Chapter Forty-Four
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Lincoln / Present
I know a fed when I see one, and the clean-shaven man with a military haircut wreaks of the FBI. Beaugard said he’s been having regular meetings with the lead detective on the case for the past month to go over what they already had, but I never pressed for details because I knew damn well he wasn’t going to give them to me. I’d rather be ignorant than pissed.
“Are you Lincoln Danforth?” the fed asks, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket to flash me his badge.
“That’s what the name plaque says,” I answer, picking up the nameplate that Conklin had given me when I got my own office and setting it into the box I’ve been packing all morning.
“I’m Special Agent Powell. I was assigned to the Del Rossi case. Is now a good time to talk?” He watches as I open the desk drawers and begin emptying them as well. “They said you were approved for early retirement, so I figured I would catch you while you were here.”
I stop packing and lean back in my office chair. “Well, you got me. Big fan of Glen’s work by the way. Real up and coming star. Family of yours?”
He deadpans at the mention of the actor. “Original.”
I chuckle. “What can I do for you, Agent Powell?”
He looks fresh-faced. New. And I recognize the determination in his eyes to prove himself because it was the same look I had. He walks into the room and studies the bare walls. “Beaugard mentioned that you applied for medical retirement because of the injuries you sustained over last year’s shooting. I’m sorry to hear.”
The cordial condolence isn’t genuine as he picks up a piece of scrap paper and studies the random scribbles on it that I used to get a pen working earlier. “Thanks. But I highly doubt you came here to talk to me about my retirement.”
A small smile tilts his lips. “You’re right.” He faces me, giving me a once-over to size me up. “I remember hearing about the shooting. When the news was reporting one officer down and another in critical condition, the state was up in arms. Everybody thought there would be two funerals to attend.”
My jaw tics. “Did you attend Conklin’s service?”
He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I was unable. Back before I got promoted to the federal bureau, I’d been to a few services. Never been able to listen to bagpipes the same way again.”
They’re hauntingly beautiful during the processions, I’ll give him that.
“I’m not going to waste your time,” he says, cutting to the chase. “We’ve been working with a lot of people to take down the main players in the city, and Nikolas Del Rossi has been on the list for a very long time.”
Is that his way of confirming my suspicions? “And you’ve never gotten this far until now?”
The jab doesn’t faze him. “We’ve had a witness willing to testify for years, but we’ve been working our asses off to collect the evidence to ensure that the charges will stick. It takes more than one elderly woman’s testimony to make things happen.”
An elderly woman? “Who’s the witness?”
“A former employee,” is all he says. “It’s interesting that all of a sudden, we’ve got a detective who’s able to put all the right puzzle pieces together, thanks to his dead partner.”
I say nothing. It’s better than reacting to his accusation left unspoken between the lines.
“What I find strange is that the very same detective used to be married to the daughter of the man we’re looking to charge federally,” he concludes. “You want to try explaining that?”
No. “Matt Conklin was always good at finding patterns between people. He knew that the drugs coming into our jurisdiction were tied to dealers in the city. He was thorough in his investigation. Kept notes. Laid it out. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
He doesn’t comment on that. “And I suppose that your relationship with Georgia Del Rossi was never brought up by your former partner, was it? Because if I were him, I would be asking some important questions. Like what you know about her father. Or what she does.”
I know what he’s trying to do, and it’s not going to work. “Matt never asked me about Nikolas Del Rossi. He knew that my ex-wife was estranged from her family, but he didn’t know the reasons and didn’t pry into business that wasn’t his to know. He respected my privacy.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“That’s your problem then,” I reply easily. Then I tell him the only truth he needs to know. “I had no idea who Georgia Del Rossi was when I met her. So, if that’s your next question, you can scratch it off the list.”
He watches me with humor dancing in his eyes. “When did you realize who she was? More importantly, who her father was?”
Leaning my elbows on the edge of the desk, I offer him my best smile. “When a bullet tore through my body, and another killed one of my closest friends. That’s when I realized who her father was. And if you’re asking me this to try to paint me as one of the bad guys who knew something and didn’t say anything, then it’s obvious you’re on the wrong side.”
“I don’t think you’re one of the bad guys,” he says after a long moment of silence. “I’ve met my fair share of crooked cops, Danforth. You’re not one of them. You are, however, a very convincing liar.”
If he expects a response, he’s not getting one.
“If it were up to me,” he adds, “I would have your pension taken away and make sure you don’t get a dime from your retirement. Because I highly doubt one of your closest friends was investigating your former father-in-law without getting a little encouragement from you or feeding you the information as he acquired it. Fortunately for you, I’m one of the few people who are willing to question that.”
“Don’t you think you have bigger fish to fry than someone you think knows more than they should?” I question. “If you’ve been working on this case for as long as you say, then you’ve been waiting for a break like this one. As far as I’m concerned, you should be thanking Matt Conklin for his contributions. His death is going to lead to one of the biggest breaks you’re ever going to get in your career. You’ll get notoriety when this goes public.”
He seems to contemplate that, his hands sliding into the pockets of his slacks. “And what do you get?”
