14 - J. T. Ellison [116]
“Like you did to Burt Mars? I swear, you son of a bitch, if you do anything to him, I will personally take you down.”
“No, you won’t. You don’t have that kind of power. Your fiancé doesn’t, either, so don’t think about running to him. Mars was collateral damage. I do what needs to be done, Lieutenant. Just remember that. Now, it’s time to stop this game. You need to listen to me, once and for all. I’m willing to make a deal with you.”
“A deal? With a criminal? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I think you’ll play along when I tell you what the offer is. Something to sweeten the proverbial pot. You turn your pretty little head away from my business interests in Nashville, and not only will I let your father live, I’ll give you Snow White.”
Taylor didn’t reply, just looked at Baldwin. He wrote her a note, slid it across the desk. She read the message—calm down.
Taylor nodded. Tried to sound more reasonable.
“Delglisi, I can’t do that. I can’t turn my head on illegal activities.”
“Yes, you can. And you will. You hold your father’s life in your hands. Snow White’s head on a platter, Lieutenant. I think that’s a generous gift.”
She raised an eyebrow at Baldwin, decided to take a chance, con the con.
“Yes, I agree. Very generous. There’s just one problem with your offer. I know who the Snow White is. So your little deal isn’t going to work. You need to let my father go.”
The laughter emanating from the speaker chilled Taylor’s spine. “You don’t know who he is, or you would have arrested him by now. Last chance, Lieutenant. I’ll give you a few hours to think it over.”
He was gone. Taylor slumped her head in her hands. Baldwin stroked her arm until she raised her head.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I have a call coming in. If my theory is right, I think we can take him down. There’s someone who might know a little more about his activities, know if he’s bluffing. And we need to get Snow White. That’s our only bargaining chip.”
“Bargaining? Surely you can’t be thinking of making a deal with that scumbag.”
Baldwin rocked back in his chair. “I figured you’d want me to do everything I could to stop him from hurting your father.”
“He won’t hurt him. They’re in this together. I can tell. I have a sneaking suspicion about Delglisi. Lincoln said Jane Macias’s notes had the name Malik next to Delglisi’s, right? What if Anthony Malik is Edward Delglisi? It would explain everything. Eldridge said they know Delglisi isn’t L’Uomo’s real name.”
Baldwin was nodding. “This makes sense.”
“And they’ve been friends for years. That’s what I keep remembering—Mars, my dad, the guy who I think must be Snow White, all chummy on New Year’s Eve. If I could get deeper into the memory and put a voice to the fourth man, I’ll bet you anything it’s Malik. Snow White’s name isn’t coming to me, but I’m sure if I go through the society pages real quick, I can find a picture of him and that damnable signet ring. If there’s a shot of Malik, too, maybe I can tie everything together, recognize Delglisi as Malik. We’ll have actual proof.
“But I’ll be damned if I’ll listen to directives from a bunch of old criminals, trying to one-up each other. Sick bastards. My father will have to fend for himself. I’m not bailing him out of this mess.”
A knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she yelled.
Marcus opened the door, pale in the glare of the fluorescent bulbs. He stood, seemingly frozen in the door frame, and his voice shook just a bit when he told them.
“We have another victim.”
Forty-Four
Nashville, Tennessee
Tuesday, December 23
3:00 p.m.
The procession to the Marriott Renaissance Hotel on Commerce Street downtown was four cars deep. Baldwin and Taylor were in one, Lincoln and Marcus followed, Fitz trailed the medical examiner’s van, who had pulled in front of them as they left the CJC. A funeral cortege. They might as well all have their lights on and traffic stopped to show respect for their passage.
Taylor was