Identity Crisis Read Online Free PDF Page B

Vinnie Carlucci died in prison a year ago. Not like he’d still have a hit out on your father.”
    A look of relief flashed across her face, then her gaze narrowed in concern. “Maybe his death sparked a renewed interest in finding my dad. A family member seeking retribution.”
    “I highly doubt it. Too much time has passed. If someone
had
come looking for him or evidence, he’d have handed it over, knowing they’d kill him anyway and then come looking to see if you had it. I don’t think his death or these break-ins are mafia related. If your father was still selling forgeries, he likely had a partner who’s after any remaining paintings or money due to him.”
    Her soft features hardened into a scowl. “I’d have known if he was selling forgeries. I knew about his life now, even if I didn’t know about his past life.” A hint of doubt flickered in her eyes. “Looking back, I realize the great lengths he went to not to be found. He never even confided in our priest about his past. Why take the chance on selling forgeries and possibly exposing his real identity?”
    He shrugged. He wondered the same thing, but half the time there was no rhyme or reason why criminals did what they did. Greed. Addiction. Stupidity. Who knew?
    “Maybe he had a false sense of security,” he said.
    “Believe me, a sense of security was something my dad never had.”
    That was apparent by his kick-ass alarm system and the two deadbolts on his front door. “I’m not saying he for sure continued his life of crime. I’m just not ruling it out at this point.”
    “Why do you care? He’s dead.”
    “I’m not out to destroy your father’s memory. I need to know if he had a partner. He needs to be stopped. My buddy’s a cop and just buried a ten-year-old boy dealing drugs at a middle school. The drug ring recruiting these kids is at least partially funded by stolen, possibly forged artwork.”
    “My dad wouldn’t have sold forged art to some drug dealer.”
    “Not saying he did, but it doesn’t take long for stolen or forged art to circulate into others’ hands. Besides, protecting you would be a lot easier if I knew who I was protecting you from.”
    “Thought
I
was his partner.” Her tone challenged him, yet a hint of a smile teased the corners of her mouth.
    “I don’t believe that,” he said with conviction, his gaze never wavering from hers.
    Her gaze narrowed as she debated the sincerity of his comment.
    “If he was using your gallery as a front, you didn’t know about it.”
    She rolled her eyes in frustration. “He wasn’t.”
    “Look. Only one supposed compliant witness has ever died while in the WITSEC program. Anyone else died because they violated the program’s procedures, contacting family and friends, somehow giving away their new identity. From what you’ve said, your dad seemed too cautious to make such a blatant error. That’s one reason I believe this guy was from his present life. There’s like a point zero one percent chance someone from his past found him.”
    “Slight, but not impossible,” she countered.
    He groaned under his breath, glancing down at the desk next to him, wanting to beat his head against it. He spotted a sheet of paper listing flight schedules to Madison, Wisconsin. “Planning a trip?”
    “Not sure. My dad wanted to be buried in Five Lakes.” She slid the ring back and forth along the chain around her neck, peering over at a green marble container on the dresser, apparently her dad’s remains. “Not sure he deserves to be. And I don’t want to lead whoever this is back to my family. It’s bad enough they’re after me, or whatever I supposedly have. Yet, his parents have a right to know what happened to their son. If they’re even still alive.”
    “They’re alive. Did a little research and discovered some cottage rentals in Five Lakes, owned and operated by the Donovans.”
    Her eyes widened. “They’re alive?”
    He nodded.
    A hopeful expression brought a