34. Henry

34

HENRY

I leave Lana's home, my heart heavier than I'd ever thought possible. I'd hoped, foolishly, perhaps, that if I could just explain everything to her, she might understand. That she might see how desperately I tried to save her, how much I love her.

But the look in her eyes… God, I'll never forget it. The pain, the betrayal, the utter lack of trust. And who can blame her? After what she went through, after what I had to do to keep her alive, how could she possibly believe me?

I climb into my car, but I can't bring myself to start the engine. Instead, I sit there, replaying our conversation in my mind. I bared my heart, my soul. I told her that I loved her, that I would have done anything to make it work between us. But it wasn't enough. Maybe it never could have been.

The irony isn't lost on me. I became a cop to help people, to make a difference. And now, the woman I love sees me as part of the system that hurt her. I failed her in so many ways, even if I did ultimately help save her life.

Fuck! Frustration boils out of me. How did everything go so wrong? I think back to the first time I met Lana, how intrigued I was by her strength and intelligence. I never expected to fall for her, but I did. Hard and fast.

And now? Now I'm left with nothing but regret and a love that can never be realized. Because she's right, a cop and a criminal can never truly be together. Not in this world, not with the lives we lead.

As I drive back to my apartment, my mind fills with the events of the past few weeks. The day after saving Lana and arresting Peter and his gang, I went in to work, seething with anger at how the system had failed us both. What the fuck was my work all about?

Word about Peter and his goons was already fodder for gossip at the station. I ignored the looks and questions. What I couldn't ignore was my sergeant calling me into his office.

This ought to be good. Would I be fired for having Peter arrested? For having cops from another area intervene in a case that should have been taken care of by us?

"What the fuck happened last night?" he asked.

"I told you. Detective Hartley, along with Officers Rogers and Johnson, kidnapped Lana D'Amato. Last I looked, that was against the law."

His jaw tightened. "You said arrested."

I shook my head, knowing where this was going. He was covering his ass.

"Well, there was a miscommunication. You can be sure, there will be a thorough investigation," he said, his face a mask of practiced deniability.

I could smell the bullshit from a mile away. The cover-up was already in motion, and I knew right then that justice would never be served through official channels.

I left his office and went to my desk, where I did my own corrupt act in copying all the files I had on Lazaro D'Amato and the case against the family. Then I typed up my resignation letter and walked back to my sergeant, leaving my gun and badge on his desk. I didn't even explain. I just handed him the letter and walked out.

I haven't looked back. Instead, I applied for a private investigator's license and dug back into Lazaro D'Amato's case. Lana may have rejected me, but I'll fulfill my promise to her even if she never wants to see me again.

So far, I've focused on Peter's words hinting at his involvement in Lazaro's disappearance. I went to see him in jail, where I learned he'd been moved to a psychiatric facility. God, he was even worse off than I thought.

I've visited him several times, trying every angle I can think of to get him to talk. I've appealed to his sense of justice, reminded him of our partnership, even tried to play on his ego. But nothing works. He just sits there, a smug smile on his face, refusing to give me anything concrete.

"You're too late, Henry," he'd said during my last visit. "What's done is done. Let it go."

But I can't let it go. Not when I know how much finding Lazaro means to Lana.

And every day since Lana's return home, I've stopped by the D'Amato estate, needing to know Lana was recovering, only to be turned away.

Today, I couldn't take it. I had to see her. I did the dumbest thing I could do and pushed my way in. I stood there, looking at the woman I love, while her brother held a gun to my head. I had no doubt he'd use it. But at least I knew she was alive. Still haunted by that night, but growing stronger.

I shake the memories of the last few weeks from my head as I arrive back at my apartment. I drag myself in and head straight to my makeshift home office on my dining table. I search what I have about Lazaro's disappearance for the umpteenth time, looking for the information I'm missing, for the clue I've overlooked.

I go back to the abandoned vans. So far, I haven't found any police reports about suspicious activity in the three cities that make me think it's related to Lazaro. No bodies at the morgue matching Lazaro around that time.

