Page 34 of Angel's Share

“According to the paperwork, yes.”

“Except the client never got a call,” Rick said as he pulled a file from his tattered bag and set it on the table. He opened it and slid a single sheet across the table. “Their call records from the date of the change order. No calls from TE extensions.”

“And this case was routed to your help desk,” Jamie said to Tomás. Rick produced another sheet of paper; a ticket from the TE system. “One of those rare times?”

“Sometimes we assist if the system gets hung up.”

Aidan leaned forward in his chair, forearms on the table. “What do you mean by ‘hung up’?”

Beads of sweat dotted Tomás’s hairline. “Sometimes the gateway times out.”

“And you personally stepped in on this one,” Jamie said. “That’s what the activity logs show.”

“It was a Tuesday,” he said. “We’re typically slammed on Tuesdays.”

“Good day to cover something up,” Aidan remarked.

He shook his head a little too enthusiastically. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Rick, do you have that activity log?” Jamie said, and Rick passed him several pieces of paper. He flipped them around so Tomás was forced to look at the highlighted entries. “Just before the altered papers came in on Monday, someone on the user’s end changed the two-factor contact info for the user who submitted the change. And when the new paperwork was submitted, the gateway timed out. It got routed to you, and you approved it. All within a thirty-minute window.”

“That sounds like a hack on the user’s end.”

“By Michael Martino,” Aidan said, and the color bled from Tomás’s face. “Did you think we’d just assume he did it all by himself?” Aidan shook his head. “He needed help on this end too.”

“I built the system for accountability,” Jamie added.

“I don’t—” Tomás started, then stopped. Swallowed hard. “I don’t know who that is.” The shake in his voice betrayed him again.

“Except you do, Tomás. Michael Martino was your classmate in night school.”

“And about a month ago,” Rick said, producing another sheet of paper, “your sister who owns a bakery filed a complaint with LBPD about being harassed for protection money. She didn’t know who it was, but the description she gave matches Martino. But then the complaint was withdrawn before LBPD could investigate.”

Tomás ran a hand through his hair. Lowered it. And when it wouldn’t stop shaking, he clasped it with the other in front of him.

KJ laid a hand over his. “You’ve been a model employee,” she said, voice steady and gentle. “Don’t let this ruin it.”

“I can keep my job?”

“I can’t make that promise,” she said. “Only Danny and Siobhan can.”

“But if you tell us what you know about Martino,” Aidan said, “I can at least tell you, as an FBI agent and as a Talley, that we won’t press charges.”

Propping both elbows on the table, he covered his face with his hands, his shoulders heavy as he gutted out broken words. “I just wanted to protect her. That bakery is her dream.”

“Then tell us what we need to know, Tomás,” Jamie said, mirroring KJ’s tone. “Let’s make sure that dream doesn’t die.”

TWENTY-TWO

Bev leaned around Aidan’s side, staring into the potato pot he was dumping more cabbage into. “What exactly is that?”

“Colcannon,” he replied, his accent thicker. It was impossible not to unfurl the brogue on the name of the dish he’d heard spoken, had watched made more times than he could count, the Irish staple his father’s favorite.

Bev’s not so much, judging by the way she wrinkled her nose. “Why can’t we just have potatoes?”

Aidan gave her the same excuse his parents had given him and his siblings whenever they’d protested. “The cabbage makes them healthier for you.”

“Marginally,” Jamie called from the balcony where he had a chicken on the grill.

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