Storm's Cage

by Mary Stone

  “Yeah.” Her nose brushed his chin. “And something’s wrong with you right now, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed her shoulder before he moved out to arm’s length. As their eyes met, he moved a piece of hair away from her forehead. “You’re okay now, though?”

  “Yeah. What about you?”

  Zane stared into her eyes, wanting to spill the secret eating away at his soul, but it wasn’t the time. Not yet, at least. “Yeah. For now.”

  “Good.” She brushed something from his sleeve. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here.”

  Amelia was one of the good ones, of that he was certain. And eventually, he would tell her. She was one of the few people he knew he could trust. And this time, when he smiled, it didn’t feel strained. “Same goes for you.”

  Clearing his throat to pull himself from the moment of reverence, he draped an arm around her shoulders. Like a used car salesman trying to persuade a buyer to spend more money than they had, he turned her to face the whiteboard.

  He waved a Vanna White hand to it. “See this bad boy here? This puppy can fit so many suspicious financial records on it, let me tell you.”

  “Oh my god.” Amelia snorted. “I brought you coffee, but I’m starting to wonder if you need it.”

  He squeezed her upper arm. “I do. Thank you. Come on, I’ll catch you up on what we’ve been working on while you were chasing Cliff Allworth. Kantowski should be here in a bit too.”

  “Okay. I’m excited to finally meet her.”

  Zane stepped over to the table and chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you’ll get along.”

  31

  Leaning back in the driver’s seat of her car, Amelia tapped a green button on the screen of her phone and raised the device to her ear as she let her gaze drift to the little coffee shop she’d just visited.

  For two full weeks, Amelia hadn’t heard so much as a peep from Joseph Larson.

  She hadn’t delved into the reason for his absence, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t come back. But when she’d left for her lunch break that day, she’d spotted Joseph’s gunmetal sedan, parked three stalls down from Zane’s silver Acura.

  So much for her fantasy that he’d transferred to a field office on the moon.

  In the time away from the stress of his presence, she’d mulled over what SAC Keaton had told her about Yanira Flores’s statement.

  According to Yanira, Joseph hadn’t even been in the room when Dalessio was killed. Amelia had been given a copy of the girl’s official testimony, and she’d been over the write-up so many times she had it memorized.

  Joseph had scared the living hell out of Yanira. The poor girl had thought he was a friend of Alton Dalessio’s, and she was certain he’d shown up in the doorway after Alton was already dead.

  In the midst of Amelia’s conversation with SAC Keaton two weeks earlier, the implications of the inconsistency hadn’t dawned on her. In fact, she hadn’t realized the significance of the discrepancy for close to a week.

  Joseph hadn’t seen a damn thing.

  He’d caught wind of the opportunity to act as a witness to back Amelia up in the hearing after Dalessio’s death. Then, he’d managed to figure out her guilt when she thought she’d prematurely pulled the trigger. The how was still a mystery, but she didn’t need to know.

  Joseph had lied to her, the FBI, and then he weaponized the tall tale in an effort to blackmail her into having sex with him.

  Amelia’s stomach turned.

  She’d almost done it. She’d almost given in to him. And when she’d changed her mind and told him no, she was sure she’d come within an inch of a violent assault. She’d have fought back with everything she had, or at least that’s what she liked to tell herself.

  The truth was, she didn’t know how she’d react. No one ever did.

  As the ringtone ceased and the line clicked to life, Amelia shook away the thoughts and groaned at the name on the screen.

  “Hello? Amelia?”

  “Hey, Lainey.” Amelia propped her elbow on the frame of the door, trying to keep her tone neutral. “I said I’d call you at noon, remember?”

  “Yeah… yeah, I remember.” Lainey yawned. “How’s your day going? I just woke up, if you couldn’t tell.”

  “It’s good. Quiet, but that’s good.” Amelia swallowed her sense of unease.

  First Joseph and now Lainey. Apparently, she always had to have at least one source of stress in her life. As if her job at the FBI wasn’t enough.

  After she’d accidentally picked up one of Lainey’s calls, Amelia had guilted herself into answering another a week later. Her younger sister swore up and down that she was ready to get clean, that she’d go to rehab, she’d leave her shithead boyfriend, see a counselor. Whatever it took, or so Lainey said.

  Though Amelia had been down this road before, the conviction in Lainey’s voice had been difficult to ignore. For the first time since her last failed attempt to give up heroin, Lainey had admitted to her repeated lies. She’d confessed that no one had forced her to mule drugs for the local gangs and that even though her boyfriend was a piece of work, he’d never made her walk the streets for cash.

  Of course, Amelia herself had come within an inch of becoming a prostitute of sorts herself. The knowledge had softened her heart a bit at Lainey’s circumstances.

  When Amelia had asked Lainey what she needed, Lainey’s request had been simple.

  A plane ticket.

