TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH
PATRICK
Patrick was still assembling a very thorough file on the Philly situation the next morning, incorporating all he and Riley had found into something useful.
Federal level investigations required more, particularly when multiple states and entities were involved.
Every “t” had to be crossed, every “i” dotted, every fact substantiated and cross-referenced.
He didn’t mind. It kept his mind busy while forcing himself to give Morgan space.
Declan entered the library and lowered himself into a chair. “Working in here today, huh?”
“Yes. Got the new high-speed router up and running,” Patrick said, waving his hand toward the innocuous looking black box. “Plus Garrett’s replacing the outlets in the kitchen with newer GFIs.” He sat back and stretched his back and neck, resulting in several audible pops. “Any news?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Guess who quietly assumed control of the Varro case a few days after it came in?”
“Who?”
“Mitch Torres.”
The name was familiar. It’d come up several times during family conversations. Apparently, the Pine Ridge police officer had a blatant dislike for the Callaghans and allowed it to skew his judgment. Spoiler alert: they weren’t too fond of him, either.
“Torres? Why did he get the case? He wasn’t the one who responded to the call.”
“No, he didn’t,” Declan agreed. “But the cop who did is a rookie, and the chief thought it would be better to put someone more seasoned on the case. Here.”
Declan reached into his pocket and extracted a thumb drive, which he tossed to Patrick.
“What’s this?”
“Copies of the police reports—the one originally written by the rookie, and the one that Torres officially filed after the county coroner examined the body.”
“Let me guess. They’re not the same.”
“Got it in one. Torres’s version omits a few key details. Nothing you’d catch unless you already had a copy of the original, which—shocker—has mysteriously disappeared.”
“Your contact?” Patrick guessed.
Declan nodded. “She thought something felt off about this whole thing, so she made a backup.”
“Smart. And risky. Is she safe?”
“She knows how to take care of herself.”
“But you’re looking out for her anyway,” Patrick said, knowing his cousin.
Declan didn’t respond, but his glowing green eyes gave him away.
“Anything in there that we can use?”
“Legally, no. The deleted file is inadmissible. Torres is a dick, but he’s a dick who knows how to cover his tracks.”
“I guess we’ll just have to handle this one ourselves, then.”
“Guess so,” Declan said. His expression suggested he was looking forward to it. “Speaking of, have you come up with a name for the paperwork yet?” Declan asked.
“I think so. What do you think about C & C Security and Investigations?”
Declan smiled. “Works for me.”
“Great. I’ll ask Shane to draw up the papers.”
Declan rose. “You do that. And while you’re at it, start thinking about how we’re going to bring Morgan on board.”
That got his attention. “What?”
“You heard me,” Declan said with a smirk as he headed toward the door.
Patrick sat with that for a minute, loving the idea. Having someone with Morgan’s skills on the team would instantly elevate their new company to a new level. Having Morgan on the team would elevate him.
He put the final touches on the file and called his father. Ian answered on the second ring.
“I need a federal contact,” Patrick said.
“What are we talking here?” Ian asked without hesitation, instantly connecting the right dots.
“Philadelphia ME’s office, supervisor level and above, financial ties to a Virginia law firm with federal contracting history. The documentation is solid.”
“How solid?”
“Riley built it.”
“So solid,” Ian said, pride warming his tone. “All right. Hayley Winston. She was a US Deputy Marshal before she moved to Sanctuary. She’s got the right connections, right discretion. I can reach out if you want.”
If his father vouched for her, she was the right person. “Yes, please.”
“Does Morgan know about this?”
“Not yet. I’m going to fill her in later.”
A beat of silence that felt like approval. “Understood. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Dad—I’m asking Uncle Shane to file the papers for the new company today.”
“Yeah? What did you decide to call it?”
“C & C Security and Investigations.”
“Nice.” Then, with a teasing note to his tone, “Which comes first, Callaghan or Connelly?”
“That’s the beauty of it. Doesn’t matter.”
Ian laughed. “Smart. Later.”
“Later.”
Patrick set the phone down, surrounded by the sense of possibility.
The case was progressing nicely.
The new firm was about to become official.
And he’d found his croie.
Patrick left early for his shift at the pub, wanting to talk to his grandfather.
They’d made significant progress in the investigation, but there was still the question of who took Varro out.
If anyone knew potential CIA-level operatives in Pine Ridge, it was his grandfather.
Jack had been one of the very first Navy SEALs when the program started back in the 1960s.
He’d raised seven sons who’d become SEALs themselves.
And, Patrick knew, he’d been involved in covert activities long after leaving active service.
He probably still was, in one way or another. Sure, he’d passed the torch to his sons, but he was still the one they went to when they wanted to talk things through or needed advice.
“Hey.” His aunt Taryn greeted when he walked in. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to talk to Grandpa Jack about something. Is he around?”
“He’s in the kitchen with Riley.”
Of course, Riley beat him here.
“Thanks.”
“What are you two up to?” Taryn asked, raising a brow.
He feigned innocence. “Us? What makes you think we’re up to something?”
“Because you’re always up to something.”
Patrick gave her the same lopsided grin he’d been giving her his whole life. She wasn’t wrong. He and Riley had been getting into trouble together practically from birth.
He found them in the kitchen, Jack sipping his Irish coffee, Riley with a glass of iced tea.
“Took you long enough,” Riley said as Patrick slid into a chair across from them.
“Took you both long enough,” Jack said, eyes twinkling. “Go on, now. Ask.”
Riley and Patrick exchanged a glance, and Riley nodded.
“Tell us about Frank Sullivan,” Patrick said.
Jack sipped his coffee, taking his sweet time before he answered. “Frank and I were in the same world for a long time. He was exceptional. One of the best I ever encountered, and I’ve encountered a lot of exceptional people. Still is, especially here,” Jack said, tapping his temple.
“So you served together?” Riley asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Jack said vaguely in a way that said there would be no more detail provided. “He lives quietly now. Has for a long time. And he’s not the only one,” Jack said, the subtle warning there for anyone who listened.
“Someone went after his granddaughter.”
“What makes you say that?” Jack said carefully.
“Because everything points that way,” Patrick said. “Morgan inadvertently stumbled onto something while she was doing her job and was put on a forced leave of absence to get her out of the way.”
“But someone didn’t think that was enough,” Riley said, picking up the thread. “So they sought a more permanent solution in Anthony Varro—the guy who was found dead at the campground.”
Jack sipped his coffee. “The police identified him then?”
“No. We did. And we know how he was killed—by a frozen dart that delivered a lethal neurotoxin into his neck and mimicked a heart attack.”
“And?” Jack asked patiently, unsurprised, like a teacher trying to lead his students to the answer.
“And, we figured if anyone knew who had the skills and knowledge to pull off something like that, it would be you.”
Jack met his eyes. “Aye. I suppose I would at that.”
They waited. Jack said nothing more, which told him everything he needed to know. Jack did know. And Jack was okay with it. Which meant Morgan really was safer in Pine Ridge than she’d ever imagined.
Patrick nodded once and let it lie.
“She means something to you,” Jack said, a smile ghosting his lips.
“I think you know exactly what she means to me,” Patrick responded wryly.
The quiet, enormous satisfaction that moved across his grandfather’s face was something Patrick would remember for a long time.
Riley whooped. “I knew it! She’s your croie, isn’t she?”
“Of course she is,” Jack said.
“Now we just have to convince her to stay,” Riley said.
“Shouldn’t be that difficult. Pine Ridge keeps the people who belong here,” Jack said, pinning Patrick with the intense blue gaze he’d passed on to each of his sons and many of his grandchildren. “So do Callaghan men, when they put their minds to it.”