Say Goodbye Read online

  “I will.” His burner chimed and Tom immediately opened the text from Rafe. “You have a burner, too, I see. This isn’t your normal number.”

  “We see, we learn,” Rafe said lightly. “I always carried one when I was undercover, but I’m finding it has its uses even now.”

  Tom looked at the photo of Kowalski. “He looks ordinary.”

  “Best way to blend,” Rafe said.

  Tom glanced at the signed basketball on the edge of his desk—the child’s birthday gift he’d promised the officer in Yuba City—with a sigh. He might always be recognized. He’d likely never be able to blend. “True enough. What do you remember about him?”

  “He seemed educated and too polite. The kind of polite that makes you check for your wallet and to be sure there’s no knife in your back. He once took a personal call when we were doing a deal. Left in a flash. His partner said his wife had just gone into labor. That was six years ago.”

  “So we’re looking for a family man with a six-year-old kid.”

  “Six-year-old boy. His partner yelled after him to remember that he’d promised to name the baby after him. So maybe they were brothers.”

  “What was the partner’s name?”

  “Jed, but none of them used their real names. I got something else that will help.”

  “What is it?”

  “Kowalski always dressed very well. His shirts were always starched and pressed. Even his jeans were pressed. Hell, he even wore Gucci loafers once. He was a show-off.”

  Tom winced, because he had a pair of Gucci loafers, too. “So he liked to look good?”

  “No, he liked to look good, and he carried a hankie in his pocket. Pulled it out once to wipe the sweat from his forehead on a hundred-and-six-degree day. The hankie was monogrammed. ‘A.W.’ ”

  “A.W.,” Tom repeated, his pulse starting to thrum. “Initials and facial recognition software might be enough to find this guy. Did SacPD try to find him?”

  “If they did, they didn’t try very hard, because they never managed a true ID. But Kowalski was a minor player at the time. Definitely still clawing his way up the ladder. The brass had arrested all the top guys in the organized crime syndicate. After that, the momentum fizzled.”

  “And you never tried?”

  “No,” Rafe said. “After I closed that case, I took some time off to grieve Bella.”

  The woman he’d lost at the crime boss’s hands. “Got it.”

  “Did you grieve your Tory, Tom?” Rafe asked gently.

  “I saw her murderer get justice,” Tom said grimly.

  “Not the same. Not even close. If you haven’t grieved, you can’t move on.”

  Tom closed his eyes, not wanting to have this conversation. “I grieved, okay?” he snapped, mostly to make Rafe shut up. Then realized that he really had grieved. “Liza let me talk about her,” he added quietly.

  “Oh,” Rafe breathed.

  Tom cleared his throat, remembering the gentle but pained expression on Liza’s face as he’d talked about Tory for hours as they’d made the drive from Chicago to Sacramento after the holidays. “Yeah. I thought she was grieving with me.”

  “Maybe she was, and maybe she was grieving more than Tory. She, um, well, Gideon said that she talked about Fritz when they were helping her move in. Said you know about him.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “She said it was easier to tell us because she’d already told you and—” Rafe cut himself off. “Others,” he finished lamely.

  “ ‘Others.’ Like Daisy and whoever else she went with this afternoon.”

  “Gotta go, Hunter. Call if you need anything else on Kowalski. I’ll do a lineup if you need me to. Night.” The line went dead.

  Tom barked out a frustrated laugh. At least Liza had people who cared about her. Rafe wasn’t going to betray her confidence any more than Irina had.

  He stared at his phone again, seeing the day’s ignored calls to Liza in his call log. She’d avoided him all day long. Get used to it. Because he didn’t think she was coming back.

  I need more than that, she’d said, her voice breaking.

  Absently, Tom pressed the heel of his hand to his heart. Did he need more?

  He had no fucking idea. He only knew that he couldn’t let her go.

  He picked up the phone and started a text to her. But what to say? He’d already said he was sorry. He’d told her that he wasn’t okay.

  If he were a better man, he’d say goodbye. He’d let her go.

