Three days ago, we finally caught a break in the case. Nelson and Noah found substantial deposits, as in close to six figures, that were made to the Irish surgeon from a bank in the Caymans. The account was registered to Imogen Walsh. It took a while to find the connection, but a thorough search of public records uncovered a certificate of marriage between Niall and Ms. Walsh, dated three years before he and I ever met. It wasn’t the proverbial nail in the coffin I’d hoped for, however it was enough to move forward with our plan. It would be up to me to extract a confession.
The next day I made contact. I shot off a text, refusing to talk to the asshole on the phone. Everyone had their limits. Pretending to be sincere when speaking with someone who betrayed me in the worst possible way was mine.
Me: I remembered something about the accident.
Fucker: Something that could help in the case against Murray?
Me: Yes. I think so.
Fucker: We should talk.
Me: Agreed, but not over the phone. You still in Quantico?
Thanks to Quattro Security, I knew exactly where Niall was. Once we started digging into his past, I asked Gabe and his brothers to get eyes on him.
Fucker: No. I’m in Roanoke for a few days on business.
Me: I’ve got a hunting cabin about two hours from there. Can you meet me on Saturday? Alone?
Fucker: Send me the address.
Niall took the bait.
That was yesterday. Tomorrow was the big day. The team and I were balls-to-the-wall finalizing our plan, the backup plan, and the backup to the backup plan. This wasn’t our first rodeo. Preparing for every possible scenario was how we didn’t get dead. I took my role as Waverly’s second-in-command very seriously. We’d all arrive together and we’d be coming home the same way. Period.
Considering we’d been at it all morning, there was probably more coffee flowing through my veins than blood at this point. One more cup wouldn’t hurt. Standing at theKeurig waiting for my mug to fill, I thought of a few more questions.
“Keaton, did you get a hold of the game warden for Camp Creek State Park?”
“Chatted with him yesterday. He’s fully aware of the situation and said if he can be of any assistance, give him a ring.”
The cabin we were using for the meeting belonged to Keaton. He’d almost had it demolished because of its connection to Henley’s kidnapping. Thankfully, she’d convinced him otherwise. It was the perfect location, secluded with plenty of places for my agents to stay hidden but still be able to get to me if the shit hit the fan.
“Noah. When’s Vlaschenko getting in?”
“His plane arrives somewhere between nine and ten.”
“Did you tell Sloane about him yet?” Lanie asked, kicking her feet up on her desk.
“I’ll tell her tonight.”
“No need.” Waverly rounded the corner from her office. “I just got off the phone with Finn. I hope your couch is comfortable, D.”
“Shit.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“Appreciate the offer, Lanie, but I dug my own grave.”
I hadn’t held off on telling Sloane about Zak for any particular reason. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with him being the head of one of the Bratva families. He was a good man, born into a criminal enterprise. She’d figure that out the second he started gushing about Pru. The guy was a total goner. Truth was, I’d been so preoccupied with the investigation it’d slipped my mind. Lame excuse, still it was the only one I had.
After the gear was packed and loaded into the SUVs,everyone except Waverly and I went home for the evening. We were typically the first to arrive and the last to leave, since she was the resident agent in charge and I was the supervising agent. I was doing some last minute paperwork when she popped into my office, crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs opposite me.
“Are you almost ready? Despite what I said earlier, I don’t actually think you’re in danger of having to sleep on the couch. Finn said Sloane had calmed down quite a bit.”
“Give me a couple minutes. I’m waiting for a delivery.”
“Okay. Cryptic much?”