Page 6

Not surprisingly, I slept like shit that night.

I stared at my phone for hours, waiting for a text from Dawson that never came, then tried not to think he was cutting me out again. He’d promised he wouldn’t, and I wanted to believe him, but old habits died hard, and memories of me almost dying even harder. I wasn’t the only one who walked away from the rooftop that night with a set of demons to fight. Dawson was shaken—especially where I was concerned.

It was well into Sunday morning before I felt at all myself. I’d bailed on movie night with Garrett and the gang, claiming exhaustion, which had gone over about as well as I’d expected. Much finagling had been done on my part to navigate Garrett’s questions without arousing further concern. In the end, I wasn’t sure if I’d succeeded, but he hadn’t shown up and staged that intervention I knew was coming, so I considered it a success. The reality was that I just wasn’t up to it, and Dawson’s lack of contact post-briefing had done nothing to help my mood.

I knew my mind wouldn’t be able to settle until I spoke to him.

Or my father, for that matter.

I’d grilled Gramps with as much tact as I could that morning, and he’d assured me that all was well with Dad. He’d also said he’d let him know to call me once he was eligible to use the phone. He’d left shortly after, leaving me alone with a mountain of worry and an even bigger mountain of homework to tackle. With that unappealing reality fully realized, I grabbed a stale granola bar out of the cupboard and sat down at the kitchen table, physics text in hand. At least my assignments provided something else to fixate on for a while—the only silver lining—and I actually made some pretty stellar progress over a couple hours’ time. “I can do this,” I muttered to myself as I switched gears to Spanish for a while, needing a break from thermal equations.

Then a knock on the door caught me by surprise.

I rose slowly, staring at it like the Grim Reaper might be lurking on the other side. But when I didn’t answer quickly enough, a ruckus of a different sort entirely broke out.

“Ky, we know you’re in there!” Garrett shouted through the door like he, not his father, was the sheriff about to break it down. “Your car is in the driveway, genius.”

I let out a breath, then raced to let the ‘we’ in. I opened the door to find Garrett, Tabby, and Mark standing on my front porch.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked as they pushed past me to enter without an actual invitation.

“Do you even read your texts?” he asked, sounding every bit as irritated as I imagined he was. “We told you we were going to come over and help you get caught up on things.”

“People usually ask if they can come over,” I countered, “or at least wait for some kind of response before they just show up.”

“I didn’t know a formal invite was necessary these days.” His brown eyes nearly bored holes through mine.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re always welcome here. I just didn’t expect the attitude assault the second I opened the door.”

“He’s just grumpy,” Tabby said with a smile as she relocated the wall of concern assessing me in my foyer over to the kitchen. “We just want to help you with your homework…and maybe cheer you up a bit.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought, but I swear I am capable of doing my work on my own. It’s just going to take me forever to actually get it done.”

“Which is why we’re here! To help you focus. It’s called body doubling,” she explained with more enthusiasm than necessary. “It helps you stay on task when others around you are doing the same thing.”

“I understand what body doubling is, Tabs. I’m stressed, not ADHD.”

She tossed her bookbag on the table, undaunted by my observation. “I know that, but that doesn’t mean it can’t help.”

I’d have loved to argue, but she had a point; and beyond that, I knew the distraction would do me some good. Help keep my mind off dead mobsters and my father and the fact that Dawson hadn’t called me yet.

“ And ,” Mark added with a shrug, “if you’re really stuck, my girl can probably just do some of the work for you.”

Tabby pinned him in place with an impressive glare. “No, ‘your girl’ will not—but not because I don’t love you, Ky, and want to help.

“Totally understandable,” I replied, turning to Garrett. “Speaking of girlfriends, where’s yours, big guy?”

“She said she was too cool to hang out and do homework.” His dead face delivery had me wondering if somehow Maribel and I had taken a step backward, unbeknownst to me. Seeing the surprise on my face, Garrett scrubbed his hands over his to reset his sour expression and tried again. “She’s at cheerleading practice. Now, what are you working on?” When he pulled them away, he looked much more like himself and less like someone who wanted to start shit with me.

“The project for Espanol , which really makes me wish Maribel was here. I’m literally just starting it now.”

“Girrrrl, you’re gonna need a shit-ton of markers for that one,” Mark replied, plopping down across from me. “Do you have any?”

“Yeah, in my bedroom, down the hall on the left.”

“I’m on it.” Tabby’s boyfriend got back up and strode down the hallway to my room. I watched him disappear inside and waited for him to ask where they’d be. When I didn’t hear him rummaging through my school supplies, I yelled after him, “they should be in a box by my bed.”

