Hidden Depths(52)

“Stavros is a dead end, Evan.”

“I don’t believe that. She looks, looked, too much like Stavros’ wife. I don’t believe that could be a coincidence. Or that it was a coincidence she disappeared on the day that resemblance was mentioned.”

“Other things were happening on that day as well, Evan,” Michael pointed out. “Maybe you’re underestimating those.”

He shook his head. “She didn’t disappear because I, ah, was, ah…”

“Banging her?” Vanny supplied.

“Vanny,” Michael admonished swiftly.

She laughed. “What? I meant it in a good way. Of course she wouldn’t run away because she was banging Evan. I’m sure you’re just as good in bed as your big brother, Evan.”

“Vanny, for Christ’s sake,” Michael chided but there was no bite in it and the side of his mouth was turned half up. “And for the record, I’m not sure ‘just as good’ is quite appropriate. I do have a number of years of experience to my advantage.”

“Ah, but youth!” Vanny teased.

Michael seemed content not to rein her in, which kind of made Evan like his brother even more.

“Just take my word for it,” Evan continued, “she didn’t run away because of what happened between us. I may not have been sure about that before, but I am now.”

“Why? What’s happened?” Michael, ever one to get right to the point, asked.

“Nothing.” Not being straightforward was trickier than he had thought. He never realized what a Boy Scout he was in terms of telling the truth. “I just… I just am sure, okay? So I could try to get an appointment with the guy Stavros, but I’m sure you and Dad can get me one faster.”

“What’s the hurry?” Vanny’s soft voice held questions she for once seemed to be too diplomatic to ask.

“I want to get to the bottom of why Andrea disappeared. I intend to. I will,” he finished strongly. “So will you help me?”

“Of course, Evan, if that’s what you want,” Michael agreed easily. “I’ll even go with you.”

“No. I want to do this on my own.”

“Big surprise,” Vanny said and he glanced at her. So much for diplomacy. “Look, I know it’s none of my business—”

“Don’t even try to get her to end that sentence there,” Michael advised. “She never does. There’s always a ‘but’ involved.”

“But, Evan, you seem to have handled being part of this wild family of yours by pushing everybody away and doing everything on your own.”

“No really, Vanny, don’t be shy with my brother. Just tell him what you think,” Michael deadpanned and she pursed her lips at him.

“What I think is that when it counts, you shouldn’t be afraid to take help, Evan. To ask for it even. There may have only been my dad and me in my family, but I know that’s what family’s all about. Being able to ask for help if you need it.”

Evan smiled at her gently. “I am asking for help. I need Michael’s help to get me in front of Stavros. The sooner the better. Okay?”

Michael nodded.

“And if I need more than that, I’ll ask,” he assured Vanny. “Deal?”

She grinned and pulled him into another hug. “Deal.”

“Enough with the hugs,” Michael muttered.





Chapter Eight




Nick Dukakis was taking a chance calling in at this stage. He really was.

Fredrico Stavros was not much for small talk, on the phone or otherwise. Especially with somebody he paid to do his dirty work.

But Nick had what he thought could be his first big lead and if he didn’t follow up on it, he could get blamed for it later. On the other hand, if he did and it wasn’t what the old man wanted, he could get blamed for that later on too. So he thought he’d better call. Of course he could get blamed in the first place for bothering the old man. Who the hell knew? He was so volatile. There was plenty of blame to go around in the Stavros machine but at least they paid pretty well once you came through.

As long as you weren’t too dead to collect.

“Hey. It’s me. Dukakis,” he said when the old man picked up the cell number he had been given to call him about this matter.

“Did you find her?”

“Not yet, boss. But I did find out something interesting I thought I better let you know. Turns out there’s a Reynolds living around where they found Jimmy dead.”

“Michael Reynolds?”

“Not him. One of the other ones.”

“Lives in Montana, you say?”

“Maine, Freddie,” came from somewhere in the background.