by Mary Stone
“Of course.” Glenn scribbled out a few words and returned her attention to the older man. “That was to avoid a conflict of interest when you won your senate seat twelve years ago, right?”
“Right. Josh’s uncle guided him for those first few years, but he’s been in charge ever since. I still sit on the board of directors, but Josh runs the show.”
Glenn shot Young a grin. “I have a son of my own. He’s only eleven, and he’d rather play video games than study economics. I imagine you must be proud of the great work your son has been doing.”
Senator Young straightened in his chair and lifted his chin. “I am, yes.” The edge of his lips twitched as if trying to smile but not quite committing to the expression. “But that also means that I might not be the best person to answer your questions, especially if they have to do with Happy Harvest’s recent dealings with Premier.”
After ten years in the Central Intelligence Agency, Zane had spent plenty of time studying the facial expressions of the men and women around him. The ability to detect deception had been the difference between life and death more times than he cared to count.
At that moment, Zane would bet his bottom dollar on Stan Young being full of shit.
In a normal interview, Zane would have been struck with a measure of pride after he’d identified a carefully crafted lie. But today, seated across from a senator with endless financial resources, his stomach dropped.
Conspiracies might not often be true, as Glenn had professed, but when they were, the world was a much more sinister place.
Glenn ran through her list of questions regarding Young’s historical relationship with Premier Ag Solutions. Since there were no other trafficking convictions against sites operated by Premier, however, the inquiry yielded little useful answers.
Josh Young was out of town for a conference in Minneapolis, so the elder Young handed them each an embossed business card with his son’s contact information. Josh was due back in two days, and the senator assured them Josh would be more than happy to discuss the company’s recent dealings with Premier.
Young led them back down the hall and through the reception area, where he wished them good luck on their case. Zane accepted the senator’s departing handshake and thanked the man for his time.
As soon as the silver doors of the elevator slid closed, Zane leaned against a handrail and crossed his arms.
Glenn also slumped against the elevator wall. Her lackluster smile revealed defeat even before she opened her mouth to say as much. “Well, you were right. Go ahead and say it.”
“That’s not my style. We had to see for ourselves, right?” For a beat, Zane considered telling Glenn about the senator’s peculiarities. But when he spotted a round lens mounted in the top right corner of the pristine elevator, he bit his tongue.
Rather than risk a sensitive discussion being overheard, Zane pulled the smartphone from inside his black suit jacket and unlocked the screen. As his eyes fell on an office-wide announcement from the FBI, he whispered a curse.
“What happened?” Glenn’s tone sharpened. “You okay?”
Zane held up the device for her to see. “This came in ten minutes ago. It’s an APB.”
Glenn dove into her purse to retrieve her own device. “An APB for Russel Ulmer.” She scanned the text on the screen. “Wanted for…” Her eyes widened. “For the murder of Carlo Enrico. Ulmer’s a corrections officer. Holy shit.”
“At least we got some useful news today.” Zane wished he could say as much for his own case.
Dropping the phone back into her handbag, Glenn snorted. “About time something worked out.”
As much as Zane wanted to celebrate the victory, a stone remained at the bottom of his stomach. He couldn’t help but think he and Glenn had just made a critical error by conducting an in-person interview with Stan Young.
Clenching and releasing his fist, he glanced back to the camera.
If Senator Young was half as corrupt as Ben Storey seemed to think, then one of his first inclinations would be to delve into Glenn and Zane’s records. The Bureau kept information about its agents under lock and key, but as a sitting U.S. Senator, Young had access to resources that could cut through the red tape.
How far through the red tape, Zane didn’t know.
If the senator accessed classified intelligence records, then there was a good chance he’d find one of the operations Zane had worked with the CIA. Zane had never been outed as an American spy, and technically, he could return to Moscow or St. Petersburg to be greeted with celebrations and lavish parties.
A couple phone calls from a corrupt senator could change that narrative.
