Chapter 45
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Raine asked for the fifth time that night.
Nearly a week had passed, and Jane was no closer to finding her suspects or answers than she’d been Saturday during her meeting with Grimshaw and Haversham.
Forensics had been going through the Castle Capital files with a magnifying glass, but getting through the company’s lawyers for more detailed accounts did not look likely to happen this century.
As much as Jane wanted to focus on the home invasions, she had nothing new. So she’d tried to update a few other cases but found little purchase in those either. Her attention remained focused on the Bednareks. And on who might have killed Matthew.
At least the police working Matthew’s case seemed smart and capable. They asked good questions and were intent on finding out who killed such a sterling agent.
Angry at his senseless death all over again, Jane snapped, “I’m not okay. I’m tired, annoyed, and I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand. I want to find my home invasion killer, and I’m getting nowhere.”
Raine commiserated. “Hey, I’m there with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I’m stuck in my HR job where everyone is acting like nothing’s wrong. But a man is missing. And they’re all lying.”
“So do something about it.”
Rains snorted. “Well, I could go around punching people in the face and shooting out their kneecaps. When they wonder why, I’ll just tell them all I’m an all-knowing soothsayer. An avenging goddess.”
“First of all, no one is telling you to shoot or punch people. Secondly, soothsayers were considered fortunetellers. Not goddesses.”
“Well, I am pretty amazing. My last few dates have called me a goddess.”
“Not that amazing.”
“Want me to get the truth out of your criminals when you find them? Be nice to me.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me in the kneecap?” Jane scoffed.
“Ah, there you are. You sound much better than you did earlier. My job here is done. See you later, slacker.” Raine danced out of Jane’s apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Jane sighed. She’d been doing her best to stay focused. Life was easier without a lot of heavy feelings, and grief weighed far more than she wanted to carry.
She’d done her best to placate Jenn with a lunch earlier in the week, where she admitted to missing Matthew but that it probably wouldn’t have worked out between them anyway.
Though in the deepest recesses of Jane’s mind, she’d imagined herself and Matthew as a couple, spending their days at work and their evenings enjoying each other’s company, sharing work stories while enjoying a lovely sunset with wine Matthew carefully selected.
Silly fantasies that had no place in the real world, where conspiracies and criminals ran amuck.
They hadn’t tracked down TS Cooper, but they had found the body of TS Worley in a hotel by the airport that had been paid for a month. Worley’s special assignment hadn’t been approved through any channel, though the poor man had likely thought it legitimate.
A paper copy of his temporary duty assignment in Atlanta had been found in the hotel room, where his body had started to smell so badly that hotel cleaning staff had finally invaded his privacy and found him shot in the head.
More proof that Casimir Bednarek was a criminal mastermind. A genius with computers, brilliant at strategy, and now a ghost.
No one had seen anyone matching the likeness of him the FBI had circulated, and no one had gotten a hit on Victor either.
She hated having no leads.
Why did August suddenly not trust Rook? And vice versa? Why kill valuable members of the Collective? Why kill the Harte’s helper, Sabrina Johnson, and not kill the Hartes?
Jane had looked into Sabrina several times and found small payments that didn’t fit her employer or any side hustle. Not legally, anyway. Sabrina had been earning several thousand a month by working for Rook or Kaminski.
After Harte had been dealt with, Sabrina had been a loose end. That Harte remained alive said he had value and didn’t know enough to be a threat.
Another roadblock.
She seethed. She needed something new to track. In desperation, she called Detective Ryan. She’d texted him a few times over the past few days, but since neither of them had anything new to share, the conversations had been brief.
“Hey Ray,” she said when he answered. “Sorry to call after hours. How are you?”
“Jane. Good to hear from you. No problem at all. I have nephews who won’t get in bed,” he said, raising his voice. “So I’m not relaxing anytime soon.”
She chuckled. “I hear that.”
“Sorry, Uncle Ray,” she heard between giggles.
Ray sighed. “Kids.” In a more serious tone, he said, “So sorry about your loss at the Agency. I heard Agent Scott was a great guy.”
“Yeah, he was.” She cleared her throat. “Hey, do you think you could spare some time for me tomorrow? I want to talk to someone who knows this case, and I’m hitting a wall.”
“Want to do lunch? I have some paperwork to hit first thing.”
“Ah, I’ve got the funeral in the afternoon. I could do later that evening, but I don’t want to cut into your family time.”
“Screw that. I see Alex every day.”
“Hey,” someone grumbled over the phone, presumably Alex. “Invite her over for dinner.”
“Did you hear that?” Ray asked. In a lower voice, he confided, “He’s a great cook. You’re safe enough if you bring dessert. He can’t bake worth a crap.”
“I heard that!”
Jane smiled. “Dinner would be great. I’ll bring the sweets.”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you the address.”
“Fine. And Ray, you’re all good, right? No one prowling around your house, stalking you and your family?”
“We’re fine and on alert. The only reason my nephews are here is they have nowhere else to go. I promised my sister I’d watch them when she went on vacation. She spent a lot of money on it and needs the break. These kids are monsters.”
More giggling.
“Well, if you need anything…”
“I know. Thanks. But I’m not a target. I do worry about you though.”
“Nah. They’re not after me.” I don’t think. “It’s about the Collective, about Kaminski.”
“Say no more. Bring all your thoughts to dinner tomorrow. And good luck at the funeral.”
“Yeah. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”
“But it’s necessary.”
“It is.”
Ray understood.
After ending the call, Jane sat down at her kitchen counter, as she had every evening following work for the last five days, and pored through her notes, trying to find what she had to be missing. Some rationale for this feud between Rook and Kaminski.
Some reason they’d killed both Matthew and Louis.
What did the Scotts have to do with all this?
And why did she feel like they were more valuable to both Rook and Kaminski than all the others in their Collective?