Page 11

I stare at the text thread until the little bubbles sear themselves into my brain, and even after that, I can’t believe my eyes.

Yes. She said yes.

All morning, my body has been vibrating from elation, and despite how I’m supposed to be stressing over this new possible serial killer development, my mind is instead racing over a million and one places we can go.

There’s a new anime cafe opening up, but Elena doesn’t strike me as a TV watcher. We could always do one of the classics, like putt-putt or bowling, but I don’t want to put a definitive time limit on the date. There’s also dinner, but she’s not a fan of big crowds.

There definitely has to be food though, and maybe some music. Something that puts us closer together so I get the opportunity to touch her again. I need to see if the rest of her is as soft as her hands. Which, in retrospect, is kind of surprising because of her job…

Oh yeah, we can totally go hiking or go to the ast?—

A subtle kick under the table hits me right in the shin, yanking me from my thoughts. Agent Fikes’ side eyes me and tilts his head to the front of the room, which I follow to find my uncle looking less than impressed.

It’s a well-known fact that I can't concentrate on shit, but normally I’m a little better at it when it’s work related, especially when the room is as serious and grim as this. I suck my teeth, mentally slapping myself on the cheek to focus. “Sorry, boss. Can you repeat that?”

My uncle pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I was explaining the tox report on Julio Juarez and asked if you can recall him being a user. There were no reports of casual use, only speculation.”

My insides turn. Julio was a user, a distributor, and an abuser—all the shitty things that rhyme. That man was a lot of things, yet somehow, I still harbor a little guilt over getting involved with him. At the time, he was a means to an end. A way in. Really, what better way to gather information on the Babin than by helping his enemy?

At least, that was my thought process going into it. My uncle had put up blockades one after another to prevent me from closing in on the Babins, and after a terrible, or perhaps an inspiring night, I decided to try another way. A sneakier, slightly-but-not-totally-illegal way, by becoming fast friends with a local mayor in Georgia who I heard was Alexi’s nemesis.

Turns out Julio wasn’t shit to Alexi. He was simply a puppet to the cartel, a man on strings being made to look as though he called the shots and knew everything about everything. When, really, he knew nothing . He was arrogant and stupid, and if there’s anything I regret doing, it’s working with him.

I never wanted him dead, though.

“Yes. He did a variety of drugs.” Which is hell of ironic considering his big thing while running for governor was to rid the state of them.

My uncle nods slowly. “And here’s where we come to an impasse.”

“What impasse?” I snap, my eyes narrowed.

“The vial and its contents can no longer be looked at as evidence in first degree murder because Juarez was laden with drugs. One of which was laced with fentanyl. A signature move by?—”

“The cartel,’’ I finish for him, the curtain of another lead falling closed. “They were using him. Why would they try to kill him before they got what they wanted?”

“We aren’t sure what the cartel wanted, Agent. And therein lies the problem.”

“So you’re saying the components found in the vial are null?”

“For the time being.” He nods again. “The best we’d even be able to charge with is maybe reckless homicide. It’s not worth the chase.”

It’s bullshit to ignore the vial, but I don’t push it, because I know it’d be pointless. I know my uncle well enough to know when a point is moot. “So our focus needs to shift?”

Agent James shakes his head. “Our focus has always been the cartel.”

“Yes. Of course.” I lift my hands in faux surrender before leaning back in the chair and letting my eyes drift to the others in the room. Beside me, my trainee scribbles furiously over a pad of paper, and I swear sparks will ignite if he moves any faster. Against the wall is the chief of police, Warren, and his deputy, both of whom have their arms crossed and deep set scowls.

It’s only now that I realize how heavy the air is. How thick. Something is happening, and I quickly decide to bury my obsession against the devil to focus on what the hell is going on now.

My uncle nods to my trainee. “Because of the files that Fikes brought to our attention, I’ve invited Warren over and we went through them together, as well as with the commissioner.”

Interest piqued, I lean forward, my heart thrumming a little faster in my chest. "And?”

My uncle releases a weighted sigh before running a hand through his hair. “While the majority of the bodies found in the Savannah are affiliated with the cartel, everyone agrees that the dozen others with similar kill patterns are clearly the work of two distinct individuals. Now, whether those two are connected to said gangs currently running through the city is still unknown, and we’ll need you to join in on the investigation. Create a new profile.”

“Right.” I give him a curt nod, already adjusting to stand. There’s a shit ton of overlooked evidence to comb through to be able to draft a new one. But just as my ass lifts from the chair, his lips pull into a thin line.

“There’s more, Frances.”

“Oh?” I slowly fall back into my chair, brows raised in curiosity.

The police chief is the one to speak now, his graying head shimmering under the fluorescent lights as he adjusts in his seat to face me. “The commissioner has concerns that the vial may contain a new drug—or at least be the next thing that laces drugs on the market. He has reason to believe they come from the cartel, but wants to leave the possibility it may be coming over the border as well.”

By some miracle, I manage to trap the laughter bubbling in my throat. “So he thinks there’s a chance these drugs are from the Babins?” It’s a well known fact Alexi runs one hundred percent of the state’s drugs.

“I’m not at liberty to say exactly where he has suspicions, but that other prospects can’t be ruled out just yet.”

