Page 31 of Angel's Share

“With two addicts,” Jamie pressed, “who are both in custody and experiencing significant withdrawal symptoms consistent with long-term daily drug use.”

“Good.” Cara lifted her wide blue eyes from the photos—and continued grasping at straws. “First step to turning their lives around.”

“Like your brother?” Aidan’s voice was as sharp as a whip. He strode into the room, Rooster on his heels. “The federal prosecutor here”—he said with a tilt of his head toward Rooster—“made some calls. Your brother, an associate of Darien White, is at MCJ serving time for manufacturing and trafficking meth. Blew up a house and everything. Your mother’s, in fact, less than a month after she died, which means he was manufacturing it well before her death. Wonder if that had anything to do with her declining health?”

Cara blanched as pale as her white-blond hair.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” Aidan said.

“The two... the two weren’t connected,” she stuttered.

“We’ll see about that,” Rooster said. “In any event, you’re done here. Ms. Kildare’s case has been reassigned. You should also check in with your supervisor. Pretty sure you’re done with social services too.”

Her face crumpled. “I was just trying to do my job.” Jamie was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain her tears were for herself and not for Bev’s welfare or the welfare of the children in the files she clutched to her chest.

“Negligently, at best,” Rooster said. “Intentional misconduct and bribery at worst, and my office will find out. Now leave those files and get out.”

She slung the files on the table, contents scattering, as little care for those kids’ cases as she’d shown for Bev’s, then turned on her heel and bolted. “You want eyes on her?” Matt asked. “Ten to one she runs.”

“I would not take that bet,” Aidan said, stepping next to Jamie and nestling a hand in the small of his back, reconnecting and bringing Jamie’s ire down with a simple touch. That was usually Jamie’s job, but in this partnership, he needed Aidan to steady him sometimes too.

“I’m not taking that bet either,” Rooster agreed. “Eyes on, please,” he said to Matt. “Maybe she leads us somewhere else.”

Matt slipped out of the room, and Jamie began to reassemble the discarded files, Aidan and Rooster helping. “This case does seem to twist and turn back onto itself,” Jamie remarked. “How’re the kids?”

“Good,” Aidan answered. “They’re in the break room doing homework. Tricia’s on her way over,” he said to Rooster. “Once she gets here, you can ask them what you need. They’ll cooperate. They only cut school today because Cara called Bev and told her she was going to place her back with Deidra. Bev knew where to find the dirt to prevent that.”

“More than the list on the wall you texted me?”

“Attic full of stolen goods,” Aidan said, first showing Jamie a picture on his phone—boxes and boxes of stolen goods—before showing the same to Rooster. “Berat is still at the house with the CSU unit Rick brought over. They’ll print everything, then load it up for evidence.”

“So not just a one-time thing for White?” Jamie said.

“Definitely not. Anything on Arty or the hack?”

“Arty’s dead.”

They all spun toward the new voice, one Jamie couldn’t remember hearing in well over a year. In that time, Sutton Conder had apparently traded his fitted suit and briefcase for jeans, a tee, and a backpack, his regulation haircut for overlong strands streaked with silver and blond, and a honeyed tan that spoke of time spent someplace sunny versus countless hours under office fluorescents. Yet despite all those outward signs of a less stressful life than his old one as SAC of the Bureau’s organized crime unit, Sutton looked downright antsy. Hands shoved in his pockets, eyes darting around the room, it was almost like he wasn’t sure how to be in the office or around people anymore.

Aidan barreled right through whatever was making the former SAC so uncomfortable. “Well, look who the cat dragged in,” he said, approaching with a smile and outstretched hand. “Where have you been hiding, Agent Conder? I thought for sure we’d have seen you at Marsh and Levi’s wedding.”

Jamie and Aidan had both worked cases with Sutton before, most recently the summer before last when Aidan had helped Sutton and Charlie nail the human traffickers Levi and Marsh had been after. In doing so, they’d also exposed a corrupt congressman who’d been a presidential hopeful. Unfortunately, Sutton had lost his job in the process.

“You can drop the agent now,” he said as he shook Aidan’s hand, some of the wariness fading. “As for the wedding, I was afraid if I showed, your former boss would recruit me. She’s relentless.”

“Mel knows talent when she sees it, and you’re one of the best when it comes to organized crime.”

“Charlie’s catching up fast,” he said with an approving smile for his protégé. “But she’s tied up on a major bust, so she sent me, unofficially, with a care package.”

“Wait?” Rooster said. “Are you the Sutton Conder who ran organized crimes for the Bureau and took down Stewart Anthony?”

“The same,” Sutton said, offering his hand. “Took down myself too, but I still count it a win.”

“Henry Roos, AUSA,” the prosecutor introduced himself. “And you should count it a win. You did this state a favor getting rid of Anthony. That man was awful, as a politician and a human.”

“No argument here,” Sutton said, relaxing further, sensing Rooster, the unknown variable in the room, was a supporter and not a detractor. He exchanged hellos and handshakes with Jamie too, then slung his backpack into one of the chairs. “Though I’m afraid none of you will be happy to see me once I tell you what I know.”

“You mean there’s more than ‘Arty’s dead’?” Aidan said.

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