Stealing the Golden Dream Read online

  “So, does that mean the boys and I can tag along on the bust?”

  Neil opened his mouth. The look on his face said he was about to object when Ann said, “Sure. The more the merrier.”

  Jordan hurried back to the Pilot, got in and buckled up.

  All four sat quietly for a moment, their combined breathing sounding like bellows.

  Finally Jordan asked, “Did you do it?”

  Tank’s whispered voice was oddly amplified in the quiet interior. “Yes’m,” he said. “I took the bag of coins to LaSalle’s place. Stashed ’em in a metal storage shed in the backyard behind a couple of cans of paint, covered the bag with a tarp. Cops oughta find them easy—even old Detective Neil Thompson.”

  “Let’s find a phone booth then and make the call.”

  They drove around for almost half an hour before finding a public phone that actually worked. Coop got out to call the Scottsdale PD anonymously and tip them off as to where the coins were hidden.

  Jordan watched him walk across the street to the convenience store. An oversized camouflage hoodie pulled low over his face would guard his identity from any security cameras.

  She thought back to her childhood days in Lake Forest, Illinois. On the days Jordan and her friends went to hang out at the mall or the movies, her mother always gave her two extra quarters. “Here, Jordie, in case you need to call me.” Good luck with that these days. Public phones were about as rare as personal privacy. The stress she’d been under was probably what caused this moment of nostalgia. She wondered what mothers did these days. Ah, never mind. Every kid had a smartphone. Mothers didn’t need their kids to tell them where they were; all they had to do was track them.

  Coop returned to the car, got in the back and shut the door. “Just call me stool pigeon. Coo-coo.”

  They drove across town and dropped Coop at Eddie’s place.

  “Check on Mama Rose, Coop, but stay loose in case we need you.” She pulled her phone.

  “Calling to check on Eddie?” Tank asked.

  She nodded. Sofia’s voicemail picked up. “Hi, Sofia here. Sorry I missed your call. I’ll call you back between exciting adventures.”

  “Really? Figures,” Jordan said. “It’s Jordan. Call me, Miss Excitement.”

  Jordan was beside herself. A word from Vercelli or Sofia would go a long way toward remedying her worry over Eddie. She had opted to call Sofia rather than the man himself because having Vercelli on speed dial could bring up difficult questions if anyone checked her phone.

  “How long until they get the warrant for Reilly?” Diego asked.

  “Don’t know for sure. Neil’s so hot to make an arrest, he’ll probably go to the judge’s house and pull him out of bed.”

  “You want to head over to Reilly’s?” Tank asked.

  “Might as well,” Jordan said.

  The cellphone rang. Jordan answered before the second ring. “Sofia!”

  “They got him.”

  A thousand-pound load lifted from her shoulders. Eddie. Eddie was free. “How is he?”

  “Messed up, but he’s going to be okay. I’m at the hospital with him now. Poppy called and said I should come stay with him.”

  I’m supposed to be with him. Not her. “Which hospital?”

  “All Saints Hospital. Because he was beat up so bad and Poppy’s guys are, you know, who they are, they couldn’t bring him in the usual way. They left him outside the ER.”

  “Did they even stop or just push him out on the roll?”

  “They made sure he was okay and waited around until someone came outside and brought him in. They’re taking good care of him. I’m with him now.”

  I wish she’d stop reminding me of that. “Did he ask for me? Does he understand why I’m not there?”

  She would have given anything to be there when Eddie woke. Her face should be the first thing he saw.

  Sofia seemed to understand her distress. “He’s drugged, Jordan, for the time being anyway. Just come as soon as you can.” Her voice was sympathetic.

  “I’m going to call his mother,” Jordan said. “Thanks, Sofia. Stay with him as long as you can. He needs someone there who cares about him.”

  “Jordan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “He’ll know why you’re not the one he woke up to,” Sofia said. “If anyone will understand why you couldn’t be connected to the rescue, it’s Eddie. Don’t worry.”

  Jordan turned toward the guys. She took a deep, ragged breath. No tears in front of the men. “Eddie’s fine. He’s going to be fine. Vercelli got to him in time.”

