Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After Alisa checked in with the hospital and found out her mother's condition was still stable and she was resting comfortably, Jason drove them to the safe house. They would speak to Henry after the lab closed, and he went home. Until then, Alisa could take a break, and he would check in with the team.
Alisa disappeared upstairs as soon as they entered the house, which was probably just as well. Things had gotten a little too heated between them in the car, and that was happening more and more frequently. While he probably should make another promise to himself to leave her alone, he didn't seem to be able keep that promise, so why waste the time? Plus, he had bigger problems.
With Alisa taking a break upstairs, he went into the den and used his burner phone to call Savannah. "I'm at the safe house now. Any updates?"
"We found the shooter's van a few miles from the park. It was clean, no prints. The van is registered to Nolan Hawthorne, who has an address in El Segundo. Unfortunately, Nolan is an eighty-six-year-old man who moved into an assisted living facility last week. Apparently, a grandson has been living with him, but the manager didn't have information on him. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I wasn't hurt. Luckily, no one else was, either."
"Were you the target or was it Hastings?"
"I don't know."
"Why were you meeting with Patrick Hastings, anyway? I thought you were keeping the LA agents out of this, but they keep popping up."
"Like Stephanie, he reached out to me, and I needed to know why. He heard Novikov was in town from one of his contacts, who he declined to name. Our tight bubble of information has sprung more than a few leaks."
"What did he want?"
"To help. I told him to enjoy his retirement and play some golf. This wasn't his job anymore."
"I'm sure that went over well," she said dryly.
"I probably could have used better words," he admitted. "I understand why both Patrick and my former partner, Stephanie, want to help. Patrick lost his best friend, and Stephanie lost her ability to be a field agent. They want Novikov to pay. But I hope they now understand it's important to keep this investigation tight. I can't prevent who they talk to or what they do, but they certainly won't be getting any operational details from me. I've made that clear." He paused. "Are you and Beck set up to check out Moldev's club tonight?"
"Yes. We're going around eight. I'll let you know what we find out. We also have someone watching Tatiana's dance studio. She's been there all day. They'll follow her home. We're monitoring her communications, and she hasn't talked to anyone from her past. What about you?"
"I'm going to follow up with Henry Cavendish. Alisa's mother alluded to the possibility that Henry might know something about Dan's whereabouts. I'll touch base with you later."
Setting down the phone, he opened the computer, checking his email first. There was nothing of note. Then he moved into the open case file, reviewing the notes Flynn's team had made on various points of the investigation.
An hour later, Alisa came down the stairs around five forty-five. She looked like she'd thrown some water on her face, brushed her hair, and applied some makeup. But he could still see the dark circles under her eyes, and while the minor cuts from the car crash were still visible, they were less swollen, less red.
"Did you take a nap?" he asked.
"I tried, but as soon as I closed my eyes, all the images from the park came back to me, followed by other terrible memories. I pretty much just tossed and turned and then decided what was the point?"
"You could try thinking of something good to replace the bad."
The gold in her eyes glittered as she said, "I tried that, too, but that just made things more confusing."
He didn't want to ask what was confusing her because he knew, and he had no answers. Thankfully, she didn't seem to want to talk about it.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "Have you talked to anyone on your team?"
"Yes. They found the shooter's van, still trying to track him down. Beyond that, there's no news."
She pulled up a chair and sat next to him. "Can I use your phone to text Henry and see if he's home?"
"Sure. Do you know the number? Because I think we have his personal number in the file."
"You do? Why?"
"Because he's a potential person of interest."
"I know his number. I memorized it a long time ago, and numbers stick in my head."
He handed her the phone, and she sent the text. A moment later, she got a reply.
"He's home now, and he said he's alone. He wants to know what I want to talk to him about and why I'm calling him from this number."
"Don't answer. Just tell him we'll see him soon.
"Okay." She sent the text and handed him back the phone. "I was thinking that we could drive by my parents' house on the way to Henry's. He only lives about four blocks away. I'd like to see the damage."
"I've seen photos of the house. There's nothing to salvage. If there was, I would have told you earlier."
She slowly nodded. "Okay. But I still want to drive by."
"It will just make you sad."
"Then I'll be sad," she said with a shrug. "Even if I don't see it, I'm going to feel that way. My mom took a lot of pride in the house. She loved to decorate. We never had much money, but she was great at finding interesting items at thrift stores or flea markets. She loved furniture that had a story, which is odd now that I think about it since she never had any curiosity about my dad's story. But an old teapot made her want to know everything about it."
"The teapot was safer. It wasn't going to upend her life."
"True. Anyway, I guess she'll have to start over. I just don't know if she'll be starting over alone."
He felt a wave of sympathy for how her life had turned upside down. "She'll have you, so she'll never be alone."
"You're right." She took a deep breath. "Shall we go?"
"I'm ready," he said as they stood up.
"I have to admit I hate to leave this place. It's like an oasis of peace and security in a very chaotic world."
"We'll be back soon. We'll stop by Henry's and then the hospital to check on your mom. If all is well, we'll pick up a pizza and come back here."
"That sounds like a plan. But I have this gut feeling that it's not going to go that smoothly."
His gut was saying the same thing. He just hoped he wasn't leading her into another dangerous situation. But Henry had been good friends with her parents for over ten years, and he needed her to get information out of Henry. Otherwise, he'd take the meeting himself. It was a risk, but a calculated one. Hopefully, his calculation wasn't wrong.
Jason was right. The three-bedroom, two-bath home that had been filled with love, laughter, and the memories of a lifetime were completely gone. The rubble was a blight on the neighborhood now, with cautionary tape around the perimeter, and the lot would eventually have to be completely cleared.
