Page 19 of Out of Control

Her hanging up wasn’t a surprise. We didn’t have much to say to each other these days. She loved me, I knew that, but I wasn’t enough. She was always looking for more to fill the hole in her heart.

I didn’t feel like going back to the precinct and seeing Mark Rosenberg’s stupid face, so I turned the car toward my apartment. I had a flash drive with all the information I needed to reevaluate from Witness C, so I would work from home for the rest of the day.

I settled into my home office and turned on the computer. It took a lot of time and firewalls, but after a decade in the agency I had permission to access confidential case files from my home computer—an option not many other people had, I was proud to say. My fidelity to the bureau was unquestioned, and I was the prime example of doing things by the book. My superiors knew they didn’t need to worry about sensitive information getting out.

I looked to my kitchen, wondering if I should make a snack, but ignored my stomach. I—like Athena, apparently—didn’t cook a lot and knew I didn’t have much at the ready to make a good meal out of.

My stomach rumbled again, but I didn't get up. I’d forget all about it once I got sucked into work.

An hour and a half later, I was cross-referencing my witness’s notes about various “vendors” and “consultants” the Morellis used that ended up missing or worse. Each death or disappearance was circumstantial, but put them all together and it’s a hell of a lot of suspicious activity.

I was looking into their most recent accountant when I hit pay dirt: Margaret Keenan, deceased. Mrs. Keenan was predeceased by her husband, George Kane, survived by their daughter, Athena.

eight

Athena

“Thank you, Mary,” I said when she slid my BLT down in front of me.

“You’re very welcome, honey. Why don’t you have your handsome young man with you for lunch?”

“That wasn’t my boyfriend, that was my stalker,” I exaggerated with a smile.

Mary shook her head. “Well, whoever he was, bring him back soon. Easy on the eyes, and a great tipper!”

I rolled my eyes. Of course Blake would tip well. He was so condescending and patronizing that he would think it was his duty to give unto the lower classes. I found my ten dollar bill stuffed in my purse when I got home yesterday. He had to be in control of everything so much that he couldn’t even let me pay for my own brunch yesterday, the asshole.

I was just working myself up into a proper spiral of rage when Mary leaned in conspiratorially. “Whether he’s your stalker oryour boyfriend, he’s back for more. Just look at that man walk! Whew!” she exclaimed, fanning herself.

I looked up to the door and saw Blake about to enter, the wind pulling at his unbuttoned blazer, his stride sure and focused. He pulled the heavy door open with ease, taking off his sunglasses as he entered, tucking them into his chest pocket. I almost expected him to take off the blazer and dangle it over his shoulder so he could strike a pose. The man looked like a freaking runway model.

When his gaze met mine I rolled my eyes, but scooted over on the bench, expecting him to come sit next to me again.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked when he sat down.

“Lucky guess. I wanted to get some lunch and figured you would as well at some point.”

“What can I get you, hon?” Mary asked, slipping him a menu.

He gave it a quick browse. “Can I get a chicken Caesar salad with dressing on the side and a cup of your soup du jour?”

“That’s tomato bisque today. You want anything to drink?”

“Water would be perfect. Thank you.”

“I’ll have that out lickedy-split so you two can eat together again,” she said, retreating to the kitchen with a wink.

I took a big, intentional bite out of my sandwich. We were not eating together on a lunch date. “Why do you look so smug?” I asked, not bothering to cover my mouth as I chewed. Maybe it would gross him out enough to leave.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” he smirked, nodding to Mary as she puttered around behind the counter, getting his order together.

I shrugged, hurrying to eat as much as my sandwich as I could before she returned with his food. I wasn’t afraid of being petty.I finished the whole thing before she got back, and I was damn proud of it.

“What’s such a big deal that felt you had to track me down again? Do I need to reconsider finding a supervisor and telling them you’re following me without cause?”

“That’s the thing, Athena. We found cause.”

I stilled. What did they find? Depending on where their trail picked up I could be in a lot of trouble. Not just slap-on-the-wrist trouble, but prison-time-lose-my-license-to-practice-law trouble. Drugging a person was a felony offense.

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