My uncle clears his throat, his annoyance at Alexi being brought back into the conversation apparent on his face. “Fikes, please gather those files and meet us in the debriefing room.”

The trainee beside me nearly jumps to his feet, nodding a little too enthusiastically, reinforcing the image of a bobble head. “Yes, sir.”

As he scampers to the door, the room sits in silence, the eerie weight of it almost uncomfortable. And the moment the door closes, the deputy stands, shoving his hands into his uniform pockets.

My eyes bounce from him to my uncle. “What’s going on?”

The deputy’s dark eyes rove over me in a way that makes my skin feel slimy. “We have it on good authority where one of the cartel bases is located.”

If my eyebrows could lift my hairline, I’d look like I’m balding. “You have an informant?”

It’s been over twenty years since the cartel made their appearance into Georgia, and unlike Alexi, they move in complete silence. They’re organized and concentrated, focused solely on profit and expansion. Anyone who opens their mouth, doesn’t follow orders, or basically does anything that puts them at risk of exposure, is later found floating in the river.

Their notoriety stems from a silent, lethal violence, and as much as the local police department and the bureau has tried to find anything on them, they always come back empty.

“Yes.”

I don’t bother asking who, and instead question the obvious. For all that the cartel does, they pride themselves on not getting caught. And the only way an operation as big as they are don’t, is by their own informants in the PD. We know they exist but finding them has proved frustratingly impossible.

“How many people know about this location?”

My uncle’s jaw tics. “The three of us in this room, the commissioner, and our informant.”

“And you’re telling me because?” I’m a forensic psychologist so knowing this type of information isn’t particularly warranted.

“To be completely frank with you,” Warren stands, and positions himself next to my uncle, “you’re the only one in this room Agent James trusts.”

My gaze flits to my uncle. “You think we have a rat here ?”

He winces with the use of the word rat, but nods. “I’m not saying we do, but it’s clear both the police department and bureau are compromised in some way. Any time we go to make a move, they’ve closed shop and relocated.”

This is true. There have been more than a few occasions when this office was turned upside down from my uncle’s rage.

“What do you need me to do?” His trust in me can’t be the only reason he’s telling me all this.

“We need profiles built on the two potential serial killers dumping bodies in the river. We’ve already contacted South Carolina’s unit and are having any files they have sent our way. You’ll work on this with the others assigned to the case, and it’s important you don’t try to tie it into any cartel members.”

“So simply analyze what we have and what type of person we’re looking for.”

“Yes. Find those patterns you excel at and we’ll build a media statement with the information.”

I nod, understanding already washing over. “So everyone’s focus is on a potential serial killer while, in the meantime…”

“You’ll be surveilling the location,” Warren chimes in. “It’s an alleged cartel cargo base, and once we confirm the validity of it, all we need to know is what times they move, and how much product is being moved.”

“Seems easy enough.” I shrug.

“Confidentiality is of the utmost importance. Not only for the success of this operation, but for your safety.” The deputy, whose name I finally remember is Stevens, asserts himself.

I lift a hand. “Look, I have no problem sticking to the shadows and jotting down a few notes.”

“Good.” Warren nods and claps my uncle on the back. “Let’s meet with the team investigating the river kills and then meet after to debrief and create an action plan for Agent Frances’ surveillance.”

Though he looks as though he’s aged ten years in the last five minutes, he grunts his agreement and stands, leading the men out of his office. When I follow suit, he partially closes the door.

The shadows under his eyes are darker, and I’m only now noticing the longer-than-normal stubble decorating his jaw.

“You’re worried,” I whisper, eyes flashing to the retreating men. “Don’t be.”

My uncle huffs a humorless laugh. “This gang is dangerous, Jess. And if I had it my way, you’d be solely on the river murders.”

“It’s just a little note taking.” A part of me softens. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

His eyes roll. “Says the agent with more slaps on the wrist than the entire state combined.”

A smile curls my lips. “Yeah, true. But also, I have no desire to get deeper involved with them outside of what you need.”

“Yet you’re so hell bent on Alexi.”

I shrug, trying to ignore the sting of how wild of a turn my day has taken. Just this morning I was on cloud nine about a date, and now I’m diving headfirst into a fucking hornets’ nest, my revenge yet again on the back burner. Kind of. “Yeah, well, I’m definitely still doing that after this.”

My uncle sucks in a heavy sigh. “If you don’t break any rules and play it safe, I’ll help you.”

A mix of shock and excitement swirls in my stomach. After two years of constant denial I can’t help but wonder if I’m hearing shit. “Seriously?”

He nods. “If it means making sure you stay safe, absolutely.”

I smile, but part of me is curious if there’s something else I’m missing. Something he’s not saying as to why he’s so damn stressed over a relatively simple assignment. But before I can ask, Warren calls for us at the end of the hall.

I give my uncle’s bicep a reassuring squeeze, though I’m not sure it calms him, before making my way to the conference room.

Hours pass as the assembled team scours through the files, organizing information enough that I’m able to start the remnants of a profile. It isn’t until it’s far past sunset that the office clears and I reconvene in my uncle’s office.

They give me a time, a location, and access to an arsenal of repossessed cars I can use before I’m finally headed home.

I’m tempted to drive straight to The Four to get a well-deserved shot, but when my fingers pull up my text thread, Jenna isn’t the one I send a message to.