. And the letter from Cruz. It’s too bad he’s not in good enough shape to be here himself.”
“Are you really sure about this? It’s not like you’ve heard from the kid since she came home.”
“Not hearing from her is why we’re here. Something’s wrong. I can
feel
it. I know she would have contacted me if she could.”
Jovanic’s lips gave a wry twist. “Maybe she’s changed her mind about wanting to be friends with you.”
“Hey, remember what you told her that night in Nevada?” Claudia gave him a smug look and reached over to pat his knee. “I’m a better judge of character than you—that’s what you said; so trust me, okay?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have said that. Are you going to tell her that Cruz is her real father?”
“No, that’s Cruz’ privilege,” Claudia said. “I think, somehow, she won’t be all that surprised. Everyone thought she had a romantic crush on him because that’s what we expected, but I really think it’s hero-worship—a natural bond, maybe.
“Dominic doesn’t want her. She’s a constant reminder that he couldn’t control his wife. If he can get past the power thing, he’ll probably be glad to give up custody.”
“You think Montenegro can take better care of her?”
Claudia gave him a look that said,
Are you nuts?
“Maybe he doesn’t have money like Dominic, but at least he cares about her.”
They rounded the last turn and saw the Sunmark Humvee squatting in the driveway next to a copper-colored Mercedes that Claudia recognized from her last visit. Jovanic pulled in and parked to the right of the Humvee, whose large body hid the Jaguar.
“Looks like he’s got company,” Claudia said. “Maybe he won’t make a scene in front of someone else.”
Jovanic looked dubious. “From what you’ve told me about this guy, I doubt he’d care. How about I go in with you?”
“I want to see what his attitude is first. Just wait here for me, okay? If I’m gone more than ten minutes, come looking.” She leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss, parting her lips with a promise. “I’ll be back, hopefully with Annabelle, to collect some more of those.”
The front door stood open, the house silent. Claudia knocked, but there was no response. With a shrug at Jovanic, who was eyeing the expensive vehicles parked in the open garage, she went inside the house, calling out. There was no sign of the maid or Juan.
Across the living room, she could see him through the glass patio doors, seated in his chair at the table. Two black-suited men stood on either side of him. One of them was holding a gun at his side.
One thought entered her mind:
Annabelle.
The house was the size of a small hotel. Claudia tried to remember the way Giordano had taken her to Annabelle’s bedroom. On the second floor, an open balcony wound around the perimeter of the living room, with rooms coming off it.
She took the stairs two at a time, speculating on the significance of the scene on the patio. Whatever it was about, it had looked deadly seriously.
Anxiety pressed in on her as she reached the landing. The muffled
thump-thump
of a bass beat warred with an electric guitar and reverberated through the floor. Claudia followed the sounds to the end of the corridor.
“Annabelle!” Claudia knocked on the closed door. “Annabelle!” She rattled the handle, but the door was locked.
The music went silent and a second later she heard Annabelle’s muffled voice.
“Claudia?”
“Yes, it’s me. Can I come in?”
“I’m locked in. He won’t let me out.”
“Do you know where the key is?”
“Kitchen. It should be on the key rack near the fridge.”
“Hang tight, kiddo. I’ll be right back.” Claudia hurried downstairs and into the kitchen. The view from this angle allowed her to see Giordano’s tense face, the blood trickling from his hairline and down his tanned skin, staining his white golf shirt.
One of the men was speaking angrily, gesticulating with the gun. Claudia did not have to hear the words to understand that Giordano was being threatened with worse than he had already suffered.
She had come to the house with the intention of having a reasonable discussion with him. The presence of his two visitors had changed the situation in a big way. Now all she wanted was get to Annabelle out of the house.
The rack of keys was mounted on the wall where Annabelle had told her. Each hook was marked, but the one key she needed was missing. She had so completely expected it to be there that it took her a moment to reconcile the fact that it was not.
“Claudia?” She swung around and there was Jovanic, the answer to an unspoken prayer.
“Annabelle’s locked in her room and there’s no key.” She pointed out the window. “Dominic’s in deep shit. What do we do?”
