Chapter 6

One day, he wanted to own a house with a library like this. Before moving into Jesse’s mansion, Caleb hadn’t known rooms like this existed outside of movies. Endless rows of bookcases, filled to the brim, thick velvet curtains that kept the cold out, and an honest-to-god fireplace. Didn’t that add, like, big-time to your home insurance? Not that Jesse would be worried about that. Money was clearly not an issue for him.

Caleb grazed the spines of the books with his fingertips. How many books did Jesse have in this room? A thousand? Two? Had to be closer to two, judging by how full the cases were. Caleb had never been a big reader. Growing up, he’d been constantly told to get away from his computer and read a book, but he was sure tempted now.

But more than anything, he loved the atmosphere in this room. So cozy and inviting. The scent of old books mingled with the smoke from the fire, and the lemon fragrance Jesse’s staff used to clean wafted from the couches. He wanted to cuddle on the cushions and spend a whole day here.

But he had a job to do. While Ryan and Alex settled on the sofa across from Roman, Caleb took the spot next to Roman, who was tapping his fingers on the armrest, his expression anything but warm. Not that Caleb could blame him.

“Let’s talk about the threats.” Ryan sounded gentler than Caleb had thought possible. Either Alex was rubbing off on him, or the PI realized how hard this was for Roman. “I’m assuming you kept track?”

“Yeah.” With a resigned sigh, Roman flipped open his laptop, the soft glow casting an otherworldly sheen over his features. He navigated to a file labeled “Harassment Log” and angled the screen so the others could see. “Every text, every call. Timestamped and documented.”

Caleb leaned in and scanned the digital trail of malice. The messages weren’t random. They were targeted strikes, each a calculated move to shake Roman’s foundations. Five months of this shit, cutting deeper each time. The pattern was unmistakable.

“Escalating,” Ryan muttered, his angular jaw set in a hard line. “Whoever this is, they’re ramping up the frequency and the intensity.”

“Worrisome,” Alex agreed. “Could be because they’re seeing no results.”

Roman nodded. “If Whitman is behind it, he must be getting anxious by now that I’m not giving up on the case. We’re only weeks away from an indictment.”

“And they made it personal when they started gaslighting you,” Ryan said. “Those messages to your secretary, the car accident, all that was meant to make you question yourself…and make others doubt your sanity.”

“It almost worked too.” Roman sighed. “If Wander hadn’t ordered me to get my ass down here—his words—I’m not sure if I would’ve had the courage to tell him about what was going on. I was starting to think I was going mad.”

No wonder. The car accident especially had to have messed with his head.

“So for five months, you’ve been dodging these punches,” Ryan said. “Anything else happen in that time? Any other cases that might have hit a nerve?”

Roman’s eyes, usually so guarded, flickered with the strain of recollection. “Yes, there’s one other big case I’ve been working on. A sexual harassment case. High-ranking officer in the BPD and multiple credible victims. But his brother is with Internal Affairs, so they sent it our way.”

Shit. A cop? If their perp wore a badge, he’d be harder to get to. Cops tended to close ranks, refusing to rat each other out.

Ryan scratched his chin. “Whitman or the cop. Either way, it’s someone with a grudge and access to power.”

“What about the surveillance pic they sent you?” Alex asked. “You still have that?”

Roman pulled it up on his laptop. The quality was high, which meant it was taken from relatively close with a good camera, not a phone.

“Do you recognize the location?” Caleb asked.

“Beacon Street. I often pass it to grab lunch.”

Ryan leaned back. “I’ll pull some strings, see if I can get my hands on the security cam footage from the area. Whoever took this was brazen enough to do it in public.”

“They should be easy to spot,” Caleb said. “This pic was not taken with a phone. The quality is too good despite the distance.”

“Noted.” Ryan scribbled something in his little notebook. “Let’s talk about the social media stuff. Did you keep track of that?”

“I have screenshots of everything. A lot was posted from throwaway accounts that no longer exist,” Roman said.

He opened a few screenshots, and Caleb pressed his lips into a thin line.

Local DA Drunk Out on the Town.

DA Covers Up Drunk Driving Accident.

DA Involved in Cheating Scandal.

And they were from Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, each one twisting the knife deeper into Roman’s reputation.

“The LinkedIn ones hit the hardest,” Roman said. “That’s my professional network, and those people take accusations like this seriously. I’ve had to do some damage control.”

