Misconceptions Page 9

  This wasn’t going as he’d planned. “I won’t let her go. She’s been with my company since day one. She’s an elderly woman, and she needs this income to supplement her social security.” He hoped Angelica didn’t detect the panic in his voice.

  “Relax, Travis, I’m sure it will be fine. Trust me, you’re going to like working for Vinnie.”

  The last thing he could do was trust Vinnie, or Angelica, or even himself for that matter. He desperately needed help.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dominique tightened her grip on the steering wheel. For the next step in her investigation, she needed to dive deeper into Vinnie’s world. The kidnapping investigation continued to consume more of her time. Avoiding Penelope had become somewhat of a new game—dodging down the hallway at just the right time, checking caller ID, and letting the pesky call roll to voice mail. Dominique was becoming quite the expert. She left a rather hurried message on the busybody’s voicemail, advising her that she would be taking a few days off.

  It was time do to some heavy-duty investigating.

  First, she would become familiar with Vinnie’s surroundings. She pulled her rented blue Taurus into the parking lot of Castalgia’s, the melting pot of his businesses, both legal and illegal. She had driven by the restaurant on multiple occasions, and each time, Vinnie’s car had been in the lot. With a little luck, she would get her first glimpse of him.

  She pulled her notebook from her purse and read her notes. The district attorney had charged Vinnie with racketeering, money laundering, and a series of misdemeanors, but he could never get a conviction. That was going to change.

  An elderly hostess greeted Dominique and escorted her to a booth by the window. Dominique’s stomach growled in response to the heavenly smells of garlic, tomato, and fresh bread coming from the kitchen. She'd expense the meal to Stew as a working lunch. Only six other tables were occupied. It was a little past the lunch hour. Maybe that’s why they were slow. Toward the back of the restaurant, a few private booths were set off to themselves. That must be where all the real business took place.

  Waiters, bartenders, and doormen always had the most intriguing and helpful leads, so when the waiter brought the tea she’d ordered and a small basket with two biscuits, she said, “That was quick. You work here long?”

  “I’ve been here a little over a year.”

  Dominique leaned forward. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s a job. I don’t like it when things are slow.” He placed his empty tray underneath his arm.

  “Which is worse? The customers or the management?” She gave her best smile in an attempt to pry a little information from him.

  He laughed. “That’s a loaded question.”

  “No seriously, I may be looking for a part-time job, and I was wondering if the management is good here.” She took a small sip of her tea and averted her eyes. “I’ve waited tables in other restaurants, and bad management can make for a terrible working environment.”

  The waiter leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I’d apply elsewhere.”

  She met his gaze. “Any particular reason why?”

  “You ask too many questions.” He frowned. “That’s not a good habit to get into around here. Have you decided what you’d like?”

  After he left, she scolded herself. Could you be a little more obvious? .

  The meal arrived in a timely manner. It looked and smelled delicious. As she plucked a piece of bread from the basket, a very pregnant woman entered the restaurant. The hostess sat her at the table directly across from Dominique’s booth.

  The woman smiled at Dominique. “I love the food here. I can’t seem to get enough of their Caesar salad.”

  Dominique put her fork down. “Try the ravioli, it’s amazing.”

  Movement in the back hallway caught her eye. Two young men were deep in conversation. They pointed at the woman across from Dominique. They focused in on her like lions hunting prey.

  What little was left of Dominique’s appetite diminished. What if the woman was in danger? How could she help her? Maybe it’s nothing. Her stomach clenched. Other than her gut instincts, she had no proof. But each time she had ignored that internal nudging, she’d lived to regret it. Not this time. There’s too much at stake.

  “Can I get you any dessert today?” the waiter asked when he stopped at Dominique’s table.

  She declined and asked for the check. He returned with the bill and placed it on the table. Dominique slipped her credit card into the black leather case and waited for him to return. What should I do? I can’t leave her here all by herself.

  Images of the kidnapped women and children shown in the news flashed in her mind. Their pictures had haunted her for several days. She had to help this woman, even if she didn’t realize she was in danger.

  The men had disappeared from the hallway, but it couldn’t have been her imagination. They had stared at that pregnant woman with dollars in their eyes. When the waiter returned with her card and receipt, Dominique left a generous tip, then stopped at the expectant woman’s table. “Enjoy your salad.”

  “I decided to try the ravioli too.” She patted her belly. “I’m eating for two, you know.”

  “Well, I hope you enjoy your meal.”

  “Thanks.”

  At the front door, Dominique grabbed her cell phone to take a picture of the pregnant woman. She adjusted her position to make it appear she was texting. Just as she was about to snap the photo, the woman bowed her head in prayer. A chill ran up her spine. Another pregnant Christian. Joe’s dad’s theory was becoming more realistic with each passing day. She busied herself by looking at the various paintings on the wall. When the woman was done praying, she quickly took the picture.

  Outside, she hurried to her rental car. Four other cars besides her own were parked in the front.

