The False Mirror Read online

  Sharon couldn’t have deciphered this surprising connection without Jacob’s help. As a homicide detective, obliged by the NYPD’s chain of command, she still had to report to her captain. Although she might have stretched some boundaries at times, in the name of doing justice and finding out the truth, Captain Rob Jackie, on the other hand, was straight as an arrow and preferred to follow the protocol religiously. It was his job to stop her when she went too far. This time, Sharon had wanted the department to place a tap on Lisbon’s phone, but obviously he couldn’t approve such a thing. After all, he’d explained, Lisbon was a political figure and not just any old random suspect; all the more reason when it came to the favorite politician of the boys in blue.

  As much as she hated to admit it, Rob’s arguments made sense: no judge would agree to sign this warrant in the current state of no evidence. The federal authority, however, had more freedom to act.

  Sharon assumed that, as a marshal, Jacob would probably have access to resources beyond her reach. And still, it was somewhat of a gray area. She wasn’t sure how Jacob would react. Undoubtedly, it would require pulling a few strings.

  To her surprise, he hadn’t thought about it too much and came to her rescue. After all, a marshal who had flown cross-country to sleep on the couch of one of his witnesses was probably well practiced in stretching boundaries.

  Luckily for Sharon, Jacob was the kind of man to whom people had owed some favors, and he hadn’t shied away from cashing in on some of them for her benefit. In a relatively short time, he had received Lisbon’s phone records, showing all the numbers he had called and the duration of each call. Although Sharon couldn’t hear the contents of the calls, she did learn an interesting detail: just minutes after she’d left the deputy mayor’s office, George Lisbon had called an unlisted number for a conversation that lasted fifty-eight seconds. A relatively brief conversation, but still, a lot of information could be exchanged in this period of time.

  To Sharon’s amazement, the seemingly random number looked oddly familiar. She pulled out the burner phone from Ray Helborgen and checked the messages screen. There was one message from the exact same number: the one in which Ray had given her the details of the swap meeting.

  In other words, George Lisbon had called Ray Helborgen!

  It was worrisome enough that a respected politician such as Lisbon had notorious criminals on his speed dial, but what bothered Sharon even more was the timing. What other reason had Lisbon for calling Ray Helborgen if it wasn’t related to what they had discussed in the privacy of his office just moments before, when she pulled out the Tiffany diamond necklace from her bag and asked him about his relationship with Tracy Navarro?

  The pieces began to fall into place: Lisbon was too smart to get his hands dirty, and so he had hired a professional to clean up his mess. But he wouldn’t have trusted just anyone with his dirty laundry. No, he needed someone who had just as keen an interest in keeping him in a position of power; perhaps a man who received special, preferential treatment for the right price?

  If someone had asked Sharon before this whole story had begun who the most decent politician she knew was, she probably would have named Lisbon. Now, she was wondering what, exactly, the nature of the relationship between the two was. Had it been a long time “friendship”?

  Well, that just goes to show you how much you really know your elected officials – you vote for them in the ballot-box, and, in exchange, they huddle together with convicted felons and plot heinous murders.

  Well, not all of them.

  Sharon checked the messages screen again and read Helborgen’s message: there was no mention of a specific meeting point. She assumed she would get the complete address closer the meeting, to prevent the option of an early stakeout or a preliminary ambush. How odd, here she was about to meet with the same mobster who could help her accuse Lisbon of Tracy’s murder, but for an entirely different reason. Tonight, her only mission was to bring Max Webber back to his daughter alive.

  Nevertheless, she would very much like to kill two corrupted birds with one stone and see Helborgen and Lisbon living out their beautiful friendship behind bars.

  Who knows, maybe they’ll end up cellmates.