“Which means they know where to hurt you most. Personal is one thing, but trying to dismantle your career? That’s another level of hate,” Alex said.

“I don’t know if I’d call it hate,” Ryan said. “I see it more as a calculated attempt at discrediting Roman so that if the case went to court, there would be a trail of rumors and allegations they might be able to use.”

Roman widened his eyes. “I hadn’t looked at it like that.”

“It’s hard when you’re in the middle of it. Outsiders have a different view,” Ryan said kindly.

“If you’ll allow me access to your social media, I’ll see what I can find out about who’s behind these,” Caleb said. “It’s clearly a coordinated, well-targeted effort.”

Roman waved his hand. “I’m happy to give you full access. I barely use my Facebook account anyway.”

“Let’s talk about that accident,” Ryan said. “To me, that’s the most puzzling one. How certain are you that you weren’t driving that night? Not that I don’t believe you, but I wanna know what level of certainty we’re talking about here.”

“One hundred percent.”

“Good to know. Where did the accident take place?”

“A couple of blocks from my house, on Parker Street, just off Route 9. I can send you the accident report and a copy of the form I supposedly filled out.”

Ryan jotted something down again.

Alex leaned forward. “Does the handwriting look like yours?”

Roman made a so-so gesture with his right hand. “It could pass for mine, but the signature’s a little off.”

So they’d done enough research to know his handwriting. Creepy.

“Where were you earlier that night?” Ryan asked.

Roman stiffened, his jaw hardening, his voice clipped as he recounted the night’s events. “I had dinner at Gianni’s, an Italian restaurant not far from my office. My usual fare of seafood pasta. One glass of red. Nothing outlandish.”

“You go there often?”

“At least once a week, usually on Friday evenings. They make great pasta.”

“Can you remember anything being different that night?”

“I wasn’t feeling well after dinner and went to bed early. I woke up with the mother of all migraines and felt groggy and off. I took some painkillers, waited half an hour for them to kick in, and headed to work.”

“Could someone have drugged you?” Ryan asked, eyes sharp and analytical.

“Possibly.” A flicker of distress crossed Roman’s features. “You’re thinking they could’ve slipped something into my food or drink at Gianni’s?”

If someone had gotten to Roman’s food or drink… It meant they were close, intimate with his routines. A shiver ran down Caleb’s spine as the realization hit him with the force of a punch.

“Perhaps.” Ryan tapped his pen on his notebook. “If you eat there regularly and often on Friday night, as you said, it would’ve been easy for them to set something up. Can you remember if you went to the restroom at any point? Or left your table unattended for another reason?”

Roman frowned. “I got a call from a local number, but it was a bad connection, so I stepped outside for a moment. The call was disconnected, and since I was having dinner, I figured I’d call back later.”

“Did you?”

“No. Forgot all about it until now.”

“Can you check your call log for that night? See if you can find the number?”

“Sure.” Roman flipped through his phone, scrolling back to the correct date. “It must’ve been this one ‘cause that was right about the time I would’ve been at Gianni’s.” He rattled off the number, and Alex wrote it down.

“It probably won’t lead anywhere, but just in case the FBI gets access to the phone records. They may be able to determine where the call was made from,” Ryan said.

“You drive a BMW, right?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah, an X1. I’ve only had it for a few months.”

“BMWs have a pretty sophisticated on-board computer.” Caleb tapped his finger against his chin. “I wonder if I’d be able to get any information about the route that night. Mind if I give it a try?”

“You can hack into my BMW?” Roman’s eyes were big.

Caleb grinned. “I wouldn’t call it hacking. It’s not hard when you know where to look and how to access it.”

“It’s all hacking to me, but knock yourself out.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can find any streetcars or businesses with security cameras in that area. Maybe one of the cameras caught something,” Alex said.

“Speaking of the FBI,” Caleb said. “Do you know what evidence they collected? Did they request metadata and network logs from your cell phone provider for the stuff you supposedly sent your secretary, for example?”

Roman dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m not in the business of questioning the FBI about their methods, so when they told me they couldn’t find out who did it, I took that as the gospel truth. In hindsight, I should’ve been a little more insistent.”

Caleb instinctively reached out, unable to stand the distress in Roman’s voice, and patted the man’s knee. “You didn’t have reason to suspect they weren’t honest with you.”

“Maybe, but I should’ve been more careful. I knew Whitman had a long reach.”

Ryan cocked his head. “Are we thinking he may have bribed FBI agents?”