  He needed to end this. He needed to let her go before he hurt her any more. He started to type. Good—

  He couldn’t do it. He could not force himself to type “goodbye.” “I guess I’m not a very good man,” he whispered, his feelings too raw and torn to analyze.

  His finger pecked out the rest of the phrase. —night.

  Saying good night was the best he could do. He hit send, set that phone aside, then picked up his work phone and dialed Raeburn. It rang so many times that Tom didn’t think his boss would answer, but then he did.

  “What have you found?” Raeburn demanded, abandoning any pretense of politeness.

  “I’ve got a photo of Kowalski. I’m sending it to you right now.” He transferred the photo from his burner to his work phone and forwarded it to Raeburn. “His initials are A.W. and he has a six-year-old son.”

  Raeburn whistled. “Where did you get this?”

  “From one of my sources. You want me to start running facial recognition?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Raeburn sounded exhausted. “This is the best news I’ve had all day. I’d just sent Croft home when Molina called about Miss Barkley. Croft was unable to get anything out of Dixie Serratt. Finally I had SacPD take her to booking for parole violation.”

  Tom hadn’t thought the woman would talk. “Hopefully finding Kowalski will lead us to Belmont.” And Eden.

  “Get on it. Call me with updates. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “I will, sir.” The call ended and Tom got to work loading his facial recognition software. It was going to be a long night.

  EIGHTEEN

  GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

  FRIDAY, MAY 26, 8:00 A.M.

  He did a good job,” Irina said as she applied moisturizer to the tattoo nestled between Liza’s shoulder blades, exposed by the tank top that dipped just enough in the back. “The artist in Monterey.”

  “He really did. Thank you for doing this for me. I couldn’t reach it myself.”

  A month ago, she would have asked Tom to help her. Except she knew that she wouldn’t have a month ago, because she hadn’t been ready for this tattoo then.

  “I like it,” Karl said, glancing at her back as he walked to the coffeepot.

  “Ooh,” Zoya said, coming over to stare. “Me too. Can I have one, Mom?”

  “When you’re eighteen. Then I cannot stop you.”

  “What’ll you get?” Karl asked, tugging on Zoya’s ponytail.

  “I’ll think about it,” the teenager replied. “I’m not getting a tramp stamp for the hell of it.”

  “Language,” Irina scolded.

  “Bullshit,” Zoya coughed.

  “Zoya, do not sass your mother,” Karl snapped.

  Liza fought a smile. “My mom would have gotten out a sewing needle and offered to do the tattoo for me. Just like she did when I wanted to have my lip pierced.”

  “But your lip isn’t pierced,” Zoya said.

  “Exactly,” Liza said, and Irina chuckled.

  “Your mother and I would have had a lot of long talks,” Irina said fondly.

  “She would have loved you. You have so much in common, but mostly because you’ve been so good to me.”

  “You are deserving of people being good to you.” Irina hesitated. “Tom’s called me a few times an
d I’m not sure what to say to him. Did you tell him that you were moving out?”

  Liza sighed. “Yes. I told him I’d keep paying rent when he hinted that he wouldn’t approve whoever I got to sublet my side of the duplex.”

  Irina went to the sink to wash her hands, her face set in a scowl. “He threatened you?”

  “What a dick!” Zoya said.

  “Language,” Irina scolded.

  “But Zoya’s not wrong,” Karl said, frowning.

  “Yes, she is.” Liza couldn’t let them believe that about Tom. “He was hurt that I was moving. And it is in our contract. He didn’t want just anyone renting from him, because sports fans can be intense. Everything he owns is bought in the name of a corporation so that people can’t stalk him. And that was before he joined the FBI and made criminals hate him.”

  “I can understand that,” Irina allowed, pouring from the ever-present teapot.

  “So no calling him a dick, Zoya,” Liza said. “He even registered my car under his corporation, so that anyone looking for him wouldn’t come at me.” She was going to have to register it in her own name when it expired. But that wouldn’t be until mid-January of the following year, so she had time to figure it out.