Grasping at straws, I decide to call hospitals. It's crazy because if Lazaro was injured but healed, wouldn't he have come home? If he was injured and died, there would be a report of it in the morgue. I go back to the obvious. Someone made him disappear without a trace, buried or dumped in Lake Michigan. In that case, I'll never find the answer, and that's not acceptable.

So I'm going to call hospitals to see if they have any records of Lazaro. I'm lucky because they're allowed to give law enforcement patient information in missing persons cases. It's one of the few exceptions to HIPAA laws.

I pick up my phone, dialing a hospital in Naperville.

"This is Detective Henry Lutz from Chicago." I'm aware that I'm being deceptive as I know they'll think I'm a law enforcement official. I feel like they'll be more forthcoming to a cop than a PI. "I'm looking into a missing persons case from three years ago." It's amazing how easy it is to veer into the gray areas of law.

The conversation goes nowhere, like all my calls before. But I continue on, immediately dialing all the hospitals in each of the cities. Napier, Illinois and Fort Wayne, Indiana. All are dead ends.

I rub my tired eyes and then call the first hospital on the list in Lafayette, Indiana. I'm tired, bone-weary, really. But I won't stop until all the calls are made.

"This is Detective Henry Lutz from Chicago. I'm investigating a missing persons case and was hoping you could help me with some information."

There's a pause, then, "What kind of information, Detective?"

"I'm wondering if you could tell me if a Lazaro D'Amato was admitted." I give her the dates.

A moment later, I get the information I expect. No one admitted by that name.

"How about any John Does?" I ask the next question. "Male. About twenty-one at the time. Dark hair."

I stand, stretching to release the kinks in my back and help me stay alert.

"We did have a patient matching that description," the voice finally says. "Admitted shortly after the date you mentioned."

I stop short. Could this be it? "Can you tell me anything else about him?"

"I can confirm he was discharged after treatment for severe injuries, about a month after he was brought in."

"John Doe?" I ask to be sure. "No one came forward looking for him?"

"Not on any reports I have here."

"Any idea where he went?"

"I'm sorry, we don't have that information."

That tells me he wasn't released to police custody. That could be good. He's not in prison. At least not then.

I thank the hospital worker and hang up, my mind whirling. It's not much. It's possible it means nothing. But it feels like something. If this pans out, if I can find Lazaro, could it change things between me and Lana? I shake my head, not allowing myself to hope.

I go to my kitchen to make coffee and figure out my next step in finding John Doe in Lafayette, Indiana. Could he still be there? It's been three years. He could have moved on.

The coffee is starting to brew when a knock comes on my door. I don't normally get company. Perhaps it's my neighbor looking for her cat again.

I open the door, and my heart nearly stops. Lana stands before me. Her expression doesn't give anything away.

"Lana."

She doesn't answer immediately, just fixes me with that piercing gaze. After a moment, I worry she's going to change her mind and leave.

I step back, opening the door. "Come in."

As she brushes past me, I catch a whiff of her perfume, the scent that's haunted my dreams since I met her. I close the door behind her, my mind racing, telling me not to fuck this up.

Lana makes her way to my living room. She sniffs. "Coffee this late?"

"I'm working. Would you like some? Or I can get you something stronger."

"Please," she says, sinking onto my couch.

I head to my kitchen, pouring her a finger of whisky. She's made herself at home. That's a good sign, right?

I bring her the glass and then settle in the recliner across from her.

For a long moment, she sits quietly, sipping her drink. Finally, she fixes me with a piercing stare, her eyes full of pain and uncertainty. "I need to know what really happened that night, Henry. I've been going over it in my head, trying to make sense of it all, but I just can't. I need to hear it from you."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation I've both dreaded and longed for. "Okay. Anything specific?"

"The whole night."

I nod. "I was at work and I got the call records about who was reporting your family. It wasn't the Rinellas."

Her brows rise.

"It was Peter, using his deceased father's phone."

