Chapter 23

"The soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished,

or the luster of it will never appear."

–Daniel Defoe

Jameson

While we sat in Rayne's bed, eating cold grilled chicken and Tater Tots, I filled Rayne in on everything that had transpired since I'd seen her the morning before.

I'd been going nonstop since then. Seeing Quincy standing behind Wyatt in his police officer's uniform had set the last wheels in motion.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The reason the Reapers had become so powerful, so untouchable, was that they'd had inside help.

They had known exactly where not to be and when and where they were safe to make drops. Quincy, along with a few others in the station, had paved the way for them to successfully run their operations in and around town without fear of being caught.

When Ben dropped me off back at my place after the massive drug pickup from the Taylor home, I called Jasmine and filled her in.

After the short call, we decided to make our move. Then we got word about the Dupont brothers having been found floating in the river, cut up in a very similar way to Mayor Taylor. Since Ben had been with me during those hours, we looked into Felix's whereabouts. He'd been at the Bayou Bar, surrounded by most of the other Reapers. All except one.

Declan.

Jasmine took a team out to the Nest, where Declan was taken into custody, and after checking the footage of all those cameras we'd hidden around the building after my first visit to the spot, we confirmed that Declan had left for four hours during the time the brothers had been killed. Declan had had just enough time to make it to Madison County, commit the murders, and get back.

Some of the footage had gone black for some reason during the night, but it was enough evidence to make our next move against the Reapers. All of them. I knew that Declan didn't do anything without Felix saying so and my guess was that Quincy was the head honcho behind the scenes. The man pulling all the strings.

I wondered if he'd gotten close to Rayne for the same reason Felix wanted me to get close to her. To keep her off their scent. It made me sick to know she'd been used so much.

By early afternoon, more than four dozen agents had descended on the town. After getting Declan into custody, we'd gathered Wyatt Taylor before heading out to grab every last Reaper. We'd gotten most of them while they were tucked safely in their beds.

I even found my bike in Felix's garage and guessed he was going to return it to me later that night like he'd promised. Had Declan delivered it to him after disposing of the brothers?

In order to arrest so many at once, we needed to keep the element of surprise. Thankfully, we ran into problems only two times. One of the Reapers tried to outgun us and ended up with a bullet in his leg, thanks to Jasmine. The other tried to take off on foot and was caught easily by the dogs.

The rest, to my surprise, had gone in peacefully. At Jasmine's orders, I had remained in the background until every single Reaper was in custody.

Shortly after one in the morning, Jasmine had me take a team to the station. After calling Randy and clueing him in on the move, he cleared the building out under the guise of some sort of emergency with the sprinkler system. We started searching Quincy's desk, locker, and device first, which led us to all the others under his control.

By four o'clock in the morning, we had what we needed. To be honest, the handful of people involved in the scheme hadn't even tried to hide their involvement. No doubt they believed no one would suspect them or search their offices.

Clara Mangrum had been the biggest surprise. She hadn't been involved in the Reapers' drug ring but instead had embezzled almost fifty thousand dollars in funds from the department itself. I'd wager it was a little more since some of the bail money she stole was probably in cash, which couldn't be tracked the way the pile of checks she'd taken could be.

Some of the checks tied her to the mayor's office, evidence that we were handing over to the State Attorney General's Office to further their investigation.

We had boxes and boxes of evidence that would be used to charge everyone arrested.

By the time I walked into Rayne's house, I was beyond tired and starving. I knew that it would be days, maybe weeks, before we closed out everything on the case. Still, at least for now, we had everyone in custody, and I was looking forward to spending my free time with Rayne.

I'd already put in a request for an extended amount of time off and was seriously questioning whether I ever wanted to go undercover again. I was over it. I knew what I did was important. Getting to the heart of evil saved lives. I had no doubt about that.

Still, for the first time in my life, I wanted a life of my own. Being able to see Rayne in my future was the driving force. Especially after that morning.

What she did was just as important. Still, part of me wanted to ask her to quit. To do something, anything, less dangerous.

Then, logic hit me over the head.

You couldn't walk into a movie theater or a mall without fearing violence these days.

She'd had an ex-lover hold a gun to her head at her workplace. I knew the statistics about violence against women done at the hands of someone who supposedly cared for them. Most women, most people for that matter, weren't as lucky as Rayne to walk away from those kinds of situations.

When I was done filling her in, we were back lying in each other's arms. Rayne was tight up against my side.

"You've been busy," she said with a yawn. "You must be exhausted."

