Page 21 of Special Agent Murphy

Chapter Fourteen

Murphy hadn’t had more than a couple of hours to snooze before Kale called to tell him about Kayti’s memory of the Fitbit. After the meeting in her office, he’d spent time the previous night hauling the bar owner’s ass from his bed and pelting him with questions about what had gone down in his bar earlier.

The man didn’t share, even after Murphy told him about the kidnapping, tried to threaten him with all kinds of bogus crimes and got cranky enough to put the fear of God into his captive.

No deal. The man remembered nothing and kept his nose clean, paid his taxes and called the cops when anything bad happened in his place. Like the famous three wise monkeys, he knew how to play stupid. And Murph couldn’t arrest a man for that crime. If that were the case, they’d have to build a lot more jails to house everybody.

One thing he’d dug out were names of others who hung out with Alex. The bar owner had never seen Draper or Gina before, swore on the soul of his dead mother, but Alex he knew. The kid lived nearby and ran with a local gang.

After a bit more persuasion, noting the broken bylaws his bar faced if a cop wanted to play dirty, he spouted off more facts. Those guys could often be found at a pool hall not far from this place. Which gave Murph a lead he could work with.

He just had to wait until the hall opened later this afternoon. Then he’d start questioning the clientele about their buddy.

Needing a photo of the dude, following protocol, he’d decided to fetch Ryan Stover back to the office to try and pick out Alex from the database of lawbreakers from this area. No doubt, they had a long list. It wasn’t the worst part of the city, but crimes were rampant, and hopefully, Alex had a previous record.

They already had a good image of Draper; one his boss had shared, taken during Draper’s lunch with the Oligarch, Viktor Baranov. He’d flash that one around too and see where it took him.

Stunned from exhaustion, he’d headed home to catch up on some sleep for a few hours. Finding the kid on his couch, Murph’s favorite place to rest if he only had a short time, he’d been too wired to go to bed right off the bat.

Instead, he’d gone into the kitchen and headed for the cupboard easiest to reach. Hesitating, holding his rye bottle, he wavered between heaven and retaining his badge. An image of Kale lodged itself in his conscience which cemented his decision.

Swearing, releasing his building frustration, he threw the 48-ouncer of Canadian Club back into the cupboard and grabbed the milk carton from the fridge. Lifting it to take a swill, he sat on a stool by the island in the kitchen, his newest addition to the renovations he’d worked on for the last few years. Reaching for his laptop, he opened it.

It hadn’t taken long to find information about Viktor Baranov. The man had a history. A close associate of Putin’s, he’d made a few billion dollars from oil and who knows what else.

Wanting to hide his wealth from a money-grubbing wife who’d decided since he’d cheated on her, she deserved a lot of his moola, he’d been making large investments. One type was buying up large properties in America. A way to keep everything for himself.

Not that Murphy didn’t sympathize with his predicament; a man worked hard for his money. And in this case, he doubted the spa-loving, model-type wife lifted a finger to help. But breaking other country’s laws didn’t cut it with him either, especially if they were American ones.

He’d just lowered his head into his folded arms when the phone rang. He almost fell off the stool.

Listening to Kale’s instructions, he grabbed a five-minute shower, one he’d perfected over time. Then dressed in his street clothes of jeans, a navy sweatshirt topped with a navy jacket. Better to keep a low profile. They didn’t want to announce the FBI’s presence in the house to others on the street.

He liked these assignments best when they didn’t demand he wear the official dressy monkey-suit he’d begun to hate. Undercover worked better for him.

He whipped up two eggs with a bit of butter for the microwave and spooned them right out of the large heavy glass measuring cup he used. Slugging down more milk, he eyed the amount and then stopped, leaving enough for the kid’s cereal.

***

Walking toward the Senator’s house with Katherine, he still couldn’t comprehend his bad luck in meeting her in the street. She’d smashed into his SUV, the new ride he’d put off buying for years until he could pay cash. Only had it for a few months. He’d kept it pristine, didn’t have so much as a scratch.

Jesus help him!

If she hadn’t looked at him with those big brown eyes, all globby with tears, and her hands shaking so much she couldn’t even use her phone, he might have lost his shit.

Nah… that wouldn’t have happened.

One thing he knew about himself, whether it was a good trait or not, little things irritated the hell out of him. But the big stuff didn’t faze him. He’d feel himself settle into the let’s-just-deal mode, and he’d fix it the best he knew how.

He remembered the year after he’d graduated and started working to save money for college. His mom had won a trip for two to Miami and having no one in her life to go with, she’d guilted him into taking her. They’d been at the beach and the waves had been high and so strong they ripped a loose ring she cherished right off her finger. He’d never seen her so frantic, diving to find it, had him search too, but the water gods only laughed at their pathetic attempts.

She’d cried for hours, and as much as he’d tried to soothe her, take her mind off her loss, make stupid jokes to bring a smile back on her face, she stayed sad.

Finally, she’d admitted that his father had purchased the golden Sluice Box ring in the Yukon and had given it to her out of the blue. “I asked him why he bought it for me, Shane. And you know what he said? It’s not any special occasion other than I love you.” The love ring became her most treasured possession.

That’s when he took on a second job, working nights delivering food, and used the money to order her a new ring made at the same Murdoch’s gem shop. He’d found a photo on their website with the exact design.

Christmas had been nice that year. He’d felt like a good son and the feeling had stayed with him a long time, until she’d remarried and replaced his old man with the idiot… and his ring with a cheap diamond.

Now, waiting with Katherine for the Senator to open the door, he watched his companion for any indications that she needed to step down – any signs of stress. After all, as she reminded him, a girl didn’t get into two car accidents in a matter of minutes and go unscathed.

She’d noticed his attention and smiled at him in the way a woman does to a man she trusts to understand her personal signals. I’m fine said her eyes.

And I’m hooped said his heart.

Jesus!

The yapper?

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