Chapter 15
LUKE
“Good afternoon, Agent Brown.” I didn’t bother looking up from the stack of papers on my desk as she walked into my office. The staccato click of her heels always preceded her entrance.
“Chief Rosen. How was your vacation?”
“Too short.” I stuffed a report into its folder and leaned my elbows on the desk as she took her regular seat across from my desk.
“You went fishing.”
“I did.”
Maria’s expression was as blank and unforgiving as usual, not a tell in sight. This routine was getting old. But she wasn’t going to tell me what she wanted, just like I wasn’t going to tell her where I was keeping Scarlett.
Stalemate.
I doubted they’d followed me out of town last week.
I’d checked often, and once we got to the river, unless the FBI had secured a raft, they wouldn’t have been able to follow.
Maybe if they’d gone to the trouble of drone surveillance they would have seen me with Scarlett.
But I was fairly certain they thought she was stashed in some backwoods cabin or someone’s basement.
And after Birdy had seen it was just me leaving with the raft, they’d let me go on my way without a tail.
“You go often,” Maria said, taking a chair.
“Is that a question? Or a statement?”
Her mouth turned up in a small smirk. “A statement.”
She didn’t bullshit, I’d give her that. “While stating the obvious is definitely a way to pass the time, I’ve got a lot stacked up from a week away.” I patted the file folders in front of me. “Have a nice day, Agent Brown.”
Despite my dismissal, she wouldn’t leave. She was going to sit in that chair for hours, scrutinizing my every move. Something I hadn’t missed on vacation or over the past two days.
I’d been surprised when she hadn’t paid me a visit on Monday or Tuesday.
Not that I’d had time to talk with her. My days had been slammed trying to catch up on all that I’d missed.
Shift questions. A phone call from the mayor about staffing and payroll.
Reports to review, including a DUI and a couple of minor misdemeanors.
Plus everyone in the station had wanted to stop by and say hello.
My office had been a revolving door of people welcoming me back.
You’d think I’d gone off to war.
Agent Brown crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I think it’s time you call me Maria.”
I arched an eyebrow. In all the days that she’d stopped by my office, we’d stuck to formalities. “If I call you Maria, does that mean you’ll start telling me more about what you want?”
“I want Scarlett Marks.”
“Why?”
Maria steepled her hands in front of her chin. What she didn’t do was answer my damn question. Typical. I didn’t have time for this. The FBI’s games were growing old.
I flipped open a new folder, picking up the report and starting at the top. Today I needed to leave early.
I had an appointment at the garage in an hour that I wasn’t going to miss.
Maria didn’t budge as I worked my way through the first page of the report. At the second, I shot her a glance, then cast my eyes to the door.
My message couldn’t have been clearer unless I tattooed Get Out on my forehead.
She uncrossed and recrossed her legs.
Pain in the ass.
If she wanted to watch me work all day, so be it. I finished reviewing the report, jotted down a question for the officer on a sticky note, then stuffed both back in their folder, moving on to the next in line.
When my desk phone rang, I picked it up off the cradle. “Chief Rosen.”
“Why are you coming in for an oil change at three?” Presley asked.
When I’d called down to the garage this morning, Presley had been out for an errand, on a run to the bank or something.
One of the mechanics had taken my appointment for me.
I’d wondered how long it would take for her to realize that I did not need an oil change.
Four hours, apparently.
I chuckled. “Hello.”
“Hello,” she mimicked with what I suspected was an exaggerated eye roll. It was something I could see both her and Scarlett doing. “We did an oil change on your truck two months ago. It’s not due.”
“No, it’s not due. But I saw a drip in the garage. Might be a leak,” I lied. It wasn’t like I could explain with Maria staring at me.
Presley went quiet, the silence stretching. “Okay. Dash and Emmett are both here. They can take a look at it for you.”
Dash and Emmett hadn’t done oil changes or routine tune-ups in years. “That would be great.”
Thankfully, Presley was smart enough not to mention Scarlett’s name. I wouldn’t put it past the FBI to have tapped our phones, mine at least. I would have denied it if Pres had asked, but she’d been around the Kings long enough to read between the lines.
She started typing, her fingers clicking rapid-fire in the background. “Can you come in a little later? How about four?”
