Page 85 of Only the Wicked

I think of Daisy. She’d love to use our baby, ARGUS, for a project of this nature.

“Sure. I’ll put you in touch with a person on my team. Do you have a secure laptop? Phone?”

The brown leather briefcase sitting on the floor isn’t closed, and I’m guessing that’s because it’s loaded with files. Paper files.

“No. I have a personal phone, but I’m sure it’s being monitored.”

“I’ll have Daisy send you a package. Follow her instructions.”

“Thank you. We’re underfunded, but I feel like…” her words trail and her head shakes slightly, as if she can’t believe she’s thinking the words she’s about to say.

“You feel like someone is purposefully averting funds to limit the pursuit of this case.”

She opens her mouth and releases a slow breath.

“You don’t need to say more. Daisy will be in touch.”

“It could just be that everyone at my level is overloaded and the budget is too constrained.”

“Absolutely.” Human trafficking isn’t the highest of priorities for the United States government. In theory, drugs are a higher priority, and the fight against them has gone nowhere for decades. Possibilities abound.

We stand and a harried waitress appears.

“I’m so sorry. I was on break and they didn’t come to tell me you’d been seated.”

“No worries,” I say.

I need to get back to Sydney. And I’m itching to call Daisy, both to tell her about Evie but also to ask her to proceed with that deep dive on Sydney. Her meeting with the FBI is likely innocent, but there’s no harm in confirming she’s been truthful about her identity.

Evie and I exit the air-conditioned restaurant and step back out into the heat. She sets her briefcase on the sidewalk and removes the suit jacket, revealing a wrinkled white silk blouse.

“Hey,” I say as she situates herself for what I presume is a walk back to her office. “Do you have any contacts in the FBI?”

“Some,” she answers, straightening but leaving her briefcase on the ground leaning against her calf. Her suit jacket hangs over her bag and trails the concrete sidewalk. “Mostly those who work human trafficking. You can’t possibly need a contact.”

I grin. “I have sources. But I’m curious. Would an FBI agent work on an unofficial investigation?”

“I mean, sure. We all have our pet projects. Why?” Her head tilts and awareness dawns. “Are they investigating you?”

“Not to my knowledge,” I answer with a professional and curt smile.

But if a wise person were to investigate me, they wouldn’t put it on the books, would they? Especially after Miles pushed to kill one. I’m considered a major donor. ARGUS works closely with the Pentagon and NSA.

She’s looking up at me with an inquisitive expression. And that’s how rumors get started.

“Forget I said anything. Daisy will be in touch,” I tell Evie. “Are you good to get back to your office? Should I hail you a cab? I have a car if you?—”

“That’s okay. The walk back is the only exercise I’ll get in today.” She bends and lifts the shoulder strap onto her shoulder and tucks the bag against her hip. “Rhodes, thank you. I know you don’t have to do this, but it’s for a good cause.”

“Happy to do it.”

She smiles. “I had a feeling you’d say that. That’s one thing I learned from my father.”

“What’s that?”

“Highly successful people are still regular people. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Inside, I cringe. I’m inundated with people just asking. But she’s not asking for an investment.