  Two spots over from her car, one of the men who had been staring at the pregnant woman stood next to the back of a white Toyota Camry.

  Just as she unlocked her door, she noticed the other man who’d been in the hallway crouched behind him.

  Dominique slid into her car, but instead of leaving pretended to look for something in her purse.

  A few moments later, the second man stood, and both sauntered back into the restaurant. She wasn’t a betting woman, but she’d lay odds that car belonged to the pregnant woman … and that she was in danger. Should she call Joe and ask him to contact Houston? But how could she explain why she was here? No, if she was going to maintain her cover, she’d have to handle the matter herself.

  She pulled around to the side of the restaurant to keep an eye on the Camry.

  Her heart pounded at the sight of a white conversion van parked in the alley.

  She pulled out her phone and took a picture of the van. She couldn’t be certain that was the same one involved in the kidnapping of Joe’s nephew, but some of the articles she read about other kidnappings, mentioned that a similar van had been spotted near the location of a few of the abductions. Her experience as a reporter told her when coincidences started adding up, she was onto a tremendous lead in a case.

  Dominique kept her eyes trained on the door. A little over twenty minutes passed before the woman emerged from the restaurant.

  Dominique checked her mirrors. The alley was still deserted.

  The pregnant woman made her way toward the white Toyota.

  Dominique tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Should I warn her? No. It would be too obvious if someone was watching. She would follow her, and when sure no one had trailed either of them, she would decide what action to take—if any.

  She remained a few car lengths behind the white Toyota. With the light traffic it was easy to keep the car in sight, even though it had been over a year since she had tailed a car during an investigation.

  The stoplight ahead of her turned yellow just after the Camry passed. Dominique slowed to a stop and reprimanded herself for drifting too far back. She pounded the steering wheel wh
en a delivery truck turned onto the road in front of her, blocking her view ahead.

  The moment the light turned green, she floored the accelerator until she caught up to the truck. Before she could decide whether she should try to pass it, the Camry made a right turn. She stomped on the brakes and squealed into a turning lane to follow.

  She checked the rearview mirror. A white cargo van pulled into the lane behind her. Was she being followed? Her heart slammed in her chest. When the van turned left at the next light, Dominique let out a slow breath.

  After about fifteen minutes, she followed the Toyota into a Kroger parking lot, and she finally released her tight grip on the wheel. She parked her sedan two rows over and waited until the pregnant woman was inside the store before approaching the Camry. What had the man crouched behind the car been doing?

  She took a quick glance around. Good, no one seemed to be watching. She knelt behind the car and felt underneath the bumper. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was searching for, but that man must have put something underneath. She ran her hands underneath the bumper until they hit something. A little tugging pulled it off with the sound of a rip. A small black box lay in her hand, with Velcro covering one side—a GPS tracking device. The news station used them sometimes when they investigated someone.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The woman’s voice.

  Dominique stood slowly. “My name is Dominique Sherwood. Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you." She held out a hand so the woman could see the device. “I’m an investigative reporter with a news station in Florida. I’m working undercover on a story related to the baby kidnappings. When I left the restaurant and saw some men hanging out by your car. I was afraid you might be in danger. But I couldn’t risk speaking with you there.” She held the device up. “This is a tracking device.”

  “Why would anyone want to follow me?”

  “The people who placed this on your car want your baby.”

  The woman paled so much, Dominique feared she might pass out.

  “Are you okay?” Dominique took a step forward and placed her hand on the woman’s arm. “Is there someone I can call for you? I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

  “Sharon.”

  “Sharon, who can I call?”

  The woman placed a shaky hand over her expanded belly. “My husband’s out of town, and my parents don’t live in this area. I haven’t lived here long, so I don’t know many people Why would you go to all of this trouble to help a stranger? What should I do?”

  Dominique retrieved one of her business cards from a pocket. “I’m here on business, and got tangled up in this mess. I wish I could explain further, but I can’t.” She handed her card to Sharon. “Please believe me. You are in danger!"

  She deactivated the tracking device and handed it to Sharon. “Take this to the police station and ask to speak with Detective Houston Armstrong. He’s a good cop, and he’ll know how to help you. Tell him exactly what happened. He'll know best how to proceed.” She leaned forward. “Please don’t give the police my name or show them my card. It’s imperative my identity remain a secret, at least for a little while longer.”

  Sharon’s eyebrows rose. “Will you come with me?”

  Dominique chewed on her bottom lip. She still needed her cover as a social worker for at least another week. “I can’t. Please try to understand.”

  She squeezed Sharon’s arm. "I’ll follow you to the police station to make sure you get there safely.”

  Sharon wiped a tear from her eye. “I would like that.”

  “Is there someone you can stay with until your husband gets home? I don’t think you should be alone.”

  “My parents live about two hours away. They didn’t like me being at home by myself for a week anyway. I’m sure they’ll be glad to have me stay with them a few days. I don’t know how to thank you, Dominique.” Sharon gave her a tight hug.