  For now, she had the upper hand. Helborgen thought he was coming to a risk-free swap meeting with a sassy bounty hunter, not an NYPD detective. Of course, it didn’t mean he wasn’t planning on killing her anyway, but if he knew who she really was, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Helborgen would probably ask her to come alone, and she would have to play along, at least in plain sight. From her relatively brief acquaintance with Jacob Stanton, she knew he wouldn’t let her go alone and would insist on backing her up himself. Secretly, she was grateful for that. She might have known him only a few days, but for some reason, she felt she could trust him blindly – even if, at the moment, she was having trouble looking him in the eye.

  “Sharon Davis, I swear, you are the most beautiful cop I’ve ever seen,” Jacob’s words echoed in her head. Sharon sensed a full blush inflaming her cheeks. She bit her lips so hard to keep from smiling that they almost bled. Why did he make her feel this way? She knew she was in love with Chris, but still, something about the mysterious, rugged, tough, and yet lonesome marshal intrigued her.

  She shook her head as if trying to banish the forbidden thoughts from her mind. In a few short days, Jacob Stanton would go back to his job at the Marshals Service, far away from New York, and would become yesterday’s news. Now she had to focus on more pressing matters, matters of life and death – and in her line of work, this was no metaphor.

  She would have to keep her Glock hidden yet accessible. After all, she didn’t want to invoke any suspicion from Helborgen although, fortunately, her cover story justified carrying a weapon. She would try to get him to make the swap at the same time – the captive for the money. Once Max Webber was out of reach, she would make her move. She just hoped it wouldn’t be the last thing she’d do on this earth.

  CHAPTER 52

  September 22, 2013. Somewhere in New Jersey

  Ray Helborgen carefully scrutinized the photo that appeared on his computer screen. Sharon Davis was an impressive broad, no doubt, judging by the headlines that popped up when he typed her name in a Google search: “The Police Officer Who Saved the Supermodel”, “The Dark Secret Behind the Sleeping Beauties Affair”, “The Detective Who Rose from the Dead to Catch a Serial Killer” were only a few of them.

  I bet the flowing hair and piercing eyes didn’t hurt either, he thought to himself. What a pity that, soon enough, she’d become a thing of the past.

  “Boss, the car’s ready.” Richie entered the room. His eyes rested on the beautiful woman in the picture. He immediately recognized her.

  “Who is she?” he asked, trying to check how much his boss knew.

  “None of your business,” he barked. “Just some stinking cop.”

  Richie suddenly realized why the brazen bounty hunter looked so familiar. It was that detective, who had starred in all the headlines the previous year. She was actually a cop. How did he miss it . . .?

  And how the hell did her picture end up on Helborgen’s computer screen? If Ray didn’t know the truth, why was he circling the web looking for beautiful policewomen who specialized in catching serial killers?

  Richie couldn’t ask too many questions. If he snooped too much, he knew it would draw suspicion. Exactly like in the case of that famous prostitute, that had almost cost him his life.

  “I told you to mind your own business!” he was reminded of Ray’s menacing voice. But it was too late. There was nothing he could have done; she was already dead.

  The realization that the man he was working for 24/7 lacked any bit of conscience or mercy had hit him hard at that time. Richie was no angel, and he had known well enough that working under Helborgen would force him to cross certain boundaries, but he couldn’t believe the indifference of his boss about taking people’s lives. And now, with Max, on
ce again he was horrified to discover that his boss had no red lines: in the game of vengeance all was fair. His forehead creased as he remembered the last time he had seen Max Webber. The sight of his amputated fingers, with those revolting flies circling the congealed blood, wouldn’t leave his head. He didn’t want to know what other terrible things this cruel man would do to his enemies – and Ray Helborgen didn’t like cops, to say the least.

  Seemed like his boss had no idea that his meeting tonight was, in fact, with the rising star of the NYPD.

  That’s going to be a hell of a date . . .

  When he thought about it, he realized that the tough mobster had not yet had the pleasure of meeting “Katie” in person. When they finally met tonight, everything would become clear. He would realize that she had been playing him all along.

  Worse, he would realize that she was a cop. And then, he wouldn’t think twice before he fired.

  The question was what was he going to do about it.

