Page 15 of Tortured Eyes
An older gentleman I recognise in a pristine suit greets me as the elevator doors open.
“Ms McCarthy?” he asks, a small smile on his face as he steps forward and offers his hand.
“Yes. Mr Cane, I assume?”
He nods. “This way.” He sweeps me off down a corridor and then turns us into an office with an impressive view of downtown Chicago. “Coffee?”
“Why not? Thank you. May I?” I take a seat on one of the plush chairs facing the large desk.
“Of course.” He brings over two cups and hands one to me before settling behind his desk. A power play, perhaps, considering the empty seat next to me. We’ll see.
“So, what can we do for the Chicago police department?” He sips his coffee as if he’s enjoying the visit.
“Actually, I’m here to see Logan Cane. I was told he’s unavailable.”
“Logan isn’t always in the office. Nor am I mostly, but needs must. You probably know that Carter Wade is the CEO. I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer any of your questions.”
“Ahh, yes. The figurehead. When I’d like to speak to Mr Wade, I’ll ask for him. When do you expect Logan back?”
His eyes narrow a fraction as if he’s trying to read what I’m really here for.“Do you mind telling me what part of the Chicago PD you work for? Detective is such a broad description these days.”
“Detective Sergeant for violent crimes. I piece together and solve the violent, brutal murders people believe they can get away with.”
“I see. Logan is a busy man and doesn’t keep usual hours. It might be easier for you, detective, if you’d just share your concerns or why you came here with me, and then I'll see if I can help you.” His tone is tight, and I sense that the hospitality is wearing thin.
“I wanted to get Logan Cane’s input on a few unsolved cases that my team is investigating.”
“Is Logan a person of interest?”
“Not at present. He’s a potential witness. I’d like to speak to him about the dates in question and get a statement.” My lie is more an omission of truth. He is a potential witness to the more recent crimes. But barely. The ones at the start of my father’s exploration of the Canes are before he was even born.
“Do you have the dates? I can check the company records," he says, reaching for the desk phone.
“Eight years ago, Mr Cane. First in Miami and then here, in Chicago, a few days later." He follows my words before holding his hand up to stop me.
"Landon, can you come into my office." Who's Landon? The phone gets put down. "Carry on, detective."
I turn my head over my shoulder as the door clicks and a tall, blond guy walks into the office. Razor-sharp suit. Dark, eagle eyes that don't even look at me as he crosses to stand by the window he proceeds to look out of.
"As I said, Mr Cane, I would rather speak directly to Logan. If he’s not here, I’ll have to make arrangements to see him through other means.” I can’t give any further information without showing my hand, and I’m not prepared to challenge the Canes outright without a shit tonne more evidence than I currently have. Especially with this unknown in the room.
I leave the untouched cup of coffee on the desk and move to go. There's no point in pursuing this further now.
“A word of advice, Ms McCarthy. Be careful what you’re looking into." I stop and look back at Nathaniel, sure that’s an undercurrent of threat if I've ever heard one. He smiles, covering himself expertly, and waves a hand towards the guy, Landon whoever, by the window. "If you’d like the Cane business to assist in whatever investigation you’re running, make an appointment with our lawyer, Mr Broderick. There isn't a date, time, or scenario he isn't aware of. I'm sure he'll be pleased to help you.”
I smile in return, keeping direct eye contact, and then look over at Mr Landon Broderick. He eventually turns to me, his smile tight and aggressive as hell.
"Of course, detective," he says in a British accent. Interesting. I stare for a few seconds, unsure why he's not been in any files I've looked through. "I'll help you with anything you need." The smile widens while he folds his arms in casual arrogance. No move forward, though. And not one hint of anything but pointed dismissal. "As and when you have something concrete to discuss, I'll help with anything at all."
I doubt that.
“Thank you for your time, Mr Cane," I say, walking for the door again. My time here is done, certainly with this shark of a lawyer in the room.
My feet whisk me out of the office and back to the elevator. Something tells me that neither Cane brother has had a detective snooping around recently. Certainly not by the look on Nathaniel’s face. Contempt was clearer than his blue eyes, and then to get a lawyer in the room that quick? Of course, if the rumours are correct, they have all sorts of help from the police and higher to keep anyone from looking too hard. And that’s the fucking problem with these cases. However, Nathaniel’s reaction makes me question if the answers I’ve been searching for haven’t been right in front of me all the time, if I was just brave enough to reach for them.
The bike ride back to the office isn’t long enough to focus my mind on anything but my encounter at the Cane office. Instead of working on the caseload I have to deliver results on, I pull up the case files for the three key crimes I’m sure are related to Cane. The Miami dock murders and the reported gunfire and missing victim from a similar location. And the suspected murder of two Chicago residents who were both employed by Cane Holdings.
Sure, any of the Canes could answer the questions, but I now know, as expected, that I’ll be stonewalled with corporate shit, warrants and lawyers. If not that, then help will come from above,from senators and pockets that are too deep and too fucking corrupt underneath the bullshit. With Logan, I have a feeling he won’t take that same route. He's my in.
I’d bet my SIG on it.
