Commissioner McAllister got excited.
REAL excited.
“You just linked a gun used in homicides to the O’Banion mess.”
“Yep, and now I’m passing it off to the man who will head the mob task force. I’m also giving you his home address. The FBI has been watching him and waiting for him to screw up. Here’s your gift from us to you. I know you didn’t want me here, but I play fair.”
She handed him the paper with the address.
Max grinned.
“This is a good day.”
“I’ve also been instructed to offer up our services as you’re trying to bring him in. The FBI wants him alive, so you can arraign him, and they will be helping out with building a case with state’s evidence against O’Banion. Here’s your way to clean up your city.”
Levi was ecstatic.
Captain Anderson too.
“I’m going to miss having Max in our division, but heading up the mob task force with this feather in his cap will get him captain’s bars before you know it.
Patty O’Brien had to be the naysayer.
Of course.
“With all the shit that’s in the news, maybe we should hold off and think this through. We get one shot at him. She’s been showboating all over Boston.”
“Showboating? Uh, it’s called working a case. I’m not here for shits and giggles.”
Max patted his partner on the shoulder.
“We all have tried to make the best of this, Patty. Elizabeth did a good job. It got us something to take down O’Banion. We’re all on the same team.”
They all looked happy.
Patty wasn’t.
“As for waiting, I say no. As head of the task force, we need to do this now. We’re taking this asshole in, and he just might sing. I will start working on getting S.W.A.T ready. We will get the warrant, and bring him in. Thank you, Elizabeth. This is going to get this corruption out of this city.”
She shook his hand.
“Can you and your team be ready by tomorrow morning?” he asked. “I am going to get a judge to issue that warrant tonight. There’s time.”
“I think we should recheck the evidence,” Patty stated again. “We’re going on her team’s discoveries. We only get one shot at this.”
She figured he’d say that.
Or someone would.
She pulled the file Chris had created for her out of her bag and passed it to the commissioner.
It was complete.
“You have it all in here.”
“Yes, and we will be ready tomorrow, Detective Bronson. When and where?”
“Can you meet us here by five in the morning?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Good.”
“Commissioner, can I head out to get S.W.A.T notified and my team together?”
He nodded.
“Have at it, son.”
“I still think this is bad. The news is pointing at O’Banion,” Patty said.
“Yeah, because I fed that weasel the information. Good work on finding a trustworthy reporter in this town,” she said sarcastically.
“So he spilled it?” Levi asked.
“Yes, and my name. I’m wearing a bull’s-eye on this. O’Banion is going to come at me, and come at me hard. He needs to be handled. Your city is a mess. We don’t have time to wait.”
He didn’t disagree.
“You heard the man in charge of the mob task force. Tomorrow, we take down Tommy ‘The Greek’. Next step, Michael O’Banion.”
She grabbed her bag, and they headed out.
She was glad they were able to put a ding in the mob’s armor in Boston. Something had to give, and the FBI was going to make sure this city lost the corruption.
God knew she didn’t want to come back there until it was handled.
She actually liked her life.
Go figure.
* * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *
Out in his car, Patty sat there thinking about all of his options. If he made the call, something bad might happen.
While he wanted to protect himself, he had to play this right.
He had to make sure he didn’t get caught up in the FBI’s net.
Yeah, this was bad.
Him or his partner.
That was what this was coming down to, and he had to be careful what he did.
So, he checked in but made up his mind.
He was going to take matters into his own hands. It was the only way to go. For now, he had to cover his bases.
Hopefully, O’Banion bought it.
The man answered the phone immediately.
“Something is going on, but I don’t know what,” he offered, knowing that he’d been the ONLY one in that room on the take. He could bend the truth a little.
“What do you mean?”
“There was a closed-door meeting. I tried to listen in, but I couldn’t get close. I need a day to find out what’s happening, and I’ll report in.”
Michael O’Banion didn’t like this. The woman was putting the heat on his operation, and he was going to make sure that he put a stop to it.
“The second you find out, I need you to contact me. I have some big things going on, and I need to see if I have to end the situation before it gets out of hand. Your partner better not be a problem.”
Patty O’Brien felt bad.
He knew the shit was hitting the fan.
And he knew that no matter what, they couldn’t get Tommy. If they did, they’d find out about him. He’d helped Tommy handle a few things.
He would go to jail.
And that was the last thing he wanted.
“I’ll keep you in the loop, boss. You know me. I’m as loyal as they come.”
Yes, Michael O’Banion was aware.
He trusted the cop on the inside.
If he ever betrayed him, bad things would happen.
They’d never find his body again. He’d make sure of that personally.
“Was my sexy Fed there?” he asked. He’d lost track of her after the hooker’s home.
“Yeah, and she hates my guts. She didn’t want me in that meeting. So, they kept me out. I may be of no use for a while, boss.”
