Chapter 3 #2
Respect. Even appreciation. It had gotten too far into her head, or maybe just her entire body, because she couldn’t deny a sort of electricity that had shot through her when he’d come into the room.
She was just buzzing from nearly two days on the road.
She opened her laptop.
Asher leaned forward. Elbows on the table. His bandaged arm visible, the white gauze stark against tanned skin. It made him weirdly vulnerable, the superhero with scars.
Focus!
“How much do you know?” he asked.
“Assume nothing.”
He made a tiny grunt and reached for his coffee.
Took a sip. Grimaced. Set it down. “Okay. The Shadow Syndicate has been operating in Renegade for a number of years. It started in Denver over thirty years ago. Came here about seven years ago. It’s an interlocking network of criminal activity—drug trafficking, human trafficking, money laundering, extortion, corruption.
And everything connects back to one person. ”
“Draven Frost.”
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “You’ve heard of him.”
“I read the file. International crime boss, but never enough evidence to indict.”
“That’s the public story.” Asher’s voice dropped. “The real story is more complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
He studied her. Green eyes sharp despite the exhaustion.
“I’m not convinced he’s the top dog. Everyone else is, but…I don’t know. Draven came down from Denver, and he was just a player there. For a while, I thought it was Roger Rousseau—”
“The man who got knifed in holding.”
“Yeah. He was on the lam but got picked up a month ago and has been in holding ever since. Worked a plea deal to testify against who he says is the leader of the syndicate—Draven Frost. His mother, Destiny, is also in protective custody.”
Daphne typed. “So Roger wasn’t the boss and is now willing to testify against Draven.”
“Apparently. Martha was our key witness, but now it looks like Roger is our key witness. He and his mother.” Asher pulled his coffee closer. Wrapped both hands around the mug. “Roger provides evidence, he gets witness protection and a reduced sentence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Everything. Ledgers. Recorded communications. Documentation of operations spanning years.” Asher leaned back slightly. “Ralph—Roger’s father—kept meticulous records. He was the top dog here until he got murdered.”
“Sounds like someone is out for the family.”
“Maybe.”
“Draven?”
“We don’t know. Could have been the cartel. Could have been an internal power struggle. Could have been Draven cleaning house.” Asher’s jaw tightened. “Either way, Ralph’s dead and Roger inherited everything. Including the evidence that could take down the entire syndicate.”
“Tell me about the operations.” She needed facts. Data.
Asher pulled out his laptop. Opened files. Turned the screen toward her.
Organizational charts filled the screen. Financial records. Surveillance photos.
“Continental Transport is the legitimate business front.” He leaned closer to point at the screen. “Shipping company. Moves freight across state lines. Also moves drugs, weapons, trafficking victims.”
He pulled up shipping manifests, his fingers moving fast over the keyboard.
“Neurosync—the drug those kids were most likely on this morning—comes in through Continental. Gets distributed through local businesses as cover.”
“What kind of businesses?”
“Restaurants. Construction companies. Real estate offices. Anywhere with cash flow and customer traffic. Drugs moved through teens, coaches, school staff—anyone with reason to be near kids.” He clicked through photos, each one annotated with dates, locations, personnel.
“The Youth of the Future Foundation was another front. Youth camps for troubled kids. Legitimate on paper. Actually a recruiting and trafficking operation.”
Daphne’s stomach turned. “How many kids?”
“We don’t know.” His voice went tight. “The foundation got shut down after a previous case exposed some of the operations. But there are still teens unaccounted for.”
She made notes. Watched him in her peripheral vision.
The way his jaw clenched when he talked about the kids.
He cared.
Either genuine or the best actor she’d ever met.
“Who runs local operations now?”
“Draven.”
“I thought he was the top dog in Denver.”
“He was certainly higher in the ranks, but no, not the top dog. That’s why it feels like there might be, I don’t know, someone else at the helm.”
“So the syndicate is growing.”
“Yeah. We need to cut off the head of the snake. After Roger was arrested, Draven moved in. Operations continued. Same distribution patterns. Same trafficking routes.”
“And no arrests?”
“A few. We’re taking down insiders. But…”
“But you still can’t connect everything to Draven.”
“No. Draven is always one step ahead.”
“Which means he has someone on the inside. Someone embedded locally.”
“Right. Someone with access. Authority. Ability to move without suspicion.”
“Law enforcement?”
“Probably.” Asher met her eyes. “Or federal. Or both.”
The mole.
The person who’d gotten Martha Lintz killed.
The person who might be sitting across from her right now.
Except.
His expression was open. Direct. No defensiveness.
He took a sip of coffee. “You think I’m the mole.” Not a question.
Daphne didn’t answer.
