The Dark Root Read Online Free

mother was looking from one of us to the other, at least getting the gist of what I was saying. She put her hand flat on my chest. “No question.”
    Her daughter said something conciliatory to her, but Mrs. Lee’s action seemed to have stiffened Amy’s resolve, I hoped to my advantage. I was immediately disappointed.
    “My mother’s right. We have nothing to say.”
    Knowing what she’d just gone through, I couldn’t keep the frustration from my voice. “Amy, please. I understand your parents’ reluctance. I’ve been to Asia. I know the distrust they have for most cops. But you’ve lived here most of your life. You know what we stand for. We’re the ones that can stop this from happening again, to you or someone else.”
    But she shook her head. “Talk to my dad. I won’t go against him.”
    “That’s what my partner’s doing right now. You wouldn’t be going against him, anyhow. Do you want these characters to kill your father next time? Or to assault your mother the way they did you?”
    She winced at the image, and I was angry at having to use it, but the knowledge that I was about to leave here empty-handed was beginning to burn inside me.
    As if in confirmation, she shook her head one last time. “I’m sorry. I cannot speak with you.”
    I looked at both of them—their faces haggard, bruised, fearful, but set—and let out a sigh. “All right. I won’t add to your problems.” I pulled out my wallet and removed a business card. “If you want to talk to me for any reason at all, even if it’s unrelated to what happened tonight, please call. I really am here to help.”
    I took out a different card and wrote Gail’s name on it. “You know about Women for Women? The women’s crisis organization? Gail Zigman is on their board. She’s also a rape survivor. You can call her or them and ask for help, too. They know what you’ve been through. They’re caring and supportive and they have nothing to do with us. Everything you tell them will be confidential. They will only be interested in your recovery. If you won’t talk to us, at least promise me you’ll give them a call.”
    She gave me a small smile and nodded at last, taking both cards.
    I reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “Good luck. Think about what I said. Get your folks to let us help.”
    I left them to go into the other room—the remnants of a dining room—and found George and Thomas Lee standing against opposite walls, looking like they’d been the cause of the shambles between them. Lee’s expression was a sterner, darker version of his daughter’s determination; George merely rolled his eyes in frustration when I looked at him.
    I crossed over to the restaurant owner. “My guess is these people told you to fall into line or be targeted again. Am I right?”
    Predictably, he didn’t answer.
    I pulled out another business card—one of my own. “You can reach me here, day or night. I’ll give the dispatcher your name and instructions to locate me, no matter when. Okay?”
    He took the card and nodded.
    There was an awkward silence. I rubbed the back of my neck and turned toward the front hallway. “Good luck. I hope all this is worth risking your family.”
    Outside, I paused on the lawn to take in a deep breath of cold air.
    George Capullo shook his head wonderingly—a lifetime small-town cop, whose experience ran deep but narrow, and didn’t include Asians. “I’m not real clear on what happened in there.”
    “I’d say a home invasion—standard Chinatown extortion. Three or more creeps kick down a door, trash the place, rape and/or beat the occupants, rob them blind, and if there’s a business involved, apply a little pressure for future regular payments. Kind of like how Al Capone made gin joints subscribe to his ‘protection’ service during Prohibition. I’ll order some surveillance of the restaurant to see what comes up, but I doubt they’ll be that obvious.”
    “I thought home invasions only