  Amelia had no earthly idea how her sister had gotten to Milwaukee, but she was stuck in the city with virtually no way out. No car and no money to buy or rent one. Sure, Amelia could drive to Wisconsin to drag her sister from whatever hole she called home, but as far as she was concerned, that defeated the purpose of Lainey’s supposed dedication.

  This was a journey Lainey had to start on her own. Amelia wouldn’t give up an entire day just to drive to Milwaukee and return empty-handed.

  A plane ticket, on the other hand. That was something she could do. Lainey couldn’t sell a ticket in her own name. There was no way for her to monetize a trip to Chicago.

  The logic was sound, but Amelia wasn’t convinced. She’d asked Lainey to keep in touch with her while she considered the request. Amelia wasn’t naïve enough to think her sister had stopped using in the interim, but the connection was her best effort at extending a lifeline to someone who’d done nothing but lie to her for the past three years—the time since Lainey’s most recent relapse.

  For fifteen minutes, Amelia and Lainey carried on a regular conversation.

  Amelia told her younger sister about how Hup had gone back to flushing the toilet in the middle of the night, and Lainey told Amelia how she’d feed the neighborhood cats. She could only afford the cheapest off-brand cat food, but the strays didn’t mind.

  After the call ended, Amelia stared off into the distance before she started her car.

  On her way back to the FBI building, she spotted a familiar car in the rearview mirror.

  Bile crawled up the back of her throat, and she fought to keep from throwing up the cinnamon roll she’d ordered for lunch. An involuntary tremor worked its way to her hands, and she clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

  Gritting her teeth, she focused on the road. She hadn’t noticed Joseph’s car at the café, but he still could have followed her. For what purpose, she didn’t know. If his intent was to finish what he’d started two weeks earlier, she’d be happy to shoot him in the dick.

  She snorted at the thought.

  With only the occasional glance to ensure that her tail was Joseph, Amelia passed through the FBI’s security checkpoint. She kept her speed slow and even as she cruised to the second story to park.

  Joseph chose a stall one row down from hers. Pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, he stepped out of the driver’s side like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like today was a normal day. Like he hadn’t just followed a woman he’d
tried to blackmail into sex.

  Like water that had evaporated into a gas, Amelia’s paranoia and anxiety turned to anger. Snatching her handbag out of the passenger’s seat, she grabbed her latte and shoved open the door. Without so much as a sideways glance at Joseph, she started for the set of double doors.

  “Hey. Amelia, hey.”

  The sound of his voice froze her in place. She’d expected him to ignore her, to pretend that night had never happened. Attempted sexual assault was probably a regular Tuesday for him.

  Lifting her chin, she turned to face him as his footsteps grew louder. “What do you want?”

  He stopped a few feet away and held his hands out to his sides. Opening and closing his mouth, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m sorry for how I acted and for treating you like that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t know what got all screwed up in my head to make me think you’d do that. I took a couple weeks off, so I’ve had time to think about it. I just, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  A month ago, Amelia might have been inclined to believe he’d just uttered a genuine apology.

  Now, after everything she’d learned, and after all he’d put her through, she knew better.

  She could ask him why he’d lied about being in the room when Alton was killed, but she didn’t want to give him another opportunity to manipulate her.

  Glancing at the dark bubbles of the security cameras mounted along the overhead beams, she stepped closer to him and dropped her chin. His curious gaze was glued to her as she leaned in until she was half a foot from the side of his face.

  “I’m going to say this once,” Amelia said through clenched teeth. “I know you weren’t in the room when Alton Dalessio was killed. I know you lied to the Bureau, and I know you lied to me. You tried to use Dalessio to blackmail me into screwing you.”

  He opened his mouth, but the withering glare she shot him stopped him from uttering a sound. He remained quiet, but he held his ground. Just like she knew he would.

  “I’ll say this slowly for you because I don’t want you to misunderstand me.” She inched a little closer. “If you ever try to touch me again, I will fucking kill you. I will bury your body in a hole so dark, so deep, that no one will ever find you.”

  As her eyes met his, she put every ounce of venom she could muster into the stare.

  Rather than shocked, worried, or any other reaction she’d expect from a normal human being, his gaze was cold and resolute.

  Slowly, Amelia shook her head. “Don’t test me, Joseph.”

  32

  Blinking against the orange and gold rays of declining sunlight, Joseph Larson strode through the sleek reception area of what was normally a very busy building.

  The young man or woman who sat behind the black desk during business hours was already gone for the day. Glancing at the impressive wall of windows, Joseph took a moment to enjoy the sight of the bustling city.

  In all the years he’d spent in the dirt and mud of his grandfather’s farm, he’d never have thought for a second that he’d wind up here, in the heart of one of the largest cities in the United States. A stone’s throw from Sears Tower, or Willis Tower, whatever it was called these days.

