“You’re trying to get information about Trevor. This has nothing to do with protecting me.” Meghan narrowed her hazel eyes.
“So give it to me. Tell me all about Trevor.”
“Get the hell out of my place and don’t come back.”
A man shuffled into the room from the back, his dark, curly hair sticking up in all directions. “What’s going on out here?”
Lara pointed past his shoulder. “Out. This is personal.”
Meghan snorted. “There is nothing personal between us. This is business, and you’re not getting into mine.”
Meghan’s roommate held up his hands and backed up, leaving her and Meghan glaring at each other.
Meghan called after him. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Felix. My half sister was just leaving.”
“We’re not letting this go.” Lara stalked to the front door. Hanging on to the doorjamb, she turned to face her sister. “This is no joke, Meghan. Your life is in danger.”
Meghan slammed the door on her warning.
Lara slumped against the wall. How could Meghan be so pigheaded? If anyone else had told Meghan what she’d just laid out for her about her new boyfriend, she’d tell Trevor Black to hit the road in no time.
Maybe she should’ve invited Nick along. He couldn’t have had any worse luck than she just had.
She slid into the car and tipped her head against the headrest. The one bright spot in this mess was that once Mason Moretti knew they’d made him, he wouldn’t be visiting Meghan anytime soon for fear of being picked up. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to see her on the sly—and Meghan seemed only too willing to oblige him.
In love? Did Meghan actually believe she loved this man and vice versa? He must be a charmer...just like his twin brother.
Lara’s phone buzzed, and she shoved her hand in her pocket to retrieve it. She checked the display and tapped it once. “Hey, Victoria.”
“Did you talk to your sister?”
“Like banging my head against a wall.”
“Did she admit to having a relationship with Mason?”
“It’s Trevor Black, thankyouverymuch, and not only did she admit to the relationship, she admitted to falling in love.”
Victoria sucked in a breath. “She’s old enough to know better. Do you think she’s just saying that to spite you?”
“Who knows? I think so. They haven’t been seeing each other for long. Nick and I will stake out the Hot Spot tonight. With any luck Mason will come out to play.”
“Luck’s been in short supply lately. Mason probably already knows we’re on to him.”
“Most likely, but it’s worth a try.” And she wouldn’t mind a few hours of quiet time with Nick in the van.
“Speaking of luck, I have Cass contacting all old neighbors of the Morettis. The daughter of one just contacted Cass. Her mother is in an assisted living facility in Queens and is willing to talk—at least give us what she remembers.”
“That’s great. Do you want me to take it?”
“Yes. The others are busy, and Ty’s still not one hundred percent.”
“It’s tough for all of us, but Ty will get there.” Lara pulled a piece of paper and a pen from her pocket. “Give me the woman’s name and the address of the assisted living place. I’ll take a Bureau car and head over there now. Is she expecting me?”
“Yes. I knew this was one interview you wouldn’t turn down, and you’d probably want to handle it on your own.”
Lara bit her lip as she scribbled on the sheet of paper to test the pen. Her boss couldn’t be more wrong. She didn’t need to be alone to plumb the depths of the Moretti riddle. The brothers were a pair of criminals who needed to be picked apart and brought down—nothing more, nothing less.
Victoria gave her the info, and Lara punched the address into her phone’s GPS. Forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the Briar Ridge Assisted Living Facility.
Her boots crunched the little dried berries that had fallen from the trees to the asphalt, and Lara sniffed the air. The trees that bordered the property and the autumn flowers that spilled from a front garden combined for a sweet, fresh scent.
She stepped through the front entrance into a lobby area. The blue-green color scheme and the wall fountain of running water created a soothing environment. Someone knew feng shui.
Lara nodded at the security guard and approached the front desk, staffed by a woman in green to color coordinate with the room. She looked up with a big smile that seemed totally genuine.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mrs. O’Hara. Vivian O’Hara.”
The greeter’s eyebrow lifted. “Are you a relative?”
“Mrs. O’Hara’s daughter, Diane Teller, told us that her mother was interested in talking to us.” Lara flipped open her badge. “I’m Special Agent Lara Grant.”
“One minute, please.” She held up her index finger. “I’ll locate her.”
“Thanks.” Lara turned away from the desk to watch the rivulets of water running down the glass enclosure on the wall.
“Delilah, is Viv O’Hara in the TV room or by the pool?” The woman paused. “Tell her she has a visitor.”
“Agent Grant? Mrs. O’Hara’s in the TV room. It’s across the room and then a left turn.” She tapped a guest book with a pencil. “Would you please sign in?”
Lara printed her name on the next blank line in the guest book and scribbled her signature beside it.
Once she crossed the room, Lara could hear the TV, and she followed the sound. She poked her head into the room. Before she could take one step, a tall African-American woman stopped her.
“Are you here to see Mrs. O’Hara?”
“Yes. Are you Delilah?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Why, yes I am. Vivian’s the one with the long silver mane, sitting right in front of the TV.”
The woman called out. “Fewer distractions sitting up close, Delilah, and there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. Nothing wrong with my ears either. Send her over.”
Delilah smiled and shrugged.
Lara approached Mrs. O’Hara with her hand outstretched. “Mrs. O’Hara, I’m Special Agent Lara Grant. Your daughter told us you’d be willing to talk to us about the Moretti brothers.”
Mrs. O’Hara gave her a thin hand weighed down by several rings, and added a surprisingly firm grip. “Excuse me for not getting up. I bruised my hip, which is why I’m stuck in here and not doing my water aerobics, and you can call me Viv.”
“Hope you’re not too badly injured.” Lara jerked her chin at the TV where a couple on a reality dating show was making out in the hot tub. “And I hope I’m not interrupting your show.”
Viv picked up the remote in her lap and aimed it at the TV, pausing the picture. “It’s recorded. I might fast-forward through this, anyway. I don’t know why she’s kissing this guy. He’s a player.”
Lara pressed her lips together to stop her smile. “And your hip?”
“Just a bruise. Sit, Lara.” She waved at the chair next to hers. “Can I call you Lara?”
“Of course.” Lara perched on the edge,