"I am, but being here with you makes it all worth it," I admitted. I pulled her closer and just held on. She smelled so good. Felt so good. This was right.

Falling asleep next to Rayne was the first time in years that I felt completely relaxed and in control of my future. Waking with her wrapped around me had other things filling my mind.

As I slowly blinked my eyes open, the soft morning light filtered through the curtains. I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me. This is where I belonged. Where we belonged. Together.

Somehow, the events of the previous day seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the warmth of Rayne's presence beside me.

Stretching lazily, I rolled over to find Rayne already awake, her eyes fixed on me with a soft smile playing at her lips. "Morning," she greeted, her voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, returning her smile as I leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. The weight of her against me felt like home, grounding me in a way I hadn't known I needed.

I wanted to spend the day with her here, in bed, but knew that in less than half an hour, my phone would be going off with calls demanding my presence.

"I have to go back in. You?" I asked.

She nodded. "Most likely we'll have meetings to discuss what happened. For now, we're keeping"—she paused and took a deep breath—"certain details from my mother."

I nodded, understanding. "Breakfast?"

"Shower first." I saw her shiver and wondered just how many showers it would take for the memory of yesterday to be washed away.

"I'll cook," I offered.

She smiled. "I'd like that. Make yourself at home. I think you can find your way around my kitchen easily enough."

I brushed my lips across hers. "I love you," I said, then added. "If I say it too much, let me know."

She chuckled. "I don't think it's possible to hear it too much when I feel the same way."

With a contented sigh, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. A few minutes later, after easily finding what I needed, I made the coffee, and the smell was like a siren's call. As I started to prepare breakfast, I could hear the sounds of Rayne in the shower.

I easily found eggs, bacon, and the fixings for cinnamon toast. Her pans hung over the island and by the time the aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air, she came out fully dressed for the day. Her hair was still wet and tied in a long braid.

We carried our plates out to the back deck to enjoy our food out there, the morning sun casting a warm glow over everything it touched.

Sitting side by side, we ate in companionable silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. But as we finished our meal, the weight of the conversation we needed to have hung heavy between us.

"So," Rayne began, her voice soft but determined. "What happens now?"

I paused, the question lingering in the air like a delicate promise, and looked into Rayne's eyes.

"Whatever it is, we'll do it together. I've asked for time off. I'll extend it as long as I can until we come up with what's next for us." I reached out to take her hand in mine.

With a smile, Rayne squeezed my hand, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. "My dad's about to retire. He actually thought you'd make a great replacement."

I was surprised and a little shocked at first. But then I really thought about it. That could work. Couldn't it?

Then her words played over in my head. Most of the time when Rayne talked about Randy, she called him by his name. However, just now, she'd called him Dad, and she'd done so yesterday as well. I wondered if she realized that.

"Maybe I'll have a chat with him about it," I suggested.

Just then my phone started ringing, and I spoke with the Jasmine for the next few minutes.

"I've got to head in," I said after hanging up.

"Me too," Rayne said as we carried our dishes back inside.

"I'll clean this up later," I offered.

"Don't bother. I have a little time now. I'm due to be in around eight." She glanced at her watch.

"Dinner?" I asked.

"I'm supposed to go over to my folks' place. I'd love for you to meet my mother," she suggested.

"What time?" I asked, feeling nervous suddenly. I'd never met a woman's parents before and, even though I'd had several encounters with Randy, suddenly the thought of meeting Rayne's mother made me anxious.

"Six. We can ride together if you're here a little before then."

I walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her, and held on. "I'll be here at five thirty. If it's okay with you, I'd like to move a few of my things here. I need to clear out of the apartment they had me in. We're using it as our base now."

She smiled. "Yes, you can move in with me."

I chuckled. "Another first," I said as I brushed my lips across hers. "See you this evening."

Jasmine and the team had set up camp, so to speak, in my old apartment. When I walked in, it was like walking into an office building instead of the place I'd called home for over a year.

The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with the weight of the events of the day before. Jasmine was there, her brow furrowed in concentration as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Morning," I greeted several other agents, most of which I had never met, as I made my way over to the desk she had set up. She looked up, a weary smile gracing her lips as she acknowledged my presence.

"Morning," she replied, her tone tinged with exhaustion. "We've got a lot of work to do today."

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the other DEA officers scattered throughout the room, each one buried in their own mountain of paperwork from the boxes of material we'd gathered. We had made a lot of arrests yesterday, taking down the entire Reaper gang in one fell swoop, along with Wyatt Taylor. But there was still so much to do, so much evidence to compile and process.