  “Thank God. You don’t know how hard it was to stand back and wait for someone else to go get him,” Diego said.

  “Eddie’s like our brother,” Tank added.

  “Do you guys think I don’t how hard it was to stand back and let someone else take control?” Jordan’s tone might have been a little sharp, but she wasn’t in the mood to take it back. “I explained all this to you already. None of us could be part of this rescue or even appear to have knowledge it was going down. If someone got killed, Eddie wouldn’t want you to be connected.”

  “Or you,” Diego said.

  “Or me.”

  “But Vercelli got the job done,” Tank said.

  “He was the only one I could trust to get Eddie out safe. And the old crook did it.”

  Chapter 35

  Danny’s residence was located on Central Avenue on a lush estate. Big palm trees lined the street. Thick privet bushes were tall enough to conceal anyone coming or going from the house. Probably why he bought the place. Drug dealers needed privacy. Made it all the harder to conduct surveillance.

  Tank parked the Pilot across the street and down a few houses.

  Jordan’s phone sounded “Bad Boys.”

  “Ann, what’s your ETA?” Jordan asked.

  “We’re pulling up right behind you.”

  Jordan opened the car door, got out, and walked back to the Ford. Detective Neil Thompson was probably still cranky about having to drive such a piece of crap car while making his big arrest, although Jordan thought it fit him. If you asked her, he’d look stupid in a drug dealer’s Maserati or Ferrari. “You get the warrant?”

  Ann waved a folded piece of paper. “Hey, you’re talking to Scottsdale’s finest. Of course we got it. Neil practically helped the judge get dressed so he could authorize it.”

  A look passed between Jordan, Tank, and Diego. She had called it.

  Neil Thompson wasn’t known for his brilliant case solving. This one would be a real feather in his cap.

  “Way to go, Neil,” she said, ignoring the bird finger he lifted in her direction. “What’s the plan? You going in on foot?”

  “No, we’re dropping down the chimney,” Neil sniped. “What did you think? We were bringing in choppers and para jumpers?”

  Jordan shrugged. “One never knows when you’re on the case, Sherlock.”

  By the time Phoenix and Scottsdale PD had staged the area with a ridiculous amount of tanks, MRAPs, and enough heavy artillery to overcome a small city, the heavy-hitter SWAT guys from Phoenix and several tactical cops from Scottsdale had surrounded the estate. Tank and Diego hung back by the mobile command post. Ann and Jordan hunkered inside the base unit with the tactical coordinator.

  Jordan waited for the go signal with Ann. “You guys always throw such a big party for one measly drug dealer?”

  Ann shrugged. “You can never be sure what you’ll find inside. Could be ten heavily armed mercenaries waiting for us in there.”

  The SWAT leader’s voice was audible in the coordinator’s headset, but the words were indistinguishable to Jordan.

  “Okay. Go.” The coordinator turned to Ann and nodded.

  Ann took a deep breath. “They’re on their way in.”

  Jordan stepped outside. Tank and Diego turned. “It’s a go,” she said.

  Her heart beat faster. Her breaths came in jerky, shallow bursts. This bust could go down easy or g
o down hard. When this many cops with this many guns and this high a level of motivation moved in, it usually went down the hard way.

  They waited, expecting the chaos to begin any second—staccato volleys of gunfire, flash bangs, rapid bursts of radio transmissions as status and orders were exchanged.

  But minutes passed, a half hour. And still nothing. None of the shock and awe that went along with the usual SWAT raid.

  Instead, the unit door opened. Ann stepped out and said, “It was a simple lock. They just snapped it and walked in. Danny Reilly’s in the bedroom. Let’s go get him.”

  The four joined Neil at the curb and they walked up the long curving driveway to the house, which sat back off the road at least half the length of a football field. Winter lawn, beds of flowers, fountains, statuary. Jordan’s mother would have thought she’d died and gone to English garden heaven.

  The house was a sprawling, low-slung territorial with a Mission tile roof. Light came from a few of the windows.

  The only sound was the persistent, high-pitched yip of a small dog somewhere nearby.

  Two SPD tactical officers stood at the door.

  Ann, Neil, Jordan, Tank, and Diego went in.

