Page 15 of Ice Princess


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She laughs at me. “Good try, Henry.”

How bad is it that I like how she says my name?

“Have you ever arrested a CEO?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I haven’t, but I know CEOs have been arrested in the past. Why?”

“Because usually, they get away with doing the same things you believe we do.”

That doesn’t sound quite true. My martini is delivered, and it occurs to me that I’m drinking on the job. Speaking of getting away with breaking rules.

“Banks ruined the economy twenty years ago. They took back the homes from people they gave bad loans to. Who went to jail for that?”

Fuck. She’s right. “But they don’t kill?—”

She gives me an exasperated sigh. “An airplane manufacturer killed over 300 people and made a deal with the DOJ to avoid prosecution.”

“An airplane accident isn’t the same?—”

“First, there were two accidents. But more importantly, the company didn’t meet the terms of the DOJ’s deal and has pleaded guilty to fraud. But is anyone going to jail? No. They’re just paying fines.”

“I see your point.” And hell, if it isn’t a good one. Corruption is everywhere. “But are you really saying since CEOs get away with it, so should you? The law is the law.” I sip the martini, noting the use of top-shelf-quality booze. It’s a testament to the idea that crime pays. Lana and her family live a luxurious life.

“Isn’t this country built on the law being the same for everyone? It’s not, though, is it? It’s why no one has looked intomy brother’s disappearance. I asked for help because my brother went missing, and I was ignored because of my family name.”

Her eyes narrow to slits. "Do you know how many times I called the station, trying to get an update? How many detectives I've spoken to? How much of my own findings I’ve handed over? And not one of them, not one, has ever followed up."

I feel a twinge of guilt. It's true, the department often drags its feet on cases involving known criminals. But seeing the raw pain in Lana's eyes, I think we've made a mistake.

"You're the first cop to even mention Lazaro's name to me in three years," she continues, her voice tight. "Everyone else, the police, my family, they've all just written him off. They assume he's dead because of our family’s business."

I raise an eyebrow at her casual admission of the family's criminal activities, but she doesn't seem to notice or care.

"But I know he's alive. I can feel it. Lazaro and I… we have a connection. If he were dead, I'd know it." There's no doubting the conviction of her belief.

I lean in, intrigued by Lana's sudden openness. It's a side of her I've never seen before, and I feel both sympathy and suspicion. "Tell me about your investigation. What have you uncovered?"

Lana pauses, her fingers tracing the rim of her martini glass. "There was this tip I got from a shop owner downtown. Said he saw Lazaro get jumped by a group of men in the alley behind his store. They beat him unconscious and threw him in the trunk of a car."

I nod, having read the note in the file.

“But did they do anything?” The bitterness drips from her tone. And I don’t blame her because from what I read in the file, the police didn’t do anything with her report.

“Every time I called, I got brushed off. One actually told me good riddance about my brother. Another said if I wanted thepolice to care, maybe I should join a nunnery because no one gives a shit about families in The Outfit.”

Again, I’m surprised by her mentioning her family as part of The Outfit, the name of Chicago’s Mafia organization. But more than that, I’m sickened by what my colleagues said to her. We should be better. I know corruption exists in law enforcement, just like in business. In some ways, dirty cops are more disappointing to me. Lana is right. We’re supposed to wield justice fairly, regardless of who someone is.

“Fuck,” I say under my breath as I run my fingers through my hair.

“What? That upsets you? You really are a Boy Scout.” She waves, and Marco reappears. “Another martini.”

“Of course, Ms. D’Amato. And you, sir?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I need all my wits about me.

“So, Detective Lutz. Are you really here about Lazaro, or is this just part of your scheme to bring my family down?” The vulnerability in Lana’s eyes catches me off guard. For a moment, I don't see the ice-cold crime princess but instead, a hurting young woman desperate to find her brother.

"I want to help.”

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