Page 55 of 3rd Tango
Ten minutes later, I stare at my laptop screen, disbelief surging and morphing into an adrenaline rush that bolts me from my desk chair.
“Charlie!”
I tear into the hallway, pass the conference room where JJ is on his phone and rush into her office and find her half standing. Her skin is pale and the dark circles under her eyes do nothing to alleviate the overall appearance of exhaustion. She really should be in bed.
“Sit.” I point to her chair. “And after I tell you my news, you’re going home.”
“I’m fine,” she snaps, probably pissy I’m ordering her around. Well, too bad. She lowers herself down, bracing her hands on the desk for a gentler landing. “What are you screaming about? You scared the hell out of me.”
“I got a hit from GenCo.”
Her eyebrows lift a smidge. “On Evelyn?”
The fatigue must be frying Charlie’s brain, but I take the stressful day into consideration and refrain from a smartass comment.
But, hello? Of course. Who the hell else would it be? “Yep. It’s a match on the paternal side. A male. Looks like a half-brother.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way. Eric Bronson. He lives in Wilmington, Delaware.”
Again she pushes up, attempting to move fast but wincing when her body apparently fights back. “That’s only two-and-a-half hours. If we leave now, we’ll be there by eight.”
My sister. The lunatic. If she even thinks I’m letting her take a road trip she’s crazier than I’ve ever given her credit for.
“Wearen’t doing anything.”
Her mouth opens, but I’m ready for her and poke my finger. “Hey. Knock it off. We need you, but you’re banged up and exhausted. You’re no good to us this way. Go home. Get some rest and be battle-ready tomorrow. I’ll grab Matt and go see Evelyn’s brother.”
In response, I receive her resting bitch face. As if that might terrify me into letting her go.
I let out a snort. “Please. You don’t scare me, Charlie Schock.”
“I know.” She gives in and lowers herself. “This pisses me off. This whole damned day does. This poor woman’s remains have been sitting in a morgue when all they had to do was upload the DNA again.”
Her outrage is warranted, but she’s also been around law enforcement long enough to know its limitations.
She holds up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s a budgeting thing. The state doesn’t have the money to investigate every cold case, blah, blah, blah. Doesn’t make it right.”
If there’s any argument, I can’t find one. We’ve worked enough cases to know the only reason we got the results so fast was because Schock Investigations paid for it.
Thousands of dollars that we’ll work extra hours to recoup.
Lucky for Evelyn Jacoby, she has us. “How do you want to handle this?”
“Carefully. We’re private investigators not federal agents. And I have no interest in pissing off the Bureau any longer than we have to when it comes to horning in on their case.”
On that, we’re in agreement. The last thing I want is them shutting us down. Not when we’re making progress. “What are you thinking?”
“We need to share this with Taylor. Evelyn was tied to an FBI investigation and given that this was a cold case, maybe she can hijack it. I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not comfortable with us making a death notice involving someone they’re looking for. Dammit.”
Dread creeps around inside me. Excitement over the match smothered my logic. Otherwise, it would’ve occurred to me that Evelyn’s family wasn’t even aware she’d died. After all this time, they’d probably assumed she had, but assuming it and knowing it, I have to believe, are two different things.
My sister reaches for her phone. Of course she does. “What are you doing?”
“Calling Taylor.”
She gives it a final tap and sets it on the desk. A second later, the call connects, the ring filling the office.
