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“Technically speaking, it is another day at the office,” she retorts. “And we’re still working to nail these bastards. Sooner, I’d prefer, as opposed to later, so I can focus on the baby instead of worrying about Trevor Callaghan.”

And there it is. The sobering reminder of what we’re actually fighting.

I lean forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Forgive us. We’re still adjusting to the news here.”

“I know. I don’t mean to sound frantic, but the sooner we get these people off the streets and into a bunch of not-so-cozy prison cells the better,” she replies with a soft smile.

“Tassia was right about one thing,” Tyler mutters as he flips through bank statements with a furrowed brow. “It’s a miracle we got a warrant for this stuff.”

“Why?” she asks.

“There are definitely some questionable transactions and withdrawals here. Worthy of a forensic accountant’s attention, for sure,” he says, nodding with newfound enthusiasm.

“Do you think it’s enough to get a subpoena? Maybe get the mayor in for a more official interview?” Tassia asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t think we stand a chance of getting the mayor to sit down and talk to us at this point. But it could get us a warrant for a wiretap, at least. We’ll have to take it to the Attorney General, though. The DA is no longer an option. He’s already proven himself an ally of Hamilton’s. We can’t risk anybody tipping him off.”

As Tassia goes through another file, I see the light shining in her eyes, and I wonder how that brilliant mind of hers works. How she makes these connections, the speed with which she recognizes patterns. From the outside, it’s fascinating just watching her work, but I would love to be able to go along for the ride through her mind and thought processes.

Before she even opens her beautiful mouth, I know she’s on to something.

“Got it,” Tassia says. “Spring’s personal assistant made a series of cash withdrawals from the office’s petty cash account. Large lump sums that coincide with several dates in your surveillance logs.”

“Really?” Tyler’s interest is piqued as he takes out his leather-bound notebook where he has religiously jotted down absolutely every single detail of every surveillance mission we’ve been on over the past couple of months. “What do you have for March 3rd?”

“Ten grand,” she says, then looks at me. “But overall, fifty grand was withdrawn. Do you have a written justification for this particular withdrawal in there?”

I look into the file, my finger trailing along the page until I find the specific date. “Catering expenses for office birthday,” I read the words aloud. “That’s one hell of a birthday on taxpayer’s money.”

“Looks like a meeting between Dexter Wright and Jake Merritt, VP of the Silver Stallions, happened on March 3rd,” Tyler says. “I remember that day. I watched Spring enter the diner with a black pouch in his hand. He didn’t have it when he walked out.”

“A payoff, then,” I conclude. “I’d say we’ve got enough probable cause for a wiretap at this point.”

24

TASSIA

We know it all links back to Trevor somehow, but I fear we don’t have the time or the legal resources to connect the dots before it’s too late.

Lucas is out on surveillance. Tyler and Mitch are following up with the Attorney General in New York to secure a wiretapping warrant.

I need to make myself useful. I need to speak to Dante, but I’m not exactly authorized to do that.

Still, I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

I sneak out of the sheriff’s station, making sure Sherry, in particular, doesn’t see me leave, then drive back to the cabin. I park at Lucas’s place and head up the trail to Tim’s on foot.

“What do you want?” Dante begrudgingly asks as soon as I walk in and close the door behind me.

“A hello would be nice. I took your gag off, after all,” I reply, holding up a takeaway bag for him to see. The smell alone is incredible, and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s at apoint where he’d sell his mother for these fish fillets. “I bring you a peace offering.”

“In exchange for what? The only reason you took my gag off is because nobody can hear me if I scream,” he snaps. “This is still kidnapping.”

“Protective custody,” I remind him. “You’re in danger.”

“I keep telling you and your bosses and that stupid DEA bitch that the only danger I’m in is from you fuckers.”

Sighing, I set the takeaway bag down at his feet then show him a few photos from my phone—closeup shots of Billy Jade’s corpse as he was found in the holding cell. I don’t like having this sort of grim stuff on my phone, but I wanted Dante to see them.