He rolled himself up closer, his fingers sliding straight to the awaiting keyboard. With effortless movements and his eyes locked on one of the six monitors, he typed in Allison’s first and last name, as well as her last official city and state of residence. Seconds later, her smiling face appeared on the screen before him.
Allison Michelle Gallo—formerly known as Allison Cook—was born thirty-two years ago at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle. So far, he was off to a good start.
Liam began typing again, and within seconds the other five screens became filled with his favorite version ofShow and Tell. High school and college transcripts. Employment history. Tax returns. Marriage certificate. Maddie’s birth certificate. A court approved legal separation.
Everything she’d shared about herself and her marriage to Thomas Gallo had all been proven to be true. According to the documents he’d easily found, she and Tommy were still married but legally separated. Full custody of Maddie had been awarded to the mother, but from what he could tell, Tommy had control over everything else.
The house. The cars. The bank accounts and credit cards.
Just like Allison said.
Liam yawned, but he wasn’t about to call it quits now. Instead, he momentarily abandoned the keyboard to reach for the small beverage cooler on his right. Opening the door, he grabbed a bottle of his favorite brand of sweet tea. He twisted off the top, took a big swig, and then got right back to work.
“Time to look behind door number two,” he muttered to himself. “All right, Tommy Gallo…let’s see what kinds of skeletons you’ve got hiding in your closet.”
The longer Liam searched, the tighter his chest became. His stomach churned to the point of nausea, and the temptation to walk away from his computer grew greater by the second.
Since the phones weren’t under Allison’s name, there hadn’t been any phone records directly attached to her. But when he looked into calls from their cell phones and the separated couple’s Seattle landline, Liam stumbled upon a much more detailed—and infuriating—story.
Son of a…
Seventeen. That was the number of times in the past year and a half that nine-one-one had been dialed from one of the three phones in Tommy Gallo’s name.
Six of those calls had been made from the landline inside the house. The remaining eleven came from a cell that appeared to have been the one Allison was using at that time. And of those eleven calls, nine had been made within the past year.
As if that wasn’t enough, Liam found records of formal complaints initiated by several of the women’s shelters in Seattle. Apparently, Tommy Gallo had a nasty habit of getting drunk and then going from place to place in search of his wife.
With those seventeen nine-one-one calls weighing heavily on his mind, Liam initiated yet another search. Using the talents God gave him coupled with the skills he’d learned courtesy the U.S. Marines, Liam accessed hospital records from every emergency room in Seattle, as well as those within a sixty-mile radius.
Once he was in, he looked for any records containing Allison’s name. His stomach dropped when he found multiple records from four separate hospitals within the designated search radius.
Holy shit.
Broken ribs. A broken wrist. A fractured cheekbone and a pretty serious concussion.
The deeper he dug, the more nauseated Liam felt. Hospital records indicated the injuries were all results from various “accidental falls”.
Accidental my ass.
Allison was right. Her husband was a low-life piece of shit who liked using his fists on his wife. And given the fact that not a single charge had ever been filed against him, it was safe to assume what she’d said about Tommy having a few cops in his pockets was also true.
The asshole was clearly well-connected. Liam needed to figure out to whom, and just how deeply those connections ran. He’d run the usual programs overnight to see if any further pertinent intel pops up regarding Gallo. But before he left it at that for the night, there was one other possible source of information he wanted to pursue.
Liam pulled his cell from the pocket of his dark gray joggers and hit one of the few names included in his “Favorites” list. He tapped the screen to put the call on speaker before setting the device down onto his makeshift desk.
“Well that didn’t take long,” Jagger’s deep voice drawled. “Figured I wouldn’t hear from you again until morning.”
“It’s all true,” he told his friend with utter certainty. “Everything Allison said is true.”
Liam went on to share what his cursory investigation into Tommy Gallo had yielded. By the time he was finished, Jagger sounded as pissed off as Liam felt.
“I’ve got a buddy who lives in Seattle,” the other man revealed. “Name’s Travis Knox. Last I knew, he was a detective with the special crimes unit there. I could give him a call and see if he knows anything that can help. If not, maybe he can at least point us in the right direction.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Liam hesitated to agree.
“What is it?”
“I mean, given what I just told you I found, are you sure we can trust someone within the SPD?”