I lift my bad shoulder. “I’ll get to know that the person responsible for my partner’s death is locked up.” I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “You can think all you want, Powell. Put me on the stand when the day comes. Question me. Strip me of everything I’ve worked hard for if you think that’s what I deserve. But I don’t want this to turn away from putting away Conklin’s killer. If you want to fuck me over, fine. Do it after you get Del Rossi behind bars.”
Powell’s expression is unreadable. Under different circumstances, I’d probably befriend the guy. He’s got one hell of a gut on him, and he knows what to look for. But I don’t want him trying to spin this into something it isn’t.
Not until the case is closed for good.
I leave him with one last truth. “The only thing I’m guilty of is falling in love with the wrong girl. So, if that’s all you have to say, then you should probably go. I’m sure you have a lot of work cut out for you.”
Half his lips curve upward at my dismissal. “I can see why everybody likes you. And lucky for you, I want the notoriety more than I want the trouble trying to prove I’m right about you.”
If he expects some sort of gratitude, he’s not going to get it from me. “Do you think the witness will be enough to put him away?”
Powell stops at the door. “No, I don’t.”
My eyebrows go up.
“But,” he adds with a smirk when he sees my expression. “We do have audio recordings from another source with conversations that are incredibly damming to Nikolas Del Rossi.”
Recordings? “Somebody infiltrated The Del Rossi Group?”
He doesn’t confirm or deny. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to execute a search warrant at Nikolas’s business. We believe there are files there that will incriminate him and others in a similar scheme that his former partner was involved in. With the amount of information we have, I have no doubt he’ll be going away for a very long time.”
Who could have recorded conversations with him that would be damming enough to send him away?
Powell nods toward the box on my desk. “I’ll let you get back to packing. Good luck in retirement, Detective. Hopefully, you can stay out of trouble.”
All I do is smile tightly at him as he disappears from my office.
*
Knight sets a six-pack of Corona down on the kitchen counter.
“Wow,” I muse. “Am I dying? I don’t know the last time anyone bought me beer.”
He snorts. “You better not be, jackass, or else you’ll ruin my whole proposition.”
My brows shoot up. “I’m not into dudes, Knight. Not sure what kind of proposition you came here to get me drunk for.”
Flipping me off, he steals one of the beers and cracks it open with the corner of his phone case. He leans against the opposite counter, crossing one ankle over the other. “Hannah told me you were done with the state.”
Hannah? “Since when do you talk to my little sister?”
“Don’t be like that. We saw each other in passing the other day and she brought it up.” He pauses only to sip his beer. “I’ll forgive you for not bringing it up to me if you consider my offer.”
“And what offer is that?”
“To join my team.”
I should have known. “Knight—”
“You have the skill set,” he points out. “You know how to be stealthy. You know how to trail. You’ve done undercover work before. You’d be the perfect person for the job.”
But a private investigator? “I don’t know, dude. Getting hired to follow cheating spouses doesn’t sound that interesting to me.”
“We do more than that.”
I eye him skeptically.
He relents, humor hidden behind his beer bottle. “Okay, we do a lot of that shit. But they aren’t the only calls we get. We recently got a case from the family of a murder victim. They don’t think the police are doing their job, so they want us to see what we can find that they aren’t.”
“Is that supposed to entice me?”
Knight shrugs. “I’m just saying that there are things you could help us with. My men don’t have the same training as you. And now that you’re free—”
“I still have another month before I’m done.”
He doesn’t argue with me about it. “Look, you don’t have to say yes. Just think about it. I know you, Hawk. You’ll be bored a week after you’re officially done. Then you’ll be driving everybody crazy looking for shit to do. This might not pay as well as your current gig, but the money is decent, and it’s better than sitting at home brooding alone.”
“I don’t brood.”
Knight has the audacity to snort. “Whatever you say, man.”
I down half my beer and wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand. “How did you and my sister even get on the topic of me anyway?”
His face twists like he’s trying to fight flinching, which makes me think I won’t like the answer. He neutralizes his face and says, “I asked how you were, and she mentioned your retirement.” I have a feeling that wasn’t the only thing that was said, but he doesn’t let me question it before he speaks up. “If you make up your mind, you know where to find me.”
He tosses his empty beer into the garbage and starts heading to the door.
“Hiring you guys to follow Georgia was what put the final nail in the coffin,” I say. “When she found out…”
I’ll never forget the look on her face.
The betrayal.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have done it.”
Knight turns to me. “For what it’s worth, I never thought it would end like that. If I were in your shoes, I’d want answers too. And she wasn’t sharing them.”
All I do is nod once.
“Lincoln…” He stops himself, sighing. “You know how we’d found some shit when you told us to stop trailing her?”
A heavy weight settles in the bottom of my stomach. “I told you I didn’t want to know.”
“Is that still true?”
I’m hesitant to respond because…Is it? And what did he know that he’s held on to this whole time?
“Let me know if you change your mind,” is all he says, disappearing down the stairs.
I’m tempted to go after him and ask what he knows, but something holds me back.
Once upon a time, Georgia had asked me to trust her. And I didn’t do that. Maybe if I had, things would be different.
So, I finish my beer, discard the bottle, and think about what comes next.