"We moved in here when I was sixteen years old," she murmured as she gazed at the ashes of her life. My father had gotten a new job, and he said it was too good to pass up, so we moved from San Diego to here, and I had to start my junior year of high school in a new school—his school. That was the only thing that made it more bearable, although it was strange when I had to take his class. The kids were always trying to get me to ask him for inside info on what would be on the tests. But he just laughed and said I'd find out when everyone else did." She paused. "My mother used to have a garden in the back. That's probably gone, too, huh?"
"I think so," Jason said, giving her time to process what was in front of her.
"Even though I moved most of my stuff out of here when I got my place, my parents still had some of my childhood memorabilia, all the family photo albums, things we'll never be able to replace."
"It's possible your father removed some of those things when he left the house."
She turned her head to give him a hopeful look. "Do you think so?"
"He definitely took more than just clothes out of the house."
"I hope that's true, but at the end of the day, I just really want him back. I want my family together again. I don't believe he poisoned my mom. He couldn't have done that. What do you think?"
His blue eyes gave nothing away. She was getting used to his guarded look, which only became less guarded when they found themselves in each other's arms. That's when he showed his feelings in his eyes and in his kiss. Otherwise, he was a tough nut to crack. But he'd give her an honest answer, even if she didn't want one.
"We don't have enough information to know what your father did or why," he said. "But the truth will come out."
"Will it? It seems like my father has been living with his secrets for thirty years. That's a long time, more than my whole life. Why did his past catch up to him now?"
"I don't know, but he was probably taken by surprise."
"My mom wants me to have faith in him. I want to do that, too. I just don't want to be stupid."
"You are not stupid, Alisa. And as much as the past is on our minds, we need to look forward. Are you ready to talk to Henry?"
"Yes, but that forward step is going to take us right back to the past," she said with a sigh.
"If it does, hopefully, it will also bring us some answers."
Henry's house was only a few blocks away. When they turned the corner, a vehicle came racing around the corner so fast that Jason had to swerve not to hit them.
"What was that?" she asked breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder. The car was gone now.
"Nothing good," Jason muttered as he continued down the street.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to check out Henry's house before I take you inside." He pulled up in front of the home.
Henry's car was in the driveway and there were lights on in the house, but even from the street, she could see that the front door was wide open.
Jason jumped out of the car and ran toward the door, removing his weapon from under his jacket as he did so. Then he disappeared into the house.
Her heart was beating fast as she waited for him to come back, to call for her, to tell her everything was okay. She cracked the window and heard a man's voice cry out in distress.
Throwing caution to the wind, she jumped out of the car and ran up the path. If Jason or Henry were in trouble, she wasn't going to sit in the car. When she stepped into the house, she heard someone howl in pain.
"Jason?" she yelled as she moved through the entry. She stopped abruptly at the archway to the living room, seeing Henry bleeding on the floor by the fireplace and Jason calling 911.
She ran toward Henry, dropping to her knees beside him. There was blood coming out of his chest, a massive amount of blood. She ripped off her sweater and pressed it against his wounds. "It's going to be okay, Henry," she said, looking into his face, which was barely recognizable from the bruising on his face. He'd been beaten badly. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
"I tried not to tell them, but the pain was too much," he said weakly.
"Tell them what?"
"Your father's location."
"My father? Where is he?"
"The Sparks Motel in Brentwood," Henry said, gasping out the words. "You need to help him."
"Who did you tell?" Jason asked, squatting down beside them.
"I don't know their names, but they work for…Arseni Novikov," he said, struggling to breathe. "He's wanted to get your father back for a long time. "
"Why? Why would he want my father?" she asked in confusion.
"Your dad betrayed him…a long time ago…want to finish what…"
"What?" Jason demanded. "Finish what? Who was Dan Hunt before he changed his name?"
"Alexei Bruno," Henry said. "Brilliant chemist…they wanted him to…to…"
"Henry, stay with me," she said, pressing harder on his wound as his eyes closed. "Dammit! Where is the ambulance? We're losing him."
Henry struggled once more to stay conscious. "I'm sorry, Alisa. Tell him…your mom…so sorry…best friend…ever…had."
Henry's eyes closed again.
"No!" she yelled. "You can't die. You can't die." But her instincts told her that was exactly what was happening.
Jason got up as the EMTs arrived, along with the fire department and two cops. The EMTs took over for her, and within seconds, Henry was loaded onto a gurney and whisked away in the ambulance. She hoped they would get him to surgery in time, but she was afraid they might not.
As Jason spoke to the officers, she gazed down at the blood on her hands, trying to process what had happened. Two men had beaten Henry so badly, he'd been forced to give up her dad's location. Which meant her father was in danger. And her mind flashed on the memory of the speeding car they'd passed. Had it belonged to the men who'd done this?
They had to get out of here. They had to go find her father.
Jason came over and handed her a towel.
"We have to go to the motel," she said as she dried her hands. "We need to save my dad."
"'I'm going there now. The police will take you to my office."
"No. I'm going to find my father."
"You can't. Look what happened to Henry. I'm not taking you anywhere else. "
"Then I'll go on my own. There is no way I'm spending time with some random cop who could be working for Novikov."
His gaze narrowed. "The cops aren't working for Novikov."
"You don't know that, Jason," she said fiercely, striding past him.
He bit off a curse as she left the house. She heard him say something to the police officer in charge of the scene, but she didn't stop until she got to the locked car.
At her fierce look, he simply flipped the locks open and got behind the wheel.
"I'll take you to the motel," he said. "But this time, you have to stay in the car until I tell you that you can get out. If you can't promise you'll do that, then I'll take you to the safe house, and I'll stay there until someone comes to wait with you."
"I'll stay in the car. Just go. We might not have much time." Her voice broke as she silently prayed that they wouldn't find her father in the same condition as Henry. Or possibly worse…