“I would too.” He leaned back. Ran a hand through his hair. “Except I tried to intervene.”
“Martha died anyway.”
His jaw tightened. “Are you saying I didn’t try hard enough?”
“I’m just wondering why you didn’t pull your gun on him.”
“I should have. There were bystanders—I didn’t want a gun battle.”
She considered him. He seemed honest.
Or maybe she just wanted it to be true.
Which was exactly the problem.
“Tell me about Neurosync.”
He took another sip of coffee. “Highly addictive stimulant. Causes euphoria initially. Then paranoia. Aggression. Psychotic episodes. Users develop superhuman strength during episodes. Can’t feel pain. Extremely dangerous.”
“Like the kids this morning.”
“Exactly like the kids this morning.” He turned to his computer and pulled up chemical analysis reports. Distribution maps. Overdose statistics. “It’s been spreading through Renegade for about eighteen months. Started small. Now it’s everywhere.”
Eighteen months.
The same timeline as his—
“You said you have eighteen months of intelligence.” She kept her voice neutral. “What does that mean exactly?”
Asher’s expression didn’t change. But something shifted behind his eyes. “I’ve been working this case for eighteen months. Building intelligence on syndicate operations.”
“Alone?”
“With a task force. FBI, local PD, US Marshals. My liaison is Rudy Patterson, with the FBI.”
Daphne studied him. “Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.” He met her eyes. “You should verify everything I tell you. Cross-reference with independent sources. Assume I’m lying until the evidence proves otherwise.”
“That’s what I plan to do.”
“Good.” He almost smiled. “That’s smart.”
The almost smile softened the exhaustion. Made him look younger.
Stop it.
“Tell me about the corrupted officials you’ve arrested.”
Asher’s expression went serious again. He pulled up more files.
Names. Photos. Documentation.
“Judge Russell Fields. Involved in trafficking both children and drugs through the Youth of the Future Foundation.”
He clicked to the next file. “Arrested six months ago after financial records surfaced linking him to the syndicate.”
“From where?”
“Anonymous tip.”
“Convenient.”
“Or genuine.” He clicked again. “Former Supervising Deputy US Marshal Daniel Howard. Helped orchestrate Finn Donovan’s prison escape. Worked directly with Draven Frost and Roger Rousseau. Arrested after the escape attempt.”
Daphne knew that case. Had read the reports. “Anyone else?”
“Suspected but not confirmed.” He pulled up more photos. “Several local officials. Business owners. Law enforcement at various levels.”
“FBI?”
“Possibly.”
“You?”
“No.”
She wanted to believe him.
“The task force you mentioned. Who’s on it?”
“Detective Michael Martinelli, Renegade PD. He’s the primary investigator. Lost his mother to syndicate violence five years ago.”
Personal stake. Made sense.
“FBI?”
“Special Agent Dani Kim from the Renegade field office. She’s been investigating Continental Transport’s financial structure.”
“You work with her?”
“Sometimes. When cases overlap.” His expression stayed neutral. “She’s only been in the office a handful of weeks between undercover assignments. But she’s sharp.”
“Marshals?”
“Multiple deputies. Including—” He stopped. “Including the ones assigned to Martha Lintz.”
The ones who’d failed to prevent her death.
“Names.”
He gave them. She wrote them down.
“What about you specifically? What’s your role?”
“Intelligence gathering. Analysis. Coordination between agencies.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s accurate.”
She studied him. “You’re not telling me everything.”
“I’m telling you everything relevant to keeping Roger and Destiny alive.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
“No.” He held her gaze. “They’re not.”
Honest.
Daphne’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it.
Text from Caroline Kumar.
Caroline
How’s it going?
She typed back.
Daphne
Still assessing.
Caroline
Trust your gut.
Her gut said Asher Morrison was genuine.
Her gut had been wrong before.
“I need more coffee.” Asher stood. Grabbed his empty mug. “You want some?”
“I’m fine.”
He walked to the door. Opened it. Called down the hall. “Hey, Sandra? Can we get a fresh pot in Conference Room B?”
He closed the door. Came back to the table.
“So, the RICO case.” Daphne pulled up Caroline’s briefing notes. “Roger and Destiny are critical witnesses. Anyone else?”
Asher sat back down, the chair creaking. “No one with the kind of evidence we need to prove Draven controls the syndicate.”
“That’s why Draven wants them dead.”
“That’s why Draven wants them dead.” Asher leaned forward. “Without their testimony, without Ralph’s records, the RICO case collapses. Draven walks. The syndicate continues. Everything we’ve worked for—everything Martha’s testimony was going to unlock—means nothing.”
The passion in his voice was real.
Had to be real.
Except.
Good liars could fake anything.