Page 4 of Code Name: Admiral

I shook my head, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. “It was beaten into me, same as it was you.” Metaphorically speaking, anyway.

“Yeah, well, it’s annoying. So, you’re thinking of recusing yourself, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t it mandatory?”

“I’m making an exception. I think you can get him to turn state’s evidence.”

The suggestion hit me like a punch to the gut. “Sir—err, Grit, I haven’t seen Bobby in years.” Not since our grandmother passed away, and then, it hadn’t gone well. I’d barely recognized him when he walked into the funeral home, and based on the looks I’d seen on several faces that day, few others did, either. But I’d been the one he set his sights on, and once he had, he refused to relent.

At the conclusion of the service, when my parents invited everyone back to our house, he’d gone on the offensive, telling stories about things we’d supposedly done as kids, most of which he attributed to me, but that I’d never been a part of. Considering he was either high, drunk, or both, I hadn’t engaged to defend myself. It would’ve been pointless. Instead, I’d walked away, and I’d never regret doing so, even if the memory of his glazed eyes and desperate expression still haunted me.

“Regardless of what your relationship is with him, once we bring him in, I predict he’ll want to talk to you more than anyone else.”

“How close are you to making an arrest?”

“While the footage we have of him coming out of Sarah’s building places him at the scene of the crime, we don’t have any additional evidence. At least not yet.” Grit’s expression suggested he expected me to change that. “See what else you can find, Admiral,” he added, confirming I’d guessed correctly.

When he walked over to his desk and took a seat, I picked up on his cue that it was time for me to leave, pushed my chair from the table, and stood. “Anything else, sir?”

His eyes scrunched when he looked up at me. “Not at this time, jerkoff.”

“One more question. What was Sweeney doing at the briefing?”

Grit shrugged one shoulder. “My understanding is that you know him better than I do, so if you figure it out, let me know. I wasn’t even informed he planned to be in New York.”

I nodded and walked out.

On my way back to my office, I stopped in the break room to grab a fresh cup of coffee. When I saw there wasn’t any made, I brewed a pot, then leaned against the counter, waiting for it to finish. The all-too-familiar smell did nothing to settle my churning thoughts.

“Hey, Admiral. I was just about to do that,” said Tessa, a junior agent, motioning to the coffee. Her constant attempts at friendliness were starting to wear thin.

I nodded, not knowing what one might say in response.

“A bunch of us are going to McSorley’s after work today.”

Again, I didn’t respond with more than a head nod, hoping she’d take the hint.

“If you want to join us, you’d be welcome.”

“Thanks.” I turned around, poured a cup even though the machine wasn’t quite finished, then stalked out of the room. It wasn’t the first time Tessa had mentioned a night out and had been met with the same response from me. I had no interest in fraternizing with her or anyone else in the department. With very few exceptions, I had a policy of keeping friends and work separate. And relationships? Not that I had any to speak of recently, but I’d never consider dating anyone from the office. The job was complicated enough without adding that kind of drama to the mix.

Forgetting the coffee was freshly brewed, I burned my tongue when I took the first sip. For a split second, I thought maybe I should consider giving the stuff up, but how would that work since it was my main source of hydration every day? Besides, I needed something stronger than water to face what was coming.

After logging in on my desktop computer, I got up and shut my office door before settling in to reread the brief on the case Sarah Gordon had been working prior to her death. Part of me wished I’d been around before she was given the assignment. But even if I had, would I have warned her away from her plan to use getting involved with my cousin as a means to infiltrate the Castellano family? Would she have even listened? If the situations were reversed, I doubted I would’ve. We all thought we were invincible until we weren’t.

As much as I hoped—for our family’s sake, anyway—that our hunch was wrong and Bobby wasn’t involved in the woman’s death, that he’d been seen leaving her apartment an hour before her sister discovered her body didn’t look good. Adding in that he was a known drug runner made it even worse. The Bobby I knew would never have hurt anyone, but as I reminded myself, that Bobby had died years ago, replaced by someone I no longer recognized.

“Come in,” I hollered when there was a knock at my door. Tank stuck his head in for the second time this morning, his expression grim.

“Grit wanted me to let you know the toxicology report came in on Gordon.”

I motioned for him to come in.

“Have you seen it?” I asked after he’d taken a seat.

Tank scrubbed his face, a gesture I’d learned meant bad news was coming. “She had almost twenty times the prescribed amount in her bloodstream.”

Bile rose in my throat. “Jesus,” I muttered. The implications were clear—this wasn’t an accidental overdose.

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