Internal Affairs. Alana Matthews
in the world. I told him I didn’t want them around the house, but he ignored me.”
“That still doesn’t explain the violent part.”
Lisa hesitated again, not sure how much she should say. But she knew that if she didn’t tell them, Beatrice would, so she might as well put it out there.
She slunk to the sofa. “He had a girlfriend while we were together. I only found out about her when she wound up in the hospital. A friend of mine works at County and saw him when they brought her in.”
“For what?”
“A broken jaw. She had to have it wired shut.”
Rafe’s brows went up now. “And you think he did that to her?”
“I know he did. He told me as much when I confronted him. Said she was a loudmouthed little witch who didn’t know when to shut up.” Lisa sighed. “That was the last straw. I filed for divorce less than a week later.”
She remembered the look in Oliver’s eyes when he’d confessed to her. A look that she could only describe as pride. He had been proud of what he’d done to that poor girl. As if he were the king ape who had punished a disobedient subject.
That’s when she realized he was a sociopath.
Filing those divorce papers had been another turning point in Lisa’s life, and the moment she did it, she felt liberated. Yet, before then, she hadn’t even realized she was a prisoner. She had allowed herself to block out the truth simply because Oliver had provided her and Chloe with a home. A family.
And the illusion of happiness.
When she thought about it now, however, maybe Oliver was right. Maybe she was a gold digger.
Rafe said, “I know you, Lisa. You always did try to avoid confrontations. But if this guy is starting to get violent with you, you need to press charges and file for a restraining order. Deputy Harris is right. He will be back.”
“I can handle him,” she said.
Bea snorted. “By letting him rub you up like a $2 tart? Seems to me he was the one doing all the handling.”
Lisa felt her face flush, but said nothing. With Bea, you could always count on the truth, no matter how unflattering it might be.
“I’ll tell you what,” Rafe said, then moved to the sofa and sat next to her. “You don’t have to file charges, but at least give me his name.”
“Why?”
“I’ll go talk to him. Tell him he needs back off.”
“You’d better take my scattergun if you do,” Bea said.
“Trust me, I’ve handled my share of tough guys. Most of the time they’re more talk than action, and I’m pretty sure I can convince him to leave Lisa alone.” He looked at Chloe, who was still fast asleep. “I assume you have custody?”
The question caught Lisa off guard. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Sole custody.”
“Good. Then it shouldn’t be a problem. What’s your ex-husband’s name?”
“Sloan,” Bea said. “Oliver Sloan.”
And to Lisa’s surprise, Rafe and Deputy Harris exchanged a look that told her they’d heard the name before. The shock on their faces was hard to miss.
“Oliver Sloan?” Harris said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You know him?” she asked.
“Better than I’d like to. There isn’t anyone in law enforcement who doesn’t. Not in St. Louis.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “Oliver’s in real estate. He may have problems and a poor choice of friends, but he’s a glorified salesman. Why would the police care about that?”
“Because of what he sells,” Rafe told her.
Lisa was bewildered. For all his faults, she’d never thought Oliver was involved in anything that would raise the interest of the police—except maybe a bit of real estate hanky-panky that she was convinced he was trying to pull. There was also the incident with his girlfriend, but the woman had never pressed charges.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple,” Rafe said. “Your ex-husband is up to his eyeballs in organized crime.”
Chapter Six
Oliver Sloan.
When the name came out of the housekeeper’s mouth, Rafe wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her right.
Oliver Sloan was a bad man.
A very bad man.
Oliver Sloan was nothing less than the local king of organized crime. Drugs. Prostitution. Extortion. Gambling. If it was a thriving illegal enterprise, Sloan’s involvement was a given.
The problem, unfortunately, was proving it. Despite years of trying, neither the Sheriff’s department nor the St. Louis police had been able to come up with any evidence against him. Too many crime scenes had been sanitized. Too many witnesses had disappeared. Too many suspects had kept their mouths shut and taken their punishment, refusing to reveal who had given the orders.
Oliver Sloan had somehow managed to stay above it all. Had even presented himself to the public as an altruistic businessman. A real estate mogul. But as Harris had said, everyone in St. Louis law enforcement circles knew he was dirty. As dirty as they come.
What Rafe had a hard time stomaching, however, was that Lisa had not only been involved with the guy, but also had actually been married to him. Had a child with him.
That was just one surprise too many.
Rafe had been feeling shell-shocked ever since he entered the house and saw Lisa sitting on that sofa. And the thought that Oliver Sloan had sired that child was almost too much to bear.
Rafe remembered what he and Lisa had meant to each other in college and how their breakup was largely due to their inability to commit. Even though it was only a little over three years ago, they had seemed so young then. So immature.
But they’d both done a lot of growing up since then. And apparently Lisa herself hadn’t had much trouble committing. Not for a while, at least. She had gone straight from that breakup into the arms Oliver Sloan.
But how could she not know what kind of man he was? Was he that good at hiding it?
“Let me get this straight,” Rafe said. “You had no idea your ex-husband was suspected of being part of a crime syndicate?”
Lisa shook her head in dismay. “You must have the wrong Oliver Sloan. I’ve sat in his office, watched him make deals. If anything mob related was going on, I think I would’ve noticed.”
“His company’s a front,” Harris said. “But, trust me, you aren’t the only one he’s snookered. There are a few people on the city council who think he’s God, and he’s got more connections than the pope.”
“I can’t believe this,” Lisa said.
“Well you’d better start wrapping your head around it, because if this guy’s giving you grief, you’re in a lot more trouble than you—”
“That’s enough, Phil.” Rafe approached his partner. “We came here to help Lisa, not scare her half to death.”
He turned to the sofa, chastising himself for letting this go on as long as it had. Lisa’s expression was a mix of fear and disbelief.
“Look, Lisa, I won’t kid you. You’re probably