Presley was probably scrambling to rearrange their jobs so I’d be the only one in the garage’s office and we’d have privacy for our conversation.
“Four it is,” I said and hung up, then met Maria’s gaze.
She looked smug and confident in that chair. Maybe as a younger cop, I would have let that intimidate me. But if the FBI knew where Scarlett was, Maria wouldn’t be in my office. I still had the upper hand and wasn’t going to waver.
So I turned my attention back to my work, opening another case file. I read the report and hid the nerves rattling my insides behind an impassive face.
Scarlett had made the decision to try this route first. It was her decision. It was her life.
It was something I could give to her, but it meant setting aside my oaths. My pride. My conscience.
Maybe that made me just as much of a criminal as the men I was going to meet later.
Dash, Emmett and Leo—the Tin Kings weren’t innocent. They’d committed their fair share of offenses in their day. Hell, Emmett was about as good a hacker as he was a mechanic and metal fabricator. I was sure he’d broken countless privacy laws in just the time I’d known him.
Was I any better?
Was I just as bad as the man who’d sat in the chair before me?
Marcus Wagner had been a mentor. A good cop, at least I’d thought so for a long time. But then he’d crossed a line.
Was I guilty of the same?
Yes. The knot in my stomach tightened and I had to start at the beginning of the report, forcing myself to concentrate.
This wasn’t right. What I was doing wasn’t right. But it was right. Because it was Scarlett’s best chance at a life. With me.
And maybe there was another way to get Tucker Talbot and the Warriors.
Maybe I’d find a way to pin Ken Raymond’s murder on them without Scarlett’s video.
How, I wasn’t sure. The initial evidence hadn’t shown any signs of foul play but we’d look again.
And again. And again. There had to be something in Ken’s past that tied him to the Warriors. We’d dig and dig deep.
The decision to reopen Ken’s case eased some of the guilt and I finished one report, diving into the next one.
With an added hour before I had to leave for the garage, I might actually finish these up so I could return them to the assigned officers for any corrections.
I flipped open a third file, still ignoring Maria.
She sat as stoically as ever, her posture impeccable.
I worked through the entire stack as the clock turned closer and closer to four, all while Maria didn’t budge. Was she even breathing?
Finally, with ten minutes to get to the garage, more than enough time in Clifton Forge, I loaded up the files, shut down my computer and collected my wallet and keys from my desk drawer.
“Pleasure spending time with you, Agent Brown,” I lied and stood. “Any plans for your evening?”
She looked up at me, still seated, and the hardness in her expression turned to stone. There was ice there. Frustration. I wasn’t cooperating and it was pissing her off. “No.”
“If you haven’t been to Stockyard’s for a cheeseburger, I recommend it.”
Maria stayed in her chair. “Is that where you’re off to?”
“No, I’ve got an appointment.”
“For what?”
“To get my oil changed.”
Her eyes narrowed. Yeah, she knew exactly where I was going. I’d let her speculate why. If she followed me, all she’d see was me sitting in the office at the garage, bullshitting with some friends.
I waved a hand to the door. “I’ll escort you out.”
For a moment, I thought she’d have the gall to stick in her seat.
But then she swept out of the chair and walked past me for the door.
But before she disappeared, she stopped at the threshold.
Her shoulders, normally ramrod straight, slumped, just slightly.
It was the first sign of defeat I’d seen from her in months.
She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t turn. “I have reason to believe Ms. Marks can provide me information on a crime.”
“What kind of crime?”
“That’s classified.”
Was it about the stolen drugs? Or Ken Raymond’s death?
I suspected it was Ken. But why was Ken Raymond’s murder a classified case?
Was he an informant? A witness? My curiosity was piqued, and we would definitely be digging deeper.
Maria could keep her classified information. I’d find answers another way.
“If you get the burger, add bacon,” I said. “It’s worth the extra dollar.”
Maria crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re impeding a federal investigation, Luke.”
I guess she was ready to move on to first names. “Do me a favor. When you talk to your Agent Birdy, tell her to mow the lawn. The weeds are taking over and if they creep into my yard, I’m afraid I’ll have to report her to the homeowner’s association.”
Her face broke into a scowl before she turned and marched out of the station.
I waited until she was through the exit before closing the door to my office and depositing the file folders on various desks in the bullpen. Then I headed out, waving goodbye to the officer stationed up front.