  Dominique’s throat tightened. “You don’t have to thank me, but please don't give the police my name.”

  "I understand. " Sharon wiped her nose with a tissue. An awkward silence hung in the air.

  Dominique hesitated a moment, then asked. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you a Christian?”

  Sharon’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I am. Are you?”

  That question again. The great chasm. Dominique looked away. “I believe in God, but I’m quickly realizing that’s not enough. Guess I still have a lot to work through.”

  Sharon squeezed Dominique’s arm. “Thanks for sharing with me.”

  She let out a big breath, relieved Sharon didn’t say she’d pray for her. Dominique’s mother had been praying for years, but for some reason it just didn’t seem to take. “I’ll be right behind you. You be careful, you hear.”

  Sharon gave her a quick hug and got into her car.

  As Dominique walked toward her car, her cell phone vibrated. Caller ID showed it was Joe. He heart skipped a beat as she accepted the call. “Well hello, doctor,” she answered as she got in her car.

  “Hello yourself. I stopped by your office to see if you wanted to have a late lunch, and you weren’t there.”

  “I took a couple days off. I have some personal matters that need my attention.”

  “Well, I missed seeing you. I also wanted to ask you if you’re free this Saturday.”

  “I think I am.” She pulled out behind Sharon’s Toyota.

  “Good. My sister-in-law Becky is having a birthday party for my dad. You said you wanted to meet him, so I was wondering if you’d like to come to the party with me.”

  A family get-together was a big step. Everyone, including Joe, would assume they were getting involved. But maybe once she talked with Joe’s dad she could get the answers she needed and finish her research. Then she could be completely honest with Joe. Dominique paid close attention to Sharon, changing lanes at the opportune time.

  “Not exactly the response I’d hoped for.”

  Joe’s comment brought her back into focus. “What? Oh, I’m sorry, Joe, I’m driving, and I lost my train of thought. Of course I’ll go with you. Can I bring anything?”

  “No, I’ll take care of that with a bowl of my famous potato salad.”

  She navigated her car onto the divided highway, keeping pace with Sharon. “I happen to love potato salad. Can you e-mail me the address, so I can program it into my GPS system?”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  She hesitated. Would Joe question why she didn’t have a more permanent residence? But it would be worth the risk to talk to his father. She gave him the address and ended the call just as Sharon pulled into the police station.

  Houston would know what to do with the tracking device. It would be the lead he’d been searching for. Saturday’s party could provide her with the remaining missing pieces she needed to complete the investigation.

  She smiled and let out a soft sigh. Then maybe she could start fresh with Joe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Houston slammed the refrigerator door and muttered, “He’ll probably be here for his next birthday too.”

  “What exactly are you trying to say, Houston?” Becky jammed the remaining birthday candles into the cake.

  “I was just asking how much longer he’s going to be here, that’s all.” He plunked the plate of hamburger patties on the counter. His dad had been there for a little over two weeks, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand being under the same roof.

  “He’s your father.” She rinsed off the few pieces of silverware left in the sink. “I know he’s made mistakes, but this grudge you’re holding against him is affecting more than just your relationship with him.”

  Why does it always turn to religion? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Why don’t you spell it out.” He punched down the trash in the can, pulled the bag out, and tied the top in a knot.r />
  “Okay, I will.” Becky let out a deep breath. “The bitterness you feel towards Samuel is a stumbling block for you.” She lowered her voice. “How can you have a relationship with your heavenly Father if you’re not even on speaking terms with your earthly one?” She closed the gap between them. “I know you think he’s crazy, but look at all of the evidence that’s accumulated over the past six months or so. There are several pregnant woman at church, and Shannon from work said it’s the same at her church. How many pregnant women do you encounter on a daily basis?”

  His mouth drew into a tight line but he said nothing.

  “The only ones I’ve seen are at church. You can’t continue to ignore the facts.”

  “So it’s my fault we can’t have a baby?” Houston ran his fingers through his hair. “Come on, Becky, we had problems conceiving long before this crisis began.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “At least consider my position. Every day you go into work and see the evidence that God is building up his church. He’s raising up a generation. I want to be a part of it. It’s your pride that’s holding you back.”

  “My pride … my pride. Nice to see who’s side you’re on.”

  “Why do there have to be sides?” She placed a stack of paper cups by the punch bowl. “It’s killing me to see you consumed with this bitterness against your father. You’re only hurting yourself. Forgive your dad for whatever it is you’ve held against him for so long. You’ll never have any peace until you do.”

  He pulled away. Heat traveled up his neck. “He’s responsible for my mom’s death. That’s unforgivable.”

  “She died of breast cancer. How can you hold Samuel responsible for that?”

  Houston took in the confusion on his wife’s face. It was long past time for him to share the details with her. He let out a long breath and nodded. “Early detection of breast cancer is vital for a patient’s survival. She was always a huge advocate for mammograms, and it angered her when insurance companies changed their policies so they paid for the first screening at age fifty instead of age forty.”

  “Right. I can understand that.”