Elle Gordon sipped her coffee, sunlight streaming through the kitchen window as Pops handed her a plate of cookies. She accepted one with a smile while I did my best not to shoo my over-eager father out of sight. He was adorable and got the hint on his own, but only when Jordan appeared and guided him away.
“You have a cute family,” she said. “They care. I can tell.”
I shrugged, a little uncomfortable, though she was right. What was it about this rather hard-bitten but kind detective I really wanted to impress? “Pops makes great cookies. Careful, he’ll turn you into an addict and you’ll never leave.”
She stuffed the whole chocolate chip confection in her mouth and grinned around it. “Sold.” She chewed thoughtfully, chased the cookie with coffee white enough and sugar-laden enough to feed a family of four. “You think about my offer any further?”
She’d suggested, rather blatantly, at the crime scene two nights ago after her team uncovered Everly hadn’t escaped with both bags of money, that maybe I should freelance for her department now and then. I still hadn’t admitted to her this deception thing wasn’t really something I’d been trained for, so I figured coming clean now was the best option.
When I informed her of my deceit, she shrugged, ate another cookie.
“Kid,” she said, “I could tell you had no idea what to do with yourself. But your kind of talent can’t be learned. It’s natural. You follow my rules, don’t do stupid stuff,” she eyeballed me so much like Dad’s best glare I laughed, “and we’ll see what happens.” She sat back, sipping. “No promises, the captain isn’t a fan of private investigators, but I find people like you useful under the right circumstances.”
“What about your partner?” He’d been cold to me, clearly still holding a grudge after Elle’s quiet and efficient takedown at the station. Not my fault he chose then to confront her. It was clear he didn’t like me, though, warranted or not.
Elle didn’t seem worried. “You leave Rick Danone to me,” she said.
I would do that, no question.
“Are Daniel and Gary in custody?” Daniel might not have been the bad guy Everly tried to convince me he was, but he’d taken part enough in the laundering—had been complicit and an accessory—that they were both wanted men.
“Yes, barely,” she said. “I have a feeling they were both happy to see us. Though, if what you said is true, the Chameleon’s identity is burned so her value as an assassin is gone with her secret.”
Sucked to be Everly Hunt. Not even her real name. Not bitter, nope. Uh-huh.
Elle fished a card out of her wallet, set it on the counter. “Figured you’d like to have it as a souvenir,” she said. “The number’s been disconnected, account was paid in cash. Whoever she is, she’s gone back underground, though we do have the tech guys dipping into the dark web to see if they can track her.” The depths of the internet were home to lots of illegal activities. I had no doubt Everly would find something to do that suited her personality.
Yeah. I had to get over it. But she got away. And there were bullets in the gun, the magazine full when I handed it to Elle that night and she checked.
I could have shot her.
Oh, Petal. But would I have?
The jury was still out.
Elle left shortly after that, taking the dozen cookies Pops pressed on her as she did. She waved herself out, munching, while I hugged my father and left to return to my own apartment.
Found Reggie sitting on the stairs, waiting for me. She waved, hesitated while I joined her, sitting next to her.
“I figured you’d rather Detective Gordon didn’t know I was here,” she said.
“You’re my friend,” I said, feeling suddenly protective of her. “I don’t care who knows it, Reg.”
She beamed a smile at me. “Daddy’s pissed.” She tsked softly, laughed. “Wants me to sell the theater and club. I refused.”
“Good for you.” We girls needed to stand our ground.
“You saved my business,” she said. “And, in a way, my soul. I’d be in prison right now if it wasn’t for you.” She paused long enough to clear her throat, swallow, pat my knee. “I can’t thank you enough, Petal. But I can try.” She fished an envelope out of her purse, the thickness of it making me stop and wonder what could possibly be inside. “Daddy was able to access the account Gary and Carson siphoned the laundered money into. All five million.” She laughed softly. “That’s what really made him mad. I demanded twenty percent.” The envelope settled on my lap, and she ignored it then, looking out over the backyard with a small, dreamy smile. “He relented, eventually. I think he was proud of me, actually.” That made her giggle. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not the crime boss he wanted me to be. I just want to run my bar and my theater and live my life.”
I purposely did not look at the envelope, now positive I knew what was inside and fighting a giant internal battle over accepting it. Reggie didn’t give me the option, standing and descending the steps, stopping to beam up at me. “Come by the bar tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll have too much to drink to celebrate my newly single status and have someone else serve us for a change.” Without waiting for confirmation I’d be joining her, Reggie left, waving at Pops through the kitchen window, leaving me with a moral battle of ethics I was sure my father would find as fascinating as he would terrifying.
I sat there a long time, the weight of the envelope growing heavier and heavier while I hugged myself and struggled with the implications. On the one hand, I’d earned this money, right? I did what I promised and while it might not be clean, it was honestly earned. Then again, this was blood money. A man died for it, died stealing it. And people’s lives were ruined in the laundering of it, gamblers and their families suffering. Okay, so I was creating scenarios, but the likelihood was strong that I was well on the way to hell if I accepted what was in that envelope.
