The hunt, p.4
The Hunt, page 4
Donatti said, “I’m going upstairs. I reek like a garbage dump. Landon, you watch the doors. Petry, you watch the girl. No one goes in those doors until I come back. And no one, and I mean no one, touches the girl without my say-so. Anyone disputes those orders, shoot first and ask questions later. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
The girl raised her hand.
“What?” Donatti said.
“I have to use the toilet.”
It probably had been eight hours since she’d taken a piss. He picked up Terry’s purse. “C’mon … this way.” He took her to the elevator, and they rode it up to the dark fourth floor. Donatti turned on the lights, then strode down the hall to his office door. He suddenly realized that the girl was twenty paces behind. He waited for her to catch up, and then he opened the door and turned on the lights. He pointed to a door. “In there.”
She limped inside and shut the door. He looked around. This was one of his smaller offices. Desk, chair, and a closet. He kept very few files here—just on the men who had serious health conditions. He monitored them like he monitored everything. He certainly didn’t want any of his clients dying on the premises.
Bad for business.
He put his ex-wife’s purse on the desktop and took out a fresh ensemble, while waiting for the girl to get out so he could shower. He could hear her crying from behind the door.
The bastard child.
Despite himself, he felt bad for her.
The girl looked like Terry dipped in caramel. The same oval face, lovely cheekbones, and bee-stung lips. Her hair was long like Terry’s but darker in color, as were her eyes. They also had similar voices. It made it easier for him to tolerate her. If he took his imagination to the limit, he could almost pretend she was his and her coloring came from a black Irish ancestor. Of course, she wasn’t his. She had a father, and he had no desire to become a substitute. Although he’d protect Gabe with his life, one kid had always been one too many.
Finally, she came out, her face freshly washed. “Thank you.”
“Wait here.” Donatti took his change of clothes and went inside the bathroom. A quick shower and clean garments made him feel better. He came back into the office, sat at his desk, and fished through Terry’s purse. He took out four phones—three burners, including a Xiaomi phone, whatever that was, and a Samsung. To the girl, who was still standing, he said, “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
She obeyed. “Sorry.”
He began to scroll down one of the burners, kept the one that Terry had used most. “Is this your phone?” He showed her the Xiaomi.
“Yes.”
“What’s your code?”
“My birthday.”
“That doesn’t help me.” She gave him the numbers. He said, “Want to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know what happened exactly.”
“Then tell me what you know inexactly.”
“I heard something loud in the living room. I heard Mommy shout ‘Run!’ I grabbed my phone and laptop and took off and jumped out the window. That’s how I hurt my ankle. It was a second-story apartment.”
He took out Terry’s personal phone and turned it on. “You and your mother planned an escape route just in case?”
“Yes, sir.”
Donatti looked up. “You can call me Chris.”
“Yes, sir … Chris.”
“Do you know your mother’s phone code?”
“It’s a bunch of numbers. I’ve got to think.”
“Her birthday maybe?”
“Not her birthday or mine or Sanjay’s. It’s one-one-oh-five or oh-six—”
Donatti smiled. “Eleven-oh-five-seventy-six.”
“Yeah … How’d you—?”
“It’s my birthday.” Once it was unlocked, Donatti started scrolling down the numbers in Terry’s call history. Devek had called her sixteen times in the previous five days. Donatti looked up Terry’s husband in the contacts and wrote down the number. “Is +91 the country code for India?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know the state code?”
“No, sorry.”
“I’ll find out.” Donatti wrote down some numbers and showed them to her. “Any of these look familiar?”
“No … sorry.”
He pocketed the phones, picked up the purse, and stood up. Then he gathered his dirty clothing and cocked his head in her direction. “C’mon.” As they walked to the elevator, he dumped his clothes in a hamper of dirty sheets.
The girl said, “Will she be okay?”
“I hope so.” The elevator came. He turned off the hall lights and they went inside. Donatti pushed the down button. “I’ll find someone to look at your ankle.”
“I’m okay.”
“I got eyes. You’re not okay.” She didn’t answer. He said, “Gabe tell you I was an ogre?”
“No.”
Her face was flat. Unlike her mother, he couldn’t read her. “I am an ogre.”
“You look like him … like Gabe.”
“No, he looks like me.”
Her skin darkened. “Yeah, I got the order a little mixed up.” A pause. “He’s tall, but not as tall as you.”
“Few people are.”
“And he has green eyes.”
“Your mother has gold eyes. Yellow and blue make green.”
“People say I look like Mommy.”
“People are correct.” The elevator doors opened. They walked over to the hallway chairs. She sat; he didn’t. Donatti talked to his men. “Everything quiet?”
“Not a soul, sir.”
Donatti checked his Rolex. “You two have been on shift for over ten hours. Go back and switch with Kent and Giraldi. Put in for overtime.”
Landon said, “I can stay if you want, Mr. Donatti.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Nothing to do except wait. Go.”
The two men left. Donatti ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at the girl. “I’m sorry you’re going through all this shit. It’s a terrible thing when your parents are at war.”
“All I care about is Mommy.”
“True that,” Donatti said. “Who do you think is after you and your brother?”