Roman gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know, but I can’t rule it out. It’s hard for me to stay objective after all this. I feel I’m only a few steps away from full-blown paranoia.”

Alex raised one eyebrow at Caleb. Oh shit, he still had his hand on Roman’s knee. He hadn’t even realized it until Alex’s curious stare. Caleb ignored the heat creeping up his cheeks as he quickly withdrew his hand. Funny how he had no issue being fucked in public, yet this made him feel self-conscious for some stupid reason. Why was that? He had nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I think that’s also a result of the gaslighting,” Ryan said. “Which proves how effective that shit is.”

“Is there a way to get an idea of what the FBI has done to investigate?” Alex asked.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t raise suspicion if I called the special agent in charge and asked him about it. It’s about time for an update anyway, so I’ll throw that in as an offhand question.”

“Sounds good,” Ryan said. “And I’d be happy to be in the room to suggest questions to ask him if you prefer.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m worried about the confidentiality of the case.”

Ryan held up his hands. “And I respect that. Your call.”

“Let me think about that, okay?”

This made what Caleb was about to ask even more complicated. He took a deep breath. “If we aren’t one hundred percent sure the FBI actually did a thorough investigation of either the text messages to your secretary or the incident with the changed folders on your computer, that means we’ll have to do it ourselves. Which means I’ll need access to your laptop and phone.”

“The kid’s an absolute wizard with technology,” Ryan said, and Caleb’s insides lit up at that unexpected praise. “If someone messed with your systems, he’ll trace it.”

“I won’t look at any case files without asking your permission,” Caleb promised.

Roman’s eyes, pools of brown uncertainty, flickered over Caleb’s face. With a slow exhale, he nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Thank you. I won’t betray that trust, I swear.”

Roman slid his laptop toward Caleb and handed him his phone and the keys to his car. “Find whatever you can.” The words felt heavy, like he was passing off pieces of his guarded life into Caleb’s hands.

“I’ll dig as long and deep as needed to find something.” Caleb pocketed the keys, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. He was about to delve into the depths of Roman’s life, both digital and literal.

“We’re on it,” Ryan assured Roman, his voice gravelly with promise. “No stone unturned, Roman. We’ll figure out who’s messing with you.”

Roman nodded, a stiff tilt of his chin that didn’t quite mask the worry etching deeper lines around his eyes. He was a fortress of a man, but even fortresses have their weak spots. “Thanks.”

The word sounded like it had to claw its way out.

Ryan let out a long sigh. “I think that’s all for now. If we have any more questions, we’ll come find you. For now, my advice is to trust no one other than our team. Until we know who’s targeting you, we have no clue who could be involved. Wouldn’t be the first time someone with power had dirty LEOs in his pocket.”

A shiver trickled down Caleb’s spine. Dirty FBI agents? This case was much more involved than he’d initially thought.

“You guys better be careful as you investigate this,” Roman said. “And that includes you.”

He gave Caleb a pointed look, the concern in his voice undercut with a note of command. Caleb’s balls tightened in response. “Yes, Sir.”

“You don’t need to call me Sir.”

“What if I want to?”

“Jesus, the pheromones in here would make a monk horny.” Ryan stood. “Let’s go, baby boy. I doubt Mr. District Attorney here would appreciate me fucking you in public.”

With a hearty slap on Alex’s ass, he walked out, Alex following him like an obedient puppy.

Roman rose from the couch, the subtle play of muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt hinting at a strength that went beyond the courtroom. Caleb swallowed hard.

The air between them felt charged, crackling with the unspoken. Roman’s gaze flickered over Caleb, a dark sweep that left a trail of heat in its wake. He was acutely aware of Roman’s proximity, his pulse ticking up a notch. Why was he so attracted to this man? What was it about Roman that drew Caleb in?

He wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap and take the first step, but this wasn’t just about comfort. It was about control, and in that silent dance, Caleb was the one who yielded. Roman had to make a move now. Would he want to use Caleb again? Maybe take some of that frustration out on his ass? Caleb would so volunteer for that.

The silence stretched and stretched. Finally, Caleb sighed. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll take a look at your car and see what data I can pull from it.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. If I don’t see you again tonight, sleep well.”

“Good night, Caleb,” Roman murmured, but the words felt like anything but a dismissal. They were a question, a challenge, lingering long after Roman had walked away, leaving Caleb on a cliffhanger of desire that promised no easy resolution. What could he do to make Roman want him again?