Page 15

“Does our list intersect with Celia’s?” she asked Chris.

“In three places.” He spun halfway back to Holt. “Hit it, Little H.” Chris narrated as three pictures filled the monitors. “Michael Griffin, Lenny Proctor, and Adrian Zima.”

She didn’t recognize any of them. “All low level?”

“Relatively. No one above soldier.”

“Would explain the piss-poor evidence destruction,” Hawes said. “Unless they wanted us to find it.”

“That’s what I told Cee.”

“That car was awfully clean.” Helena clicked her nails, contemplating the possibilities, but she needed more data to better assess them. “Give us the run down on the matches.”

“The latter two are viable,” Chris said, “Griffin, not so much.”

Holt displayed a rap sheet. “Busted for felony murder. Built an explosive that was supposed to be for a B&E but triggered too early and killed two people. He’s been locked up at San Quentin the past five years.”

“How’s he connected?” Hawes asked.

“Worked for one of the groups that picked up our explosives contracts.”

A perfect example of why they were now out of that business.

“Associate at Oak’s firm is listed as the attorney of record,” Chris said.

“You’re right,” Helena said. “Probably not our perp, but worth a chat with Oak, if he’ll do more than glare at me.”

“He still pissed at us too?” Hawes said.

Helena held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Wee bit.”

They’d hired Oak to represent Holt’s ex-wife, Amelia, who’d been caught up in Rose’s plot. Despite the work, he’d been cool toward Helena ever since she’d knocked him out in a stairwell while they’d been breaking Amelia out of jail. They’d promptly returned her—once Rose had been caught—but Oak admittedly had a right to be grumpy. Helena needed him to get over it for Celia’s sake.

“I’ll catch up with him on Monday,” she said. “What about those two? Start with Lenny. I think I know where the other one is headed, and I don’t want to go there yet.”

Chris chuckled, effectively confirming her suspicion, but thankfully granting her requested reprieve. “We went to high school with Lenny. If Dex was into something, so was Lenny. Drugs, petty theft, you name it.”

“He was on Celia’s list?’

Chris nodded. “She never liked him.”

“How does he intersect with us?” Hawes asked.

“He’s Frank Ferriello’s dealer,” Holt said. Surveillance from Club Sterling flashed onscreen, the two men huddled in a booth, vials and cash exchanging hands. He zoomed in on one of the pictures. “Cocaine, by the look of it.”

“Might explain the eager,” Victoria said.

“Maybe.” Avery tilted her head. “But I don’t think that’s all it was.”

Helena tended to agree, which made this a doubly delicate situation. “If Frank is recruiting,” she speculated, “would Lenny try moving up? Was the drive-by a test?”

“Could be,” Hawes replied. “Nicky was shit at it. He fucked half his soldiers. Bred loyalty in some, resentment in most. There was as much in-fighting as there were skirmishes with the outside. Frank would need a new crop loyal to him.”

“If Lenny’s the best he can do,” Chris said, “that’s not much of an improvement.”

“That’s because the brains of the operation left years ago,” Helena said.

Holt rotated half around in his chair. “You’re talking about August.”