Page 18

Chapter 18

Jay

W e met with the team early Wednesday morning to share new updates. By that time, Wendy had been missing at least four days, and our chances of finding her dropped with every passing hour.

“I didn’t find anything new,” Maxwell said, staring at her whiteboard.

“I did.”

Maxwell turned towards me, her raised left eyebrow the only sign of her shock.

She wasn’t the only one who’d worked late into the night. And it wasn’t because I felt guilty knowing Maxwell kept working—I could hear the clock ticking down for Wendy.

“What, you think you’re the only one who works on cases at home?”

“I was under the impression you were too tired to work after we left.”

I didn’t miss the snark in her voice. Sighing, I changed the subject. “My gut wouldn’t let me sleep so I researched the plaza and the empty suites.” I opened my laptop and signed in. I mistyped my password, and had to try again.

Her patience ran out. “Well, what’d you find?”

Christ, it’s not like I did it on purpose.

I opened my file. “Both tenants were bought out of their leases early by a shell corporation. I don’t have a name yet, but I’m guessing it’s Roman.”

“We don’t guess,” she said. “We research, we dig, we verify.”

Don’t roll you eyes. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.

“I know that, Maxwell. But I also know when to trust my gut. And my gut is telling me Roman is expanding his business into the surrounding spaces.”

She stood, rolling her shoulders back, trying to be taller than her five-foot-seven inch frame, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at me.

I could see the thoughts swirling as micro expressions flashed across her face.

She finally said, “Tell me more.”

“Can I use your printer?” I asked.

“Of course. It’s available to anyone on the server,” she didn’t roll her eyes but her tone suggested she wanted to.

I sent the docs to the printer as I continued, “Roman owns other properties, a lot of them, but what if he wanted to use the Quick Wash to consolidate his gambling ring?”

She grabbed the papers from the printer. “Continue,” she said as she started reading .

“The Quick Wash plaza is a relatively new purchase and six months after buying it he bought his neighbors out of their leases.”

She glanced up.

“For the sake of my theory, let’s assume it’s him.”

She nodded. “Okay, go on.”

“The previous plaza owner filed for bankruptcy after sinking into sudden debt.”

She stopped and looked at me. “Good work.” This time I wasn’t offended by the compliment, but I couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Should I be?” She looked me up and down, then looked down at her usual attire, a black pant suit. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”

It didn’t take a fancy degree to know what she had in mind. “Yeah, fancy a trip to Fort Worth, Mrs. Bishop?”

She sighed. “I do.”

I rapped my knuckles on my father’s door.

“Come in.” He looked up from his monitor. “Jay, Maxwell.” He nodded in greeting.

I looked to Maxwell, she was the lead after all, but she nodded, deferring to me. I saw the slightest lift of my father’s left cheek, the start of the lop-sided grin, just like the one I’d inherited from him.

Dad was a pro as schooling his features, and I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking right at him.

“I, we, have reason to believe Roman is running his gambling ring in the plaza. ”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. “How’s it tied to Wendy?”

“Her father owed Roman money, and he sent her to the cleaners to drop off a payment when he was sick,” I answered.

“The timing lines up with her breaking up with her now ex-boyfriend and the appearance of the mysterious Mr. R,” Maxwell picked up where I left off.

“Next steps?” Dad asked.

“We’ll pick up our laundry,” I shrugged. “And while we’re there, I’ll let slip that I want to go to Wynd Star in Dallas to win some money to pay for our money-pit of a new home.”

“Play it cool. Let them come to you,” Dad mused. He’d done his fair share of undercover work when he was a detective with the Parker County Sheriff’s office. He looked at Maxwell and asked, “You think it’ll work?”

“I do, though it may not happen right away. I’ll grab a burner so we can give them a contact number.”

“Good. Let me know if you want back up. I’d be happy to take a break from all this paperwork.”

I laughed. While I occasionally regretted not buying into the business in the beginning, I didn’t envy the stacks of paperwork and bureaucratic bullshit they had to deal with to keep the business running.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Maxwell asked when I walked back into our office after changing.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

“You look like a slob.” She wrinkled her nose at me.

“I’ve been working on a money pit, remember? ”

She looked at me as it sunk in. I was better dressed for the role than she was. Her leggings and t-shirt looked new.

“Shit. Can we stop by my place before we go?”

I laughed. “Sure.” She’d taken all the fun out of teasing her. “I’m driving. You ready?”

Maxwell hesitated when I asked if she wanted me to wait in the truck. She clearly had reservations about letting me see her apartment, which only made me want to see it more.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen my place,” I said.

“It’s not yours, you live with your brother.”

“For now. I haven’t found the right place yet,” I defended myself. It wasn’t like I was jobless and living in my parents’ basement. Besides, Jack had lived with Jamie. So had Meg, before she and Jack got married and bought their own place.

“Fine, you can come in.” There was a very strong, ‘but don’t touch anything vibe’ coming off her.

“Thank you.” I oozed southern charm, tipping the brim of my baseball cap.

Maxwell’s apartment looked like it belonged in a magazine, not because it was artfully decorated, it wasn’t, but because it looked so organized and clean. Like photo shoot ready clean. Like she didn’t live here clean.