“I’m assuming it’s my father.”
“Is your father violent?”
“No, not at all.”
“Someone beat up your mother.”
“It wasn’t my father.” She crossed her arms.
“Just trying to figure out things. Don’t get defensive.”
“I’m just saying …”
“Okay. Let me put it this way. If your father did take your brother, would he hurt him?”
“No, of course not. He worships Sanjay.”
“And you?”
Her eyes welled up. “My dad loves me.”
“But …”
“Nothing. He loves me.” A pause. “But Mommy loves me more.”
“Don’t take sides.”
“It’s true. She does love me more.”
“Does your mom talk smack about him?”
“No. She never says anything mean about anyone.”
“Including me?”
“Only that Gabe gets his talent from you.”
“She forgot the good looks.”
Juleen regarded his face: beautiful blue eyes and thick blond-streaked white hair that fell down to his shoulders. He was good-looking for an old guy. “My dad gambles.”
“Some people do.”
“Do you?”
“Nope. You always lose and I don’t like losing money.”
“Then why do people do it if it’s so stupid?”
“Because people do stupid things.” A pause. “Did your mom ever tell you I beat her up?” The girl looked at him with stunned eyes. “Not as bad as she is now, but I gave her bruises … a couple of black eyes. I scared her into not pressing charges. I didn’t want to go to prison. It was cowardly—what I did and how I acted afterward. Like I said, people do stupid things. That was my stupidest.”
She was silent.
“Don’t be so hard on your father. People gamble because it’s exciting … gives them a rush … like drugs.” He turned to her. “Don’t take drugs. Ever. It screws you up.”
“I don’t take drugs.” A pause. “Do you take drugs?”
“Not anymore.”
“But you did?”
“I was both an alcoholic and a drug addict.”
“But not now?”
“For the most part, I’m sober. But it’s always a battle. I’ve got an addictive personality. Don’t even start.”
“Why did you start?”
“I was depressed. I needed a rush.”
“But you’re not depressed now?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry.”
He sat back in his chair and observed the girl. She was squirming. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s not nothing. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m just thinking that if you don’t gamble and you don’t drink and you don’t take drugs, like what gives you a rush if you have an addictive personality?”
“Sex.” With your mother.
The girl’s complexion darkened a couple of shades. Her embarrassment didn’t bother him a whit. He was what he was.
Donatti felt his phone buzz in his coat pocket. He retrieved it and looked at the screen. “It’s Gabe.” He stood and walked away from her. “I have Mom. She’s in my ER being treated.”
“How is she?”
“Beaten up. She was semiconscious when we got here.”
“I’ll come out.”
“Let me talk to the doctors first. What’s your schedule?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be.”
“What’s on your calendar?”
“I have a concert in Boston tomorrow—actually today, but I can call my agent. It’s like five in the morning.”
“Don’t call anyone yet. What’s after that?”
“Schedule-wise? The next day I’ve got a concert in the Berkshires, and then I’m free for ten days.”
“Come out then. You know, maybe I can call Rina to come out … Help watch the girl.”
“Rina and Peter are on a plane to Israel.”
“Israel?”
“Yeah. They bought a place there.”
Donatti was mystified. “Why?”
“It’s the Jewish homeland. They’re Jewish.”
“Are they coming back?”
“Yeah, they’ll be back in about two weeks.”
“That may be good timing. She can come after you leave.”
“Uh, you know Rina is religious. And you know you live in a brothel.”
“I’m not pimping her out, Gabriel, I’m asking for help with your sister.”
“Don’t get mad, but I think we need someone to stay with Mom while she’s in the hospital.”
“Well, glory fuck, I never thought of that.”
“I said don’t get mad.”
“I’m staying with her until she’s out of the hospital, whenever that is. At some point, I’m going to have to settle your sister in your room, but that shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. She’ll be alone until I can arrange things, so it would be nice if you could spend some time with her while you’re here.”
“She’ll want to stay at the hospital, Dad.”
“I don’t want her here. She talks too much.”
“Juleen talks too much?”
“A regular chatterbox.”
“Wow. News to me. She’ll want to see her mother, Chris.”
“Gabriel, stop arguing with me. I don’t want her to see her mother laid up. You haven’t seen her. I have. She looks horrible. Furthermore, I have no idea what shape she’s in. The kid has enough worries. So just shut up and let me take care of this situation, okay?”
“Sorry.” He meant it. “Whatever you think, Dad. Thank you for handling everything. I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than one, Gabriel, but not for this. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”
“Wait. Can I talk to Juleen?”
“Make it brief. Hold on.” Donatti walked back to the girl. “It’s your brother. Be quick.”
“Yes, sir.”
He walked away to give her a little privacy. A minute later, he saw Giraldi and Kent coming down the hallway. Donatti came back to the girl and took the phone from her hand. “I’ve got to go find someone to treat your sister.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s limping. Maybe a twisted ankle. Bye.” He pocketed his phone and talked to his men. “Keep a watch on the girl. No one comes near her.”
They answered “Yes, sir” in unison.
