by Emilia Finn
Soph felt the need to add her own little notes in the margins. “McG totes did it!”
Aside from Zeus’ – which, according to Soph, is where “Victoria” makes most of her money – she also happened to research Mr. Han’s grocery store just five blocks away.
It burned down on New Year’s Eve, less than a week after the last time I ever saw Cam. Han’s insurance policy had somehow lapsed just days prior, renewal was apparently lost in the kerfuffle of Christmas, and without that settlement coming his way, he was unable to rebuild.
Goodbye, Han’s grocery store. Goodbye Cam’s main source of income.
Not that she would have been able to return to work anyway, seeing as how the cops were close, and the Quinns were once again back in hiding. New names, new jobs, new home, new lives.
Soph copied in all of the communications about William Quinn; everyone knows it’s not his real name, but no one has been able to match either of the Quinn siblings to their actual birth names. No one knows where they came from, who their parents are, where they were born, or their actual birthdays.
Soph ran a fast scan of missing teens and children for the last two decades, since they have to be someone, and those someones must now be reported missing – unless, of course, no one cared enough to report them – but her first pass over the data came up with, according to her, “sweet fuck all.”
She’s going to keep looking because, “this is like a fun game of Where’s Wally,” and she’s not gonna be done until she knows what’s up.
Her notes have been nothing if not entertaining.
Sitting back on my bed and holding my breath as I rest my shoulder blade against the wall, I bring my mug up and take a sip of hot coffee. At this point, I guess my plan is to decide how and when I’ll reveal myself to Cam. At the studio? At her home? At Zeus’ during her next shift?
Or, hell, not at all. Because she made it abundantly clear she’s done with me.
I wish I could let it go. I really, truly do, but I can’t. She left because of Will, because of his freedom and safety, but before that, we were making plans. We were going to stay faithful. We were going to meet up again. We were going to stay together, dammit, and we were going to be happy.
So until I see her again, and we decide if the heat is or isn’t still there, I can’t walk away.
At a little after ten o’clock, I walk out of my hotel room with my hat pulled low and my phone tucked securely in my back pocket. I wear a watch on my left wrist – a new watch – and tuck a wallet into my pocket with the new cards I had to order after Cam stole mine.
“Rich people can afford to take a minute to cancel cards and order new ID. To steal from a poor person is to steal their last meal. But to a rich person, it’s merely an inconvenience. I’m not sorry to inconvenience those people. They’ll get over it.”
I didn’t go hungry after Cam’s theft, and surprisingly, ordering new cards didn’t feel all that inconvenient. It was a welcome distraction, and it was comforting to know that, though Cam probably wouldn’t be naïve enough to use my cards – cards I refused to cancel – she would at least have them. If she was ever truly hungry enough, desperate enough, sad enough, she could buy whatever she wanted, and be able to survive another day.
It was the only way I could continue to take care of her. And it felt like a minor win in a war I had otherwise been blown to shit in.
After walking along the hall and into the elevators at the end, I move down half a dozen floors and stop in the lobby to find a dude in a suit waiting for me. Not me specifically. He waits for all guests. His job is to literally stand by the elevators and bow every thirty seconds.
“Good morning, sir. Can I be of assistance this morning?”
“Yeah. I need a cab.” I look toward the front doors of the hotel, and frown at the torrent of rain pouring down outside. “And an umbrella, if you have one to spare.”
“But of course.”
He bustles away to the desk and swipes up a phone. He speaks for no more than ten seconds, hangs up, snatches a long umbrella from a stand by the wall, then he rushes back with a wide smile. “It’s wet out there, sir. You’ve picked an unfortunate time to go out into our beautiful city.”
“It’ll be fine.” I accept the umbrella and slide a little cash into his palm for his trouble. “And I like the rain. Don’t you?” We walk together toward the revolving front doors. “It always washes away the grime. Gives everything a fresh new start. Rain smells so pretty, and when we’re lucky, the clouds part for just a moment, and the sun shines on the falling droplets to create a rainbow of diamonds all around us.”