Everything on her shelves was placed at matching angles. The pictures, the books, the awards and trophies. Even the boxing gloves were propped up to look like they were modeling.

There were several pictures of her with a man, who, from the looks of it, was her father. Several of her and her father wearing boxing gloves at various ages, them at her high school and two different college graduations, and several of them together in Marine uniforms. I picked one up and examined it closer; they had the same piercing blue eyes and severe expression. Christ, even as a kid, Maxwell had a stick up her ass.

I scanned the shelves but didn’t see any pictures of her mother. I wonder why.

I couldn’t imagine living like this. The house I shared with Jamie and Emily was clean, but it looked lived in, relaxed, and welcoming. There were pictures of both families everywhere, including loved ones they’d lost. The same was true at my parent’s house.

Hell, even as the black sheep I carried pictures of my family with me in the Marines.

Unlike Darling’s shelf, there wasn’t a speck of dust on Maxwell’s. There was nothing to guide me, so I’d probably put the frame back in the wrong spot.

Does she ever relax ? I’d long thought Maxwell was OCD, or at least had OCD tendencies, but now I knew. What happened to cause it ? I had a buddy who’d suffered extreme PTSD and one of his symptoms was OCD behavior. PTSD wasn’t the only reason a person might need such an extreme level of control, but knowing she was an FBI profiler, I had to wonder what kind of heavy shit she’d seen.

“I’m ready.”

I stepped away from the shelf as she came into the room. Her eye twitched ever so slightly when she looked at the shelf.

“That’s much better,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t yell at me for daring to touch a photo. “You look like you’ve been helping fix our disaster of a home.”

“Thanks.” She walked over and fixed the frame.

“Your dad?”

“Yes.” She didn’t offer any more.

“Is he still in the Marines?” I asked. He was in uniform in most of the photos.

“Yes. He’s a three star general, stationed in DC.”

Impressive . I let my whistle do the talking. Until it clicked and my jaw dropped. “Wait. You’re General Maxwell’s kid?”

There weren’t a lot of three star generals in the Marine Corps, and even fewer in the Capitol, so of course I knew who he was.

“Yes. Let’s go.” She said, eliminating my chance to ask more questions.

The chime on the door alerted Adam to our presence as we walked in.

“Good morning, Adam.” Maxwell, no Charlie , greeted him.

“You remembered.” He smiled, obviously flattered by her attention.

I pretended not to care.

“Of course I did.” She flashed a toothy white smile. “Hopefully our clothes are done?” She looked down at herself and chuckled. “We’ll have more for you soon.”

“I’ll go get them,” Adam said .

When I saw a shadow in the office, indicating he was coming back, I asked, “So what do you think, want to go to Dallas this weekend and see if our luck will hold out?”

Maxwell didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know, what if you lose this time?”

“I won’t, Lady Luck is on my side,” I puffed out my chest like I was special.

She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “I’m just not sure it’s a good idea. We need to save money for all the stupid house shit we weren’t expecting. You know, like buying a new washer and dryer.”

“Charlie,” Adam used her first name as he came out the door. “Silly me forgot there was an issue getting everything done. We would’ve called but you didn’t leave a number.”

“I didn’t? I’m so sorry.” She walked up to the window. “Are our clothes okay?” She added a little panic to her voice.

“Yes, yes, no need to worry. Your clothes are fine, but our machine went down and we didn’t finish them. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

I bet he is .

“Oh man, you had me worried.” She put her hand over her heart. “I don’t think I could handle any thing else going wrong.”

She’s good .

“They should be done tomorrow. And for the inconvenience, we’ll take another ten percent off.”

“Thank you. Here, let me give you my number, just in case. ”

She rattled off the number like she’d known it her entire adult life, rather than memorizing it less than an hour ago.

“I’ll call if we have any other issues.” He looked at me. “I don’t want to overstep, Mr. Bishop, but I heard you talking about going to a Dallas casino. If you want to avoid the big city, we have a friendly local game you might be interested in.”

Jackpot .

“Oh, I don’t know.” I paused and put my arm around Maxwell’s waist. “The old ball and chain doesn’t think I should.”

“It’s a friendly game, low stakes. Surely that’d be okay,” he said, addressing Maxwell. “Come on Charlie, let your old man live a little.” I didn’t miss how he referred to me as Mr. Bishop but he called Maxwell, Charlie.

“Maybe,” she said. Then turned to me, “We’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

“Okay.” I gave a very good impression of being a whipped husband. “Maybe we can get some Chinese while we’re here.”

She smiled and patted my stomach. Wanting to impress her, my ab muscles flexed of their own accord. Traitors.

“He’s always hungry,” she said to Adam.

“I’m a big boy,” I straightened to my full six-foot-two height. Take that, Adam. He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of winning over Maxwell when I was his competition. “And you know how much I love Chinese food.”

“Fine, we’ll get Chinese. Again,” she said, rolling her eyes .

Maxwell turned back to Adam and said, “Thanks again, Adam.” She flashed her mega watt smile. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, unless I hear from you.”