  CHAPTER 53

  September 22, 2013. Brooklyn, New York

  Sharon and Jacob sat at the small table in Mrs. Hershenberg’s kitchen. Jacob was talking, and Sharon was nodding while chewing hungrily on a piece of chicken from her plate, along with some oven-baked potatoes with rosemary. Juggling her obligations at the precinct and the early-bird meeting at City Hall hadn’t left her much time for lunch or even to think about it. When she had arrived at the cozy house, right next door to her parents, a sense of warmth had enveloped her. A delicious aroma of rich spices had filled her nose and induced her appetite. She suddenly realized how many hours had passed since having something to eat. Fortunately for her, Rebecca noticed and immediately offered to make her a plate. Sharon couldn’t refuse.

  “The car we’ve arranged for you has a GPS tracking chip that will allow us to know where you are at all times,” Jacob’s voice penetrated her thoughts, forcing her to refocus on the conversation. “But don’t worry, I’ll follow you from a safe distance. Just so you know, I have never lost a suspect while tailing them – and I’m not gonna lose you,” he declared proudly as a timid smile escaped from his lips.

  “Never say never,” Sharon grinned back. “If I weren’t a homicide detective, I probably would have been a getaway driver. The reason I don’t have a car in Manhattan is so I won’t give in to temptation . . .”

  “And I thought it was because of the terrible traffic and parking problems at all hours of the day.”

  “Well, that too.”

  The two exchanged amused looks after which Jacob’s face returned to its serious expression. “The bag with the money will be in the trunk,” he said matter-of-factly. “As I expected, we couldn’t get two million dollars on such short notice, but there are enough bills to fool Helborgen, at least at first sight. The stacks of cash on top contain unmarked hundred-dollar bills; if he decides to check them, he’ll see everything is kosher. The stacks at the bottom, however, besides the top and bottom bill in every stack, contain singles. So, don’t let Helborgen check the bills at the bottom, and do your best to make him believe that this is all the money you found. He probably won’t start checking the money in the middle of a swap and will suffice with a brief glance to confirm everything is fine – so the odds are in our favor,” claimed Jacob, “as long as Helborgen believes he has received all the money.”

  Jacob’s words reminded Sharon of what he had said to her only yesterday; his words had helped her realize how to fool Lisbon: sentences that encouraged her to use the necklace she had gotten from Will McKenzie to make the deputy mayor believe she had the key evidence leading to him. And it had worked. His phone call to Helborgen, just moments after their meeting, was proof that she was heading in the right direction – even if she still hadn’t managed to figure out how she could use this information to her advantage. With no actual way of knowing what was said in the conversation, Lisbon and Helborgen could always claim they were just talking about the weather . . .

  It seemed that the rugged marshal had helped her more than he could imagine. More than she would have wanted him to know.

  “The power of belief . . .” murmured Sharon as she kept contemplating. Her gaze shifted toward the burner phone sitting on the table. When was it going to ring? The sun began to set, and darkness was slowly taking over the sky. She had no doubt that an experienced criminal such as Ray Helborgen would choose a remote meeting place, with little or no lighting. That was why every minute of daylight was crucial, especially given the very likely possibility that the vicious mobster would pull out his gun and try to shoot her.

  She heard footsteps approaching. Becky entered the kitchen and walked to the refrigerator. The girl held the refrigerator door, intending to open it, but then her head sank down as if she were contemplating something. She summoned the courage and strode over to Sharon and Jacob.

  “So . . . it’s happening today?” she probed, hesitantly, not sure how much she was allowed to ask.

  Jacob was quiet. Sharon looked into her eyes and simply answered, “Yes.”

  Becky lowered her eyes for a few moments; Sharon noticed a tear landing on the tablecloth. When the girl lifted her gaze, her hazel eyes shone dimly. “Thank you,” she barely managed to emit the words before her voice broke and she burst into tears.

  Sharon immediately got up and hugged her. Jacob rose from his chair and placed his hand consolingly on her shoulder, his other hand just barely touching Sharon’s back.

