Page 3
Story: Secrets
I’m pretty sure that’s a saying. Just as much as I’m pretty sure if I got a gold star for all the rules I’ve shattered, I’d look like Midas touched me. Which is ironic as hell considering my job, but also kind of sad. Guess that’s why?—
“Frances.” My boss’s stern tone cuts through my internal ramblings and forces my eyes on him.
Well, I’m already staring at him, so I guess more likefocus—a weaker trait of mine, I admit. It’s always been an area of improvement for me. There’s just too much going on to ever really concentrate on a singular thing. It makes me envy those who have tunnel vision. Perhaps if I were capable of something similar, I wouldn’t feel as though I’ve been chasing my tail for the past couple years trying to catch the same guy. A guy who should have been in jail ten times over if it wasn’t for his lawyer. The hot lawyer with a shady past and amazing jawline.
Steeling my voice, I shift in my seat, the uncomfortable cushion sliding with my ass. “Sir?”
The stoic man across from me sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his oversized mitt of a hand while shaking his head. “This is it. Your last warning.”
I try to stop the smirk that curls one side of my lips—I really do—but it slips through regardless, as do my next string of words that I immediately regret.Kind of.Okay, not really. “Like the same last straw from three weeks ago or a month before that? Chide me all you want, sir, but we both know you want this guy as much as I do.”
Agent James slams a tight fist against his chipped oak desk, but when it only produces a dull thud, he narrows me with a look I’m supposed to respect as a warning.That, however, is hard to do when he’s given me that same expression since I was seven and he tried denying me a third chocolate chip cookie his wife, my aunt Shelley, had just baked.
“Frances.This”—he gestures around the sad beige room filled with decrepit federal manuals, discarded stacks of files, and his three decades’ worth of notoriety hanging in plaques on his wall—“is not the mob you’re so hell-bent on tearing down. If you’d simply glance at the badge you enjoy flashing at poor evidence guards, you’d remember you are afederal agent. There are rules to follow and paperwork that has to be done.”
I bite into my bottom lip.
There’s that word again.
Rules.Fucking words on paper that stop any actual work from getting done. The bullshit bureaucratic tape that has us all stuck to our goddamn desks while the douchebags of the world taunt us just out of reach.
“Not to mention, unless you’re brought on to a case, there is no justifiable reason for you to be involved.”
I sit up straighter. “Right, but as the department forensic psychologist who wasaskedto join in on Julio Jua?—”
The mention of the late mayor causes my throat to suddenly dry, the memory of him and his… death, slamming into my chest and forcing my lips closed.
“Look,” my uncle sighs, his fist unfurling to allow his fingers to rake through his salt-and-pepper strands. “Everyonewants the Babin family put away, but it has to be done the right way. Trust me, I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been walking. If this isn’t done by the book, nothing will hold up in court and it will only end with them back on the streets and harder to catch.”
“That’s why I borrowed the evidence?—”
“Stealing, Frances. Youstoleevidence.” His voice lowers, his weary eyes flashing to the closed blinds behind me as if worried someone passing by could overhear. “If you were anyone else…”
“But I’m not.”
“And that right there is the problem. At some point, you have to realize you are not above the law, and the connections that keep you from being locked up with the same criminals you put away, won’t last.”
“Uncle—”
He shakes his head, cutting off my protest. “That’s not fair. You’re using me.”
Frustration, and something close to an adult tantrum, whirl in my sternum like a hundred little workers throwing over desks and ripping up paper.
I’m nottryingto actively use him, but it would be a lie to say I’m not taking advantage of our familial ties. Nevertheless, he should understand. He shouldwantme to pursue this asshat by any means, at any cost. Guess his determination has limits. Or perhaps it could simply be because his reasoning isn’t as deeply embedded as mine.
Either way, I can’t give up. Not now when I’m closer than ever.
“Alright.” I push myself from the raggedy chair the bureau clearly doesn’t have the funds to fix. “Point taken. From now on, I’ll put in the correct paperwork and wait for your approval.”
I imagine my promise to be so sugary sweet that he can’t detect the lie smothered beneath. And it must work, because after a brief pause, he gives me a curt nod, and I have to stop myself from doing a triumphant air fist pump.
“I was able to expedite the paperwork, so no harm was done, but I won’t cover for you anymore. Everything from here on out is done on the up and up.”
I hold up my left hand and make a cross over my heart with my right. “Promise.”
He rolls his eyes as I spin on my heels and sashay to the door, but when my fingers curl around the rough handle, he stops me. “Aside from that promise, though, I wanted you to know you’ve been assigned a trainee.”
The room becomes a blur as I whirl around to face him. “What?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3 (Reading here)
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
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- Page 57
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