Dark Justice by Kristi Belcamino (smallest ebook reader .txt) 📗

profile, but it sure as hell looked like Gia. If only there was a better video—something closer.

James knew it was useless to ask if any other cameras were in the area. The chief was nothing if not thorough.

The chief had also said something about a witness.

James picked up his phone.

“Who was the wit?”

“A homeless guy. Said he knew Gia personally and this was her.”

James swore. Gia had always made a point to become friends with the homeless people in the city. This was bad.

“We have a name?”

He heard the rustling of papers. “Warren. We brought him in and showed him some mugs. He picked Gia out. We gave him a ride to the Rustic Diner. Smith gave him some money for breakfast.”

James looked at his watch. “How long ago?”

“Twenty?”

James hung up and grabbed his blazer and the keys to his modified Crown Victoria.

The diner was packed. He double-parked in front of the diner and put on the strobe lights so nobody would tow it. After a quick glance inside the restaurant, James headed down the sidewalk as quickly as he could in his wheelchair. Warren would probably be heading back to his neighborhood. Sure enough, two blocks away James saw him, carrying a white Styrofoam container.

James wheeled over to him.

“Warren, my man,” he said and gave a huge grin.

The homeless man clutched the container close.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I had a quick question for you.”

The man frowned, his grizzly, stubbly face scrunching up. “Heh?”

“You know Gia Santella, right?”

The man grinned. “I’ve known that girl for ages.”

“So you saw her last night?”

His face wrinkled. “I think. I was a little tired.”

“Yeah?” James asked, making his wheelchair keep up with the man.

“She walk past you or something?”

“Yeah. I was sitting there and she walked right past.”

“Didn’t say hi?”

Warren worked his lip a little. “Nah.”

“That’s not really like Gia, is it?”

He shook his head. “It’s been a long time. Maybe she didn’t recognize me or something.”

“Does Gia only say hi to the guys on the streets she knows?”

“Old Gia said hi to everyone but, you know, we all getting old. Maybe she tired of saying hi all the time.”

“Huh,” James said. He stopped and was about to leave.

“Hey, man I’m heading back to the TL Want a ride?”

Warren looked at him sideways and shook his head. “I’m good. I’m good.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for your time.”

James was about to leave when Warren cleared his throat. “The cops had me in this morning, and I said I saw Gia. Do you think I got her in trouble? They seemed real happy when I pointed to her picture, you know.”

“I think you just need to make sure you are absolutely 100 percent sure you saw her. That’s all. You 100 percent sure?”

Warren shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe? I mean it was dark. I’d just had some of my bedtime medicine if you know what I mean?”

He’d been drunk.

“It sure looked like her. I mean, how many broads walk around in a leather pants, sunglasses at night, and high heels.”

“High heels?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was sitting on the ground, and they were some tall-ass heels, you know. The kind I don’t know how girls walk in.”

“Have you seen Gia in heels before?”

He shrugged.

“Did the cops tell you to come back?”

“They gave me a card,” he patted his jacket.

“It’s good. I don’t need to see it.”

“They tole me I might hafta come back and tell someone I saw her.”

“Okay,” James said. “You sure you don’t want a ride.”

“I’m good, man. I’m good.”

James left, wheeling back to his car.

He was glad he’d tracked Warren down. Dude had been drunk the night before and hadn’t seen Gia for years. When the detectives hauled him in and showed him pictures, of course he would point to the one of Gia. She was the only one he knew.

James was pretty sure that, as a witness, Warren would be tossed out of court on his ass.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the video surveillance.

The heels were interesting, though. Gia was street-smart. She wouldn’t show up in a shitty neighborhood to kill someone wearing high heels. It didn’t fit.

The call asking Rosenbloom to meet at that corner meant it wasn’t a spur of the moment, crime-of-passion, either. It was premeditated.

As far as he was concerned, Gia wasn’t a viable suspect.

But even so, the evidence was mounting. It didn’t look good.

Eighteen

Sitting in the dark with the blue light from the open laptop illuminating his face, Charles glanced over at the closed door.

There wasn’t a sound.

He’d snuck out of bed and into the kitchen. Only when he knew he hadn’t been detected did he open his laptop.

The email he’d been waiting for was at the top of his inbox.

He clicked on it, and as he read, his heart began to race.

He heard a sound from the other room and quickly slammed the laptop shut. But then he realized it was just the old house creaking.

Opening the computer back up, he stuck in his earbuds and opened the email attachments.

There was Gia Fucking Santella. Ten photos and three videos.

The guy on the dark web had been able to find the pictures and videos.

He clicked on the photos first, saving the best for last.

They were just what his man needed: close ups, full-body shots, candid pictures, and professional headshots. Then he clicked on the videos. Perfect. Seated. Speaking. Walking. From the front and behind. Bingo.

They were perfect.

Obviously, she wasn’t concerned with the surveillance cameras outside the hotel or on the streets or even in the meeting rooms. Up until then, she’d had no reason to be.

Big fucking mistake. A fatal mistake for sure.

She had been so careful about everything else.

Information on her was scarce. She’d done a good job concealing her movements and her background.

But not careful enough.

He opened the background report and was astonished. Mother fucker. It was incredible. He just couldn’t lose. Everything he touched turned to gold. Her history and background made his plan rock solid.

Nicoletta was right.