Page 14 of He Sees You

Dove’s being careful not to identify this friend of hers, I notice.

I push a little more. “A Sinner? Or a Dragonfly?”

She visibly pales beneath the meager moonlight above. “Me? I’m not either. Neither is my friend.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “Snowflake, then?”

Her brow furrows. “Snowflake? What?” She glances up at the dark sky. “I thought the snow was done for today.”

Okay. Maybe she doesn’t know about the latest operation trying to infiltrate Springfield. Run by some upstart called Winter, he nearly took out the head of the Libellula Family earlier this year. He targeted Devil next, and all because he has his own crew that produces Eclipseandruns guns throughout the midwest. He wants a stronghold on the East Coast like Springfield, but Devil’s made it clear: any Snowflakes caught in Springfield are to be interrogated on the whereabouts of Winter, then eliminated.

Like a cockroach, Winter just won’t fucking die. He keeps rearing his head again, disappearing for a few months, then coming back even stronger. I don’t know what I would do if Dove got mixed up with the Snowflakes—and that’s a fucking lie, is it?

I’d protect her. From the Devil of Springfield himself, I’d protect her… and she would have no choice but to let me.

She has no choice now, either. Poor Dove. She’s been so careful. I know what she’s been doing, but it took me nearly three months to figure it out. At first, I thought she was hiding a secret lover or something—and I was already plotting where I was going to bury the guy’s body when I got my hands on him—before I snooped, put the pieces together, and realized it was drugs.

Getting caught dealing Eclipse? Even if she’s not the distributor and her so-called friend is, she’s looking at hefty fines and a good amount of jail time for possession with an intent to distribute.

Unless…

I jerk my chin at her.

“Let me see your stash.”

“You can have all of it,” she says hurriedly, dipping one of her hands into her coat pocket.

That’s okay. “Just one bag for now, if you would, Miss?—”

“Yarrow,” she cuts in quickly, and because it’s Dove, I’m charmed by just how quick she is to give me any information that might help me, even if it does incriminate her.

“Mm,” I say, making a non-committal sound. Do I go along with my earlier plan and say the name sounds familiar? Remind her that we’ve met before? Or do I just say ‘fuck it’, tell her that I know her first, last, middle, and fucking confirmation name—Elizabeth—because I’ve made it my mission to learn ever single thing about her than I can?

Except for why she’s risking her life, peddling small bags of Eclipse on Christmas Eve…

She holds out the baggie with shaky fingers.

I take it, then hold it up to my eye. It’s hard to make out in the dark, but though the nearest street lamp isn’t as bright as it could be, I can see the imprint of the dragonfly symbol on the plastic.

“You’re not a Dragonfly, but you sell their drugs for them? That is, Miss Yarrow?”

From what I learned since I got hired on the force, the Libellula Family is made up of mostly men. Women are objects to be owned and protected; like, they’re literally called ‘property’ on the East End. On the West Side? Devil deals in the skin trade, too, selling girls at the Devil’s Playground—the Sinners’ nightclub—but he’s no pimp. More of a broker between ‘wallets’ and the girls who milk the schmucks for everything they have, that’s how Burns explained it to me.

So, on the one hand, I’m glad she’s selling Eclipse with a dragonfly mark on it instead of a snowflake or some other brand. In Springfield, we usually look the other way when it’s a Dragonfly’s supply.

Usually, I think to myself, but not this Christmas.

“It’s my friend. The guy they’re dating has the dragonfly tat. They get the bags, and I just drop them off. I swear.”

Still very careful not to implicate her friend, I notice. Of course not. That’s something else I appreciate about my Dove: she’s loyal to a fault.

Now, I can guess who this friend is. She doesn’t have many in Springfield, and most of the ones she is friendly with are either co-workers with her at Waverly’s or part of her photography circle.

Nadine, I think. To be fucking a Dragonfly and using Dove as the face of their op… yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s Nadine. At least I know from Dove’s records that she’s getting paid pretty damn well to meet junkies in empty alleyways, so even if it’s a three-way cut, it’s gotta be worth it, especially if Damien Libellula and his men wouldn’t go after Dove for dealing without Dragonfly permission in their city.

I run the pad of my thumb over the imprint before offering the bag to Dove.

She looks surprised. “You’re going to give it back to me?”

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