Don't Look Back. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
not going with you to interview any suspect that isn’t directly related to the filmmaker case.” He nodded toward a park bench in Washington Square, where students congregated between classes despite the recent bout of unseasonably cold October weather. “Have a seat and we can exchange information so I can let you go about your day in peace, okay?”
She hesitated when her cell phone rang and she took the call with brusque efficiency before hitting the off button.
“Sorry about that, but I’ve got a lot on my plate today.” She cinched the belt on her dark wool coat tighter. “Maybe we should reschedule this so we have more time?”
“So we have to wade through the awkwardness of seeing each other all over again?” He resisted the urge to pull her to the damn bench and sit her down because he remembered how much any extraneous touching set her off.
But damn. She was a tough case.
“You’re right,” she relented finally, walking toward the vacant bench under her own steam, her soft breath making a visible puff in the cold air. “I’d appreciate any information you can give me on the illegal filmmaker. I look forward to sending that particular creep to prison for a very long time.”
“I don’t think the actual producer is illegal.” Sean didn’t have any intention of sharing everything with her since he had worked his tail off to hunt down the bastard for himself.
“Of course he’s illegal if he’s filming underage girls.” She filched two napkins from a coffee kiosk nearby and swiped them across the bench before taking a seat.
“What I mean to say is that he probably dabbles on both sides of the business—legitimate and illegal—so that he’s covering his butt with one for the other.” He couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his voice.
“You think he’s distributing porn through traditional film venues?” She kept her voice low in deference to the hundreds of people who passed through the square even though no one paid them any attention. They were more alone here among hundreds than they had been in a precinct break room.
“No. I think he distributes the illegal stuff mainly online, but he cloaks his operations behind the front of a legitimate filmmaker.” He knew all of it to be fact, actually, but he didn’t want to reveal how deeply he’d immersed himself in this investigation just yet. And for all his efforts, he still didn’t have a name to go with the profile.
“So how did you get involved with this shining example of humanity?” She tucked her hands into her coat pockets and stared out over the crowd gathering around two guys in red superhero capes who were playing guitars in exchange for donations.
“I left the force because my kid sister was molested by some guy she met on the Internet and the cops wouldn’t do jack shit to nail the bastard.” He dug a couple of bucks out of his wallet for the street musicians, appreciating the way the folk songs provided some mental distance from what he was saying.
Donata remained silent. Listening. Waiting.
“The guy who met her online found out who she was after a video of my sister had been distributed without her knowledge. When she was eighteen, she had a webcam set up to send video of herself to her boyfriend but apparently the dude forwarded pictures to some trash sites with her personal information attached. That’s how this other guy found her.”
“Is she okay now?” Donata’s hand landed gently on his arm, the unexpected touch more comfort than he would have expected from someone as seemingly reserved as her.
“She’s put it behind her pretty successfully. In fact she lives ten states away and it pisses her off that I’m still on a quest to bring down the whole operation since it brings back bad memories. But I can’t stand the idea of kids unknowingly exposing themselves to scumbags who will turn around and sell video snippets for a profit.”
“And you’ve been after this group for how long?”
“I’d just started the investigation when I arrested you, so I guess it’s been four years. But I’m on the verge of cracking the power behind the ring now…as long as the cops don’t elbow their way in and mess up the sting I’ve got in the works.”
Okay, that was a stretch. But he had names and addresses for hundreds of people who subscribed to the sites specializing in youthful exhibitionists, and that in itself made for powerful information.
“Basically, it’s fourth quarter and you’re asking me to take a knee while the clock runs out.” Her hand slid away from his arm and back into her pocket. The crowd around the guitar players burst into applause at the end of the song.
“Is that a problem when you’re already ahead in the game and victory is imminent?” He suspected from her suddenly rigid spine that she wasn’t liking the idea.
“You forget we’re playing for different teams. I don’t have the luxury of working for myself and making my own calls on handling cases. I’m responsible to my department. To taxpayers.”
Frustration pounded in his head as he began to see the many ways his operation could blow up in his face if the cops started crawling all over things.
“You don’t understand how close I am to smoking out these bastards.” No reasonable person would deny him this opportunity after all the years he’d put into cultivating inside contacts. “I’ve got a girl ready to sell out the filmmakers and put the last nail in the coffin for me.”
If she didn’t change her mind. Sometimes it was tough to tell with connections you’d made online.
“Sean, I appreciate that this case is personal for you, but you can’t ask me to just pretend it doesn’t exist when it comes under my jurisdiction. Half my precinct thinks I’m crooked anyway for reasons I’m sure you can appreciate.”
He knew it had to be tough to cross over into the police world after she’d seen prison bars—if only briefly—from the inside. Still, it said a lot for Donata’s character that she’d managed to wrangle her way into the NYPD at all.
Rising to his feet, Sean tossed the money in the open guitar box at the players’ feet and turned back to her.
“All the more reason to steer clear of this investigation, Donata. The brains and the wallet behind the operation might belong to someone you know well.” He dealt his best card to send her off the case for good. “My sources show your old pal Sergio Alteri is running his business as usual from a prison cell.”
3
LATER THAT NIGHT, Donata didn’t remember the details of how she’d got through the rest of the day.
Hearing her former lover’s name cast into conversation like a gauntlet had scrambled her thoughts, feelings and kick-ass veneer until she’d had no choice but to make lame excuses to get away from Sean long enough to regroup. Reassess. And find out for herself how the hell her old boyfriend—the man who’d been the center of her world when she was a teenager, the man who saved her from an emotional breakdown when her father died—could have possibly orchestrated crimes from behind bars.
At home in her apartment on the Upper East Side, Donata stroked her tabby cat’s head and clicked through her personal files on Sergio. Her first instinct had been to ignore Sean’s suggestion that her ex could continue to exert power from a federal prison. But how naive would that be, especially when she’d seen organized crime up close and personal during her years with Alteri?
The buzzing of her apartment’s intercom system had her cat jumping off her lap a moment later and Donata rose to see who would be downstairs at 8:00 p.m. Neighbors knew better than to buzz her when they locked themselves out since she was super cautious about security.
“Yes?” Her building was an old brownstone between York and East End Avenue. Normally she appreciated the privacy of her homey little building with no doorman, but on nights like this when she was already jumpy she wondered if she’d be better off somewhere else.
Somewhere