“Ohhhh…” He stops by the doors, and rests his hands on his hips. “You’re a romantic. I see now. You were probably hoping for the rain.”
I snort and reach up with my uninjured arm to fix my hat low over my eyes. “I wasn’t hoping for it. Pretty or not, it’s still wet, and wet is annoying if it gets into my socks. But it’s here, so I’ll try to think of the positives.”
“An optimist.”
“You like labels, huh?”
He gives his belly a pat, and chortles. He fucking chortles. “I’m a romantic too, sir. And an optimist. I don’t quite understand all the folks who walk around with a scowl all day long. It must be exhausting, holding on to all that anger.”
“I scowl a lot,” I admit on a murmur and… scowl. “And lately, I’ve been described as angry.”
“Well, perhaps our beautiful city has given you a new lease on your happiness. Because except for right this moment, I’ve only seen you smile. It’s a breath of fresh air, considering our usual guests are…” He looks around, then leans a little closer. “Precious, if you know my meaning.”
My chest bounces with muted laughter. “I know your meaning. What time are you off shift today…” I glance at the name tag above his breast pocket, “Rupert?”
“Three o’clock, sir. I start early and finish early so I have time to pick my granddaughter up from school at a quarter past.”
“Oh, well.” I reach up and pat his shoulder. “I’m not sure if I’ll be back by three. If I am, maybe remind me to smile. And if I’m not, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.”
He looks to the doors, and grins when a yellow cab pulls in under the vast shelter that covers the driveway.
“Your cab awaits.”
“I appreciate it.” I take a step in that direction only to pause and turn back with a frown.
Rupert takes a step closer. “Sir?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“But of course.”
“Are you a local? Have you been here all your life?”
“Born and raised just six blocks from here.” He puffs out his chest and speaks with pride. “Apart from a single tour with the Army, I’ve never left.”
“Well.” I lower my chin in acknowledgment. “We thank you for your service. Can you tell me, since you’re a local, what are your thoughts on Channel Street? Over by the docks, twenty minutes from here.”
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” He shakes his head so fast that his jowls swing. “You do not go over there unless you would like things stolen right off your body.”
“It’s dangerous?”
“Very, very dangerous. We do not move there, and we do not seek work there. You must be born there, and then you must learn fast how to keep up.”
I consider his words, and wonder if Cam and Will’s birthplace was just revealed. I should send Soph a text and ask her to search for missing teens in that specific area. Though of course, that logic is flawed. If you wanted to be missing, then why the hell would you stay in the same place? And if you wanted to be found somewhere else, as someone else, why go to a neighborhood where everyone is born with brass knuckles?
“Is that all, sir?”
“Um… yeah.” I step toward the door, but pause again and turn back. “Do you know Zeus’ club?”
Rupert’s jowls turn bright red in an instant. “Tha
t’s a… uh…” He clears his throat. “That’s a club for men who would like a little fun before they go home to the wife. Not me, sir.” He presses a hand to his chest. “My Priscilla would murder me dead if I even considered it. But I do know of the place. Everyone does. If you live in this city, you know of Zeus’.”
“What do you know?” I step back to him. “What is their reputation?”
“Beautiful women,” he rasps out. “Expensive women. ‘Tis a club for high income earners, and rumor has it there is a membership criteria. To become a member, you must prove your income.”
“Interesting.” I bring a hand up and roll my bottom lip between my thumb and finger. “Rich old perverts.”
“Generally speaking, sir. Though not all are old. This is an affluent city, and much of the money now belongs to young entrepreneurs. Times have changed. Back in my day, a man was rich because he started a manufacturing plant, or his daddy did. But this is the era of technology. Young twenty-somethings are making their millions without walking outside. They do the thing they do, but on computers.”