Oh, if that happened, the man would regret it.
“When you find anything out, let me know, and if you see her alone. Take her.”
“Boss?”
“You heard me. I’ll make it worth your while if you can grab her for me. Leave no witnesses, and I’ll make you a rich captain, Patty O’Brien. That is what you want, right?”
God!
In the worst way.
“Okay, boss. If I can get her, I will.”
“Talk to you later.”
When he hung up, Patty knew one thing.
The shit was going bad. He had to find a way out of this mess, and soon.
His life expectancy was getting shorter by the minute, and he didn’t want to die at the hands of a mob man.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter Sixteen
Damascus
The Rez
H e needed to think, and this was the place that would give him the best opportunity to be alone. He still lived with his grandfather, but Callen Whitefox loved this one spot on the rez. The second he’d seen it, he’d gathered up all his savings and bought it.
It was calm there, and one day, he’d have a home right there—once he could afford it.
So much had changed in the last few days.
He’d visited his brother, he’d been ready to give up, and then he sat at that desk. The scent of the perfume, the funny notes that reached into him, and the stranger he didn’t know had somehow given him the strength to carry on.
Pulling out his journal, as he sat in the shadows of the large trees, he stared at one of the papers he’d taken with him. The feminine handwriting touched him on some level as if it were meant specifically for him.
It was silly.
Still, he felt a c
onnection. It smelled like the writer, and he wanted to keep it.
So he read it again.
‘Don’t make this space yours. You need to find your own place to mess up. It’s taken me two years to get this place to be my own. You’ll find your space one day. Then I’ll find it and mess it up.’
She was either prophetic or she really did mean her desk, but something about those words touched him.
He wanted to find his space one day, and if he did, she’d be welcome to steal his pens and leave a little of her behind.
Callen welcomed it.
For the first time, in a while, he felt alive.
So, in his journal, next to that one little scrap of paper, he began drawing what he saw in his head.
In it, he sketched his home. It was a simple pencil drawing, and it was by no means artwork, but it was his.
That was the point.
No one could take it from him.
As he grew up in squalor, only one shirt and one pair of pants to his name, he prayed one day to have more.
Here it was.
This was his slice of happiness.
This was going to be his home and where he started to plant roots. He couldn’t give up, and he wouldn’t.
That one little scrap of paper touched him, and he’d never forget that it had been the catalyst to saving him.
Callen had to fight. There was no way he could leave his granddad behind.
He’d hold on for him.
As Callen stared down at the paper with the cabin and porch, he thought it was missing someone.
“It needs a girl,” he said to no one in particular.
He swore he heard wind chimes in the air, but that wasn’t possible.
With his pencil, he began drawing a female on the porch of his little cabin.
Okay, it was a bad drawing, but she was tall, thin, and had curly hair. He colored it in with his pencil.
Staring at it, he wanted that so much.
That was what he craved.
He wanted someone to love him for him and his life. Callen knew the odds were against him, but he’d hold onto hope. After all, when he was a child being raped for scraps of food, he held onto hope, and it worked.
He had found Timothy or Timothy had found him.
Life had been hard—from the day he was born, and the abuse was immeasurable, but he survived.
Callen was a fighter.
He’d get through this too.
Behind him, he heard the crunch of tires on gravel, and he looked back at the old truck heading his way.
It was his granddad.
Seeing that piece of shit truck brought back memories. He and Ethan had stolen it so many times.
It actually hurt his heart.
Callen wished the earth would swallow it up—not because it was pathetic and beat down, much like his soul, but because when he saw it, it reminded him of his brother.
The man who wished him dead.
If not for that woman’s desk, and her notes, he would have gotten his wish.
That was the saddest part of it all.
When his grandfather got out of the vehicle, he made his way toward him.
“I didn’t know you were back, son,” he said, giving him a hug and kiss.
“I saw Ethan, and it went bad.”
Timothy sat on the log beside Callen.
“I’m sorry. Give it time.”
“I have to move on, Granddad. I have to move on. He hates my fucking guts. I’m nothing to him. He wishes I was dead.”
“Callen James…”
“It’s okay. I accept it. I thought with my dick, and I destroyed my relationship with Ethan. I made a mistake, and I’ll carry it forever.”
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I’m going to build my home here. It’s peaceful, it’s quiet, and I can start my life. I’ve spent the last eight years fighting to get him back, and I can’t anymore. It’s time to move forward.”
“I will help you built it.”
He opened his book.
“Here’s what I saw.”
Timothy looked at it. The shape was simple, and it would be easy to construct.
Then he saw the woman.
“Who is this? Did you get a perm?” he teased.
“That’s the woman I’ll marry one day. I’ll build this place for her, and hold on until she finds me.”
