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“Thank you,” she murmured.
“What have you got, Deep?” Nutsbe asked.
“Information from last night, when Gator was backing you up.”
“Much appreciated,” Nutsbe said.
“Glad to be there,” Deep looked down as he shifted papers. “So here’s what I have for you from our end.”
Nutsbe looked over at Olivia. She was stoic.
Titus glanced at his phone. “Finley, FBI, is on his way up. Go on, Deep.”
“About the home invasion. Whiskey and Chaser—”
Nutsbe turned to explain, “Those are the names of Iniquus bloodhounds who were tracking from your house last night.”
She nodded. Her grip tightened.
“Whiskey and Chaser followed the scent from Olivia’s house to the strip mall outside of your neighborhood. Cameras from the sandwich shop showed two bikes arriving together last night at twenty-three twenty hours. One bike was still in the parking lot when we got there. I had a look at the surveillance tapes. In the right time frame, a man ran into the parking lot, jumped on his motorcycle, and took off, leaving the second bike in place. That bike has fingerprints that our team picked up and put through our computer system without getting a name. More interestingly, the bike had a Canadian plate. The Canadian government is cooperating with the FBI on the case. We don’t have any information from them. But the symbols on the motorcycle are affiliated with a group known for their paid intimidation efforts. The bikes’ make and model are the same as the two motorcycles that Nutsbe traced from the courthouse, turned at the ambush, and drove back to the courthouse. Our AI system indicates that the body proportions of the rider who returned to his bike and the left-riding biker following you at the ambush conform. The traffic camera feed shows that the plates were covered on the road.”
“Thanks for the assist, Deep,” Titus said.
“Glad to help,” Deep said. “That’s it from me.”
And they disconnected.
“So they ride their bikes to the shop, walk over, break into my house, and interrogate me,” Olivia said.
“Do you mind sharing what he wanted from you, Olivia?” Titus asked.
Olivia shifted in her chair. “He wanted to know all the details of the case my team is bringing to a grand jury.”
“The assassinations of Middle Eastern dissidents in America?” Nutsbe asked.
Olivia’s head whipped toward Nutsbe. “How did you know that?” Olivia held up a hand. “Don’t tell me, it’s the magic of Iniquus.” She cast her gaze around the men. “You all are a little intimidating, to be honest. At least we know the motorcycles weren’t the Offseds.”
“Any interference from Kyle’s brothers is off the table,” Nutsbe said, rubbing Olivia’s hand so she’d relax her death grip. “They’re in Maryland, held on armed robbery charges, and have been there since last weekend. They haven’t been able to post bail.”
Nutsbe hated this shit show, but it would be so much worse if he thought he’d directed his own Russia-FBI crap in Olivia’s direction.
She said she understood how dangerous his job was. And now he knew they both lived in that world. He’d always be worried that he was adding to her dangers instead of providing her with his protection.
Thorn turned to Olivia with Beowolf sprawled at her feet. “According to the medical examiner’s preliminary report, Mickey probably died late Tuesday night, the same night you encountered the sniper and ambush.”
“Monday, Mickey Pauley attacks you,” Thorn said to Nutsbe. “You both get arrested.”
Thorn went to the whiteboard and wrote it out.
“He’d already been beaten,” Nutsbe said. “Not enough for a tier one to worry about it. That’s just another day at the office. But a civilian would think they’d been beaten within an inch of their life.”
“Mickey liked the pain of a punch,” Olivia shifted back and forth in her chair. “He said it woke up his mind, whatever that means.”
Titus added. “Pauley was released. That was the last anyone saw of him until the trunk.”
“Someone saw him before the trunk,” Thorn countered. “They did something to put him in the trunk.”
“Granted,” Titus acknowledged.