Page 63 of Lay Down the Law

“What about it?”

“We had DNA pulled from the blood at the scene. It was a long shot, but we sent it out anyway, hoping for a lucky break. Preliminary results came back, but when we punched the info into the national database we didn’t get a match.”

The hairs on the back of Nick’s neck stood on end. “So, you didn’t ID the thug she shot. What does that have to do with someone putting McNeal on their hit list?”

“Erin and Danny Perrine were operating on a tip that night in the warehouse, Nick. There was supposed to be a heroin buy. A couple of pounds. Some cash. In the scope of things, it should have been small time.”

Nick wasn’t sure he even wanted to hear what Frank was going to say next. He didn’t like mysteries when it came to police shootings. He sure as hell didn’t like the way this one was shaping up. “Who was the thug?”

“Does the name Damon DiCarlo ring a bell?”

Nick barely heard the last part of the sentence over the pounding of his pulse. “If he’s any relation to Vic DiCarlo, I’d say we have a hell of a problem on our hands.”

“Damon is his son.”

It was Nick’s turn to curse. Vic DiCarlo was Chicago’s version of John Gotti. Ruthless. Powerful. With a reputation for violence that left even veteran cops nauseous. “You kept me in the dark, you son of a bitch.”

“Save it, Nick. I’m not finished.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“You didn’t know because I didn’t know. Regardless, I thought Erin would be safe down there.”

Cold realization crept over Nick like freezing rain down the back of his neck. “Erin shot Vic DiCarlo’s son.”

“That’s what we suspect.”

“Why did it take the Chicago PD six months to figure it out, for crying out loud?”

“Damon DiCarlo doesn’t have a record,” Frank said. “He’s never even been arrested. So his DNA wasn’t in the database. We had to get a warrant and search his apartment. We finally got something from a hairbrush. To extract DNA, we had to find a hair with a damn root attached. That took some time. After the lab typed it, we had to match it with the blood we found at the scene. That’s no easy feat.”

“Have you picked him up?”

“We would have picked him up weeks ago and found some other way to collect his DNA, but Damon DiCarlo is missing. The feds have had surveillance teams out looking for weeks, but no one has been able to locate him.”

“How long has he been missing?”

“Six months.”

Nick cursed again. “What about the old man?”

“He’s in Sicily where we can’t touch him—”

“He’s not in Sicily, Frank.”

The other man hesitated. “Intelligence tells us he is.”

“I’ll bet he’s in the States. Maybe even here in Logan Falls. He’s after Erin, damn you.”

“That’s not possible.”

Nick ground his teeth. “You put Erin and my entire town at risk.”

“The Chicago PD doesn’t operate on hunches, Nick. I suspected DiCarlo was involved, but I couldn’t act until I had proof.”

“What about Erin? Did she know?”

“She suspected. It was Danny Perrine’s snitch who tipped them off. Erin didn’t have any proof.”