“Uhhh, I’ll get to that in a second. For now…does someone wanna tell me what the fuck this is?”

The disbelief was thick in his tone, and for a second, the three of us just looked at one another as though collectively trying to figure out what had him so bamboozled. Then realization dawned on our trio, and we shot out of our seats to rush down the hall together. When we stumbled into the room, we found Mark staring at the white wall of chaos with eyes as wide as saucers.”

“That’s Ky’s murder board,” Tabby said with a strange note of pride in her voice.

Mark pried his eyes away from it long enough to turn that stunned expression on his girlfriend, then on me. “That’s some straight-up crime drama shit right there, Nancy Drew.”

“I mean, my life kinda is one right now, so…”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding as he marveled at the work Dawson and I had done. “That tracks.”

“Why did you have it covered up?” Tabby asked as she pointed to the sheet lying on the ground next to it.

“I just couldn’t look at it anymore.” I swallowed back my emotions and took a breath. “I think I’m grieving the loss of the hope I had that I could get my father out of prison.”

She looped her arm around my shoulder and hugged me lightly. “Is that why you’ve been…not quite yourself lately?”

“I think so. I hadn’t really thought of it like that, but when my therapist explained what that might look like, it made so much sense. I’ve been obsessed with finding a way to free him, and I wonder if that’s because I literally couldn’t accept any other outcome.”

“But now you think you have to because of what happened the night of the pageant?”

Yes …but not for the reasons she assumed. After that night, I hadn’t really talked to my friends about the rooftop. They knew the gist about the logistics from news reports, but not the details. So, for the first time in weeks, I took a deep breath and rehashed every bit of what had occurred—or at least what I could remember—from the moment the mobster abducted me in the hallway to his final moments before he and the other officers went off the bridge. The trio watched in silence as I let loose emotions I hadn’t dared to yet, the evidence of them streaming down my cheeks until I finished.

“I’m so sorry, Ky,” Garrett said, swallowing back the lump in his throat while Tabby wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so tightly I nearly choked.

“I wish we had known sooner so we could have helped you,” she said, her voice twisted with emotion.

“Yeah, man, I would have dragged you down to the gym and held pads for you until you couldn’t swing any more. That shit always helps,” Mark added.

“It’s okay, guys. I guess I just needed some time to process it all, and I’m so used to being alone that I thought it was better that way. I didn’t want to worry you—”

“But you don’t have to be alone,” Garrett argued as he wrapped his arms around me, along with Tabby because apparently we were a package deal. “And worrying us should be your last concern, Ky. That’s literally what we’re for.” I rested my head against his and smiled through the tears.

“Aw, shit, you know I love a group hug. Make room for me too!” It took a little effort, but Mark managed to engulf the three of us and give a squeeze. “Not many know this, but I’m really a lover, not a fighter.”

“You’re a big dork is what you are,” Tabby countered, kissing him on the cheek, “but that’s part of your appeal.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many layers…kinda like this thing.” He pulled away to look at the board once again. “Care to walk me through this, or would that be too traumatizing or whatever?”

“It’s fine,” I said, wiping my face as the others released me. “It feels kinda good to see it again, actually.”

“Then I think you might need a bit more therapy,” he said with a wicked grin. “Not sure emotional support murder boards should be a thing.”

“You’re probably right about that, but I’ll shelve that red flag for now.”

I gave what could only be described as a PowerPoint presentation—sans actual PowerPoint—to get everyone fully up to speed on where things had left off before the pageant. When I finished, I found an eclectic mix of expressions staring back at me. Tabby’s brows were furrowed, which could only mean she was working hard to decipher something we might have missed in all her Rain Man glory. Garrett looked hesitant, weighing the danger in the situation. And poor Mark just looked confused.

In fairness, it was his first real look behind the curtain. The shitshow was all new to him.

And it was a lot .

“So,” Tabby said as she wandered over to the board, “you’re saying that this mobster—the one Dawson had pictures of with Striker—knew who the AD is?”

“That’s what he said…right before he tried to toss me off the roof.”

“And you said a bunch of those other Vollero mobsters were arrested before the pageant?”

“Yeah, on the east coast.”

“But he got away and made his way out here…to Ohio . For you, presumably.”

“Seems that way.”

She hesitated for a second. “So someone had to have tipped him off, if he didn’t get caught with the others.”

A fair point, and one I hadn’t considered amid the chaos at the time—or in the aftermath, for that matter.

“Which means the AD likely did it,” Garrett added as he followed along, “or one of his minions.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, “and that means he must have known something was about to go down with the feds.”

“Which brings me back to my suspicion that he has someone inside the Bureau working for him,” I added. “Maybe multiple someones feeding him information.”

