Page 81 of Consumed By the Mafia

“Abigail?” Brandi called, concerning coloring her voice.

The sign for her turn-off filled Abigail’s vision and Abigail swallowed hard. “Did you say … Dale Morrow? Did I hear that right?”

“Yes. I asked if you knew the name,too.”

She hadn’t even heard the question. Abigail drew a deep, semi-steadying breath and flicked on her blinker in order to slide into the necessary lane. “Dale was a friend,” she said, maybe too softly. “He was something like a mentor to me when I started at the Arkansas office. We rarely worked cases together, but we’d meet for lunch or drinks or something and talk shop. He’d help me think through problems and see new angles.” Dale had been like a work brother to her in her mind, and was the person she’d missed the most when she had first moved away.

Dale was also the one who’d told her not to call and lean on him from New Jersey. That doing so would become a bad habit, that it was time she planted her own feet anyway. He’d said it with the patient smile he always wore and finished with a teasing jab to the shoulder like he so often did. So she’d called him exactly once, one week after her arrival, just to hear his lecture and laugh. They hadn’t talked since.

“Well,” Brandi said, “either someone else was using his computer or he’s not the friend you think he is. The real kicker is, I can’t find any record of him coming up to the area, so he can’t be the one who actually raided your apartment. I’m still working on putting that together.”

Abigail felt as though she were leaning bodily into the curve of the road as they angled off the main roadway and toward the airport. Nausea had developed in her stomach and she felt dizzy. “It doesn’t make sense…”

“It was either him behind the leak, or he’s stalking you,” Brandi said, her voice jarringly firm. “Don’t take either lightly.I’m going to keep digging on him, but I thought you should know that much.”

Abigail licked her suddenly dry lips, a swarm of terrible things churning and clenching in her belly. She heard Brandi’s logic, she understood it, but she hated it. Almost as much as she hated knowing she needed to listen to it. “Okay. I appreciate that. I’m almost at the airport, but please text me any updates. I keep my phone locked so it should be safe.”

“Sure.” Brandi paused. “Do you know who you’re picking up?”

“Not specifically.” Abigail’s gaze dropped to the time on the dash, double-checking that they were ahead of schedule, as traffic slowed. “Albert called in favors and bodies from multiple states. I don’t know which ones, let alone who responded. Some flew in private; some flew in commercial. I’m helping pick up the last batch, I think there’s five we’re expecting.” It was such a hodgepodge. She wouldn’t have believed it if she weren’t seeing it unfold.

Brandi made a sound like a muffled laugh. “How bad do you feel?”

The question caught Abigail off-guard and she blinked down at the phone for a second before jerking her attention back to the road. “Not as bad as I expected, actually.” She gave a pointless shrug. “We’re still grabbing up bad guys, so, it’s still work worth doing. And all this … it’s just reminding me how many badge-toting criminals there really are.” She hated it. She wanted to forget it, wanted to bury her head in the sand and insist that her branch was above such disgrace, but she couldn’t.

She would never be able to again.

“I think, at the end, we’re all just people,” Brandi said, the clack of a keyboard carrying over the phone. “No one’s perfect. You have to find the ones who mesh best with you, and do the best you can to live according to yourself. It’s actually not that hard to get along when you do that.”

Abigail felt herself breathing a little easier. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” The lead vehicle of their three-car convoy veered to the side, obviously angling for the long curb, and she knew her time was about up. “I have to get going, but—please, is Ryoma—”

“I’ll tell him you asked,” Brandi said. “Stay sharp, Abby.” The line disconnected.

Abigail didn’t know whether to take the implication of a conversation as a positive or to be endlessly frustrated that the woman hadn’t answered her nagging concern. All she could do was quickly tap the necessary buttons to delete the call log and texts from her phone’s visible history, as an extra precaution. She did use a lock for her phone, but it paid to be safe.

Then she was stopped at the curb, engine off, phone locked, and waiting. She and her two fellow drivers climbed from their vehicles and walked around to stand by the hoods, the picture of official duty and subtle impatience. Or at least, that was the vibe she sensed.

They stood that way, glaring at gawking travelers, for five minutes before four men and one woman in nearly identical, nondescript suits strode through the airport doors. The forwardmost man was clearly in his fifties and not fit for a foot race, his suit straining at the buttons. But it was the manbringing up the rear, seeming to be tucking a phone away, that immediately snagged Abigail’s attention.

Her heart felt as though it caved in on itself, that nauseating sense of betrayal and disbelief slamming back into her without warning. One of the five agents they had been sent to pick up was none other than Dale Morrow.

Dale spotted her before she’d caught her breath and peeled away from the rest, who had gravitated toward the elder-most of their own trio. “Abigail, long time no see, stranger.” He reached out with his free hand, obviously angling for what would be a familiar handshake and more than likely a clap on the back.

Abigail hesitated, her shock making her slow. “Dale … what? I … wasn’t expecting you.” She made herself take his hand, all the while struggling.

Was it possible Brandi had been wrong? Was it possible someone had set him up and that he had nothing to do with it at all?But why is he here?That was the issue tripping her up the most. It seemed like a massive red flag.

Dale pulled her forward and smacked his palm over her spine in a rough greeting. “You look a little tired,” he said as he released her. “They running you too hard?”

She tugged down the ends of the blazer she’d picked up from the office. “It’s been a long couple of days.” Around them, their colleagues wasted no time climbing into the other SUVs. The larger, older male of course assigned himself to the lead car. All Abigail noted for sure beyond that was that she had been inadvertently, or perhaps intentionally, saddled with aman she’d once trusted with her life. “We should get going,” she said, gesturing to her own SUV. “The day’s not done.”

He offered a familiar, tired smirk. “No, it’s not.” Then he moved to the passenger side and pulled open the back door to toss in his bag.

Abigail quickly moved back to the driver’s side and hopped in, immediately reaching for her phone.

“Not the best time for a personal call, Abs,” Dale said with a chuckle as he yanked his door shut.

She made a show of rolling her eyes at him, like she always had before when he’d called her that hated nickname. Before it had annoyed her the way a teasing uncle’s childhood prodding might rile a grown relative. Now it made her skin crawl and the unease spread. “We were ordered to text confirmation of pick-up,” she lied as she typed.

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