Chapter 28
Leon
My finger traces the glass in front of me as Andre tells me he still has no leads on Alex’s location in a distinct Croatian accent.
No matter how many times I hear it, it doesn’t get easier.
I click to end the call, disappointment growing inside of me.
Dom lets himself into my office, his frame filling the doorway.
“Tell me you have good news.” I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“I have news.” He clears his throat and drops another folder onto my desk. “It took some extra steps, but we found something.” His motion is eerily familiar, making my skin prickle with the sense of déjà vu. The last time he did so, he revealed Alex’s identity.
I’m more apprehensive this time, preparing myself for the inevitable disaster that awaits me inside the ordinary-looking folder. But as my fingers turn the page, I realize nothing could have prepared me for this.
It’s a photo.
One I doubt I will ever be able to erase from my mind. There’s a woman in the photo, lying in a hospital bed, beaten half-way to death. Even though her features are unrecognizable, I have a bone-chilling feeling about who it is. The name at the bottom of the page confirms my suspicions.
Alexandra Landers.
Her hair is light brown, but darkened and clumped with blood.
Her blue eyes are practically hidden behind the swelling.
She has a cast on her arm and a sling around her chest. The date states that this happened over four years ago, which is only a slight relief, since I know she was alive and well just a few days ago.
“Who?” I barely manage to mutter out.
“Check the next page.”
I turn the page, finding a second horrifying photo, this one showing the bottom half of her body. Her stomach and legs are covered in bruises.
My eyes skim over the text, catching on terms like contusions, lacerations, and multiple fractures. I continue reading, bile rising in my throat.
24 y.o. female presented to the ER in acute distress with multiple contusions and lacerations.
Upon exam, she was immediately referred to surgery and later diagnosed with femoral sublixation, radius fracture, and multiple rib fractures.
The nature of her injuries were suspect of domestic violence.
Law enforcement and Patient Advocacy were notified.
Her next of kin was contacted as well. She underwent imaging and tolerated anesthesia well.
When patient advocate met with her, she adamantly refused any abuse and stated, “please don’t call the police, they’ll just make it worse” (see LISW documents).
She refused social work follow-up. The patient requested to be discharged against medical advice, and was discharged after signing the AMA into the care of Lt.
Robert Welding, whom assured staff that he was her fiancé and could care for her injuries.
For a second, time stops. My breathing halts as my heart thuds in my ears. My vision narrows to the point of almost blacking out, focused on the three words in front of me.
Lieutenant Robert Welding.
The puzzle pieces click into place, one by one. Her injuries. The story she shared. The fact that the motherfucker is looking for her.
No wonder she uses a fake name. No wonder she carries a gun. She barely survived getting away from him, and now he’s after her again.
Her wide eyes filled with fear flash in my memory.
I fucking yelled at her. I was mad she lied to me, and I yelled at her.
In my mind, she was afraid of getting caught.
But she was probably afraid for her life.
My head drops to my hands, my fingers pulling on the strands of my hair.
My stomach slowly fills with dread, guilt consuming me.
As if there’s further down to go, a thought pops into my head.
“How did you find out her real name?”
“I told you. I found her hair and ran it through the system?”
“How?” I roar out.
“A contact in the police.” His voice lowers.
“Williams?”
“No, I didn’t want him to find out. I found someone in forensics.”
“Which station?” My questions continue, though there’s no need for me to hear his answer. Deep down, I already know.
“Third.”
Robert Welding’s previous station. On a growl, I flip the desk over, sending papers across the floor. Dom winces. I jump out of my chair, my heart pumping out of my chest. I clench my fists a few times to release some of the frantic energy and look up at Dom.
“We’re the reason he found her?!” We’re three floors below it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if people can hear us in the casino. I start pacing back and forth. “She was on the run for probably years and now, thanks to us, thanks to me — ” I poke a finger into my chest —“he found her.”
“H-he probably doesn’t know where she is now.”
“NEITHER DO WE!” I rub a hand over my face.
I have no idea where she is. She could be in grave danger, and I have no idea where she is.
Just like Luka. My teeth grit together as my expression turns unhinged.
I point a threatening finger at him. “I want all men on this. I want her found, and I want him here so I can show him what it’s like. Now!”
“Some of our men are on other assignments.”
“I said all of them! Tear the fucking world apart if you need to, just find her.”
Dom nods and leaves the room, unlocking his phone. I drop back down into the chair, my world collapsing like a house of cards. Everything is crumbling, and this time, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it.
Desperate to do something, anything, I click on Andre’s name again.
“?efe, I told you I have no news right now.” His voice fills the room since my hands are too restless to keep the device on my ear.
“Tell me every move she made since you started following her and I mean every move.”
The list is shorter than I expected. Other than one trip to the store, there is only one other place she visited. Luka’s club.
“You haven’t thought about sharing that before?” I bark out.
“I didn’t think it mattered. Dom told me I shouldn’t mention anything unless it was suspicious. I just thought she was someone we were working with. Why wouldn’t she visit the club?”
Fucking Dom and his military ways. If he had told Andre the truth, Andre would’ve let me know about Alex’s visit to the club.
I know he was only protecting me, but his protection has caused me enough shit already.