  No one was in the living room except a Phoenix PD sergeant holding a pissed-off rust-colored Pomeranian who growled and spit and snarled like he was going to take off the cop’s head.

  The sergeant restrained the dog against his chest. It squirmed and twisted, but the cop held on.

  Jordan walked up to the sergeant, took hold of the Pomeranian’s collar and made it look at her. “Calm down for crying out loud,” she said softly. The pup yipped once more then looked straight at Jordan with a thank-God-you’ve-come expression. Jordan took it from the cop and tucked it under her arm. Poor thing. Probably scared to death, although you’d never know from the sound of it.

  “Jordan?” Ann’s voice carried from down the hall.

  Jordan discovered half the assault force, as well as Ann, Neil, Tank, and Diego all standing around a king-size bed. In the middle of the bed, Danny Reilly sat upright with his hands behind his head. Beside him a voluptuous blonde cringed, the sheet pulled up under her chin. The blonde was one of the sexy servers from Martinis and Ivories.

  Danny stared at Jordan when she walked in, his expression giving away nothing.

  Ann moved forward. “Okay, Reilly. Up. I bet you know the drill. Danny Reilly, you’re under arrest for possession and suspected sale and distribution of heroin.” Then she began her Miranda spiel.

  “Oh, Danny,” the blonde squeaked.

  Danny Reilly patted her on the arm but didn’t move further. His eyes found Jordan’s before he spoke. “Like they say, I have the right to remain silent. I want to call my lawyer.”

  “Let’s go, Romeo,” Neil said.

  Danny slid out from under the sheet and stood, naked except for his black silk boxers.

  Using his most impressive detective swagger, Neil went to the side of the bed, picked up the tight jeans Jordan had seen Reilly in at the nightclub. Neil tossed them at Danny.

  Jordan walked out of the bedroom, scratching the dog behind the ear.

  “Hey, in case you were gonna ask, go ahead and take the damn dog!” Danny’s voice followed her down the hall. “Two o’ you deserve each other. Stupid thing pees on the rug.”

  She stood outside on the front steps. The air was cool. A light breeze stirred her hair. The little dog licked her hand and snuggled against her. Not exactly the animal I pictured for a guy like Danny. An Irish Wolfhound, maybe.

  Ann walked up beside her.

  “Nice job, Detective Murphy,” Jordan said.

  “Busy night.” Ann reached over to pet the dog. “We’re heading over to Tony LaSalle’s place.”

  “Oh.” Jordan tried to sound innocent. “Do you think he’s there?”

  “Maybe, but that’s not why we’re going. We received an anonymous call that the Dahlonega collection might have been hidden there. We searched his place once already, but it’s worth a second look, especially if LaSalle got nervous.”

  “No word on LaSalle himself?”

  “Not yet,” Ann said, “but we’ll get that sleaze. Think you want to come with …?”

  Jordan seemed to give the question the appropriate amount of thought before answering, “No, better not. It’s been a really long day. You’ve got a lot going on tonight, too. You don’t need me tagging along everywhere. It makes Neil cranky.”

  “Everything makes Neil cranky.” The detective looked down at the little dog. “You taking the pooch with you?”

  “I was thinking about it. Is that a problem?”

  “If we need his testimony, I’ll give you a call.” Ann put her arm around Jordan’s shoulders. “Thanks for your help tonight.”

  “We didn’t get LaSalle, but it wasn’t a total loss.”

  “Are you kidding, Jordan? Tonight was a win, and we’ll find LaSalle and the coins, too.”

  Jordan watched her friend walk back to the Explorer.

  Tank and Diego stopped beside her. “Y’all want to go see how the boss is doing?” Tank asked.

  Diego said, “Bet he’s in a really bad mood, unless they have some good-looking nurses taking care of him.”

  “Watch it, or I’ll sic this vicious dog on you,” Jordan warned.

  She stepped down off the porch. “Let’s get over there. Call Coop to come pick up this pooch and take him back to Eddie’s place. Theresa can keep an eye on him.”

  Chapter 36

  All Saints Hospital was quiet at seven thirty Sunday morning when Jordan, Diego, and Tank finally arrived.