Zane had wanted to make a clean break from his life in the Central Intelligence Agency. But as he and Glenn rode down forty stories to the chic, modern lobby of a skyscraper owned by the Young family, he already knew he had to renege on that promise to himself.
If Stan Young decided to investigate Zane’s past, he needed to know.
He needed to prepare himself.
20
A wave of fresh air rushed up to Amelia as Joseph pulled open the driver’s side door and slid into his seat. Like a stranded sailor who’d come across water for the first time in days, she took in as much of the scent of wet concrete as she could. But the chatter of the apartment complex’s sprinklers came to an abrupt end as Joseph pulled the door closed, and Amelia was back to more of the same.
She and Joseph had been stuffed in the compact car for close to four hours, and Joseph’s trip to the gas station across the street was the first time either of them had left their post.
Despite Amelia’s swift decision to send the city police to arrest Russel Ulmer, the CPD had arrived to find Ulmer’s apartment empty and his car gone. The news had elicited more than a few four-letter words from Amelia, but Joseph quickly reminded her that it was the correction officer’s day off. Just because he wasn’t home didn’t mean he’d fled town—he could have been running errands, visiting a friend, hiking, fishing, or camping.
An all-points bulletin for Russel Ulmer had been issued to city precincts and federal agencies across the city of Chicago. For good measure, she’d even extended the APB to where Ulmer’s sister lived in nearby Peoria.
With Waylon Erbach in the relative safety of MCC Chicago’s protective custody—which had only taken an hour versus the day it took for Carlo Enrico—and with a warrant secured to search Ulmer’s apartment, Amelia and Joseph had little else to do aside from wait for Ulmer’s arrest.
They waited beneath the shade of a towering maple in the corner of a parking lot. Their location gave them a clear view of the stairs leading to the man’s apartment door.
Aside from a cursory look through the surprisingly tidy home, they’d decided to hold off on a more thorough search. If Joseph was right and Ulmer was out and about, he’d drive right past his home if he spotted a crime scene van parked outside his building.
Provided he hadn’t already been tipped off by one of his detective pals.
For the six-thousandth time, Amelia swept her gaze over the worn lot to look for a new vehicle she might have missed.
And for the six-thousandth time, Russel Ulmer’s silver pickup was nowhere to be found.
“I take it I didn’t miss anything?” Joseph’s voice pulled her the rest of the way back to reality.
Joseph had abandoned his black suit jacket and matching tie, partly because they were trying to look nonchalant, and they’d been stuck in the front of a car for four hours. After he’d untucked his white dress shirt and rolled the sleeves up to the elbow, he looked closer to an off-the-clock banker than a federal agent.
Propping her elbow on the doorframe, Amelia let out an exaggerated sigh and rested her head in her hand. “Nope. Not a damn thing.”
“Too bad,” he teased with a smirk and held out a green bottle of soda. “Here. I would’ve gotten you coffee, but the machine was broken. Seemed like you could use a little caffeine.”
She straightened to accep
t the drink. To her relief, he didn’t use the opportunity to casually touch her. Twisting off the top, she nodded her appreciation. “Thanks. I think I’d prefer something cold right now, anyway.”
Plastic rustled as Joseph pulled open a pack of gummy worms and slumped back in his seat. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. The last thing I ate was a pop-tart on my drive to work this morning.”
Amelia gulped down her soda, desperate for the empty calories, hoping they might sustain her for a little longer. The truth was, she knew it wouldn’t. What she needed was a big, fat and juicy burger topped with grilled onions and cheese. Salt, fat, and beef.
Dammit.
She was bordering on hangry, and the incessant grumbling of her stomach wasn’t helping. Nor was the sound of Joseph smacking his lips as he munched on candy. “I don’t know that gummy worms are the best choice if you’re hungry. Doesn’t that gas station have sandwiches or something?”
As he popped another neon-colored candy into his mouth, Joseph shook his head. “Not that I saw. Even if they did, I think I’d rather just be hungry and wait until we leave.”
