22. Chapter Twenty-Two
MATT
Matt knew a little about Sanctuary. He knew, for example, that it had once been a popular mountain resort. He knew that a group of guys, former SEALs, like his uncles, had turned the place into a private facility for servicemen and -women to help ease their transitions back into civilian life.
After spending more than a decade in the service himself, Matt could see the need for such a place. Walking away from service required mental realignment in the best of cases. It would be hard even for him, and he had incredible familial support. There was no going back to the way things had been, which was one of the reasons he wasn’t planning on sticking around after his six months were up.
“So, are you going to tell me who we’re meeting here and how you think it will help?” Matt asked as they wound their way up the mountain.
“Nick Fumanti and his wife, Bree, née Gabriella De Rossi. As for the why of it, they both grew up in that world. Nick’s parents were key members of the Italian and Irish Mafias; Bree’s family was strictly on the Italian side of things. Granted, Nick’s family’s business was primarily in New York and Boston, and Bree’s in New York and Vegas, but they might know some of the major players in Chicago. At the very least, they can provide valuable insight.”
After about forty-five minutes, Ian turned off the main road onto a well-maintained private drive and drove another mile through a tunnel of trees filled with buds and blooms.
He’d heard the place was nice, but nice didn’t come close to describing the incredible stonework, the landscaping, or the understated grandeur. And the view!
Matt whistled low.
“Yeah”—Ian chuckled—“that’s everyone’s first impression.”
“I’ll say. How’d they get their hands on a property like this?”
“This was Church’s family’s place. It burned down when he was at BUD/s. He lost everything, including his family. Place sat vacant for years, and then when he got out, he wanted to do something worthwhile with it, you know? I’d say he succeeded.”
They parked at the main building and were greeted by the man Ian called Church. Church was a big guy with the no-nonsense look of the former commander he had been. He and Ian clasped hands.
Ian made introductions.
“A Callaghan who went into the Army, huh?” Church said, raising a brow. “Explain that one to me.”
“I know. A betrayal of the highest order,” Ian said, placing his hand on his chest as though stabbed in the heart.
Church’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we have a few of those here. Don’t worry; we don’t discriminate. Come in. Cage is waiting for you in the war room.”
The inside was just as impressive as the outside, starting with the grand entryway.
Church led them down carpeted corridors to a high-tech conference room, where two people were waiting for them. The man had auburn hair and bright green eyes; the woman had dark hair and eyes. Much like Anna, Matt realized.
Church did the intros. “Nick Fumanti—we call him Cage—and his wife, Bree. Cage, Bree, this is Matt O’Connell, Ian’s nephew.”
More handshakes were exchanged.
“Ian, good to see you again,” Church said. “Matt, nice to meet you. I’ll leave you guys to it. You know where to find me if you need me.”
“Thanks for seeing us,” Ian said as Church left, and it was just the four of them in the room.
“So,” Cage said, “Church said you wanted to talk to us about what’s going on in Chicago?” The guy had a very laid-back, easy way about him, but Matt sensed a bit of tension in his eyes, as if the subject wasn’t one he liked to discuss.
Ian nodded. “Yes. Specifically with the gubernatorial race going on there.”
“I’m not sure how much we can help,” Cage said, exchanging a glance with his wife. “We haven’t been part of that world for a long time.”
“But you’re not completely out of the loop,” Ian said.
“No,” Bree agreed. “Although most of what we hear is through my cousin Toni. Now that she and her husband are back in New York and Hunter has the gig with the network, she’s privy to a lot of inside scoop.”
“Do you mind?” Ian said, waving a hand toward one of the laptops.
“Have at it.”
Ian tapped some keys, and within seconds, the image Anna had been looking at in the library was projected onto the large screen on the wall. “Know anything about these guys?”
“Paul DiGiorgio, Sal Santini, and Constantine Delvecchio,” Nick read from the caption.
“DiGiorgio is the one running for governor,” Ian said. “The other two are his muscle.”
Bree was nodding. “DiGiorgio I know of. The others don’t look familiar, but it’s hard to see their faces with their hats down like that.”
“What can you tell us about DiGiorgio?” Matt asked.
“Not much. He’s a relatively new face in the political scene. Started coming up in the ranks about a decade ago, when the power base out there shifted from one family to another. Same stuff, different manager, if you will.”
“What kind of stuff are we talking about?” Matt asked.
Bree shrugged. “The usual. Drugs, guns, extortion. There were some rumors about prostitution and sex trafficking, but nothing substantial as far as I know.”
“Can you tell us why the interest?” Nick asked. “Maybe if we know where you’re coming from, we can be more helpful.”
Matt looked at Ian, who nodded in response. Matt gave a brief rundown of the highlights, which admittedly, weren’t many.
Bree’s brows pulled down low. “Let me get this straight. You’re concerned that your elderly neighbor’s new personal caregiver has questionable motives, and the only thing you’ve got is that she was reading an article about the race in Chicago on a public library computer?”
Matt winced. It did sound like a huge reach when he put it like that. “In a nutshell.”
Nick shook his head. “I know you’re a wizard, Ian, but not even you can conjure a mob connection from that. What are you not telling us?”
“It is more complicated than that,” Ian admitted. “Elsa’s grandson is the one who believes she’s got ulterior motives and hired a PI. Matt asked me to do some digging, but I would have done that anyway. Mrs. Campbell is a sweet old lady and has been a friend of the family for years. As for the aide, her CV appears legit, but there’s no trace of her prior to seven years ago. That raised some red flags for us.”
“Nothing?” Nick asked doubtfully.
“Nothing. Lots of Anna Blacks, but none that I can say definitively is our Anna Black.”
“Hmm,” Bree mused. “Sticking with the mob theme … witness protection maybe?”
“I suppose that’s a possibility,” Nick said slowly, “but it’s still pretty thin. I hate to say it, man, but I don’t think we can help you with this one.”
“That’s all right,” Ian said, letting out a breath. “It was a long shot. We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us.”
“Anytime. After all the stuff you’ve done for us? We’re always willing to help.”
They rose to go.
“Hey, while you’re here, you want to stick around and join us for lunch?”
“I never say no to Kate’s cooking. What do you say, Matt?”
“Sounds great,” he said, but he’d lost his appetite. He felt certain that there was more to Anna than met the eye. So much more. Had he completely lost perspective? Were his finely honed instincts in need of a serious adjustment? Or, after that last op, had he become so jaded that he was imagining things lurking in the shadows that weren’t really there?