“I’ve got to find someone to patch up her ankle. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Donatti walked over to the double doors and pushed in the code. He found a nurse, Della Gratz. He knew all his employees, and between the restaurants, the shops, the casinos, and the brothels, there were more than a hundred of them on rotating shifts. Della was cleaning up a treatment cubicle, curtain wide open.
“How is she?”
She turned around. “I didn’t hear you come in, Mr. Donatti. They took her to the OR.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. You probably should wait for a doctor, sir.”
“I won’t hold you to it, Della. Please.”
The poor woman was wringing her hands. Everyone hated talking to the boss. “She needs dental work. They thought it would be easier to do it in the OR.”
“Her jaw’s busted?”
“It was dislocated. They fixed that, but she’s got some loose teeth in the back. I think they’re wiring her jaw, sir.”
“What else?”
“I think they’re going to x-ray her for broken bones.”
“Fine. Is there someone who can look at her daughter’s ankle? I think it’s sprained or twisted. It probably should be taped.”
“I can do that, Mr. Donatti.” She stopped and started to wash her hands.
“Someone will bring her in, then. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
He came back outside, summoned the girl. She limped over and he said, “I found a nurse who is going to look at your ankle.”
“How’s Mommy?”
“She’s still with us. Let’s go.”
An hour later, she was taped and had a crutch. She started to sit, but Donatti shook his head. “I’m taking you to where I live. You’ll stay in Gabe’s room.”
“I want to stay here.”
“You can’t stay here, Juleen.”
Tears in her eyes. “I want to see Mommy.”
“When it’s appropriate.” To his men. “I need the car keys.”
“Do you want me to drive you, sir?”
“No, I’m fine. Just keep watch on the doors. I’ll be back in about a half hour.” He picked up the garbage bags and her violin case. “C’mon.”
She followed him like a chastened dog. As they walked out, she said, “Why can’t I stay with Mommy at the hospital?”
“Because you can’t. The good news is Gabe will be here in a couple of days.” He held up the violin case. “How long have you played?”
“Five years.” A pause. “Gabe says you play the cello.”
“I do.” Silence. “That’s how I met your mother. We were in orchestra together. She also played the violin.”
“She told me she was terrible.”
“She was.” He let out a small laugh. “But her face more than made up for her lack of talent.” He regarded the girl. “You’d better learn how to handle yourself with boys. They’re all dogs. Don’t trust any of them.”
“I don’t like boys.”
“One day you will.”
“No, I won’t. I want to be a doctor like my mom. You have to study to do that. I don’t have time for stupidity.”
“Yeah, boys are very stupid. Stop walking. This is the car.” Donatti opened the door and she slid in the passenger side. He started the engine and took off. “I have to go back to take care of your mother. You’re going to be alone in the room until Gabe gets here. No one is allowed in there except Gabe and me.”
“How do I get out?”
“You don’t unless I say so. I’ll bring you meals. I’m sorry, but after what happened to your younger brother, your protection is my responsibility, okay?”
She nodded. Her lip was trembling.
“I’ll get you some teachers. Have you learned any languages other than English?”
“Hindi.”
“I’ll start you on Spanish and French. I’ll also get you a violin teacher. That’ll keep you busy. Are you hungry?” He checked his watch. It was three in the morning. “Want me to get you a hamburger or a pizza?”
“I’m vegan.”
“Vegan?”
“I’m Hindu. I like rice and vegetable curry, if that’s okay.”
Donatti said, “You can’t grow on shit like that.”
She shrugged. “I’m growing, so I guess you can.”
“Don’t sass me ever,” he growled out. “I don’t like it.”
She turned quiet.
Donatti said, “I’m not a nice man. But if you’re respectful, we’ll be okay.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I said you can call me Chris.”
She didn’t answer. A wave of fatigue suddenly overwhelmed him. He usually worked until four-thirty in the morning, but work wasn’t stressful. This was way beyond stressful. “How about if I give you a pass because you had a hard day? You and me both.”
He suddenly realized his jaw was aching. He’d been clenching it for the last ten hours. The lights of his kingdom were coming into view, and he took a hard left and parked in his reserved spot. He lived on the third floor of a four-story building. Offices took up the first two floors, and his son slept above him. After Terry had abandoned him, Gabe had lived with the Deckers for several years until he went off to Juilliard. But Donatti made sure that he’d spent a month each summer here when the weather was beautiful. His living quarters as well as Gabe’s room were away from the main brothel. But Donatti never made any effort to hide what he did or what he was.
The place was over fifty acres of male sexual fantasy. Besides the main building filled with any kind of sex toy and fuck apparatus imaginable, the place had a boutique hotel for the clients after their encounters, two restaurants, a sports bar, a gentleman’s club, a gym with trainers, two tennis courts, an Olympic-size swimming pool with six Jacuzzi hot tubs placed throughout the area, a two-story spa, and one casino. He also had built housing for the girls, a separate dorm for the boys, a big employee dining room, a staff lounge, a gym, a canteen, a small market, and a dry goods store. A little bit away from the action was a pawnshop and his private bank. The airstrip and hangar were about a block away from the bank. Convenience for his clients: pay your bills and go the fuck home.
