7. Chapter 7
seven
Lucas
I couldn’t let her just walk away from me. I needed her.
But she was already climbing into her car and driving off before I could make my feet carry me toward her. It was too late. I had to get control of myself.
I just needed her to cooperate with me. This wasn't the first time she showed up in the middle of my case. There’s no way it was a coincidence a second time. She had to know something. I had no legal recourse to bring her in and force her to answer my questions, but playing nice just seemed to back fire.
This case was a fucking shitstorm, but I needed to clear it to finally get out of the Organized Crime division. Anybody could work to bring down mob bosses, but I was needed on the CACHTU; my skills were carefully crafted and maintained to be of the most use in that specific unit. The victims and their families needed me to be there, finding them before it was too late or at least bringing the monsters that hurt them to justice .
Athena had to stop fucking around so I could put the Morellis behind bars and prove I was worth the promotion. If she just gave me what I wanted, I could close the case and put all this behind us. I had to focus.
My vibrating phone took the heat out of my rush of anger. I pulled it out of my pocket, seeing a call from Mark Rosenberg coming through.
“You have shit timing,” I greeted him. “What do you got?”
“I’ve got a hell of a lot of information about your newest obsession. Athena Kane, based out of Seattle, Washington. Pretty blonde,” he added, not knowing she’d gone brunette in the last twenty-four hours.
“Come pick me up and tell me about it in person.”
“Do I want to know why you’re stranded all the way out here at a shitty diner?”
“The food was good enough,” I defended aloud. The food was fucking delicious, actually. “I was bribing Athena Kane with food to tell me what she knew about the Morellis.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “What did she say?”
“She didn’t give me shit. It was pointless.” Except now I knew her favorite diner.
“Well, maybe what I found will help you a bit more.”
“Let’s have it.”
“She’s a criminal defense lawyer up in Washington. ”
Criminal defense? A lawyer? No wonder she didn’t want to say shit. She probably spent half her time telling her clients to shut up and not implicate themselves. “She any good?”
“Oh yeah. She’s with a pretty impressive firm up there and in the running for partner. No idea why she’s down here interacting with us losers, though.”
A lawyer who took Krav Maga classes. There went my insane theory of a foreign intelligence agent on a spy mission. Good thing I never said anything out loud.
“She said her mom died. Told me she’s packing up her stuff and tying up loose ends.”
“I can check on that. Nothing about it on her social media.”
“You looked her up online?”
“Well, yeah. I couldn’t go digging very far in official channels without a warrant. She hasn’t really done anything wrong.”
Yet.
“No, not that I’m aware of. She’s just really…suspicious. And frustrating.”
“Yeah, I bet she’s frustrating you alright.”
I ignored the innuendo. I wouldn’t think of a person of interest in my case in that way. I could control myself enough for that. “What did you find?”
“She sometimes interacts with a small group of people, but not a lot of close knit friendships. She eats out a lot, isn’t one for cooking at home. And the girl dates around a lot.”
I whipped my head around to face him. “What makes you say that? ”
“Selfies, man. Kane likes to dress up like a fucking maneater, take a selfie, and post about it. She’s not shy, not ashamed. Girl knows she’s fucking hot.”
I took out my own phone and looked her up. Her profiles weren’t even set to private, but with the way those short little dresses hugged her curves she should probably rethink her privacy settings.
“Out in the real world I take charge of the room.”
Yeah, no shit. This girl knew how to work a room and have men eating out of the palm of her hand. And she wasn’t afraid to show it. My finger hovered over the “follow” button. It would just be for research. I wouldn’t be doing it to be a pervert and stare at her long, lithe legs.
I didn’t press the button. I didn’t want her to see the notification and think the wrong thing.
“Speaking of,” Mark began, but hesitated when I turned to him. “Who’s the pretty young thing you’re going to be bringing home to your mom this month?”
“I wasn’t aware you kept track of my dating habits.”
“Word travels fast through the proper channels. I hear you just broke up with someone a couple weeks ago, so your mom should be expecting to meet a new girlfriend any time now. Do you ever take a break? What's the longest you've gone between girlfriends?”
“Do I grill you on who you’re dating?”
