“I’m thinking hell yes,” said Annie with her gung-ho spirit. “We got something on him. Forget asking, we could pressure him hard.”
“Caution here, ladies,” Navarro said, taking in a forkful of cake. “Guys like Rapino are tough to bend, but they’re even tougher when they break.”
CHAPTER 40
WHEN THE BUILDING CAME into view, Grace saw that two of the auto shop’s garage bay doors were open. Large yellow lettering mounted to a piece of metal siding above those bays read: Vince’s Auto Service. She pulled her Mini Cooper to the curb. From this vantage point she and Annie could see the garage, while keeping mostly out of sight.
This part of Lynn was not the nicest. Across from a row of crumbling brick buildings marked with graffiti, a dilapidated chain-link fence spread out along the road, crushing an overgrowth of weeds and scattered saplings.
Not thirty minutes ago, Annie and Grace had wrapped up a scheduled meeting at the Lynn Police Station with Detective Jay Allio that had not gone particularly well. It had been over a year since Grace had seen Allio, but he still had the signature paunch and thin mustache she remembered vividly.
Detective Allio was familiar with Penny’s diagnosis, her DID, all the basics, but Grace still had to catch him up on what had transpired since they last spoke. Then, she tried out her theory about Vincent Rapino, thinking maybe he’d consider a warrant to get a DNA sample. Soon enough, Navarro’s discouraging words regarding police cooperation were confirmed.
“It’s an interesting theory, I admit, and I really appreciate your efforts, but you’re not giving me enough to work with here. I have to give you a firm no.”
Now, it was up to them.
Vince might not have been a stickler for the law, but judging by the number of cars parked in his lot, he was a half-decent mechanic. It was a jumble of old sedans, SUVs, and trucks, but other than a Lexus needing extensive front-end repair, there were few cars on the higher end. Grace wondered how many of the waiting vehicles would be outfitted with counterfeit auto parts.
From inside the garage bays, Grace heard the clank of ratchets and wrenches, along with the hiss of hydraulics. Loud classic rock thrummed through tinny speakers, mixing with occasional spurts of laughter from the men at work. The bright sky blazed cobalt blue, but Grace took no comfort from the glorious day. Her thoughts were jangling like alarms going off in her head. She’d never done a stakeout before.
As a pair, they appeared as utterly out of place here as they had at Lucky Dog—Grace in a light green top with dark slacks; Annie in her usual denim outfit with a flashy rhinestone belt buckle. They couldn’t have intimidated a mall cop, but here they were, steps away from Vince’s place, and from the owner, a known criminal who could very well be a killer.
As if confirming Grace’s fears, two men emerged through one of the open bay doors. She immediately recognized one of the rough-looking fellows as part of the duo who had accompanied Vince into Big Frank’s the night he dumped Coca-Cola on the floor. They were dressed in heavy-duty work pants stained like a Jackson Pollock painting. Each had on a brown work shirt with patches saying Vince’s Auto Service stitched to the left breast pocket. Both were smoking cigarettes.
Moments later, Rapino appeared, and bummed a smoke from one of the men. Vince took a few drags off his cigarette before dropping it on the cement floor just inside the garage. He put it out with the sole of his boot.
“That’s our DNA,” Annie said, getting out of the car. Grace followed, and seized Annie’s arm, pulling her to an abrupt stop.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said in a whisper—as if the two men still outside could hear them over the racket. “You can wait in the car.”
Annie shook her head. “We’ve come this far,” she said.
From her pants pocket, Annie produced a plastic bag to collect the evidence. The bag also contained cotton swabs they’d use if they had to go with a more direct approach.
“Okay,” said Grace, like it was a relief.
“I can’t believe you talked me out of bringing a gun,” Annie grumbled.
“I told you, having a weapon might give us a false sense of security,” Grace said as the pair passed the two men continuing their smoke break outside. Annie leered at the one Grace hadn’t seen before, who had light eyes the color of a husky’s.
“I wouldn’t mind a bit of that false security right about now,” whispered Annie.
Grace hadn’t expected a big scene when she stepped into the garage, but everything came to a screeching halt like a needle pulled across a record.