“Just don’t let it happen again,” I respond and end the call, grabbing my phone and keys with newfound purpose.
Luka’s club is busy, but I barely notice the people surrounding me as I march my way to the back.
I’m faintly aware of the bass vibrating in my ears, and the cheap smell of cologne, but my gaze is focused on a single spot.
I recognize the short, blonde bartender as Ivan’s girlfriend, and her eyes widen as she notices me.
“Where is he?” I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.
She swallows. “In the office.”
I sidestep the bar and eat the long hallway in three steps. Without knocking, I enter my brother’s office, one that he barely got to use before disappearing.
Ivan’s dark eyes snap up, his hand already on his gun, but he relaxes as he notices me. “Leon, how can I help you?”
“I heard you had a visitor the other day.” I drop into a chair across from him, and lean forward.
He barely acknowledges me, his focus back on the papers before him. “A visitor?”
“Yes. A woman named Alex.”
“We get a lot of women here.” He shrugs.
“You’d remember this one. A gorgeous, sharp redhead. She’s important to me. I want to know why she was here.”
He glances at me, leaning back into his chair. “She was looking for Sophie. Sophie Landers, her cousin.”
I guess he expects to shock me, but he gets no reaction. “Why would she look for her here?” Why would she look for her anywhere? Shouldn’t she already know where Sophie is if they’re both working with the Russians?
“Something about Petrovi? Casinos.” He shoots me a pointed look. “I guess she linked it to this place.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“The truth. I don’t know where her cousin is.”
I dip my head. “Did she say anything else? Do you have any idea where she is now?”
“Who is she?”
“No one.” The lie tastes bitter exiting my mouth. “Just answer the question.”
“I don’t know where she is, but Nina talked to her. Maybe she shared where she was staying.”
“Bring her here.”
He hesitates before rising from the chair and heading outside. The two of them return, but Ivan glares at me menacingly. “If you disrespect her, I swear to God…”
I lift both of my palms. “I’m just here to ask questions.”
He lets Nina into his chair, standing next to her like a personal guard.
The way the short, blonde girl has this giant mobster wrapped around her tiny finger is a sight to behold.
“What do you want to know?” she asks casually.
Although she’s not one of us, her poker face is awe-inspiring when faced with stressful situations like these.
“I want to know about the woman who was here a few days ago. Alex.”
“I thought Ivan already told you everything we know.” Once again, her answer is measured. Practiced.
“He told me everything he knew. But I think you might have some intel of your own.”
By the tip of her lips, it’s obvious she likes to feel useful. “She was looking for her cousin. The girl you kept here. She’s been looking for her since she went missing.”
I spare a glare at Ivan for telling her all our business. “Did she share anything else? Where she was staying? A way to contact her?”
“Not really. She just seemed sad. Like she was really down on her luck and needed something good to happen.” Nina’s words pierce my chest.
I clear my throat. “She’s in danger and I don’t even know where to start looking for her.”
“Where was the last place she was seen?” Ivan interjects, leaning his hands on Luka’s desk.
“Sophie’s apartment. Before Andre let her run away.”
Ivan clenches his jaw, but Nina interjects, “She ran away, on her own?”
“Yes, that is my theory.”
“Thank God.” She presses her hand to her chest. “At least it’s better than being kidnapped by whoever is after her.”
There were no signs of a struggle in the apartment. She has experience being on the run. It has to be the case.
“Silly question, but have you tried calling her?” Nina suggests, showing her inexperience in the mafia business.
“A phone would be the first thing someone on the run would get rid of,” I explain.
“But she’s looking for Sophie, right? And she’s on the run? How would Sophie reach out to her if she doesn’t know where to find her?”
I open my mouth to object, but come up short. Her suggestion, however simple, has merit. We found a discarded phone in the apartment, but that might not be the only one. After all, if a person has multiple IDs, why wouldn’t they have multiple phones?
“Even if she does have a phone so Sophie can reach her, how would that help us find her?” Ivan asks.
My gaze turns unfocused as my mind spirals with ideas. There has to be something there. If only I could… “Sophie’s stuff.” The idea crashes into my mind. “Her stuff has to be somewhere. You either took it when you kidnapped her, or it’s in her apartment. But her phone has to be somewhere.”
“She had her phone on her when we took her. I remember it falling out of her pocket while we placed her into the car, and Luka told me to pick it up.”
“That’s good. So it has to be somewhere, doesn’t it?” Hope blooms in my chest, a feeling I so desperately needed. “Did Luka keep it?”
“Fuck if I know,” Ivan responds. “But there’s a bag of stuff from his old office out in the storage room. We can check there.”
I’m out of the chair before he finishes the sentence. Three of us cram into the small storage room, digging through various bags. The clock is ticking. The longer it takes me to find her, the more danger she’s in.
“Found it!” Nina exclaims, and I release a relieved breath.
“How do you know it’s hers?” Ivan asks.
“I don’t. I found it in a bag with a woman’s sweatshirt, so I took a wild guess.” She clicks the side of the phone, staring at the screen with anticipation. “It’s dead.” My stomach drops, but she’s already heading out of the tiny room. “Come on, I keep an extra charger in the office.”
She plugs the charger into the port, and the screen lights up, heating my insides. This is it. It has to be.