  A building he had to learn about way back when he was a little kid who spent his spare time digging rusted washers and bolts out of the yard. Back then, he didn’t have the first clue where his life was headed. Arthur Larson would lose his mind if he knew his grandson worked for the Feds, and he’d have a heart attack all over again if he knew a woman was in charge of the field office.

  And if Arthur knew a woman had threatened to kill Joseph a week earlier, he could already imagine what the old man would say.

  Put her in her place. It’s what I had to do with your grandmother. Sometimes you just need to remind them who’s in control.

  Joseph had been almost thirty when he realized his grandfather’s absolute disdain for women. He’d never met his grandmother, Elaine Larson. She’d died in a house fire before Joseph was born. Probably better that she did. Arthur Larson had been hard enough to deal with as a little boy. He could at least go home whenever his mother had time off from her jobs.

  When he thought back to his time in rural Missouri, he was glad to be gone. There was no sense of nostalgia, no deep-seated yearning to return to the countryside.

  Everyone in the podunk town near Arthur’s farmhouse had known the man’s reputation for being a royal prick.

  In Chicago, no one knew who you were. No one cared.

  As Joseph pulled himself away from memory lane, he checked his watch. He was five minutes late to the impromptu meeting with Stan Young.

  Joseph tried to minimize his in-person visits to the senator. There was nothing illegal about an FBI agent meeting with a sitting U.S. Senator, but Joseph took the precaution in case any part of his, Brian’s, or Stan’s relationship to the city’s criminal underbelly was exposed.

  If Stan went down, Joseph would be damned if he followed suit. And on the flip side, he didn’t expect Stan to sink with the ship if Joseph or Brian were caught.

  The soles of Joseph’s dress shoes echoed against marble tile as he strode to the hallway past the reception desk. As he took note of a golden name plaque, he knocked lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” a muffled voice called. “It’s unlocked.”

  Wordlessly, Joseph let himself inside. After flicking the lock into place, he made his way to one of the squat armchairs in front of Young’s mahogany desk.

  Stan pulled his gaze away from the sheet of paper he’d been studying so intently. “Nice to see you, Joseph. It’s been a while. How’s life? How’s work at the FBI treating you?”

  Propping an elbow on the armrest, Joseph shrugged. “Took a couple weeks of vacation. Spent most of the nights with this redhead who doesn’t have a gag reflex. In fact,” Joseph looked to his watch to check the time, “I’m picking her up in about an hour.”

  Stan’s laughter sounded more like a bark. “Glad you used your time off wisely. That’s the Assistant U.S. Attorney, isn’t it?”

  “Cassandra Halcott, yes. She dealt with the Carlo Enrico case, and she handled Cliff Allworth’s too. And she’s been working on Premier.”

  A silence enveloped them, and any semblance of amusement rushed out of the room.

  Cassandra Halcott was a bombshell, but her looks weren’t the only reason Joseph had sidled up next to her before taking his leave. He’d known then that she was in charge of Carlo Enrico’s plea deal, as well as Cliff Allworth’s.

  As the days had turned into weeks, she’d gradually inserted more details into their work-related conversations.

  Details that Joseph had passed on to Stan.

  Rubbing his forehead, Stan cleared his throat to break the spell of quiet. “Which is why you’re here right now, and not someone else. You know where she’s been getting this information, right?”

  “She mentioned it for the first time last week and twice since then. She didn’t name names, but I knew who she was talking about. The FBI’s been getting tipped off about dirt on Premier, and Ben Storey’s the one giving them the information.”

  Closing his hand into a fist, Stan gritted his teeth. “Just as well. The prick’s starting to pull ahead in the polls, especially after that bust in Kankakee County. It’s been almost two months, and I’m still getting dragged for that shit.”

  Joseph drummed his fingers against the armrest. “What’s the play, then?”

  Premier Ag Solutions was a front for more than just labor trafficking, and if the company was dismantled, Stan Young and the Leónes would lose out on a significant cash flow. Without a doubt, Brian Kolthoff and Joseph would feel the backlash too.

  Stan’s eyes shifted to Joseph’s. “You know this is a last resort, right? And that this has to be executed perfectly.”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “Which is exactly why you’re here. I need Ben Storey dead, and I need the murder to land far, far away
from my doorstep.” Stan laced his fingers together. “I need this done clean, just like you did with Trevor Storm. But this time, I need the fallout to blowback on someone else. If there’s no one to hang for it, everyone in the mainstream media will want to tie me to it.”

  At the mention of Trevor Storm, the pieces clicked together in Joseph’s head like a Rubik’s Cube. “I can do that. I have someone who can take the fall, someone I have easy access to. One of the agents working on Premier. Trevor Storm’s younger sister.”

  Expression grim, Stan nodded. “Good. How long?”

  Joseph rubbed his chin and thought through everything he must do. “Two weeks. Somewhere in that neighborhood.”

  Stan turned back to his paper, the conversation over. “All right. Get it done.”

  The End

  To be continued…

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