On cue, Amelia’s stomach grumbled. She’d asked Joseph to grab her anything with a lot of caffeine, but now she wondered if she should have asked for chips too. Gesturing to the green bag in Joseph’s hand, Amelia set her drink in the cupholder. “I had no idea you liked gummy worms. Would have figured you for more of a Snickers person.”
Joseph chuckled. “I don’t like peanuts, and I don’t care for chocolate. I’ve always preferred the fruity stuff.” He turned the bag around and pointed to the brand logo on the front. “When I was a kid, my brother and I would put our money together and buy one of the giant five-pound bags of these things. They’d last us for a while, but we’d always pig out when we first got them.”
In the past fifteen minutes, Amelia had learned more about Joseph Larson than she had in the previous month.
On any other day, the thought of four hours alone in a car with Joseph Larson would have made her stomach turn, but thankfully, so far, their conversations had been…normal. Almost pleasant. If the memory of Joseph’s unsolicited mention of Alton Dalessio hadn’t been burned into the back of Amelia’s head, she could have tricked herself into thinking she was in the company of a real friend.
She silenced the inner dialogue and reached for her soda. “I didn’t even know you had a brother. Does he live near here, or is he in the same place where you guys grew up?”
Joseph’s gaze drifted to the windshield, and in the silence that followed, Amelia spotted a glimpse of the same weariness and defeat she’d noticed that morning. The spell of quiet was all the answer she needed. Whenever friends or coworkers asked about Trevor, she responded in much the same way.
“Oh.” She patted the air with her free hand. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
Shaking his head, he glanced back to her. “No, you don’t need to apologize. Like you said, you didn’t know. He’s been gone for a while. Since I was thirteen.”
“Still.” Amelia let her head fall back against the seat. “I’m sorry. I know how much it sucks.”
“Yeah, I know you do. And it still sucks, even after twenty-three years.” As his pale blue eyes locked on to hers, an icy surge of panic rushed through her veins. She’d come up with a half-assed speech to let Joseph know she wasn’t interested in dating him, but if he tried to make a move on her now, she had no way to put distance between them unless she climbed out of the car altogether.
When he held out the bag of gummy worms and lifted an eyebrow, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the expression of obvious relief off her face.
“You want one? I know you’re hungry too. Your stomach grumbling could scare the birds.” He raised his shoulders. “Not the most filling thing in the world, but it beats nothing.”
She hesitated a moment, debating whether she should accept his offer. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Sure, I’ll take a couple.”
He dumped the gummies in her waiting palm and then stretched both arms out in front of himself. “You know, we’ve been sitting here for over four hours and haven’t seen anything. It’s already seven-thirty, and it’ll be completely dark soon.” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully. “Us being here is more of a formality than a necessity, right?”
As she chewed her first gummy worm, Amelia nodded. “Yeah. The Chicago PD said they could set up a couple uniformed officers to watch the place once we left.” She blew out a breath so hard that her lips fluttered. “I’m starting to think that if he’s even coming back from wherever he is, it won’t be until late.”
“And we aren’t exactly outfitted for a stakeout.” For emphasis, he lifted the plastic bag. “We’ve usually got more to sustain ourselves than soda and candy.”
Amelia twisted a piece of hair around her finger and looked to the dark windows of apartment sixteen. She wanted to personally walk Russel Ulmer into a holding cell, but the likelihood of achieving that goal grew slimmer by the minute. Her legs were cramped, her eyes were tired, and hunger pangs stabbed at her stomach.
Besides, her gut told her that Russel wouldn’t be coming back to this place. He’d either spotted a cop car and turned around, or he’d been given a heads-up by one of his CPD friends. Either way, they wouldn’t find him here.
Joseph shifted in his seat as he retrieved his phone. “They’ll find him, Storm. We’ve got every cop in the city on the lookout for him, plus the cops in Peoria. And if we don’t find him within the next day or two, we’ll get ahold of the Marshals.”