  “Oh, all right,” Zoya muttered. “I just don’t like people hurting you.”

  Liza smiled at the teenager. “And I appreciate that. Thank you,” she added when Irina filled her cup. She’d taken her first sip of the tea—not “special tea,” Irina assured her—when her cell phone began to ring. On the off chance that it wasn’t Tom, she checked the caller ID.

  It was a number she didn’t recognize. I swear to God, Tom, if this is one of your burners . . . She hit accept and went nearly limp with relief when a woman asked to speak to Miss Barkley. God. I don’t even care if she’s a telemarketer. “This is she.”

  “Hello. My name is Portia Sinclair. I’m the head of HR at Sunnyside Oaks Convalescence and Rehabilitation Center.”

  “Oh.” Liza blinked. “That was fast. I just sent in my application last night.”

  “Well, your résumé is very impressive, Miss Barkley. Would you be available to come in for an interview today? Say, noon? We have a pressing need to fill this position.”

  Liza’s heart was racing. Yes. This was what she was meant to do, how she was meant to protect this family who’d taken her in. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

  “Then I’ll text you the address. When you arrive, have the front desk call me.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Liza ended the call and met three curious gazes. “Job interview.”

  “We figured that out,” Irina said with a smile. “What facility?”

  “It’s a convalescence and rehabilitation center,” Liza said, hedging on the name.

  “Which one?” Karl asked, buttering his toast.

  To hedge further would be more suspicious at this point. “Sunnyside Oaks.”

  Irina frowned. So did Karl. “I . . . have heard of this place,” Irina said slowly.

  “So have I,” Karl said, “but I can’t remember where.”

  “Me too.” Zoya was busily typing into her phone. She grimaced. “One of their nurses was murdered last night. Penny Gaynor.”

  Karl snapped his fingers. “That’s where I heard it, too. It sounds dangerous.”

  Irina was still frowning. “I don’t know if it’s dangerous or not, but I knew a few nurses who took jobs there. None of them were women I’d call friends.”

  Well, they are caring for Pastor, Liza thought. “Were they bad people, the nurses?”

  “No, but they weren’t nice, either. The only one I remember being suspicious was a woman named Innes.” She tapped the rim of her cup, thinking. “She was accused of stealing narcotics by a patient’s family. There was never any proof, but no one had any trouble believing it was true. The woman had a hardened quality that made her difficult to warm up to.”

  Good to know. Avoid Nurse Innes. “I see.”

  Irina’s eyes narrowed. “Zoya, you’re going to be late for school.”

  Zoya crossed her arms with a scowl. “I’m staying home. Dad told me to, remember? It’s why Abigail isn’t here. Amos kept her home, too. Does DJ Belmont ring a bell?”

  “Zoya,” Irina warned. “Watch your tone.”

  Zoya slumped in her chair. “Mom, if you want me to leave, just tell me to leave.”

  “Leave,” Irina ordered.

  Karl coughed to cover a laugh. “Come on, Zoya. We’ll find something to do.”

  Keeping her gaze on Liza’s face, Irina grabbed a handful of Karl’s jacket. “Stay, please.”

  “Oh, for the love of—,” Zoya grumbled. “I never get to hear the good stuff.” She stomped from the room, muttering under her breath.

  “You know she’s waiting in the hall, eavesdropping,” Karl said.

  “I know. Zoya!” Irina said no more until she heard Zoya’s footsteps above them. “We have a minute before she sneaks back down. You’re hiding something from us, Liza. Spill it.”

  Liza blinked. Innocently, she thought.

  Karl just chuckled. “We’ve raised eight children, Liza. Just tell her. She won’t give it up.”

  Liza sighed, wishing she’d retreated with Zoya. She was torn. On one hand, she wasn’t supposed to speak of it per Molina and Raeburn, but on the other hand she trusted Irina and Karl. And having Irina’s take on the nurses she’d known who now worked for Sunnyside could be valuable. “I can’t tell you a lot, except that this place is important.”

  Irina’s eyes narrowed. “To whom?”