“And Zeus himself?” I ask. “Evan McGrady?”
“He was in the newspaper just last Saturday. He is the city’s most eligible bachelor. It was a gossip article,” he tacks on when I frown, “just silly. But his net worth, the power he yields, and the fact his wife has passed means he’s back on the market, and there are many young women vying for his attention.”
“Do you know him?”
“Personally?” He shakes his head. “No, sir. We do not run in the same circles. But I know of him. I know that he is a shrewd businessman. He is mean as a snake. And if you ask someone in private,” he leans closer, whispers, “there are many rumors that he’s not entirely all there,” he points at his temple, “and his wife did not come to a peaceful end, but something much more sinister.”
“He killed her?” I pull back and study the man’s face. “The crazy guy killed his wife?”
Rupert only shrugs. “He and I do not run in the same circles.”
“Alright.” I slide another bill from my pocket and place it against his palm. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be back a little later today.”
“Please be careful, sir. You’re not from here. But you just asked about the city’s underbelly without blinking. I must insist you do not go over to that side of town.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m not as precious as I appear.” I smirk and move through the door.
Sliding into the already opened cab, I give the driver directions and take out my phone.
“Soph?”
“Are we in a committed relationship now? Because I can assure you, I don’t even talk to my children this much.”
“No, we’re not. But I have some questions that I would be super thankful if you could help me out with.”
“Kincaid, I am busy! You think I’m not busy? I’m a mom! You want help with your shit, meanwhile, my daughter literally handed me a log of shit this morning. You and I have wildly different problems.”
“But…” I stare out the window into the heavy rain. “If you’re working, you’re relieved of mom duties. That means Jay will have to deal with the log of shit.”
“Deal. Jay! Get in here and clean Elle up. I have to work.”
“Woman! I’m busy.”
Silence descends for a full minute. A loaded silence. A dangerous silence.
Jay breaks it with an, “I got it.”
“Thank you, honey.” Soph kisses him, their daughter giggles, and then the only sound I hear is Soph’s shoes against the hardwood floor. “Alright. What are your questions?”
“I need a new identity made up so I can gain access to the club. They want high income earners, rich boys with money to splash.”
“Kid! You are a rich boy with money to splash. Splash it!”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think it would be prudent to use my real name,” I grit out. “For obvious reasons. So I’m gonna need something else. You could get me an ID, and I can turn up to sign up. Or you could speed that up for me too, and just get me a membership there.”
“Do you have any clue how much you’re asking of me? Seriously,” she grumbles. “You make it all sound so easy and ‘oh, Soph has got it.’ But regular folks can’t do the things I can do. If the FBI knew what I am capable of, they’d probably try to lock me up in a lab somewhere, you know that, right?”
“You’d break straight back out, so stop playing. We all know Griffin Industries landed a massive defense industry contract two years back. We all know which buildings he now ‘secures’. So stop with the coy act and get me that membership.”
Silence descends for a full minute. A loaded silence. A dangerous silence.
I break it with an exaggerated, “Pretty pleeeeease?”
She snorts. “Fine, I’ll have it done for you today. You’ll have access by tonight.”
“Ugh! I adore you. Are you set on staying with Jay? Because I think I have a thing for dancers, so…”
“You are three seconds from a sniper bullet piercing the window of that yellow cab you’re riding in. Wanna continue that train of thought?”
“Nope. Changed my mind.”
She snickers. “Thought so. Are we done?”
“Nope. That dude’s wife…” I’m trying my damn best not to name names, since my driver’s eyes flicker to mine in the mirror. “You know the guy?”
“McGrady? Yeah, she’s dead.”
“Yeah, that one. Can you find out what happened? I don’t know that it’s important to us, but still… I dunno. I’d like to know.”
“Sure. Quick scan last night showed she died of accidental overdose. But there was blood under her nails, ligature marks around her neck, and burst blood vessels in her eyes.”
