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Lina wrenched herself free just as a shot rang out, piercing Patrick’s jacket and striking Neil in the shoulder.
Neil cried out and jerked backwards, dropping his pistol and clutching his arm, as Marc stepped out from behind Patrick, where he’d been crouched low, waiting to strike.
Lina acted instantly. She picked up the gun before Neil could recover and raced over to hand it to Patrick. “My father…” she managed as Marc pushed Neil down, pinning him to the ground.
Sirens sounded in the distance, growing closer to the manor.
“Stay put.” Patrick ran up the steps and over to Joseph’s limp body. He checked his vitals and, without touching it, studied the head wound. The bleeding had already slowed down and the wound looked to be shallow.
“He’ll be fine, Lina. I called for an ambulance the minute I saw him go down. The paramedics will be showing up any minute. Both they and the police know where we are on the property. I made sure of that.” He returned to Lina’s side and placed a paternal hand on her quaking shoulder. “It’s over, honey.”
“I love him,” she whispered. “No matter what, he’s my father. He’s a good man. He’s flawed, but…” She covered her face with her hands, sobbing as the emotional tidal wave finally struck.
“He is a good man,” Patrick replied as the police cars raced around to the back of the house. “He’s also a good father. Good parents will do anything to protect their children. And that’s what he was trying to do—protect you. And now you’ve returned the favor, Lina. You protected him. You’re a wonderful daughter. He’ll tell you so himself the minute he wakes up.”
“That might be sooner than you think,” Marc said, tipping his head in Joseph’s direction. The assemblyman was shifting around, groaning as he tried to pick up his head.
“Dad!” Lina blew by everyone to reach her father, taking his hand and gripping it in hers.
Joseph blinked, his unfocused gaze finding his daughter. “Lina,” he murmured. “Thank God. He didn’t hurt you.” A pained pause. “So… sorry. So much… to explain.”
“Later, Dad. We’ll get through this. It’s time for us to heal.”
EPILOGUE
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Three days later
12:30 p.m.
Casey glanced at her watch. The girls would be here any minute.
Gia had called from the train, telling Emma that she and Lina were taking Dani to the airport to fly home to a veterinary practice that was straining at the seams without her. The head partners had been more than understanding—but enough was enough. So Dani was Minneapolis bound, and her sisters were seeing her off. The three of them wanted to stop by and see the FI team first.
Glancing at the notes she’d typed into her iPad during the team’s last debriefing session, Casey felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
The wheels of justice were already turning.
Jimmy Colone had had the bullet removed from his shoulder and was now in custody. The charges were extensive: a double homicide, three kidnappings, and a slew of ancillary crimes—not to mention what he’d done at the Brandos’ gazebo the other day. As a result, he wouldn’t be seeing the light of day for years, if ever. Al Carp—real name Alberto Costa—was in custody, as well. Ryan had easily found his contact information in Jimmy’s phone, Gabe had identified him for the police, and the guy was talking a mile a minute to save his own ass by describing what Jimmy had hired him to do.
As for Gabe, it looked like he’d be facing a minimum sentence—most of which would be converted into community service—along with some intensive counseling.
Joseph Brando had been lucky. His injuries had been only a concussion and a nasty head wound that the hospital staff had stitched up in no time. He’d been released the next day and was home healing with Donna.
After a long, hard discussion, the entire Forensic Instincts team had agreed that Joseph Brando was primarily a victim. There was no reason to reveal details that might destroy his political career. He’d have his hands full anyway, between the reopening of the Pontis’ murder case and t
he fact that Brando’s campaign manager, Neil Donato, was, in fact, Jimmy Colone, brother of reputed mob leader Angelo Colone, and killer/kidnapper. But Casey had no doubt that Joseph and his team of lawyers would find a way to prove that he was completely ignorant of Neil’s identity—due to the natural aging process and some damned fine plastic surgery—and that he was genuinely horrified by the reality of where his precious Lina had come from. That last crucial part was, of course, very true and very tragic.
The country’s sympathy would be immediately evoked, especially after hearing how the Brandos had suffered and prayed for the miracle of a child, and their abounding joy in finally adopting one.
Consequently, the FI team would let things play out on their own and reveal nothing about the pieces of truth that would be omitted, that being Joseph’s knowing Neil’s real identity and watching out for him because Angelo had asked him to. The press would, of course, have a field day speculating, based on Joseph’s lifetime friendship with Angelo, but there was only smoke with no discernable fire. And Casey and the team knew that, even though that fire did exist, the fact was that Joseph had been protecting Angelo’s little brother from a life in the mob, not harboring a killer.
In her gut, Casey believed that this story would die down and Joseph’s congressional goals would be fulfilled. But that was in the hands of the voters.
All in all, the total outcome of this investigation was positive.
Casey’s thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the front doorbell.
