to her husband in seven years. Which, based on the divorce settlement and the no-contact order he’d uncovered, was likely true. But at the time he’d felt certain she was holding back on him, that she knew far more about her ex-husband’s connection to the Mafia than she’d let on. And even then, her fear of her ex had been palpable.
Ironic how she’d contacted him now that she needed his assistance. And he couldn’t deny being curious as to what was going on.
The ride to the office building of Simon Inc. took less than his allotted fifteen minutes. He walked into the lobby and smiled at the perky redhead sitting behind the receptionist desk. “Good morning, I’m here to see Ms. Simon.”
“Yes, she mentioned you were coming.” The redhead wore a name tag that identified her as Carrie Freeman and she was young enough to make him feel ancient at thirty-seven. “Just take these elevators here to the tenth floor.”
“Thanks.” He pushed the elevator button, already knowing Rachel’s office was on the tenth floor. Once he arrived up there, he was greeted warmly by Rachel’s assistant, Edith Goodman. A far cry from the last time he’d been here, when the sixty-something-year-old had protected her boss like a mama bear hovering over her cub.
“Rachel’s waiting for you in her office,” Edith said. “Is there something I can get for you, Detective? Coffee? Soft drink?”
“Coffee would be great.”
“Black, no sugar, correct?”
He shouldn’t have been surprised she remembered, considering Edith Goodman ruled Rachel’s office with an iron fist. “That’s right.”
Rachel’s office door was open, and she met him halfway, offering her hand as he strolled toward her. “Detective, thanks for coming on such short notice.”
Her slender fingers were firm as they gripped his. She was as beautiful as he remembered, with her sleek blond hair framing her face and distinctive green eyes. But despite her smile, dark shadows hovered in her eyes. “I have to admit, I was intrigued by your call.”
Her smile faded, and she waited until Edith had handed him a mug of coffee, before inviting him inside her office. “Please, have a seat.”
He sat in the chair facing hers, and his gaze immediately landed on the two pieces of paper lying on her desk. They’d been turned toward him. He took a sip from the steaming mug before setting his coffee aside. He leaned forward and read the messages.
“You will repay your debt of betrayal.”
“You will scream in agony, suffering for your past mistakes.”
The threats were all too real and his protective instincts jumped to the forefront. He was angry at the idea of Rachel being stalked by some lunatic. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Who sent these to you?” he demanded roughly.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Rachel scowled and crossed her arms protectively across her chest.
“Not to me,” he said, striving for patience. “An ex-boyfriend? A disgruntled employee? You must have some idea.”
Her scowl deepened. “I don’t have a boyfriend, ex or otherwise, and a disgruntled employee would more likely try to sue me rather than send threats. I’ve received a few phone calls, too. The caller never speaks, but I can hear heavy breathing on the other end of the phone. Don’t you see?” She spread her hands over the letters. “These have to be from someone within the Mafia.”
He stared at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. Their last interaction hadn’t been entirely cordial, since she’d avoided discussing anything related to her husband’s ties to the Mafia. He sat back and reached for his coffee mug. “So you’re admitting that Anthony Caruso was involved with the Mafia?”
Her cheeks turned pink and she avoided his gaze as if embarrassed. “I told you that much a year ago,” she said defensively.
“But you claimed you didn’t know any details,” he reminded her.
“Look, Detective, my goal last year was to do whatever was necessary to protect my son. And I never lied to you about that missing woman. At the time we spoke I hadn’t seen Anthony in seven years, so I had no idea who he was seeing or who he was associating with.”
“But you knew what he was capable of,” Nick said, capturing her gaze with his.
She stared at him for a long moment before breaking the connection. And when she spoke, her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. “Yes. I knew exactly what he was capable of. I believe he murdered that woman. But my belief is a far cry from actual hard-core evidence. There was nothing that I knew that would have helped your case.”
The simple admission helped squelch his lingering anger. He was a bit ashamed that he’d spent time rehashing the past instead of moving forward. He caught sight of the photo of her son, Joey, that was displayed proudly on her desk. The kid had blond hair, green eyes and a smile that matched his mother’s. Nick could understand her need to keep silent if it meant protecting her child.
For a moment, he thought about how much he missed his wife and daughter. He would have done anything to protect them, too. But unfortunately, they both died in a terrible car accident two years ago. And while he knew they were in a much better place in heaven, he still missed them every day.
He pushed the painful memories aside. “Okay, maybe someone within the Mafia sent them, but at this point, we don’t have any proof. We can’t go after anyone in the syndicate without evidence. I’ll take these notes and have them dusted for prints. Maybe that’ll give us a place to start.”
She grimaced. “Well, to be perfectly honest, the first one probably won’t help much. I treated it normally since I had no idea that it was a threat. The second letter I was very careful with, although the envelope was handled by my receptionist.” She went on to describe in detail how she’d received the letters.
He made notes in his notebook. “Do you remember when the phone calls came in?” he asked. “Was there a common number?”
“The calls came from a blocked number, and they started three days ago.”
Three phone calls and two written threats in the past three days. Hard to tell if the danger was escalating. He’d known some stalkers who called their victims twenty or thirty times a day. These messages seemed to be aimed at keeping Rachel off balance and afraid. “You haven’t noticed anyone following you? Or watching you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Her gaze rested on her son’s photograph. “Right now, the threats are centered on me, but I called you because I need to be sure Joey is safe.”
“I understand. I’ll see what we can get from these letters, but at this point, our hands are tied.” As much as he wanted to order protection for her, they needed more than just her suspicion that the Mafia was behind the threats. He took out his business card and slid it across the desk. “I want you to be extra vigilant. If you see anything suspicious, please call me on my personal phone regardless of the time of day or night.”
She took the card and nodded. “Thank you.”
He rose to his feet, wishing there was more that could be done. After donning a pair of gloves, he placed both notes and the envelopes in