My stomach whooshes and drops. “Are you reading the report right now?”
“No, I’m watching Paw Patrol. Why?”
“So you just…” Paw Patrol? “You remember those details, just like that?”
“I’m magic,” she teases. “The coroner’s report says accidental overdose, but it’s a lie. The M.E. must be in McGrady’s pocket, because that’s not even a decent effort in bullshitting. Usually, those of us in the business of fucking with data tend to at least make it believable. Cover our tracks. Make sure it’s plausible, if not watertight. So whoever that M.E. is, he’s powerful, because he’s clearly unafraid of anyone questioning him. And McGrady’s got him on lock. I bet if we went through that guy’s caseload, we’d find a whole heap of bodies that met a suspicious death.”
“Convenient for him,” I drawl. “A cleanup crew. A get-out-of-jail-free card with unlimited uses.”
“I wish there was an actual card for that,” Soph laments. “It would come in super handy. Okay, are we done now? Wishenpoof is just about to come on, so…”
“Yeah, I think we’re done. I’m heading over to the studio now. If you send my documents to the hotel before tonight, we’ll be square. Did you find anything else since we last spoke?”
“Yeah. Will was working last night. I found him walking back to the triple lock place at a little past midnight.”
“And Cam?”
“No visual confirmation. I know I’m kinda awesome, but I have to sleep sometimes. She came in after I dropped, she left again before I woke. She sleeps less than I do, and that’s kind of a big deal, considering who my husband is.”
“She’s at the studio right now?”
“I don’t know! Jesus. Did you forget the log of shit thing? Because I can send you pictures.”
“Nope. I’ve got it. I’m about ten minutes out.”
“Alright, fighter. Have fun with your dancing girl. Don’t get arrested, because I haven’t figured out the get-out-of-jail-free-card thing yet.”
“I won’t. Walking in the street isn’t illegal.”
“Don’t get her arrested either. She’s worked hard to remain invisible. Don’t undo that without a good reason. And no,” she cuts in before I can speak, “wanting t
o kiss her isn’t a good enough reason. If you’re gonna blow their cover, you make damn sure it’s for the right reasons. Otherwise I’m gonna find me a coroner for sale, and I’m gonna get you taken care of.”
“Brutal. If my mother heard you speak that way…”
She snorts. “Boy, I’m not that stupid. Moms scare me. They have superpowers, and strength that not even my muscle can compete with.”
“You’re a mom.”
“I know,” she declares. “Don’t forget it. Good luck today. If you think the moment is right, you could tell her we miss her, and she’s welcome back anytime. We won’t snitch.”
“Um…” Emotion swells in my throat and stops. “I… uh… sure. If the moment is right.”
A few minutes after hanging up, my driver pulls up a full block away from the studio, just as I requested. I toss cash across to the front seat, grab my borrowed umbrella, and, climbing out into the heavy rain, I step over the flooding water that races along the curb and into the drain.
The rain is loud, heavy, and comes with the added bonus of warm air, so sweat clings to my skin beneath my shirt, and essentially renders the umbrella useless.
I don’t move until the cab pulls away from the curb and ambles away. Then, securing the umbrella over my head, I fix my hat low, and start walking along the street. I’m on the opposite side of the road from where I need to be. But I have time, and a whole lot of patience.
The universe decides that irony is the word of the day, because within minutes, my socks soak through, and my boots turn heavy. But the rain is also a blessing in ways. Most folks who are out have umbrellas shielding their identities. Everyone has their heads down. Everyone is bustling from point A to point B. So there’s nothing unusual about the way I keep my head down and my hat pulled low over my eyes.
I wander along the street, and slow my steps about fifty feet from Cam’s triple-locked front door. There are no lights on inside, no indication that anyone is home. But I hit the jackpot when the front door opens, and from my vantage point beneath my hat and umbrella, I see a pair of legs come outside. Thick legs. Fighter legs.