Timothy placed his hand on his grandson’s knee. “She’ll find you. When she does, nothing will be the same. It will be a fight, my boy, but the raven will find you too. She’s coming. Give her time to find herself. She’s not ready yet. She’s still learning how to be her.”
Callen didn’t know what he was talking about, but he’d listen to him.
He would have hope.
“Is she out there, Granddad? Will I ever be loved?”
He dropped his arm over Callen’s shoulders and hugged him to his body.
“I saw her in the smoke. When you find her, she’ll give you everything you need to be happy. It won’t be easy, but when you know she’s the one, you’ll know. Believe your heart. It won’t lie. The second you stare into her eyes, your heart and soul will know. Trust it.”
Callen squired that away for when he was lost, exhausted, and felt like he couldn’t battle anymore. Timothy always knew, and he was rarely wrong.
Well, except for Ethan forgiving him.
Hell would freeze over first.
“She will be beautiful, protective, and loving.”
He touched Callen’s burns.
“She will know the truth you hide and still love you. In fact, it will make her love you more.”
Did such a woman exist?
Was it possible?
“I believe you, Granddad.”
“You should. The Shaman doesn’t lie.”
And he never would.
* * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *
Boston
She was feeling unsettled. A part of her felt off balance and she wasn’t quite ready to call it a night.
She wanted to do one more thing, and so far, Alex had been super accommodating.
He was a good partner, and he was letting her handle this. She hoped her next request didn’t put him over the edge.
“One interview, and then we’re done,” she offered.
“Who?” he asked. “Debbie Helton’s landlord?”
“I asked the team to do their research. I’m hoping that they’ve handled that. I want background on him first before I head in there.”
“Do you want me to call Noah?”
“Message him, and tell him to get it ready. The landlord, Israel Shields, is on my list. I haven’t forgotten him. I just need to handle this mob bullshit first.”
Yeah, they had to have a talk.
As he texted his partner, he laid it on the line.
“Do you hate your life?”
“What?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Your need to chase down this mob man. It could cost you your life.”
“It’s my job.”
He stared at her.
“LaRue, you’re smart, but if you keep it up, you’re going to pay the ultimate price.”
“I appreciate your concern, Alex, but I have to do my job. This is me.”
“Oh, I know. I’ll have your back, even if we aren’t partners, LaRue, and if you ever need me, I’m there. I’ll stand by you, even if you get me killed.”
Alex was a good guy.
Here was the proof.
“Feel like one more interview?”
“I thought you wanted your intel on Israel first.”
“I do. Want to hit up Professor Prince one more time? It’s bugging me why the hell he pointed me at the mistress, but his times were wrong. Who’s lying?”
“She had documentation. It’s likely not her.”
She didn’t know what was up.
But she was going to get to the bottom of it, and fast.
“It�
��s Saturday night. I doubt he’s at work. We should swing by his house.”
Alex stared at her.
“Are you wearing?”
“Yes. I may start sleeping in Kevlar, which will suck in the sex department.”
“Which doctor is it?” he asked.
She wasn’t talking.
“Fine. I’ll find out. I know you,” he teased. In actuality, he already had his answer. It was going to be the ME. He saw her touch his hand. There was something there.
“Are you wearing your Kevlar?” she asked.
“LaRue, around you, I’m always wearing. If they made Kevlar cups, I’d be sporting that too.”
She snorted.
“Good one. Let’s go rattle his cage. I want to really show him how an investigator can be a dominatrix. I can whip his ass just as good as Mistress Melody.”
He grinned at that.
“Shut up.”
He focused.
“We don’t really have anything to hit him with other than lying about the mistress. Maybe he didn’t want another woman, a sexy one, to know that he likes to bark like a dog and be spanked. I know I wouldn’t.”
“So, you do like it…?”
He glanced over.
“Don’t do it. I’ll kick your ass, LaRue.”
She snorted.
“I couldn’t help myself.”
He opted to catch her off guard. That was how he had to work it with her. Elizabeth could keep one hell of a secret.
“So, about this guy you’re dating,” he said. “Who is he?” Alex asked.
“Nope.”
“Come on, LaRue. I go through doors with you. I’ll tell you about my sex life if you tell me about yours. If you break up, remember I’m available.”
It was never happening.
“Alex, it’s not personal. You and I have no sexual chemistry. I look at you and see the friend from school who I hung with but never wanted his dick near me.”
“Well, since you put it that way.”
She was amused.
“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I miss working with you. I wish you would have stuck around.”
“I worry about you, Elizabeth. You’re so cowboy that it’s going to get you hurt. I want to get married one day and have a life. I feel like sticking with you is going to decrease my odds. I hope you don’t hate me for it.”
Dawn of Evil_FBI Flashback Page 34