Jovanic took in the scene outside. “We get her out of here,” he said, grim-faced. “Then we call the local cops.”
Steering clear of the windows, they hurried upstairs. Jovanic took a small case from his pocket and went to work on the lock with a set of burglar’s picks. They were inside in less than a minute.
Annabelle threw herself into Claudia’s arms. “I thought you forgot me!”
Claudia hugged her back. “I’ve been calling every day, but your . . . Dominic wouldn’t let me speak to you. Why are you locked in?”
“I said I was gonna tell the cops that he killed my mother. He started hitting me, and said I had to stay in here till I made some sense. He took my phone.”
Now that Claudia stepped away from her she could see a bruise on Annabelle’s cheek. For one crazy moment she was so furious, she wanted the man downstairs to use his gun on Giordano.
“Annabelle,” Jovanic said. “Just so we’re not accused of kidnapping, I have to ask you—do you want to come with us?”
“Oh hell, yeah!”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Wait!” Annabelle ran to the closet and grabbed a bulging backpack. “I was gonna climb out the window tonight.”
Talk about timing,
Claudia thought.
Jovanic turned south onto Pacific Coast Highway. Checking the rearview mirror, he said, “That brown Mercedes is behind us.”
Claudia twisted in her seat. “Can you see how many people are in it?”
“Only the driver in front. I can’t see the back. They turned north.”
That could mean Dominic Giordano was in the backseat with the other man. As much as she disliked the guy, Claudia felt sickened at the prospect of what might happen to him. “What should we do?”
“My first obligation is to get you and Annabelle away from the scene. I got the license plate; we know the direction they took. With Giordano’s name, the local sheriff will get here fast.”
Jovanic pressed buttons on his cellular. Two minutes later, an L.A. sheriff’s car passed them heading north with lights and sirens.
“Am I going to live with you?” Annabelle piped in from the backseat, oblivious to what was happening to the man who had claimed her as his daughter.
This was something they had already discussed at length the night before. Jovanic seemed to have resigned himself that Claudia would do whatever was in her power to help the girl. He had held her close and confessed that the things that aggravated him most about her were the same things that endeared her to him—a prime example, her stubborn need to protect Annabelle even when the girl’s behavior might not always merit that kind of devotion.
Claudia turned to look at her in the backseat. She still looked like a waif in her black T-shirt and black jeans, like she needed a few good meals. “You might be able to stay for a while, but you’d have to agree to some ground rules.”
“Like what, I have to go to school?”
“Exactly. You’d have to go to school every day, do your homework, promise not to run away if you don’t like something. And no smoking!”
Annabelle seemed to consider this for a long moment. “Do I have to go back to Sorensen Academy?”
“Would you like to?”
She shook her head. “Nobody wants me there, except maybe Cruz. The girls all hate me. I hate them, too.
And
those creepy Sorensen twins.”
“There probably won’t be a school for long, now that the twins have taken over,” Claudia said. “If Dane Sorensen gets his way, they’ll be bulldozing it and putting up condos.”
“So they got what they wanted,” Jovanic said.
“And I got what I wanted.” Claudia turned and flashed a smile at Annabelle. “Monica goes to a middle school near me. Maybe you could go there for a while, at least.”
“Yeah . . . maybe.”
Her tone was deliberately casual, but Claudia could sense her heightened interest. Claudia glanced over at Jovanic, sending him a look of gratitude for his support in her offer of a home, at least a temporary one, to Annabelle. One thing they both agreed on—for someone so young and so small, the girl wielded a lot of power.
Some couples would be driven apart by her need to nurture this child. She had been the source of so much emotional turmoil. But Claudia had a feeling that now that Annabelle had won Jovanic over, she would bring them even closer together.
She reached out her hand to Jovanic. He grabbed it and didn’t let go. A warm glow of happiness spread over Claudia. Taking on the responsibility of a young teen— especially
this
teen, was sure to bring plenty of challenges, maybe more than she had bargained for. But with Jovanic beside her, she was ready for anything.