“Yeah.” Amelia let her shoulders sag with a defeated sigh. “You’re right. We aren’t doing any good running ourselves ragged.”
“Look, here’s what we can do.” He held up his phone as his eyes met hers. “I’ll call the CPD, and when they get here, we can head back to the office. We’re both starving, and after this last week, I think we could both stand to take a load off, you know?”
There it is. The lead-in to a question she’d been expecting for the past week.
Dread churned in Amelia’s stomach, but she chuckled to keep up the amiable façade. “Yeah, definitely.”
He flattened his hands against the steering wheel, but his gaze didn’t falter. “I know you’ve been dealing with a lot after what happened with the Kankakee farm, and now all the work from this case on top of it. I just think it might be good to have some fried food and a few drinks. Just take a little break from work.”
Swallowing the bitter taste on her tongue, she feigned a smile and nodded. “That’s true. Yeah, I…uh, I wouldn’t mind a break. And some food.” As much as she wanted to tell him she’d rather go home to order takeout and lay on the couch or remind him that she wasn’t interested in anything besides a working relationship with him, Joseph’s vague mention of Alton Dalessio was purposeful.
Everything Joseph Larson said, every move he made, it was all purposeful.
It’ll be fine, she told herself. If he makes a move, just be honest with him. Tell him you’re not interested, that you just want to be friends. He’s a reasonable person. He’ll understand. He understood last time.
The fog cleared from her head as Joseph made his next suggestion. “I’ve been hearing about this place that’s pretty close to the field office. We can just go there.” He lifted a shoulder. “Won’t be out of our way, short drive. Great nachos, from what I hear.”
Amelia’s stomach let out a loud grumble. She snorted, despite her apprehension. Clearly, hunger was in charge of this decision. “Great nachos. That’s all I need to hear.”
With a satisfied grin, Joseph unlocked the phone in his hand. “All right. Let’s call up the CPD and get the hell out of here.”
Secretly, she was grateful they’d chosen karaoke night to visit Chereez’s Bar and Grill. If they’d shown up any other day of the week, only god knew how long Amelia would have been stuck with Joseph.
Dinner was a blur of finger foods she had shoveled into her mouth s
o fast Amelia couldn’t remember actually tasting them. Partly because she had been so hungry, but secretly, Amelia had hoped to end the night as quickly as possible.
She hated the pang of guilt that accompanied the thought. There was no doubt in her mind that Joseph was a womanizing ass, but, on some level, he was still her friend.
Wasn’t he?
Up to that point, Joseph had been…pleasant. His eyes had stayed on her face, and he’d been quick with a joke or a lighthearted comment. She could have, almost, convinced herself that their awkward encounter outside Madison’s Sports Bar had never happened. That he’d never tried to lie his way back into her good graces.
Almost.
Readjusting the handbag on her shoulder, Amelia followed Joseph out a set of wooden double doors as the first notes of the night’s karaoke session rang throughout the bar. Balmy night air rustled the hair around her face as she scanned the parking lot. Even though Joseph was at her side, old habits died hard.
She’d learned at a young age to be aware of her surroundings at all times, but especially at night. The part of Chicago where she’d grown up, Englewood, wasn’t known for its safe streets.
Most military veterans acquired their hyper-awareness after they’d lived in a combat zone, but the borderline paranoia had been second nature to Amelia long before basic training. She’d been taught to trust her instincts, and her intuition told her to keep up her guard any time Joseph Larson was around.
No matter how amiable he seemed, a persistent buzz remained in the back of her head.
As she and Joseph neared their parked cars, Amelia barely kept herself from sprinting toward hers. Brake lights flashed as she pressed the unlock button on her key fob.
A quick goodbye and she’d be home free. She could go feed her cat and brush up on Gabriel Badoni’s case until she passed out beside the laptop’s keyboard.
Keeping her expression as neutral as possible, Amelia turned to face Joseph as they stopped next to the driver’s side of her car. All she had to do was say “goodbye” and drive away. She was nearly home free.