"He wasn't worried about being traced?"

I shrug. "I think Peter's thought process wasn't normal. I imagine he saw it as his father getting revenge. I don't know. I'm not a shrink. But when I discovered it, I tried to call you. I was worried and wanted to warn you. You didn't pick up, so I drove over to your home."

She watches me intently. I wonder if she's trying to determine whether I'm telling her the truth. I hope she sees that I am.

"When I arrived, your sister-in-law was worried that Elio was missing and Matteo was in an accident and you were picking him up. God, Lana… I knew then that the shit had hit the fan." I wish I'd poured myself some whisky because I could use some liquid courage recounting this story.

"I raced to the place she told me you were going. I found your car." I shake my head as anger fills me at what followed. "I called Peter, acting like his partner, trying to figure out where he might be… where you would be. He flat out told me he had you. I couldn't fucking believe it Anyway, I called for backup and well… I told you how that went."

She swallows, and I see pain in her eyes.

"I was terrified, Lana. I'd given your sister-in-law my card and told her to call if she heard from anyone. She called to tell me Elio and Matteo were fine. That's when I asked Elio for help."

She tries to smirk. "I imagine that it was hard asking a criminal for help."

"Not at all, Lana. I'd ask the fucking Cartel to help if that's what it would take to save you."

She blinks like she wasn't expecting that. "And then you showed up at that warehouse."

I nod, my throat tight. "Peter called me, told me to come join the 'fun'. I knew I had to play along, to make him think I was on his side. It was the only way I could think of to buy time until help arrived." I lean forward, my eyes pleading with her to understand. "I hated every second of it, Lana. Having to say those things to you, to touch you like that… it made me sick."

"Why did you have to go that far?"

"I didn't want them to hit or cut you or… whatever sick ideas they had. If it was my turn to… torment you, I could keep them away."

She seems to consider that. "You couldn't have given me a clue?"

"I tried. I told you to hold on, that it would be over soon. To fight. But of course, I had to use a tone that wouldn't give me away. I'm so fucking sorry."

She finishes her drink.

"Want another?" I hope she does because I need one too. She nods, and I get us both a drink. When I hand her glass to her, I sit on the couch, but not too close to her.

I take a sip of my whiskey, the burn of the alcohol grounding me. "The next day, I went to work, and my sergeant was falling all over himself to cover up his failure to help. I quit that day, Lana. Turned in my badge and gun. I couldn't be part of a system that was so broken, so willing to turn a blind eye to the suffering of people like you and your family."

Lana's eyes widen in surprise. "You quit the force? For me?"

I meet her gaze steadily. "For you, for Lazaro, for everyone who's been failed by the very people who are supposed to protect them. People don't earn the right to have our protection. They're supposed to have it no matter what. It's our job to provide it. I know we're human and clearly, we make judgements about people. But we're not supposed to refuse our services just because we don't like someone. I can't work like that. I can't work with people like that."

She's quiet for a long moment, processing everything I've said. "I told you corruption is everywhere."

"You did."

She sips her drink, looking down into the amber liquid when she moves the glass away from her lips. "I want to believe you, Henry. But after everything that's happened, it's hard for me."

I reach out, taking her hand in mine. "I know. And I'm so sorry for not being able to communicate my intentions sooner, for adding to your trauma. All I can do now is try to earn your trust back, one day at a time."

She's quiet again and then looks up at me. "Did you really tell Elio you loved me?"

"I did. It's something I should have told you first, but at the time, I was desperate for him to understand how much danger you were in and how I needed his help." Taking a deep breath, I continue, "I know there are obstacles between us, but I meant what I said. I love you, Lana. So much it hurts. And I'm willing to do anything to be with you. Whatever it takes."

Lana's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability showing through her usual tough exterior. "Piper told me I should give you another chance. She said that love is worth fighting for, even when it seems impossible."

My heart swells with hope at her words. "What do you think?" I hold my breath, waiting for her response, hoping beyond all hope that she'll take this leap of faith with me.