“But why just that guy?” Mark asked from his post against the wall. “Why not warn them all?”

“Too obvious,” Tabby said, shaking her head.

“She’s right. It would have tipped his hand, and he’s too smart for that.”

“So he gave Manny a heads-up in return for what? Killing you?”

“It makes sense, in a disturbed serial killer sort of way, I guess,” I said, trying to shake off how morbid that reality was. “Or maybe Manny was useful in some other capacity. Maybe the AD wouldn't have killed him if he’d succeeded.”

“Or maybe he would have.” Garrett’s point was a valid one and impossible to dismiss. “Manny must have been really high up in the organization.”

“I think he was the boss’ right-hand man, from what I’ve pieced together from Dawson. Then there’s this Jimmy Barratta guy, who got caught in the raids along with the others. He was one of the mafiosos that Dawson’s agent friend back east thought he could flip. The other one died while being held. I’m still waiting to hear from Dawson about what happened there, but I think we can assume it was the AD.”

The trio around me cringed at that harsh truth.

“So what about the boss?” Tabby asked, squinting at the board. “The Vollero guy? Did they catch him too?”

“I don’t think they got him, at least not that I know of.”

“Which means he likely also had a heads-up.” She paused for a moment, lost in thought. “So here’s what I don’t get about all this. Why is this mob boss back east tied to this nefarious dickhead who’s out to get you? I mean, the AD has to be connected to Ohio somehow, or he wouldn't have so many local people under his thumb, right?” she asked as she began to pace the packed room.

“I’m assuming he does,” I replied, “and they must have some sort of mutually beneficial relationship.”

“And that relationship needed your father in prison. But why?”

“Manny basically told me that if my dad was incarcerated, his conviction would force the courts to revisit rulings on any arrests his investigations had led to. That’s one helluva reason if his cases led to mobsters getting locked up.”

“But couldn’t an investigation after his death lead to the same?” Tabby countered.

“I guess so.”

“What if your dad knew something?” Garrett said, shooting to his feet. “Something they couldn’t afford for him to disclose?”

Tabby’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Something likely tied to one of his cases.”

“Maybe he went to Reider with that information and used the dirt he had on him to leverage him into keeping it quiet,” I said, turning to the board. “He was in cybercrimes, and at one point, my father trusted him enough to have him analyze those topless pictures of me back in the day to see if he could find anything helpful to my case. He had a skillset my father didn’t, one that was useful if you were trying to track information—or someone—down.”

Garrett nodded slowly. “Like a faceless psychopath.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “And if that psychopath wanted to neutralize their collective threat, why not kill those two birds with one stone? Metaphorically speaking.”

“And literally.”

“But he didn’t kill your dad,” Mark said as he leaned closer to the board. “I mean, I'm not trying to be insensitive here, but wouldn’t that have been easier? To just kill them both?”

I shook my head. “Maybe the circus my dad’s arrest and trial caused was a smokescreen of sorts? Surely, two dead FBI agents in a random warehouse would have sparked an investigation that might have led to exposure the AD couldn’t afford. And if he leveraged my father’s silence by threatening my mom and me…”

“He wins for sure.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

“We need to see what cases your dad was working on when Reider was killed,” Tabby said in her all-business tone. “That’s where the answers are.”

“Or with the head of the Vollero family, but I guess that doesn’t matter if the feds can’t find him—or make him talk when they do. If Dawson’s friend can get Barratta to turn state’s evidence, maybe he’ll have to give up Vollero and the AD to get immunity or witness protection. But until he does, it’s a waiting game on that front.”

“Do you think Dawson can get you information on your dad’s cases?” Tabby asked, her most serious face firmly in place.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” I snatched my phone from the bed and texted him as quickly as my thumbs would let me. Then the four of us huddled together to stare at the three little dots floating across the screen. They started and stopped. Started. Stopped. Then didn’t reappear.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Mark muttered under his breath as a call from Dawson appeared on the screen.

“That took a lot of tries to type the word ‘yes’,” I said by way of greeting.

“I was trying to find a polite way to ask why the hell you want that information,” he clapped back without hesitation.

“You’re on speaker and my friends are here, so play nice.”

“Then take me off,” was his only response. I sighed and did as he asked as I headed for the bedroom door. The trio of co-conspirators followed close behind.

“You’re off, hotshot.”

“Good. Now explain.”

“Well, we were just looking at the board in my room—”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Tabby and Garrett are here with Mark to help me with my homework.”

“Sounds like that’s going well.”

“Not at the moment. And I’m assuming, given your mood, that things aren’t great on your end either.”

