Page 87 of Brazen Mistakes

I clear my throat. “Reed, totally hypothetically, how does your confidential informant program work?”

RJ’s hand gets tense, but I stare at the cop a scant few feet from me, not wanting to give away that I’m not asking for me. “Hypothetically?”

“Yup. Pure curiosity.”

He gives me a look that says he knows I’m not the person I pretend to be, which is both true and so new that his suspicions are wholly misguided. “It would depend on what information is being offered. And what kind of damage was caused in pursuing that information.”

“Once again, hypothetically, if I had learned some things about people like Bryce. Names, locations, things like that. Would anonymity protect that information? If no one was hurt in finding that info. Once again, totally—”

He cuts me off. “Hypothetically. I’m getting it, Clara.” He chews on his cheek. “If this information was hypothetically available and retrieved with no injury or crimes, as in pure ‘word on the street’ style, I might be able to get a CI situation set up.”

“What about on the ‘digital streets,’ as opposed to listening at doors?”

RJ’s pulled tight behind me, but he was just complaining that all he could do was steal the monsters’ money. He can't putthem in jail.

Do I trust Officer Tom Reed to keep them off the streets? No. I don’t. I can’t after he was part of the system that let Bryce out.

But if he could even remove a single monster? It’s more than what we can do. One less monster for RJ to track. And every singular monster behind bars is one less monster scattered across his screen, like grains of rice spilling from a tear in a bag.

Officer Reed stares at me, trying to get me to say more, but I won’t. RJ needs this help, but he needs protection as well. I can give him both if I’m careful. “I’d have to check with my superiors. But it might be possible.”

“Good to know.”

Walker opens the front door, Trips marching down the stairs with him.

“Thank you,” I say, “for that insight into my hypothetical question.”

Officer Reed gives me a look that says he knows nothing about what I was suggesting was actually hypothetical, but refrains from mentioning anything else about it.

Trips stops beside me, Walker slipping between the two of us, taking my hand in his. Three of my four men surround me, Jansen likely sleeping through the noise. But three of the four feels good, safe, even if one of them can’t be mine, not really.

Another problem for another day.

Trips looks ready to explode as he forces my gaze to his, his hand brushing my cheek then swiftly dropping to his side. “Are you sure about this?”

“What are we going to do with them? Make a scrapbook?”

RJ huffs out a laugh despite his tension. Trips rolls his eyes, but pauses long enough for me to stop him before he hands the two cards and photos to the cop.

“Can you share what we got today?” I ask, and Officer Reed complies with a sour face.

Too bad. This shit is mine, even if I don’t want it.

Trips and Walker look at the photos, the card, and the taunt, Walker squeezing my hand and pressing a kiss to my forehead, RJ’s arms still tight around me.

I watch the cop’s face as he flips through the photos, noting how his brow creases and he swallows, trying not to show how surprised he is by what he finds.

He’s not that great of an actor.

“When did you get the first one?” he asks.

“It showed up on Christmas Eve, but I didn’t open it until Christmas Day.”

“And the, ah, photo that came with the Christmas card? When is that from?”

Trips is vibrating with rage, and I want to soothe him, but I know he won’t let me. “The Friday before that.”

“The next one?”

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