And then there was Quincy's death to contend with. The fact that he had shot himself still weighed heavily on my mind, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

I was worried how Rayne would handle being back in the station where it had happened, but to be honest, I'd seen a huge change in her from when I'd arrived the night before to this morning.

Our task for the next few days was to not only find proof that Quincy was the head of the Reaper's drug organization but to make sure no one else in town was involved.

So far, we had come up empty-handed. His bank account wasn't that of someone who shuffled thousands of dollars around like play money.

As I settled in at my desk, I booted up Quincy's files that had been stored on his home and office computers. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I searched for any shred of evidence that might prove he was the head of the drug ring. But as I sifted through the files, photos, and reports he'd worked on, my heart sank. There was nothing here, no incriminating documents, no hidden files on his computer that showed he was in charge. No trace of large amounts of money being moved around.

It was as if Quincy had been careful to cover his tracks, leaving us with nothing to go on.

What we did have on him was his presence at the Taylor's residence, and the massive drug pickup I'd gone on with Ben the other day.

Quincy had bossed Wyatt Taylor around as if he'd been in charge. The man even barked at Ben for bringing me inside for the deal, which indicated that Quincy had been present the other times I'd been at the Taylor place.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I slammed my fist down on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet office. We were running out of time and, without proof, we were fighting a losing battle.

I glanced over at Jasmine, who waved me over to her desk. I made my way over to her. She looked up as I approached, her expression serious as she gestured for me to take a seat.

"I've been going through Quincy's files, trying to find anything that shows he was the head of the drug organization," she said, her voice low.

I nodded, my stomach churning with unease. "Me too. Did you find something?"

"I think I did," she replied, her eyes flicking to the computer screen in front of her. "There's a series of encrypted files here, buried deep in his hard drive. I've been trying to crack them, but it's slow going."

My heart leaped in my chest as I leaned in closer, studying the screen intently. "Do you think they could contain evidence of Quincy's involvement?"

"It's possible," Jasmine admitted, typing furiously. "But it's going to take some time to decrypt them. We're going to need all the help we can get."

I glanced around the office, my mind racing as I considered our options. We couldn't afford to waste any more time, not with the charges against each of the Reapers and Wyatt looming on the horizon.

"How about calling in reinforcements," I suggested. "And in the meantime, I'll see what else I can dig up on Quincy's connections. I know a team went through his place last night, after…" I took a deep breath. "I'm going to head over there myself and see if I can find anything."

Jasmine nodded, her expression determined as she turned back to her computer. "Got it. Keep me posted."

Half an hour later, I stood outside Quincy's modest residence, the midday sun beating down on me. Fall was in the air. I could see the leaves changing with each cooler night we had, even though the days were still so very hot and humid.

I pushed open the front door and stepped inside. The air was heavy since the air conditioning unit had been shut off sometime in the night.

The house was small, cramped, with furniture that looked like it had seen better days. Not at all what I'd expected for the head of a massive drug cartel.

As I made my way through the rooms, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for the man who had once lived here but was now gone in such a tragic way.

If he'd remained alive, we'd have all the answers we needed. So far, everyone in custody was talking to us. They had been booked into the federal prison a few counties over. Each of their interview transcripts were sent over as they were being held.

I began my search in the living room, rifling through drawers and cabinets. I knew the place had already been searched but something told me I could find what they couldn't. Aside from a few unpaid bills and a collection of dusty knick-knacks, though, there was nothing of interest to be found.

Frustration gnawed at the edges of my mind as I moved on to the bedroom, my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the house. It was there, amidst a clutter of old clothes and discarded magazines, that I spotted it: a framed photograph that had tipped over and had fallen into the rest of the mess.

My heart skipped a beat as I picked up the photograph, my fingers trembling slightly as I studied the image of Quincy and Rayne smiling together. It was from when they had still been dating, long before everything had fallen apart. Before she'd found him cheating on her. Stupid idiot.

But as I turned the photograph over, my breath caught in my throat. Tucked behind the picture was a piece of paper, yellowed with age and creased from being folded too many times.

With trembling hands, I unfolded the paper to find a ledger. I began to read. It appeared that Quincy was in deep with a large sports gambling collector. So deep, I cringed at the numbers on each line.

Each time a payment was made, there was a date beside the amount with the new balance underneath.

Several other letters from a debt collector were behind that, all of them demanding payment for an outstanding debt owed to a local sports bookie. My eyes widened as I read on, my mind racing with the implications of what I was seeing.