He sighed long and hard. “Dean is trying to regroup after yesterday’s mess, and he isn’t getting anywhere with Barratta or the other mobsters, which isn’t surprising given what happened to their buddy. Apparently, his death has been quietly ruled a suicide, even though Dean disagrees. It’s not exactly the news I wanted to get today.”

“Which is all the more reason to get me what I asked for, because I’m pretty sure whatever caught the AD’s attention in the first place is in those case files. It makes so much sense.”

I heard the shuffling of papers in the background. “It does, actually…”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for the files I have from Reider—the ones I copied right after his murder.”

“You want to cross-reference them with Dad’s,” I said, realization dawning.

“I want to see what, if anything, they may have in common. There are notes Reider made in places that didn’t make sense to me when I read them, but I was looking at things all wrong then. I assumed your dad had killed him, not that the two of them had potentially been set up. If your father didn’t lure him to that meeting—if they went there willingly to discuss something—then they both knew what that something was.”

“And that something got one killed and the other imprisoned.”

“Something the AD didn’t want to be found. We’ve just been so distracted by all the other things going on that I never really had a chance to sit down and work through that.”

“Well, you also thought my dad did it until recently, so there’s that.”

“Yes, there is that.” Was that a hint of remorse in the fed’s tone? I couldn’t be sure. “Let me see what I can get my hands on tomorrow when I return to work. I’ll need to be discreet about it—and I’ll probably need Striker’s help.”

“Which he’s not likely to give you.”

“Exactly. I’ll have to be very persuasive. And I’ll need to leave you out of it.”

“But not, like, actually leave me out of it…just make him think that, right?” I asked. His lack of immediate response made me nervous. “ Right , Dawson?”

“I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Go and actually get some homework done, Danners.”

The call dropped, leaving me gaping at the black screen, sputtering under my breath.

“What did he say?” Tabby dared to ask.

“That he wants an ass beating, apparently.”

“Kinky,” Mark replied with a laugh, “but that tracks for you too, I think.”

Tabby slapped her man’s arm, genuine shock twisting her perky features, while he laughed and Garrett looked horrified. “Yeah, we’re not going to be talking about Ky’s kinks today, thank you very much,” he said with a shudder as he headed for the door. “We need to be helping her with her homework…in the kitchen.”

“And we will,” Tabby agreed, “right after she tells us what Dawson said.”

“Not much. He’s going to try to get his hands on the cases.”

“Ugh,” she groaned as she walked down the hall, “more waiting.”

“Welcome to my world, ginger. It’s a torturous place.”

“More kinks,” Mark said as he blew past us both, then turned to wink. “And with an older guy? Scandalous .” The flush in my cheeks was immediate and did nothing to help my case at all. Thankfully, Mark, like most teenage boys, was easily distracted with food, and the moment he set foot in the kitchen, he was waist-deep in the fridge. “Jesus, Danners. To say that the food situation is bleak would be an understatement.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I hadn’t really planned to be ambushed by you guys.”

His head popped up over the open door, his mischievous smile undaunted by the empty fridge. “No worries. I just got paid. Pizza’s on me.”

Garrett stole a glance at the old clock above the sink and frowned. “I think Marco’s closes early on Sunday… like in twenty.”

“Then we don’t have time to dick around,” I replied, pulling up the number on my phone.

I was surprised when I heard the low, gruff voice of the man himself answer. “Marco’s, what can I getcha?”

“Great! You’re still taking orders—”

“For about one more minute.”

“Okay, can I get two large cheese pizzas, then?”

“Name?”

“Kylene Danners.”

Silence.

“It’ll be ready in fifteen. Don’t be late.”

“Fifteen. Got it—”

I pulled away to find the black screen looking back at me once again.

“Sweet,” Mark said as he headed for the door. “Who’s coming with me? I’m not trying to hold those and drive.”

The words ‘I’ll go’ escaped my mouth before I had time to think it through. Marco, the pizza guy (and possibly-in-WITSEC former mafioso), had been cryptic about the mafia before everything went to shit with Manny at the pageant. He’d warned me to drop it, which I clearly hadn’t. And when I’d told him my name on the phone, it was clear he felt some kind of way about me.

Part of me wasn't sure I wanted to find out exactly what that was. But the other part—the one still desperate for answers—didn’t give a shit.

“But you’re supposed to be doing homework,” Tabby argued as she held up my physics text. “I can’t body double with you if you’re not here.”

I threw the door open for Mark and followed behind him. “I need a break.”

“But you haven’t even started!”

The rest of her argument was cut off when I slammed the door behind me. “I’m going to pay for this later, aren’t I?” I asked her boyfriend as we hurried to his car.

Booming laughter was his only response.

Not a great sign.