26. STRATEGY SESSION
After Holland left the docks, I called Donovan home. He went straight to bed without a word, which suited me just fine since I wouldn’t have any updates for him until Holland revealed her plan for getting him out of the city. I heard nothing further from Ripley’s captors, but my phone rang with back-to-back calls from Nash that I sent to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message, but he did fire off a text around midnight.
What was that about? You ok?
I didn’t have any updates for him either, so I left him on read and got a few hours of restless sleep.
Holland woke me with a 6AM phone call. She peppered me with questions about all the details I’d omitted from my late-night confession. I told her everything I knew and forwarded the link to the camera feed that showed Ripley in captivity. The sales pitch, in my mind at least, was that we needed Ripley to take down Grimm. That was critical considering Ripley was an escaped convict himself, and I saw no point in rescuing him only to deliver him into the Capitol’s custody.
After an hour on the call, Holland hung up to get ready for work. I dragged my ass through getting dressed and a stop at the nearest convenience store where I shotgunned an energy drink then polished off a bag of pork rinds on the way to the Capitol building.
A depressed mood hung over the Investigative Department—at least our corner of it. Tobin and Vesper were listless, and even cheery Felix was in a full-blown funk. I couldn’t decide if I could celebrate yesterday’s victories or not, seeing that everything I’d won was balanced heavily by the loss of every secret I’d worked so hard to keep.
Holland, in contrast, showed up in rare form. She called us all into her office where we had some measure of privacy. Tobin and Vesper sat in the padded guest chairs and Felix leaned against the side wall, leaving me posted up beside the door, poised for a quick exit.
“Since we are no longer working the missing persons case…” Holland’s opening statement was greeted with a chorus of groans. “We will be devoting our energies to a single kidnapping victim.”
She opened her desk drawer to produce a large yellow envelope. From it, she pulled a mugshot that she set on the desk for all to see.
Ripley stood in the frame, stone-faced and scrawny, and holding a card printed with his name and an inmate ID number as unremarkable as mine had been.
“Ripley Vaughn,” Holland announced. “Bloody Hex member and an associate of Mister Farrow’s. ”
“Sorry, did you say we’re rescuing this guy?” Tobin chimed.
If I’d had any hopes about him changing after our heart-to-heart at Holland’s birthday party, they were dashed.
“He’s just a kid.” Felix leaned in to scrutinize the photo.
“Mister Vaughn is nearly three hundred years old,” Holland corrected—a detail even I didn’t know. “And he’s being held for ransom by the shapeshifter Jaxon Rhodes.”
“What kind of ransom?” Vesper asked between smacks on a wad of gum.
“And why do we care?” Tobin asked.
“Fitch is the ransom,” Holland gestured to me, “along with his brother, Donovan. Mister Rhodes and his associates intend to kill Fitch and Donnie for clout. The same reason that spurred the attack you all witnessed in the interrogation room last week.
“We will accompany Fitch to a scheduled meeting to capture and arrest these felons. I ask you all to do the utmost to bring them in alive so that justice may be served,” Holland added. “This is not a vigilante mission.”
I didn’t miss the pointed look she aimed my way.
Tobin stood and turned sideways so he could see all the occupants of the room. “Why are we involving ourselves in this? Let the gangbangers sort out their turf war bullshit on their own—”
Holland raised her hand. “We have criminals to apprehend, Tobin. Besides Jaxon Rhodes, we will also be in pursuit of Jette Black and York Tompkins. And Fitch’s brother is a civilian—”
“I thought Donovan Farrow was dead,” Felix said.
“He has been held against his will by the Bloody Hex for the past twelve years.” Holland effortlessly recited the script I’d given her a few hours earlier. “I’m doing what I can to remedy that situation,” she added. “But, for now, we have an address and a rendezvous time, so you’ll all be working late tonight.”
Another mutual groan followed her declaration.
“Fitch, you’ll ride along with me.” Holland fixed her attention on me. “Can you bring Donnie, as well?”
The question struck me like a blow. “Why would I bring Donnie?”
“They asked for both of you,” Holland said, referencing the texts I’d forwarded. “The longer we can maintain the appearance of cooperation, the better.”
Warmth left my body as I processed her words only to stammer, “I didn’t agree to that…”
“It’s simple, Fitch.” She clasped her hands on the desk. “You and Donovan will go in, pretend you’re there to negotiate, and buy the rest of us time to get into position.”
“I’ll go, but I’m not sending my brother in there. Those asshats nearly killed me last time—”
“There was a last time?” Felix asked.
“Yeah,” I snapped, “and it didn’t go great.”
Holland rose from her seat and cleared her throat to command everyone’s attention. When she spoke, though, her question was for me. “Shall we talk about this in the hall?”
My body went rigid. “I guess we fucking shall. ”
The other three watched with wide eyes as I mentally threw the door open and stepped across the threshold. Holland passed by with a wave, beckoning me away from the bullpen and toward the hall that led to the parking garage. Since most of the employees had arrived for the day, it was bound to be quiet.
After scanning her keycard, Holland held the door till I was through, then let it swing rapidly shut. We faced each other in the corridor, both sporting the same exhaustion that started last night and bled into today and both determined to fight this final battle.
“You’re asking a hell of a lot from me, so I’m gonna need you to give a little,” Holland said.
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” I replied, “but not my brother. He’s defenseless, and Jax and his goons are out for blood. Literally.”
Holland’s expression didn’t soften. She had me on the ropes—an abrupt turnabout from the leverage I’d wielded against her last night. I could have reminded the investigator about her father languishing in Nash’s care, could have menaced Maximus’s safety or his life. But they would be empty threats, and I had a feeling Holland would see right through them.
“Donovan will be protected,” Holland said. “I’ll have you both mic’d, and Tobin will be on standby to pause time if there’s a hint of trouble.”
Tobin? The person most opposed to this mission and least motivated to save me or my criminal friends?
“Donnie’s a liability,” I said, arguing a point I felt like I had already lost.
Holland frowned. “To the team? ”
“To me!” I shouted. “I would have never gotten arrested in the first place if he hadn’t—”
She cocked her head with intrigue that stopped me cold. I couldn’t unpack that. Couldn’t begin.
“I worry about him,” I said. “You need me at my best, and I can’t give you that if I’m busy watching my kid brother’s back.”
I wished I could see her eyes, but all I got was my own reflection in those damned sunglasses, and I looked terrified.
“These are my terms,” Holland replied. “Agree to them or solve this problem yourself.”
I slumped. Donovan’s words from the night before had not eluded me. He wanted to work together. Be a team. He would jump at the chance to come along on a Capitol job. To him, anything was better than sitting around the houseboat waiting for my irregular visits. If he wanted a taste of the equality he seemed to crave, this might be his last chance. A shared adventure before he left the city for good.
I didn’t need to respond aloud; my sigh and cutaway glance proved concession enough. It was decided.