  Eddie’s room was on the fourth floor.

  Jordan caught her breath when she walked in.

  Not only was Eddie out cold, but he looked terrible, like someone the grim reaper had forgotten to pick up—right forearm bandaged, left hand ditto, left cheek swollen, right eye discolored and swollen, lower lip split. The nurse on duty mentioned two cracked ribs to be cautiously babied for six to eight weeks. Her eyes burned. Oh my God, Eddie. What the hell did they do to you?

  Sofia sat next to him. No makeup, hair like a haystack. She looked exhausted.

  “Jordan,” Sofia turned and saw them, then stood and backed away, “I’m so glad you’re here. Come sit down with him.”

  Jordan looked over at her. “Any change?”

  Sofia nodded. “He woke up for a few minutes about a half hour ago. He seemed to know where he was, who I was.” She paused. “He asked about you.”

  Jordan reached out to touch him, but pulled back. Where could she lay her hand and not hurt him? He seemed to be one massive bruise. Instead she leaned over and gently placed a kiss on his left eyelid—the Indiana Jones scenario. He moaned, and she was looking into his beautiful brown eyes, Eddie’s eyes, yet not. A haze dulled the fire she was so used to seeing there.

  “Hey, babe,” he slurred, “where you been? You smell like beer. I could use one right about now.”

  “Heavy date tonight,” she teased. “What was I supposed to do? You were tied up.”

  He laughed, sort of. She could tell it hurt his ribs by the way he twisted to protect himself.

  Diego and Tank pushed away from the wall and moved over to the far side of the bed. “Boss,” Diego said.

  “Brother, you are a sight,” Tank drawled.

  “Good to see you guys, too.” Eddie shifted in the bed again.

  “Eddie,” Sofia said. “How are you doing? Are you clear-headed enough to understand if I tell you something?”

  He turned his head slowly toward her. His eyes did seem a bit more focused.

  “My dad called a couple of hours ago.” She took a step closer to the bed and lowered her voice. “LaSalle’s dead.”

  No one spoke, waiting for her to continue.

  Sofia began, “Yeah, he was out cold when they loaded him into the trunk, but they overestimated how hard he was hit. He must have come to, and when they were stopped at a light, he popped the trunk from
the inside and rolled out of the car.”

  Jordan was confused. “But I thought you said he was—”

  “Dead.” She smiled. “He is. Stupid bastard took two steps away from the car and got flattened by a semi.” She snorted. It wasn’t attractive at all. “It was a McDonald’s truck. Talk about your all-beef patties.”

  Jordan stared at her, appalled that someone could take such glee in another’s death—even if that someone were the Devil himself. Maybe Sofia was her father’s daughter after all.

  Sofia sang. “I’m lovin’ it.”

  Tank laughed.

  Diego somehow managed to hold it back, but Jordan could tell it was hard by how red his face was.

  Only Eddie didn’t seem to find it funny. And Jordan? Jordan could only send a silent prayer for forgiveness. Thank God the son of a bitch is dead.

  “I wanted to tell you in person. I know you need closure on the case,” Ann said, in full detective mode.

  When Ann called and asked to see her, Jordan left the hospital and drove to the station. Now she sat across from her friend trying to look surprised and interested as Ann related the news of Tony LaSalle’s untimely demise.

  “The traffic cams picked it up. It was an old Mercedes four-door, reported stolen yesterday from a location in Central Scottsdale. On the footage, the trunk lid popped open. LaSalle jumped out, hit the ground running—or tried to, anyway. He only took a step or two before the semi flattened him. I’ll never be able to order fries again without thinking of that sleazebag. The Benz took off. We found it a couple of miles away, wiped clean. We figure the cartel went after him, like maybe something went wrong with one of the drug deals LaSalle and Reilly were in on together.”

  She sat looking at Jordan, seeming to expect a response. Evidently Jordan didn’t come up with one fast enough to suit Detective Murphy. “You don’t seem all that surprised to hear about this, Jordan. You don’t happen to know anything about it, do you?”

  “Me?” Jordan said. Too bad she hadn’t paid more attention in her high school drama class. “Ann, I was with you, remember?”