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I roll my eyes. “I have. What, is acting stupid a strategy for you?”
He turns away, yet I have an odd suspicion that he’s smirking at me.
“You thought I was an ignoramus, now, didn’t you?” he says, his voice laced with mirth.
I turn away from him. “Well, let’s just say I didn’t expect to walk into a home with not only an art collection but also a book collection and have you, said owner, actually know things about both.”
“You can keep that one if you like. I have several copies,” he states. Of course, he does.
I set the book on a table, deciding to cut right to the chase. “What do you know about Jared Pallin?”
I watch closely for a reaction, but Conner merely steps over to a wingback chair and sits down. “The head of Confervo?”
“I know he’s a person of interest to you, Congressman North, and your friend, Aiden Thomas.”
His reaction is subtle, but his eyes widen slightly. “Well, he’s a potential funder for North’s campaign.”
He takes a sip of his drink, and I contemplate what I want to divulge. “I know there may be a connection to a drug they made that never got FDA approval and the drug used in the recent park murders.” I may have a friend at the nearby hospital. Aiden Thomas thinks he’s the only one with connections, but he’s very wrong about that.
“And what connection do you think exists?” he asks as he sets his glass down and leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. A tattoo that resembles a snake peeks out from under his rolled-up sleeve. A deep desire in me begins to bubble to the surface. I would like very much to see the rest of the tattoo.
I close my eyes for a second, needing a moment of not looking at this god of a man in order to compose myself. This part is just a hunch and I’m not sure I want to ask him, but if I don’t, I’ll miss my opportunity. I bite my lip and then release it, cursing myself for giving away my hesitancy.
“Do you have access to the port?” I ask.
“Of course,” he states with a raised eyebrow.
“What if…what if I had a shipping manifesto and it showed that cargo was arriving tonight that might contain some…additional items?”
“Such as?”
“Such as unapproved drugs that may or may not be sold on the black market.” My evidence is fairly solid, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.
“Then, I would say you should call the police,” Conner quips as he stands and goes to pour himself another glass of scotch.
“What if I don’t trust the police?”
He turns and leans on a built-in wet bar. “Why not?”
He has to know. The police chief in Baltimore has connections to the brotherhood as does the port authority police chief. “They have…connections,” I explain.
“And what good am I in all of this?” he questions.
“You have access to the port, and your father’s ships.”
“My father?”
“Yes…your father.”
I can see an emotion briefly flash across his features. He doesn’t like his father. But why? Theo Sterling is an asshole. There’s no doubt about that, but I always assumed Conner was one too. Like father, like son. Could I be wrong?
Conner glances over my shoulder, and I turn to see a giant brass antique clock.
“You can drive,” he declares as he sets down his glass and walks out of the room.
“I can what?” I ask as I follow him. Where’s he going in the middle of a conversation?
I follow him into his garage. It’s immaculate. It doesn’t even look like a garage but rather a room. The floors don’t even appear to be concrete.