The ginger tomcat joined me on quiet feet, settling next to me with his fur slightly puffed against the cooler evening air. I didn’t try to pet him, figuring it was way too early for that in our relationship, though I did ask his opinion on the matter.
“Keep it or give it back?” I watched his ears flicker, how his big eyes blinked slowly, closing as he released a deep sigh and settled into his own cat thoughts like my problem wasn’t his.
I guess it was inevitable, considering my moral dilemma, that Dad would appear. While he’d become my compass for such things, well needed considering my upbringing in a life of too much money, adults without compassion or conscience, surrounded by alcohol, drugs and not much in the way of parenting to be had the first eight years of my life, it was really a wonder I turned out despite Dad and Pops and their seemingly unwavering ethical codes of black and white, right and wrong.
The cat looked up when Dad sat on my other side, then went back to ignoring both of us. Dad leaned into me a little, elbows on his knees, white shirt sleeves rolled up like always, big hands clasped before him. He glanced at the envelope, didn’t comment right away, but I could tell he knew exactly what was in it.
“I’m proud of you, Pet.” Did he know how much I needed to hear that? I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling empty despite my success. Dad leaned back, arm around me, cheek on my hair. “Sam and I worry because we love you. I know life with us hasn’t been easy.” This was far from his fault. Since when did he blame himself? “We’ve done our best to make sure you knew you were loved no matter what.” I nodded, couldn’t speak because I’d be bawling if I tried. “It’s been so hard, watching you find your way. Knowing there was nothing I could do to help. You need to sort your own life out, but I’m your father. By choice. I chose you, Pet.” He needed to stop right now because the fat tears trickling down my face had a lot of friends waiting their turn and I was too tired to rein them in. “No matter what you do, what you choose, I love you. You’re my daughter.” And the flood was now inevitable. I snuffled a little, vision blurry, chest tight, throat on fire, but I didn’t fight it, let the tears come as he went on, probably the longest string of words I’d heard him put together at one time since he’d found me in the closet in my mother’s bedroom, lifting me out of the nest I’d made of her clothes, blood on my hands, on my cheeks, in shock and broken by what I’d seen.
I’d loved him instantly and that never changed.
“I know you’re struggling with your conscience right now.” Dad leaned away, fingertips wiping tears from my cheeks. “And that the money in that envelope has a history.” I nodded, again incapable of speech just yet. “I’m not going to tell you what to do with it, Pet. And I’m not going to tell you who you can and can’t be friends with.” Like the daughter of a mob boss? My relationship with Reggie hadn’t really crossed my mind until now. But as it did, I suddenly worried about Dad and Pops and Jordan. Not just their safety, but what about Dad’s job with the FBI? Could I be putting him in a bad situation at work? “All I ask—all Sam and I ask—is that you’re careful and think before you act. Please don’t take risks just to pay a stupid student loan, Pet. Money’s not worth your life.”
“Dad,” I whispered, “you’re an FBI agent. You literally risk your life for money for a living.”
He chuckled but shook his head. “No,” he said. “I risk my life for justice and truth and to make the world a better place. I just happen to get paid for it. I hope you can see the difference, Pet.” Now he sounded worried, and you know what? He had reason.
He was right. Dad was a freaking superhero, his motives altruistic. Mine? Not so much.
Maybe my formative years were the real problem.
Dad hugged me, kissed my forehead, left me there to ponder my next steps. For a brief moment, I almost called him back. My mind, for some reason likely to do with deflection and avoidance, flashed to the folder I’d found in his desk, LUCILLE written across the tab. I’d stirred the pot sufficiently for now, thanks. Whatever Dad was investigating or had information on, if it was about Mom, so be it.
I was too tired at the moment to care one way or the other.
The cat watched him go as if he had no intention of leaving anytime soon, snuggling down a little more, nose dipping toward his paws while I finally reached for the envelope and, in a surge of choice, opened it.
Counted the hundred-dollar bills until my heart skipped. Held my breath, wondering if the surge of relief that I’d calculated properly in my head meant I was a bad person because I was keeping it. Well, paying off debt, that was. Because five percent of twenty percent of five million dollars?
Fifty grand. Plus, I noted, the promised bonus. Another ten thousand. Which left me with a cool sixty to save my credit score. While selling my soul?
Listen, my soul was already crusty around the edges, cracked and broken. And a few more jobs like this one? I’d be debt-free and could start again.
I stood at last, money firmly grasped in one hand, reaching for the door. I didn’t notice until I’d opened it that the cat had risen when I did and the moment I opened the way, he sauntered into my apartment like he’d always lived there. I watched in astonishment while he sniffed a few things before hopping up on my bed, turning twice on my pillow, and settling down for a nap with his chin on his paws.
“Make yourself at home,” I said. Grinned. Laughed out loud.
For better or worse, it was time to take my own advice.
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