Page 90 of Perfect Vengeance

“At 0836 hours the vehicle was on the Gowanus Expressway heading over the Verrazzano into Staten Island.”

Jack waited for another LPR location but was met with silence. “That’s it?” That meant she could be anywhere in the island’s sixty square miles. JFK was at least forty-five minutes from Staten Island with no traffic. Running hot, he might make it in twenty. He flipped on the strobes and siren to clear a path from the terminal. “Anything else?” He hit the ramp for the JFK Expressway and floored it. The last LPR data was nearly twenty minutes ago on the bridge.

“Negative,” Salazar said. “Wait. This just popped up. At 0855 the vehicle went through the intersection of Todt Hill Road and Ocean Terrace, heading east on Ocean Terrace.”

Jack’s insides vibrated with more fear than he’d known in his entire life. He knew the Todt Hill section of Staten Island like he knew his last name. That intersection was less than a mile from Oceanview Lane. There was only one residence on that road.

The Falzone compound.

Gina could be rash, and she was running on instinct. Still, he couldn’t believe she’d meet Maria at Franco’s compound. That would be suicide. The meeting had to be somewhere nearby.

“Any more data?” He hit the air horn as he sped onto the Belt Parkway.

“Negative.”

Dammit. He pounded on the air horn, scattering cars in front of him. “Detective, I need you to send patrol cars to search the area of that vehicle’s last known location. The woman driving it is in danger.”

“Copy that,” Salazar said. “What can you tell me?”

Not much. All he had was a gut feeling something bad was about to go down. “Just tell patrol to find the driver and keep her safe until I get there. Have them call me when they locate the vehicle.” He gave Salazar his cell number. “And ping me if you get any new LPRs.”

He hung up and hastily made another call. Mobilizing the entire NYPD on nothing more than a hunch was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. “Kyle,” he said when his brother answered. “I need your help. Gina’s in trouble.”

* * *

Gina pulled over just inside Willow Swamp Park. The park was located in one of the most secluded and rural neighborhoods in New York City. No other cars were visible, and the nearest house was a good quarter mile behind her. She pressed the home button on her phone.

9:05 and still no Maria.

Her phone dinged for the second time in the last ten minutes. Jack. He’d left two messages, neither of which she’d listened to. A sensation of emptiness surrounded her. Whatever he wanted, she no longer cared. Liar. He was out of her life for good, and that was the way things had to be. If only she could forget him that easily.

She looked behind her at the empty road. When she turned back, a lone figure stood in the tree line not twenty feet away.

Maria Falzone.

Gina stepped out of the Cayenne. Despite the frantic phone call, part of her hadn’t thought the woman would show. A gust of wind nearly tugged the car door from her hand before she could close it. She pulled the collar of her wool coat tighter around her neck. Todt Hill was the highest elevation on the Atlantic seaboard south of Maine, and the wind was brutal this time of year.

As she neared the other woman, Gina’s blood boiled. Maria’s right eye was nearly swollen shut. An ugly purple bruise took up half her face. The bastard must have beaten her for what happened at the shore house.

Maria tugged a phone from her pocket, tapping something into it before putting it back in her coat.

What is she doing?

Gina’s scalp tingled. She twisted her neck to look behind her. The road was still empty. The only sound she heard was the wind roaring through the trees.

When she turned back, Maria had stepped a few feet closer. “I’m sorry,” she said, her lips trembling.

“Sorry for what?” Had Maria shown up only to back out at the last minute?

Screeching tires cut through the howling wind. A car blew over the top of the rise, bearing down fast. Gina barely had time to jump out of the way as the car skidded to a stop.

“Please, forgive me,” Maria cried.

She spun to face the car again. Her blood went as cold as ice.

The vehicle was a cream-colored Cadillac sedan. Tino’s car.

“No,” Gina whispered. I’ve been set up. Stupid didn’t begin to describe how she felt.