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“I’m also not surprised to hear you separated yourself from his questionable businesses. Any hint of impropriety, either then or especially now that your career goals are so much loftier, would put an end to your political future.”
Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me, Ms. Woods?”
“I’m reminding you that being forthcoming is in your best interests.”
“If Joseph won’t, I will,” Donna surprised her by saying. “But please, tell us where you’re headed with this story about the murdered couple. Are you suggesting that Angelo had something to do with their deaths?”
“Donna.” Joseph cut her off again. “Let’s listen, not ask questions.”
For the moment, Donna complied.
“Since you and Angelo grew up together, I assume you knew Jimmy Colone, as well.”
“Of course I did,” Joseph replied. Casey could see the pulse at his neck beat a little faster. “He was Angelo’s kid brother. He followed us around, always trying to please Angelo. And Angelo was always protective of him. Jimmy took off when he was a teenager. There’s nothing else to say.”
“So you have no idea where he is?”
“None. Why would I?”
“Interesting about his disappearance,” Casey said thoughtfully. “He vanished a month after the Pontis were killed. That was twenty-seven years ago. Oh, and I neglected to mention one key point. The Pontis had triplets. Three identical baby girls. They were kidnapped from the murder scene.”
“Oh dear God.” Donna swayed in her seat. “Are you saying those are the triplets… that Lina…”
“Donna,” Joseph snapped, although his own face had gone sheet white.
“I’m only stating the facts,” Casey replied. “And the final fact is that, as of a few weeks ago, physical threats have been made against two of the triplets. I have no reason to believe that Lina won’t be next. Unless you can think of a reason why she’d be spared?”
“Joseph…” Donna began, staring at her husband.
“We’re leaving.” Joseph came to his feet. “We have to find our daughter, to make sure she’s safe.”
“Very well.” Casey rose, too, closing with a bomb that had just occurred to her. “If that’s the way you want to play it, fine. But let me leave you with one parting thought, Mr. Brando. I’d follow your wife’s lead on this one. Because for twenty-seven years, there’s been a killer out there, and an unsolved murder case that I’m sure the NYPD would be glad to close. The girls want closure, as well. So, with their testimony, the tampered birth records we’ve uncovered, and the DNA evidence we have, I’m sure we can get a court order to exhume the Pontis’ bodies.”
Donna gasped, but this time, Casey ignored it, determined to drive home her point.
“One test would prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Anthony and Carla Ponti were the girls’ natural parents. At which point, the girls would be well within their rights to reopen the case. So think about it while you’re searching for Lina. Cooperate and you’re merely a man who was so desperate to adopt a baby that he didn’t ask questions about the paperwork involved. Fight us and you could be found complicit in a double homicide.”
CHAPTER 36
Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York
2:05 p.m.
Jimmy sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, wiping the perspiration off his face, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves.
His whole life was about to be obliterated—again. And this time, it would be forever.
He reminded himself that he was a survivor and that, thanks to Angelo’s guidance, he’d learned to do what had to be done. He wasn’t eighteen anymore. He was far older, more mature, and definitely prepared. He’d been making provisions for years now, just in case. He’d set up that offshore account in the Cayman Islands. He’d been stashing large amounts of cash in his home safe. And his passport had been ready and waiting for this one-way trip to Montenegro.
After his telltale meeting with Joseph today, he’d set the wheels in motion. He’d withdrawn the maximum amount of money from his local bank account and wired the rest to his Cayman Islands account. He’d emptied his home safe of the stacks of cash, his passport, and the antique pistol Angelo had passed down to him from their father—the very pistol that had killed the Pontis and started this snowballing nightmare. He probably should have dumped the weapon a long time ago. But he couldn’t. Partly because he was terrified that the cops would find it and partly because it was a gift from Angelo. And now—it was just as well that he’d kept it, just in case he needed it again.
He’d chartered a plane from New Jersey’s Teterboro Airport to Podgorica Airport, Montenegro—a country that had no extradition policy with the US. The flight plan was filed and the jet was ready to go. And his bags were packed and loaded in the trunk of his car—all but the duffel that contained the items from his safe. That bag was right by his side, where it would remain.
So, yeah, this time he was ready. He’d followed Angelo’s advice to a tee. His big brother might be gone, but he’d coached Jimmy carefully, reminding him all these years that, given the nature of his crime, he might someday have to truly vanish at a moment’s notice. The escape plan was well thought out, even though both brothers hoped and prayed that it would never have to be implemented. But as they both knew, life happens.
Well, life had just happened. And it was time to go.
For the umpteenth time, Jimmy cursed himself for the events of twenty-seven years ago. Why the hell had he taken it upon himself to make that hit? Angelo had already arranged for one of his mob soldiers to do it. But Jimmy had jumped the gun, confident that he could do it faster, better, determined—yet again—to prove himself to Angelo. Instead of coming out the hero, he’d screwed everything up. Rather than making Angelo proud, he’d showed up at his doorstep like a whimpering child, freaked out to the max and juggling three squalling infants in his arms. As if, by giving them to Angelo to shape their lives rather than leaving them for the cops to find, he’d be making up for blowing away their mother.
