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I have no reason to call unless I’m looking for a woman who is supposed to be dead.
“Just go,” I tell my quasi-partner. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”
“Fine.” She turns on her heels and jogs to catch the elevator before it closes. “I want you to fill in the gaps when you come up!” she calls back. “Best friends don’t keep secrets.”
The phone clicks in my ear. The line connects, and adrenaline shoots through my veins as anticipation arrows straight to my heart.
Finally, a woman’s voice answers.
“This is Detective Asa… is there a reason you’re calling me, Doctor Mayet?”
“Yeah.” I shouldn’t be surprised she speaks my name. “Hi.” I lick my dry lips and silently evaluate my body’s reaction to this one woman. Why does she make me nervous? Why does she feel…girl power? “Um, last year, you asked me for a favor, Detective. A pretty big one that included exhuming a dead body and confirming their identity.”
Silence hangs for a beat. Two. Three.
“So?” she challenges. “I had a court order. That wasn’t a favor, Chief. It was your job.”
“The headstone read Ellie Solomon,” I counter. “The bones inside that grave belonged to someone else. That’s a grand inquisition if I ever saw one, and yet…” I smile, knowing I held onto my cards for a reason. “Nothing’s been done about it.”
“So?” she bites out a second time. “Since when does the M.E. follow up on these cases?”
“Since that case has now, possibly, crossed over with someone I know. Is there a reason Ellie Solomon paraded as Michelle Mancino for more than a decade?”
Silence.
“Detective Asa? If you can’t answer me, then I might have to ask elsewhere. However, intuition tells me you have a vested interest in menotconnecting those two names too often.”
“So you think I need to answer your questions? My only option is to give you what you want, or risk you opening your mouth?” She snickers. “Naïve of you, Doctor. To work with the dead, and yet, consider yourself immortal.”
“A threat?” My brows come close together. “Wow, Detective. How very… unethical of you.”
“Not a threat. Merely a third option. Tell me why you need to know these things, then I’ll consider my answers and feed you only what I consider necessary.”
“But what you give me… complete truth?”
“Perhaps. Who’s asking about Ellie Solomon?”
“Me.” I turn on my heels, knowing every inch of this garage is covered in security cameras. Moving back to the car, I slide inside and close the doors to block out any unwanted ears. “I have an issue that deals with New York City. Families Malone, Mancino, Pastore, and Cordoza are becoming an issue for me right now.”
She chokes out a laugh so loud, I startle and make the car rock. “You’re married to a Malone! This isn’t a work thing, Mayet. This is entirely personal. Now I’m intrigued.” I hear her walk. Breathe. Turn, and perhaps pass others on her trek.
Phones ring, and hushed whispers make me wonder how big of an audience I have.
“Mancinos no longer control any part of New York,” Detective Asa tells me. “In fact, I personally took instruction from the woman everyone knew as Michelle Mancino. I closed accounts, transferred assets, sold property, and released any and all debts owed. No one has dealings with the Mancinos anymore. It’s like they never existed.”
“But they did exist,” I counter gently. “Michelle existed. She was pursued by Emilio Pastore, and she was protected by Estefan Cordoza.”
“She’s now retired,” the detective argues. “Out of the business. Living pretty, married and content. She has no desire to return to New York—ever.”
“You speak in present tense. You converse with her often?”
She scoffs. “The woman once known as Michelle Mancino is listening to this call. It’s mid-morning, and she’s preparing to go to work, but first, she’s having a candy bar for second-breakfast. Her husband is a possessive, well-equipped soldier who doesn’t like to share. He’s listening too. There are a dozen people interested in your reasons for this call, Doctor Mayet, and not one of them is inclined to give you any more information than I already have.”
“Michelle?” I say instead. I shoot past Asa and directly address the woman I need to speak to. “Ellie. Whatever you want me to call you: I need guidance, and I’m not sure anyone can give it to me except you.”
“Doctor—” Asa starts to warn, but then a second voice pipes up.
“I’m listening.” Ellie Solomon. Michelle Mancino. One woman, two names. “I don’t know if you realize, but we’ve met. One time.”
