22. West
CHAPTER 22
WEST
“Where are we going?” Sydney stands in the cabin doorway while I sit on the bench, working on my laptop—again. She’s supposed to be keeping an eye on things, but it should be fine for a while. There’s nothing on the satellite.
“Half Moon Bay, I think,” I reply as I open another file.
She plops down on the bench next to me, and I can smell her. She must have a tiny bottle of perfume tucked in her purse, because there’s no way anyone should smell as good as she does out in the middle of the ocean.
The folder I opened on the last screen has a manifesto for a cargo container. The folder references at least four different cargo containers, each for a different entity.
“So how did this become missing money? Or are you sure it’s missing money?”
“I overheard a conversation between Braxton and the Vicelli family while helping Bodie with his meeting. The Vicellis are a rival mafia family.”
“And you knew that, and it didn’t bother you that Bodie was working with them?”
“I honestly wrestled with it a little, but everything they did was very legal. They were simply helping him find and buy some missing chess pieces. I didn’t think there was anything too nefarious about that.”
“So how did chess pieces turn into missing money?”
“They were talking about some money that went missing from the Riccis years ago. They even mentioned it to Bodie, who said he had no idea about it. Anyway, they think they’ve finally found it. Braxton wanted to take it out from under the Riccis…even though he was working for them at the time.”
“Aha, the old double cross.”
“Yeah, well, that didn’t end well for him.”
“So where does that leave you?”
“That leaves me as an opportunist. If I can find the money first, then that means they don’t have it, right?”
She turns a shrewd eye on me. “And what does that make you? You’re willing to look for the money with me. Bodie told me you used to be a police officer.”
I frown at her.
“Ha, see? You don’t want to answer me, because you’re frowning,” she says with a smug smile.
“Yeah, I used to be a police officer. Happy now?” I reply quickly then turn back to the laptop. The shipping receipt should give more information, but it doesn’t. Maybe I could call the shipping yard and see what there is to know about it—if they’ll talk to me.
“Why’d you quit being a police officer? Bodie said you were climbing the ranks even though you were young.”
“Bodie doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”
Half Moon Bay. There’s a note added to one of the files listing a different shipment coming to Half Moon Bay from overseas.
“Do you want to talk about why you quit?”
“No.”
“It might help.”
My fingers freeze above the keyboard, and I turn to stare at her. She’s busy drawing in that little notebook again.
“I burnt out. I kept doing the same things over and over again, and I wasn’t making a difference in the world,” I finally say to her then turn back to the laptop. I open my phone and pull up WhatsApp.
“Fair enough,” she replies as she continues moving that pencil back and forth. It’s frightening to think about what she could be drawing next. The possibilities are endless.
My thumbs hover over my messages as I wait for her next question. There’s no way she’ll let it go.
But she doesn’t say anything. She just glances at me occasionally with a knowing look.
I do my best to ignore her. I have a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Maybe I’m paranoid, but I bought a prepaid phone I’m keeping at home to message you. The FBI has been called in and doesn’t want any help from us. They froze me out.
Fletcher is paranoid, but it also makes him a careful detective. In all our time working together, it’s been way better to have his carefulness rather than my “rush in” attitude.
I text him back to tell him to notify me if he has news.
When I look up again, Sydney is looking at me. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says, returning to her notebook. “Just thought it might help you to talk about it.”
She turns the page, and the pencil starts flying again, but now I’d rather see what that is than answer her questions. I reach over and grab the notebook's edge, tilting it down.
It’s tic-tac-toe again, not some horrific drawing. I snag the pencil out of her hand and put an X in the center. She grins, and we quickly turn it into a tie.
“I’m not going to talk about my job or why I left it. I answered your question already.”
“Of course you did.” Her tone is annoyingly serene.
Sydney scratches out lines for another game and looks up at me from under her eyebrows.
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
“You do?” She is horrible at feigning innocence.
“Yes, I do.” I snatch the pen from her and point it at her. “And it’s not going to work.”
I make my mark—and mess up. She wins the game.
She doesn’t gloat like I thought she would, she just keeps making lines for new games. It’s even worse than her gloating.
“I quit because I wasn’t making a difference.”
“Really?” She drags out the word as she flips the page and starts drawing some fresh lines. “Why did you really quit?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but there isn’t some big tragic story. It’s simply that I kept arresting the same people. They’d spend a couple of days in jail then be right back out doing the same thing.”
She nods and keeps her focus on the notebook.
“What I did…it didn’t make a difference.”
“I see.” She hums.
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“You’re saying all the cases you worked hard on meant nothing, right?” She looks up at me with those green eyes, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Yes. That’s exactly what it was. I couldn’t make a difference. There was so much we couldn’t do or fix.”
Her gaze is sympathetic as she turns back to the notebook.
“I couldn’t save everyone.”
Sydney shrugs. “Sure, you didn’t save the whole world. But did you ever convict someone for beating their wife?”
“Well, yes.”
“And can you think of a time when that conviction stuck?” she pushes.
I nod reluctantly.
“Then you completely changed her world. Did you ever stop a drug deal?”
I nod once. I stopped more deals than I could count.
“Then you saved a young kid from overdosing on a bad batch of fentanyl. Did you catch any attempted murderers?”
“A few.”
“Don’t you think those intended victims are glad you were there to do it?”
“Well, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“West. You can’t save the world. I don’t know what misguided perception you’re operating under, but the world is too big for one man to save. Even Superman couldn’t. Superman even needed Batman and Wonder Woman. Maybe you do, too.”
I smirk at that. “Does that make you Wonder Woman?”
She grins. “Maybe. My point is that you might think your time on the force was pointless, but I bet you could find a lot of people who disagree with you. You made a difference in their lives.”
She’s narrowing my focus. And it’s something I didn’t know I needed. She’s right. The world is too big. But one person? Maybe that’s all I need to focus on at the time.
I clear my uncomfortable throat and nod.
Sydney winks at me. “You realize this makes Bodie your Batman, right?”
I smirk. “The hell it does. You can be my Wonder Woman, but he’s not my Batman.”
She blushes and finds the ceiling super interesting at that. Good. I don’t want to talk about why I quit anymore. She’s already gotten more out of me than anyone else. My own family doesn’t know why I quit.
And here I am spilling my guts to a stranger I’ve known for thirty hours. Sydney must have some kind of magical powers of persuasion. I’m scared what will happen if I keep letting her in.