“Only the once,” he grinned, but dropped his smirk quickly. We wouldn’t be talking about my sister. “Sorry. I’ll let it go. I’m just saying maybe give your mom a break. Stop getting her hopes up and bringing home girls you know aren’t going to be sticking around. Hope's a killer.
It was a fair observation, but it wasn’t fair of him to bring up any of that. “We’re not close enough to discuss personal shit like this. Do you know anything else about Athena Kane?”
“No, but I think you need to stay on her. Any lead is a good lead at this point. We got Witnesses C and W out of town, but we can’t close the case on the Morellis with their testimony alone. Antonio Conti, sure, once we get a hold of him, but not the Morellis. We need more.”
“I’ll go through the files that C brought in again. See what we’re missing.” He nodded. We lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive back to where I left my car parked a couple blocks from the surveillance van.
The van was continually recording and didn’t need monitoring; I only visited the operation to make sure the job was done right. And it was. The van was collecting the feed from several cameras hidden around the front and back of the building. The pictures were great, though the audio could have used some work—that wasn’t anyone’s fault, just the name of the game when you have a shit budget to afford shit equipment sometimes.
I thanked Mark formally for the ride again, ignoring his ridiculous salute as he drove off. Where the hell did he get off lecturing me on my own mother’s feelings?
Climbing into the car, I called her. Not out of guilt, but because I usually called her most days to check in. She hadn’t been the same for the last decade, but it only got worse when my stepfather passed last year .
“Lucas!” She was always so enthusiastic when I called, for the first several seconds at least. “Did you get that promotion yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. Gotta close this case first.” She didn’t know any details, but she knew that I was working harder and later than usual the last few weeks.
“Oh.” She was very aware of how important it was for me to get into the CACHTU. “I haven’t met your new girlfriend, yet. I know you broke up with Jennifer a couple weeks back.”
Hell, did I really go through women so fast? It wasn’t intentional, I just didn’t like being single. When one relationship ended, it wasn’t long until I found a new one.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Mom.”
“Alright, well, bring her around when you do. You know how I like the company.”
I almost wished Mark Rosenberg was hanging around eavesdropping on my calls so I could give him the old I told you so. She liked meeting them. It didn’t break her heart whenever I stopped seeing someone. “I do know that, Mom. I know you like having someone to talk girl things with. Denzel, Leo, Timothée Chalamet. I know.”
She ignored my teasing, but I could hear the smile in her voice when she changed the subject. “Are you going to come see me soon? It’s been almost a week.”
It was always almost a week. I came over on Saturdays to have breakfast and sometimes even took her out to do something fun. Last week we walked around the pier. It would have been better if there wasn’t so much construction around, but the fresh air was good for her. This weekend we’d probably stay in while she found reasons to keep crying herself to sleep at night .
“I’ll see you soon, Mom. I promise.” Unless she called sooner, begging me to come over and look over something important.
She sighed heavily. “Alright then. Thanks for checking up on me. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Her hanging up wasn’t a surprise. We didn’t have much to say to each other these days. She loved me, I knew that, but I wasn’t enough. She was always looking for more to fill the hole in her heart.
I didn’t feel like going back to the precinct and seeing Mark Rosenberg’s stupid face, so I turned the car toward my apartment. I had a flash drive with all the information I needed to reevaluate from Witness C, so I would work from home for the rest of the day.
I settled into my home office and turned on the computer. It took a lot of time and firewalls, but after a decade in the agency I had permission to access confidential case files from my home computer—an option not many other people had, I was proud to say. My fidelity to the bureau was unquestioned, and I was the prime example of doing things by the book. My superiors knew they didn’t need to worry about sensitive information getting out.
I looked to my kitchen, wondering if I should make a snack, but ignored my stomach. I—like Athena, apparently—didn’t cook a lot and knew I didn’t have much at the ready to make a good meal out of .
My stomach rumbled again, but I didn't get up. I’d forget all about it once I got sucked into work.
An hour and a half later, I was cross-referencing my witness’s notes about various “vendors” and “consultants” the Morellis used that ended up missing or worse. Each death or disappearance was circumstantial, but put them all together and it’s a hell of a lot of suspicious activity.
I was looking into their most recent accountant when I hit pay dirt: Margaret Keenan, deceased. Mrs. Keenan was predeceased by her husband, George Kane, survived by their daughter, Athena.