  Liza hesitated, then came as clean as she could. “To Mercy.”

  Karl sucked in a shocked breath. “Then this place is dangerous.”

  “Did Tom put you up to this?” Irina demanded.

  “No. This was my decision. He knows, as do his superiors. He was not pleased.”

  “This is wrong,” Irina said, shaking her head. “You cannot do this, lubimaya. I forbid it.”

  Liza’s hackles shot up just as they had when Tom had forbidden her the night before. But she remained calm, because, like Tom, Irina’s expression was full of fear. “Irina,” she said gently. “Mercy should live without fear. Gideon, Amos, and Abigail, too. That’s worth a risk.”

  “No,” Irina insisted. “I cannot sit idly while one of my girls sacrifices for another. It’s like asking me to choose one child over the other.”

  “Thank you.” Affection roughened her voice. “Truly. But I went into combat zones. I’m trained to defend myself. And I’m qualified for this role. I’m a good choice.”

  “I can’t . . .” Irina looked at Karl beseechingly. “How can we change her mind?”

  “I don’t think we can. Or that we should. Liza has proven herself capable of making wise decisions.” He wagged his finger at Liza. “But you won’t take any undue risks.”

  “None.” She crossed her heart. “Of course, you’re assuming I’ll even get the job.”

  “You will,” Irina said sadly. “Because Portia Sinclair finds your résumé very impressive.”

  Liza blinked. “You heard her say that? The HR lady on the phone?”

  “I have good ears. I hear much.” She raised her voice. “Like footsteps in the hallway!”

  “Dammit!” Zoya snapped. Her stomping footsteps could be heard going back up the stairs.

  Karl shook his head. “She’s yours.”

  “Remember that when she is valedictorian of her graduating class,” Irina said.

  He leaned over to kiss Irina’s temple. “Then she’s mine.” He turned to Liza. “Okay, here’s how this is going to go. Because you are important to us. You get that, right?”

  She smiled. “I do. Thank you. Now I need to get home and get ready for the interview.”

  “Not so fast,” Karl said. “I know you’re a soldi
er and I know you can take care of yourself, but there’s also DJ Belmont to consider. If he knows that you were the one who spoiled his shot on Wednesday, he might be looking for you. I don’t want you driving around in a car he can follow. I’ve already given instructions to the guards in the lobby of your apartment to watch for Belmont and call 911 if they see him anywhere on or around the premises. Now I’m going to worry about people from Sunnyside Oaks lurking outside and following you. Especially if they find out where you used to live.”

  “How could they?” Liza asked. “How could DJ? Nothing I own is in my name.”

  “If someone wants to badly enough, they can,” Karl said darkly. “Do this for me, okay? Drive your car back to the apartment, and when you leave for the interview, take mine.”

  Liza choked. “Your Tesla? Hell, no. I’d wreck it.”

  “Not the Tesla.” Karl took a pen from his pocket and wrote something on the back of a napkin. “I keep an SUV there for VIP clients. It’s a Ford Expedition and has tinted windows. It’s made for privacy. The keys are hanging on a hook in the laundry room.” He gave her the napkin. “This is the slot where it’s parked. Please drive it when you go on your interview.”

  “And any other time you drive yourself somewhere,” Irina added.

  Liza folded the napkin and slipped it into her handbag, touched beyond words. “Thank you.”

  Karl nodded once. “I don’t like this, nor do I understand what you’re doing, but I understand why you’re doing it. If I could do whatever this is in your place, I would, just to ensure that Mercy and the others have a normal life. But if there is any whiff of danger, we want you out of there.”

  Liza nodded, knowing that by keeping Pastor’s presence a secret she was deceiving them, and she hated that. At the same time, having a car that could possibly be traced to an FBI agent was probably not the best idea. Having a car that could be traced to Karl wasn’t, either.

  “The Expedition can’t be traced to you?”

  “No. I’ve got a tangle of corporations that would keep even the most talented hackers scratching their heads for a while. I should know,” Karl added dryly. “I paid enough for hackers to try to bust in.”