  “Everything will be all right,” he said.

  Each of them needed to hear that.

  A sharp ring was heard. It was the burner phone Sharon had gotten from Helborgen. She let go of Becky and picked it up.

  “It’s time.”

  CHAPTER 54

  September 22, 2013. Somewhere in New Jersey

  Sharon took another turn on the completely unfamiliar route. She was driving for a while and felt agitated, impatient to jump out of the car and complete her mission. She glanced in the rearview mirror and switched lanes. At times, she thought she spotted Jacob’s vehicle, but she wasn’t sure if it was really him or perhaps just her imagination. By the second half of the drive, there was no trace of him. She hoped this wasn’t a bad sign.

  The urban landscape was replaced by a winding dirt road that slowed down the fast drive. Darkness was everywhere, and the car’s headlights were the only source of light that enabled her to continue the journey. Sharon tried to identify any sign that would give her some idea of where she was driving to exactly, and if there was any other reason why Ray Helborgen had chosen specifically this location – except for the obvious fact of it being completely secluded.

  Secluded enough to kill someone without being afraid of getting caught . . . the shivering thought penetrated her mind.

  After a while, she arrived at an old deserted warehouse, just as Helborgen’s soldier had described in their previous conversation. The pier wasn’t too far, and the Verrazano Bridge could be seen glimmering in the distance. The property was empty except for the abandoned building. This was good for Sharon because Helborgen couldn’t surprise her in case the meeting turned out to be a trap. On the other hand, it meant that Jacob didn’t have many places to hide either, and he would have to keep his distance.

  Sharon tuned the radio and turned up the volume. She was about fifteen minutes early. She hoped that the time would allow Jacob to adapt, find a good place to hide, and look out for her before the second half of the meeting party arrived. In the few remaining minutes, she immersed herself in the melodic sounds to regulate her heartbeat. She had to keep her cool as if she really were a bounty hunter who had just come to do her job.

  The late hour and the dusking sky didn’t allow her to wear her Jackie-O sunglasses; the dark lenses would obscure her limited vision in the darkness even more. She realized that it would seem too suspicious under these circumstances. She had to settle for gathering her lustrous hair under a black cap in hopes that it would offer a good disguise. At least in this case, the darkness w
orked to her advantage.

  Toward the end of the fourth song, she heard voices in the distance. She turned off the radio and listened carefully to the sound of spinning tires, crossing the sandy road and trampling the grains beneath them. The voices grew louder, and then she noticed a car’s headlights advancing her way.

  The vehicle stopped in front of her car and dimmed its lights. Darkness took over the compound once again, and a few moments passed before her eyes grew accustomed to the blackness. Sharon noticed a familiar-looking man – Richie – getting out of the big car and opening the door for a husky, middle-aged man. She took a deep breath, fastened the cap to her head, and got out of the car.

  “Ray Helborgen.” Sharon wore the mischievous grin she’d adopted as part of her fake identity. “Pleasure to meet you.” She tilted her head in a graceful manner, accidentally releasing a few strands of golden hair.

  “Katie . . .” The mobster studied her carefully. For a moment, she thought she saw a glimpse of familiarity in his eyes. “Couric,” he completed. “It’s always good to put a face to a name. And it’s even better with such a pretty face.” His slimy tone jarred on her ears.

  “I see you brought my new pal. Hi, Richie.” She flashed a big smile that revealed her pearly whites and waited. Sharon wanted Helborgen to be the one who initiated the swap. She couldn’t seem too eager to see Max Webber alive; it might give her true intention away.

  Richie replied with a quiet nod but didn’t utter a word.

  Sharon could feel Ray’s eyes piercing right through her. He didn’t take his eyes off her. Was it possible that her cover was blown?

  “You’re here alone?” he asked.

  “I don’t need to share my commission with anyone else,” she answered boldly. This quality of the fictional character she had created corresponded to her real character – Sharon was lionhearted in every fiber of her being.