Page 46 of Brother's Keeper

The four of us had piled into Holland’s office. Vesper and I occupied the guest chairs while Felix and Tobin stood, and Holland sat across the desk from us with her head propped in her hands. From the worry lines stretching beyond the frames of her sunglasses, she, too, had a pretty shitty weekend.

My eye had lost most of its puffiness, but color splotched around it, purple and red that spread from my eyebrow to my cheekbone. The cause of the injury would be the snooty investigator’s next question. Not because he cared about my well-being, but because it made me look like a fight club survivor, and it was suspicious as hell.

Instead, he surprised me with a follow-up. “I don’t suppose you have someone who can support that alibi.”

I sneered at him. “Yeah, my browser history. Pretty sure I was working out a boner at that exact time.”

“Guys, come on,” Holland groaned.

“No, fuck him,” I said. “I didn’t know about the kitty cat’s big adventure till this morning. Why would I help him? He tried to kill me.”

“He’s right, Toby, there’s no motive.” Vesper jerked her thumb toward me. “Plus, if any of the transport guards saw his blond ass, I’m pretty sure they would’ve mentioned it.”

Felix tipped his head in mute agreement as he passedthe Magic 8-Ball back and forth between his hands.

“Can we turn this conversation to something productive?” Holland sounded weary. “Jaxon Rhodes was not proven connected to our missing persons cases, so whether or not he’s in custody should not impact our investigation.”

“I know what might aid our investigation,” Tobin said. “Looking for him in any of the Bloody Hex’s haunts. Wasn’t that information you were supposed to bring to the table, Farrow?”

I balled my hands inside my suit coat pockets. “You can stop riding me anytime, buddy.”

Holland motioned for silence. “Weshouldlook into gang hangouts for evidence on the missing persons.” She looked at me. “And thatissomething I hoped you could help with, Fitch.”

A huffed breath left me. “Me, too, but I’m pretty out of touch these days.”

Vesper aimed a skeptical glance my way. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t know where they are anymore.” A lesson I’d learned while burning through a whole tank of gas Sunday.

Tobin crossed his arms with a snort. “Some expert you are.”

I leaped up, nearly tipping the chair in my rush to be on eyelevel with the investigator. “Keep being a dick,” I snarled. “I’ve seen people killed for less.”

Holland rose, as well, and pounded her palm on the desktop. “I will not stand by for this childish pissing contest. You two can go slug it out in the parking lot if that’s what needs to happen, but not on company time.For now, can we all just get along and do our damn jobs?”

Unhinged Holland was my favorite variety, but I was too keyed up to appreciate it. With Tobin inches from me, looking as smug as ever, I needed space. No one spoke as I fled the office without a backward glance.

Residual anger made my whole body hot, and I shirked my suit coat halfway down the hall. It dragged along the floor as I made rapid progress to the administrative wing and Maximus Lyle’s office. Tobin was right. I was no kind of expert on the Bloody Hex, but I was one up on the investigators in knowing the mastermind of the growing disaster was hidden in their midst.

I hadn’t made a habit of giving Grimm the courtesy of a knock, and I didn’t intend to start now, so I flung a hand toward the door and opened it at range, making quite a grand entrance as I sauntered through.

“Good morning, Fitch.” Grimm sat at the desk, done with this conversation before it began if the strain in his voice was any indicator. “If you’ve come to complain, you should know that Holland beat you to it.” He indicated the desk phone with a bounce of his peppered brows. “She’s concerned you aren’t fitting in here. Says you’re causing dissension in the Department. I only wish I could tell her how deeply I relate.”

I stopped in my tracks and flung my suit coat into a nearby chair.

“I didn’t come to talk about the Department or Holland,” I replied. “If she wants to fire me, at this point, I would welcome it. Maybe then I could catch a fuckingbreak.”

At the rise in volume, Grimm winced and gestured past me. “Close the door, please.”

Without turning, I swept my hand and slammed the door into its frame. Wall-mounted pictures wobbled on their hooks. Grimm remained nonplussed.

“Miss Lyle can’t fire you, Fitch,” he said. “That sort of thing would have to go through me, and it won’t. But you couldtrynot to make a target of yourself. For everyone’s sake.”

My refusal to sit or respond to his statement made my thoughts on that clear.

Grimm sighed. “Very well. What brings you in?”

“Ripley’s missing.”

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