Chapter 20

TWENTY

Jamie was practiced at maintaining his Southern charm in hostile situations. He'd learned as a player and coach and as a federal agent that his smile and accent tended to get him further faster than bluster and fury. When he and Aidan had been partnered, he was usually the polite cop to Aidan's surly one. But when Cara Dixon, Beverly's social worker, suggested that Bev be placed back in Deidra White's care, Jamie's genteel manner took a flying leap out the window. "Explain to us why you think it's a good idea to put Bev back in that house?" he practically growled.

Even Matt's neutral agent mode broke, anger coloring his cheeks. "She was hiding in a closet when we found her."

"It was a tense situation," Cara said, not looking up from the stack of case files in her arms, shuffling through them as if they were more important than the case at hand. "I'm sure it was a one-time thing."

Matt removed the single folder he had tucked under his arm and set it on the end of the conference table where they stood. Opening it, he began spreading photos out as he spoke. "There were stacks of books, journals, and blankets in that closet. Bev stayed in that closet because the rest of the house was a pigsty."

"Not to mention," Jamie mentioned, "Deidra's brother was using Bev, a fourteen-year-old minor, to blackmail another minor into committing felonies on his behalf."

"That's not been proven," Cara said, looking anywhere but at them or the photos on the table.

"Are you Deidra's lawyer now?"

"Of course not. I'm just trying to find a place for Beverly to land."

Matt pointed at the photos, then didn't speak again until Cara looked. She couldn't hide her cringe. "That place?" Matt said.

"With two addicts," Jamie pressed, "who are both in custody and experiencing significant withdrawal symptoms consistent with long-term daily drug use."

"Good." Cara lifted her wide blue eyes from the photos—and continued grasping at straws. "First step to turning their lives around."

"Like your brother?" Aidan's voice was as sharp as a whip. He strode into the room, Rooster on his heels. "The federal prosecutor here"—he said with a tilt of his head toward Rooster—"made some calls. Your brother, an associate of Darien White, is at MCJ serving time for manufacturing and trafficking meth. Blew up a house and everything. Your mother's, in fact, less than a month after she died, which means he was manufacturing it well before her death. Wonder if that had anything to do with her declining health? "

Cara blanched as pale as her white-blond hair.

"Did you think we wouldn't find out?" Aidan said.

"The two... the two weren't connected," she stuttered.

"We'll see about that," Rooster said. "In any event, you're done here. Ms. Kildare's case has been reassigned. You should also check in with your supervisor. Pretty sure you're done with social services too."

Her face crumpled. "I was just trying to do my job." Jamie was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain her tears were for herself and not for Bev's welfare or the welfare of the children in the files she clutched to her chest.

"Negligently, at best," Rooster said. "Intentional misconduct and bribery at worst, and my office will find out. Now leave those files and get out."

She slung the files on the table, contents scattering, as little care for those kids' cases as she'd shown for Bev's, then turned on her heel and bolted. "You want eyes on her?" Matt asked. "Ten to one she runs."

"I would not take that bet," Aidan said, stepping next to Jamie and nestling a hand in the small of his back, reconnecting and bringing Jamie's ire down with a simple touch. That was usually Jamie's job, but in this partnership, he needed Aidan to steady him sometimes too.

"I'm not taking that bet either," Rooster agreed. "Eyes on, please," he said to Matt. "Maybe she leads us somewhere else."

Matt slipped out of the room, and Jamie began to reassemble the discarded files, Aidan and Rooster helping. "This case does seem to twist and turn back onto itself," Jamie remarked. "How're the kids?"

"Good," Aidan answered. "They're in the break room doing homework. Tricia's on her way over," he said to Rooster. "Once she gets here, you can ask them what you need. They'll cooperate. They only cut school today because Cara called Bev and told her she was going to place her back with Deidra. Bev knew where to find the dirt to prevent that."

"More than the list on the wall you texted me?"

"Attic full of stolen goods," Aidan said, first showing Jamie a picture on his phone—boxes and boxes of stolen goods—before showing the same to Rooster. "Berat is still at the house with the CSU unit Rick brought over. They'll print everything, then load it up for evidence."

"So not just a one-time thing for White?" Jamie said.

"Definitely not. Anything on Arty or the hack?"

"Arty's dead."

They all spun toward the new voice, one Jamie couldn't remember hearing in well over a year. In that time, Sutton Conder had apparently traded his fitted suit and briefcase for jeans, a tee, and a backpack, his regulation haircut for overlong strands streaked with silver and blond, and a honeyed tan that spoke of time spent someplace sunny versus countless hours under office fluorescents. Yet despite all those outward signs of a less stressful life than his old one as SAC of the Bureau's organized crime unit, Sutton looked downright antsy. Hands shoved in his pockets, eyes darting around the room, it was almost like he wasn't sure how to be in the office or around people anymore.

Aidan barreled right through whatever was making the former SAC so uncomfortable. "Well, look who the cat dragged in," he said, approaching with a smile and outstretched hand. "Where have you been hiding, Agent Conder? I thought for sure we'd have seen you at Marsh and Levi's wedding."

Jamie and Aidan had both worked cases with Sutton before, most recently the summer before last when Aidan had helped Sutton and Charlie nail the human traffickers Levi and Marsh had been after. In doing so, they'd also exposed a corrupt congressman who'd been a presidential hopeful. Unfortunately, Sutton had lost his job in the process.

"You can drop the agent now," he said as he shook Aidan's hand, some of the wariness fading. "As for the wedding, I was afraid if I showed, your former boss would recruit me. She's relentless."

