Unforgettable 2 (Hollywood Love Story #2) by Nelle L'Amour Read Free Book Online Page A

rapid heartbeats, the suspect’s name pops up.
    Pops reads it aloud.
    “Frank Donatelli. Age 51.”
    Hastily, he puts the phone on speaker and punches a four-digit extension.
    “Mancuso,” booms a deep voice on the first ring.
    “It’s Pete. I’m with Brenda.” Pops’s voice is urgent. “Get me everything you can on Frank Donatelli. I need it NOW!”
    “On it.” The call ends.
    Five minutes later, Lieutenant Mancuso, one of Pops’s favorite and most reliable officers on the force, joins us, with a printout in his hand. He hands it to Pops. Pops slips his reading glasses that are on top of his head over the bridge of his nose. With lips pressed tight, he reads the material.
    “Fuck.”
    “What, Pops?”
    “Donatelli is a loan shark who works for the Mob. He’s known as ‘The Finger’—for both his fuck-you attitude and his trigger-happy skills.”
    “You should be able to find him.”
    “Babycakes, it’s not that easy. He’s a ghost.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “He’s invisible. Off the grid. No address. No social security number. Uses fake identities and only burner phones. In other words, he’s untraceable.”
    My heart sinks to my stomach. If Pops doesn’t think he can find him, no one can.
    “What’s the next step?” I ask my father, my voice thick with disappointment.
    “We’re going to circulate his photo, issue a warrant for his arrest, and maybe bring in the FBI.” He pauses. “And have someone on the force keep an eye on Scott. They may have contact again.”
    “Do you still think his meeting with Scott had something to do with Brandon?”
    Pops rubs his dimpled chin. “Not sure yet. I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe it has something to do with you.”
    I inwardly shudder. “Pops, I’m positive he didn’t recognize me.” While I’ve never lost all my baby fat, I no longer look like the chubby, pigtailed little girl who witnessed her mother’s murder. “And besides he has no clue about my identity or whereabouts.”
    The latter is true because the police kept my name out of the press to protect me. Frustrated, Pops rakes his stubby fingers through his full head of slate hair. His face is pinched.
    “Has Scott ever threatened you?”
    “Pops, he threatened to fire me, but he’s never threatened my life.” Yet, I wonder—does despicable Scott despise me enough to want to kill me? Is that motive enough?
    “Does he perceive you as a threat?”
    I answer Pops honestly. “Somewhat. He doesn’t like my relationship with Brandon, but truthfully, I don’t think it would drive him to kill me.”
    “Babycakes, at this point, we can’t rule anything out. I’ve seen people kill for no reason at all.” He turns to Mancuso. “Mancuso, do a thorough investigation of Brandon Taylor’s manager, Scott Turner, and get me everything you have on him as quickly as you can.”
    “Will do boss. I’ll get on it right away,” the uniformed officer replies, already out the door.
    Pops returns his attention to the computer, and with a couple clicks of the mouse, prints out Donatelli’s image. “Brenda, would you do me a favor and grab the printout.”
    “Sure,” she says, swiveling her chair to retrieve the photo that’s spewing out of the printer behind her. She faces front again and hands it to Pops.
    “Thanks,” says Pops, carefully slipping the photo into Mama’s case folder. “And thanks for working with Zoey and doing a stellar job.”
    Brenda smiles proudly. “My pleasure. I hope you nail the bastard.”
    Rising with the folder in his hand, Pops takes a deep breath. “Me too.”
    I can read him like a book and detect a shadow of doubt.
    He gives me an affectionate noogie. “C’mon, babycakes. I’ll walk you back to the front desk.” I stand, and he wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders.
    When we return to the front desk area, there’s a line out the door to get Brandon’s autograph or take a photo with him. Alma is shouting out for people to behave