Chapter 4 #2
Rhodes is the founder of ARGUS and lives in San Francisco. I’m sure he has connections with lots of companies.
Rhodes returns to his side of the booth, and Gabe slides into the booth beside me. His arm brushes mine as he settles in—warm, solid, and familiar in a way that has no business being either. I let it stay a half-second longer than I should before I shift, putting an inch between us.
“So the two of you met through work. Got it,” I say, although it feels very small world to me.
“My girlfriend works for KOAN,” Rhodes offers. I hadn’t realized he had a girlfriend, not that it matters.
Rhodes is slightly taller than Gabriel, and with his dark hair and commanding presence, it isn’t surprising that he has a girlfriend. He’s a private person, choosing to avoid the media as much as possible unless it’s a gratuitous TED Talk, and I appreciate that about him.
“Is Sydney in town too?” Gabe asks.
“She is,” Rhodes says. “She’ll be at your meeting on Monday with Quinn and Hudson.”
“Oh? Quinn’s coming into town. I hadn’t realized that.”
I unroll the silverware from the napkin, feeling like I’m out of place in their conversation.
“Quinn handles the tech side of things,” Gabe says, clearly for my benefit. “I’ve spoken with her on the phone. Never met her in person. Hudson is my boss—the managing director.”
Rhodes nods, as if confirming Gabe’s description, then looks at me. “I’m actually going to beg forgiveness and skip lunch. The two of you are more than welcome to stay and enjoy lunch, on me.”
This is vintage Rhodes—efficient without being unkind. He’s agreed to hear me out, and once he has, his time is his own. I’ve never once felt dismissed by him, which is more than I can say for most men of his standing.
“Once we’re done, Sydney and I are heading out. I’m taking her for a hike.”
“It’s cold,” I say.
“Sydney doesn’t mind.” He folds his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. “So, you wanted to talk. Does it have anything to do with…” His index finger points in the general direction of my face, circling.
It’s not why I’m here—or not entirely. But it’s the fastest way to establish why I need what I’m about to ask for.
“Yes.” I exhale, casting a side glance at Gabe, and wishing momentarily he wasn’t sitting beside me to hear this. “Or it may. Would you think I’m paranoid if I told you I think someone might have tampered with my brakes?”
“No.” Rhodes answers firmly and without hesitation.
A sense of relief washes over me—not because of the brake incident, but because someone believes me.
“Who do you suspect?”
“I’m really not sure. But there’s a case I was working. Two years of FBI resources. Slam dunk. There was no way we were losing. My boss dropped the case. No explanation.”
“You think someone pulled strings?”
“I’m positive. But I don’t know who. No one we were prosecuting had that kind of power.”
“If they successfully had the case dropped, why come after you?” Gabe asks, and this is probably why Shonda thinks I’m paranoid and why I haven’t shared my concerns with Michael.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “But my FBI contact on the case hasn’t returned my emails in two weeks.
It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth.
And I can’t locate one of my key witnesses—a young woman named Lina, the only one who didn’t take the NDA.
The night of the wreck I was following up with someone who had last seen her. ”
Rhodes scratches his jaw. “What information can you share?”
“Legally?” The case is closed and it hasn’t been assigned a highly confidential classification. But sharing the details would break protocol. “That’s another thing. A lot of the information on the database has been removed.”
“Sounds like someone is definitely cleaning up,” Rhodes says, looking to Gabe instead of me. The shift shouldn’t bother me, but it definitely does.
“I’m scanning what I can—just in case someone deletes more from the DOJ database.
Not the files themselves. I can’t hand over witness statements or sealed case material, even to you.
But timelines, dates, anything that shows the pattern without the substance—I can put together something usable.
” Rhodes looks circumspect—but I also read him as interested. “I can send that over.”
“Send it. I’ll have someone on my team look into it.”
“It needs to stay contained.”
“Not just anyone.” Rhodes breaks in, hearing my concern. “Daisy Jonas. I trust her with my life. If anyone can find connections to help figure out what’s going on, it’s Daisy.”
“She works for KOAN?” I look to Gabe, questioning. He shakes his head.
“She’s a partner at my company,” Rhodes answers. He taps the table and looks at Gabe. “You settling in okay?”
“I am,” he answers. “Easy adjustment from Fort Meade.”
Rhodes studies Gabe, and I expect him to say something more, but his phone vibrates and he flips it over to read the screen.
“Syd’s ready. I’m gonna head on up.” He moves to slide out of the booth but stops before standing. “And Evie, I told you before you needed to be careful. This proves it.”
“Well, there is a chance my brakes just failed. It’s an older car.”
“Jetta. Well-maintained. Brake failure’s unlikely.” Gabe says, and I wonder how he knows what kind of car I drive. The answer occurs to me immediately. I don’t like it.
“Given what you do, it’s unlikely,” Rhodes says, agreeing with Gabe all too easily. “MIA contacts? It moves it out of the realm of coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidence anyway. Of course, you work on more than one case, right?”
“Of course.”
“Unsavory types,” Rhodes comments, almost to himself.
“The worst,” I concur. “But not with the financial backing to pull DOJ strings.”
“Financial backing that you know of,” Gabe says.
“A lot of these guys, they’re like waterways. The tiniest creek leads to a river which leads to the ocean,” Rhodes says. He raps his knuckles against the table. “Be careful.” He scans the restaurant and looks down at us. “Does your dad know what you’re working on?”
“My department? Yes.” I cut my gaze to Gabe, and back to Rhodes. “No specifics. Why?”
“It’s just always surprised me that he’s okay with you working these cases—a man with his reach, his instinct for protecting what’s his.
He loves you. It’s a good thing.” His emphasis means he believes it, but I don’t always agree.
And somewhere in the way he says it—his reach, his instinct—I hear something I wasn’t meant to hear.
My father’s fingerprints are on this. Not a contract, not a direct order.
Just his long reach, operating the way it always has, through people rather than directly.
That’s almost worse.
“I’ll be in touch with what Daisy finds.” To Gabe, he says, “Look out for her.”
Gabe doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to—Rhodes is already walking away.
I let the conversation with Rhodes drop and pick up the lunch menu. There’s nothing more to say—not here, not yet, not with Rhodes barely out of earshot and Gabe watching me like I’m a problem he’s already trying to solve.
I’ll have questions for him. I’m just not ready to ask them.
But for the first time since the crash, it’s clear my concerns are founded. I’m not being rash, or paranoid.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that.