"Mel knows talent when she sees it, and you're one of the best when it comes to organized crime."

"Charlie's catching up fast," he said with an approving smile for his protégé. "But she's tied up on a major bust, so she sent me, unofficially, with a care package."

"Wait?" Rooster said. "Are you the Sutton Conder who ran organized crimes for the Bureau and took down Stewart Anthony?"

"The same," Sutton said, offering his hand. "Took down myself too, but I still count it a win."

"Henry Roos, AUSA," the prosecutor introduced himself. "And you should count it a win. You did this state a favor getting rid of Anthony. That man was awful, as a politician and a human."

"No argument here," Sutton said, relaxing further, sensing Rooster, the unknown variable in the room, was a supporter and not a detractor. He exchanged hellos and handshakes with Jamie too, then slung his backpack into one of the chairs. "Though I'm afraid none of you will be happy to see me once I tell you what I know."

"You mean there's more than ‘Arty's dead'?" Aidan said.

Jamie raked a hand through his hair. "Does this have anything to do with me tracing the Talley hack back to his brother, Michael Martino?"

"You did?" Aidan said, whipping his gaze back to Jamie.

"Sorry, Bev was the bigger concern when you first got here."

"As she should have been," Aidan agreed. "But now that that's at least temporarily resolved, sounds like we've got bigger problems."

"You do." Sutton withdrew several folders from his bag. "That care package I mentioned." He dropped the first folder on the table. "Everyone's been getting in on the cargo theft game, and the Mafia have been doing it in one form or another for a very long time."

"High-end jobs?" Matt said, reentering the room and giving Sutton a pat on the back. "Good to see you, man." They'd worked more closely on the trafficking case with Marsh and Levi, Matt partnered with Levi then, and if Jamie had to guess, they'd been in touch since. Would maybe even guess Sutton was local now, given his tan and quick appearance on scene.

" All jobs," Sutton said.

"But why would they outsource any of their jobs to someone like White?" Aidan said. "Especially high-end ones like those diamonds."

"He got in debt to them," Matt said. "He told us that. So Pudge let him run some cargo thefts. If he gets pinched, he's deadweight."

"But then White starts skimming," Jamie reasoned. "And Pudge finds out."

"So, time to make him dead," Rooster concluded. "At that handoff for the diamonds. With not-Arty-Martino."

Aidan leaned into Jamie's side. "That could have been Angel."

Arm around his waist, Jamie steadied his husband, while across from them, Rooster fumed. "I am definitely putting manslaughter on White's charge sheet. Maybe more."

"Do you know who Pudge is?" Jamie asked Sutton. "Who the meet might have actually been with?"

"Don't know on the second. As for Pudge..." Sutton dropped another file on the table. "Patrick Mason. Not Italian but a known associate of the LA Mafia. His family is loaded. He's well connected. Never gets pinched. Gets others like White to do his dirty work."

Aidan pulled the folder closer, Jamie reading over his shoulder at the thefts Patrick Mason was suspected of being involved with. Dozens between Los Angeles and Vegas. "Did we"—Aidan glanced up—"Talley Enterprises, I mean, just get caught up in their theft spree?"

Sutton added another folder, the thinnest of the three, to the stack. "No, you have a vulnerability. Tomás Diaz."

Jamie recognized the name immediately. "I spoke with Tomás an hour ago. He runs tech support for TE's Long Beach and LA operations. If he had a record, it would have popped in the background checks." TE's vetting process was extensive. They'd put Jamie through the wringer when he'd been brought on to help design various tech and security programs and protocols for their flagship vessel, the Ellen .

"Diaz has no record," Sutton said. "Nor is he a known associate of the Martinos or the Mafia. But some quick work by Agent Hall to refine the search you'd already started turned up a connection. Diaz and Michael Martino were in night school together. Computer science."

"Shit," Jamie cursed, and Aidan angled his direction.

"If you spoke to him an hour ago," Aidan said, "I assume it was about the hack?"

Jamie nodded. "I asked for all the activity logs from the week prior to the second theft."

"How would you approach this?" Matt asked Sutton. "This could be a big bust. We don't want to spook Martino or the Mafia before we have all our ducks in a row."

"I wouldn't go after Martino. Not Pudge yet either," Sutton replied, then said to Aidan, "You going after your own internal leak, though, that makes sense. Get Diaz to talk. Clean record like that"—he jutted his chin at Diaz's folder—"I'd bet he doesn't want to be a part of this."

"Where was he an hour ago?" Aidan asked Jamie.

"TE office at Long Beach with KJ," Jamie said as he gathered up Sutton's prelim files. "Thanks for these," he said to the former agent. "And tell Lauren thanks too."

"We'll ring Rick from the car," Aidan said. "Have him meet us there." He was halfway to the door when he halted, Jamie practically crashing into him. "Fuck, the kids."

"I've got them," Matt and Rooster said at the same time.

"No, we can—" Jamie started.

"Go." Matt waved them on. "Tricia is here, and so is Ward, plus me, and Rooster. Berat will be back soon too. And we've got Sutton to give them dry land surfing lessons if all else fails to entertain them."

Aidan's gaze swung to the former agent so fast that Jamie laughed out loud. "Did you miss the tan, babe?"

Sutton laughed too. "Go," he echoed Matt. "I'll coordinate on the Mafia angle. I may even give Mel a call for some of that off-the-books info she's so good at getting."

"She'll have her claws in you then for sure," Aidan said.

"Was only a matter of time."