Page 151 of What's Left of Us

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Lincoln / Present

Iknow afed when I see one, and the clean-shaven man with a military haircut wreaks of the FBI. Beaugard said he’s been having regular meetings with the lead detective on the case for the past month to go over what they already had, but I never pressed for details because I knew damn well he wasn’t going to give them to me. I’d rather be ignorant than pissed.

“Are you Lincoln Danforth?” the fed asks, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket to flash me his badge.

“That’s what the name plaque says,” I answer, picking up the nameplate that Conklin had given me when I got my own office and setting it into the box I’ve been packing all morning.

“I’m Special Agent Powell. I was assigned to the Del Rossi case. Is now a good time to talk?” He watches as I open the desk drawers and begin emptying them as well. “They said you were approved for early retirement, so I figured I would catch you while you were here.”

I stop packing and lean back in my office chair. “Well, you got me. Big fan of Glen’s work by the way. Real up and coming star. Family of yours?”

He deadpans at the mention of the actor. “Original.”

I chuckle. “What can I do for you, Agent Powell?”

He looks fresh-faced. New. And I recognize the determination in his eyes to prove himself because it was the same look I had. He walks into the room and studies the bare walls. “Beaugard mentioned that you applied for medicalretirement because of the injuries you sustained over last year’s shooting. I’m sorry to hear.”

The cordial condolence isn’t genuine as he picks up a piece of scrap paper and studies the random scribbles on it that I used to get a pen working earlier. “Thanks. But I highly doubt you came here to talk to me about my retirement.”

A small smile tilts his lips. “You’re right.” He faces me, giving me a once-over to size me up. “I remember hearing about the shooting. When the news was reporting one officer down and another in critical condition, the state was up in arms. Everybody thought there would be two funerals to attend.”

My jaw tics. “Did you attend Conklin’s service?”

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I was unable. Back before I got promoted to the federal bureau, I’d been to a few services. Never been able to listen to bagpipes the same way again.”

They’re hauntingly beautiful during the processions, I’ll give him that.

“I’m not going to waste your time,” he says, cutting to the chase. “We’ve been working with a lot of people to take down the main players in the city, and Nikolas Del Rossi has been on the list for a very long time.”

Is that his way of confirming my suspicions? “And you’ve never gotten this far until now?”

The jab doesn’t faze him. “We’ve had a witness willing to testify for years, but we’ve been working our asses off to collect the evidence to ensure that the charges will stick. It takes more than one elderly woman’s testimony to make things happen.”

An elderly woman? “Who’s the witness?”

“A former employee,” is all he says. “It’s interesting that all of a sudden, we’ve got a detective who’s able to put all the right puzzle pieces together, thanks to his dead partner.”

I say nothing. It’s better than reacting to his accusation left unspoken between the lines.

“What I find strange is that the very same detective used to be married to the daughter of the man we’re looking to charge federally,” he concludes. “You want to try explaining that?”

No.“Matt Conklin was always good at finding patterns between people. He knew that the drugs coming into our jurisdiction were tied to dealers in the city. He was thorough in his investigation. Kept notes. Laid it out. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He doesn’t comment on that. “And I suppose that your relationship with Georgia Del Rossi was never brought up by your former partner, was it? Because if I were him, I would be asking some important questions. Like what you know about her father. Or what she does.”

I know what he’s trying to do, and it’s not going to work. “Matt never asked me about Nikolas Del Rossi. He knew that my ex-wife was estranged from her family, but he didn’t know the reasons and didn’t pry into business that wasn’t his to know. He respected my privacy.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“That’s your problem then,” I reply easily. Then I tell him the only truth he needs to know. “I had no idea who Georgia Del Rossi was when I met her. So, if that’s your next question, you can scratch it off the list.”

He watches me with humor dancing in his eyes. “When did you realize who she was? More importantly, who her father was?”

Leaning my elbows on the edge of the desk, I offer him my best smile. “When a bullet tore through my body, and another killed one of my closest friends. That’s when I realized who her father was. And if you’re asking me this to try to paint me as oneof the bad guys who knew something and didn’t say anything, then it’s obvious you’re on the wrong side.”

“I don’t think you’re one of the bad guys,” he says after a long moment of silence. “I’ve met my fair share of crooked cops, Danforth. You’re not one of them. You are, however, averyconvincing liar.”

---