Chapter Twenty Six
Vanishing Acts, Violent Truths, and Very Bad Timing
Nick
Elliot hasn’t replied to any of my texts since I left his house this morning. I want to say it’s typical Elliot behavior, but it’s not. Not lately. He was opening up, slowly but visibly. He’s even stopped grumbling about how I need to give him notice before showing up at his place.
He looked so scared when I left him. The nightmare must have been a doozy. Matt used to get them when we were kids. They left him drained for days. But at least he talked. He said talking about it always helped. But Elliot is an annoying wall when he wants to be, which is always.
I shouldn’t have left him alone to deal with it, even though he wouldn’t have told me anything. I should still have stayed with him. But Serena called, telling me they had finally located the prime witness of a robbery case we have been working on for weeks. I had come down to interview him.
My phone buzzes on my desk. I pick it up at lightning speed.
Elliot: Need to fly down to New York for a conference. Will call you when I’m back.
I stare at the screen for an entire minute, processing the words. What conference? We’ve practically spent the entire last month together. He never mentioned a conference other than the one that’s not for at least another four months.
I don’t buy it.
I hate this. It feels like we’ve taken a thousand steps back right when I was ready to take the final one forward.
The worst part is this is coming when I don’t even have the time to decode his mind games. I look at the laptop screen again. The pages and pages of bank statements that hold the key to one of my uncountable open cases taunt me. I pull my focus back to work. Elliot will have to wait.
“Dude, I can’t find the field interview report of the witness. Your lackey was at the scene, right?” Serena calls out from her desk.
“God, he has a name, Serena,” I say.
“Don’t be so scandalized. Get me the report. We need to close at least one of these cases today, or I’m going to lose it,” she says.
She’s right. And who was I kidding? These bank statements aren’t getting analyzed today. Or maybe it’s time to unleash the power of delegation again. I try to remember the last time I saw Dom. “Don’t think he has a shift today.”
Serena pouts at me.
“I’ll call him,” I throw my hands up placatingly.
She smiles and looks pointedly at the phone on my desk until I pick it up and dial Dominic. I swear the caseload is making everyone lose their sanity.
Dominic’s phone goes straight to voicemail. Serena is going to throw a fit. She’s still looking at me with hope.
I’d have laughed at her face if I wasn’t worried she’s capable of throwing that stapler on my head right now.
I get up and go around her desk, taking the stapler with me on my way to the men’s room.
She tries to get my attention, but I escape with the phone still attached to my ears. If she wants me to contact Dominic, I have my ways. But the less we talk about it, the better.
I walk into the men’s room and scan for stragglers. When I find the stalls blessedly empty, I sneak out my Bureau-issued phone I keep hidden inside my inner pant pocket. We never intentionally switch off our Bureau phones, so Dominic should be available on it.
I’d feel bad about interrupting his off-day plans, but we really need to close at least one case today. I need the open case pile on my desk to be smaller before it crumbles to the ground, taking us with it.
I dial Dominic’s cell. It rings. I breathe a sigh of relief.
But then it keeps ringing until that damned voicemail message plays again. I call him again and again.
Maybe he has some exciting outdoor plans or something? Ugh, Serena is going to freak out.
I find her glaring at my empty chair when I trudge back to my desk. “What did he say?” she asks.
“He didn’t pick up,” I murmur.
“This is a disaster, Nick. We might as well turn in our resignations,” she says dramatically.
“Alright, tell me what report you’re talking about. Maybe he emailed me something about it. He does that sometimes,” I offer.
She tells me exactly what she’s looking for, only raising her voice twice.
I look at my email, but there’s nothing.
So, I wrangle the number of Dom’s partner from the Sergeant and call her instead.
She helps us locate the almost-finished report on her laptop, and Serena finally stops breathing down my neck.
The report also proves that we were on the right track, and we now have enough to make at least one arrest today.
***
By the time we recovered the jewelry, it was too late to go to Elliot’s place unannounced to check if he was just being a coward, and ending us by ghosting me.
Besides, that’s not very Elliot. He likes the front row seats to breaking hearts and egos.
Maybe I’ll swing by his place tomorrow before work. Haven’t done that in a while, but Elliot has a unique charm of bringing out my inner stalker. And probably a kidnapper, because he’s not getting rid of me that easily.
I faceplant right on my bed as soon as I reach its vicinity, internally thanking Bree for kidnapping Mickey. She was pissed when she realized Oliver had successfully pulled it off. Then there was no stopping her. Cami gave up after three long lectures about laws and prison sentences.
Sleep takes me over before I can even undress properly.
I wake up to my phone buzzing early in the morning. Way too early for someone who didn’t go to bed before four am.
Meena sounds chirpy on the other side. “Nicholas, how are you?”
I diminish the urge to say something snide. Elliot is really rubbing on me. “Good, good. You?” I ask. Of course, the one time someone from the Bureau starts a call with actual courtesy instead of diving straight into work like a heathen is when I’d give anything to skip it and go back to sleep.
“Good. Now, what’s happening with the cases? I’ve not heard any update on the Vigilante Wolf Killer for weeks,” she complains.
I force my brain to come back online and try to remember the last update on the case.
Right. “Dom said he’s almost done with getting the buyer names from the suppliers.
We’ve been shortlisting buyers who ordered suspicious quantities of drugs.
I’ve been making a list of the people who might have had access to them. ”
“Great. So how much more time will this take?”
“Dom said he only needs to check with two more suppliers. In fact…” I open my email, remembering he was supposed to send me the list from the second-to-last supplier the other night. I was too busy to check it yesterday.
I open the sheet he’s been updating with the suspicious buyers and scroll down to see if the number has increased. It hasn’t.
Weird. He said he’d have it ready two days ago.
I open the master sheet that has all the data from the suppliers. There, the data from the new supplier is already here. He might not have had the chance to sort through it yet.
“I ha—”
My thumb freezes at one of the first names on the list.
Pawsitive Care Veterinary Clinic
“Meena, I’ll have to call you back,” I say, barely hearing myself over the static in my ears and the loud noise of my world crumbling to the ground.