Quincy was in serious debt, far more than I had ever realized. And if he was willing to go to such lengths to hide it, who knew what else he was capable of?

I'd wager every payment date coincided with a money drop or a drug deal. Still, this didn't prove he was in charge. After all, the amount I'd seen on the pool table at the Nest could have cleared most of this debt away. There wasn't any proof of payments to any of the Reapers on the sheet either.

Had his debt been the reason he'd started the drug ring in the first place? We'd already found proof that when Felix and Ben were first arrested years back, Quincy had been the arresting officer.

As I was about to put the paper in my pocket and replace the photograph, I tensed as I heard footsteps approaching. I instinctively reached for the gun at my waist. But as the figure stepped into the room, I relaxed slightly when I recognized Rayne's familiar silhouette.

"What are you doing here?" Rayne's voice was sharp with concern as she took in the scene before her. "And what's that you're holding?"

"I came here for the same reason as you. To search for evidence," I admitted, holding up the ledger for her to see. "I think Quincy may have been involved in more than we realized."

Rayne's eyes widened as she read through the ledger, comprehension dawning on her face. "Sports gambling," she murmured, her brow furrowing in thought. "That could explain a lot. This is a lot of debt."

I nodded. "I think Quincy's debts may have driven him," I said grimly. "And if he was willing to resort to criminal activity to pay off those debts, who knows what else he might have been involved in?"

Rayne's expression hardened with determination as she met my gaze. "We need to find out everything we can about Quincy's connections," she said firmly. "If he was involved in the deaths of Mayor Taylor and the Dupont brothers, we need to know." I nodded in agreement. "I'm here to look for evidence to tie him to the stabbings." She glanced around. "It appears your guys already tossed the place."

I realized suddenly that, even though we both wanted to prove Quincy's guilt, we would have easily overlooked any evidence tying Quincy to the mayor's death or that of the Dupont brothers. Since we had Declan in custody and were almost positive that he was the one who had killed the brothers, did that mean we believed he'd killed the mayor as well? Why? Had he been told to do so by Quincy or Felix?

"I can help you look?" I suggested.

I watched her bite her bottom lip for a second, then shrug. "I suppose you're probably higher up than I am in the whole law enforcement scene. I don't really know the rules, but I can't see that it would hurt anything."

I smiled. "Trust me, if we do find anything, it will benefit both our cases."

"Right." She glanced around. "Where do we start?"

Rayne and I decided to conduct our search methodically by going room by room. We combed through every room for any shred of evidence that might tie him to the murders of Mayor Taylor and the Dupont brothers.

We started back in the living room, pulling apart cushions and rifling through drawers in search of anything out of the ordinary. But aside from a few old newspapers and a pile of unpaid bills, there was nothing to suggest Quincy's involvement in anything more sinister than a messy personal life.

Frustration ate at me as we moved on to the kitchen, opening cabinets and peering into closets in search of hidden clues.

I watched Rayne bag a few kitchen knives and realized she was still looking for the murder weapon. It wasn't as easy as finding someone who owned a particular gun. This was a knife. Everyone had knives. I had one in my boot or strapped to my leg most days.

Once again, our efforts yielded little more than dust and disappointment and a dozen or so steak knives.

"We're missing something," Rayne murmured, her brow furrowed in concentration as she surveyed the room. "Quincy was smart, too smart to leave anything incriminating lying around."

I nodded in agreement, my mind racing with possibilities. "We need to think like Quincy," I said, my voice low with determination. "If he was involved in these murders, he would have taken steps to cover his tracks."

With renewed purpose, we continued our search, scouring every inch of the house for any sign of Quincy's involvement. But as the hours passed and the sun began to sink below the horizon, it became increasingly clear that our efforts were in vain.

"I don't understand," Rayne said, her voice tinged with frustration as we stood in the empty living room, surrounded by the remnants of our fruitless search. "There has to be something here, something we're missing. Why else would he have…" She broke off.

I understood what she was saying. He'd been caught, but as a police officer, he knew that he could probably get away with a slap on the wrist and a few years behind bars for the drug charges. But murder, well, that changed everything. The only reason we could think of for the man killing himself was that he was tied to something darker. Something that would have assured he'd be locked up for life.

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I don't know," I admitted, feeling a sense of defeat settling over me. "But we can't give up. We have to keep looking, keep digging, until we find the truth."

Rayne nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with determination. "Wherever the proof is, I won't stop until I have answers," she said firmly.

"We won't stop," I corrected, taking her hand in mine. "We're in this together. Until justice is served and we have all the answers."