“Good weekend, Gage?” Janice’s cheery greeting kicked up the gas on Gage’s anger meter. “So not the expression I expected to see on your face this morning, given that you’re an hour late.”
Rather than incur her wrath by issuing a rude response, Gage lifted his extra-large coffee cup in acknowledgment and proceeded into his office, drawing on every ounce of control to resist slamming the door.
What should have been a quick stop at his house turned into a thirty-minute soak in a lukewarm shower, during which he reminded himself who Morgan was, who she’d always been. She was used to taking everything on herself. She didn’t trust anyone to help her. While he’d hoped this weekend had been a turning point, it felt more like a failed intervention.
Stupid cards, whatever they were. She didn’t even trust him to tell him that much. Forget banging his head against a brick wall. Morgan was reinforced concrete.
“Did I take your cards? No, I didn’t take your goddamned cards. Almost lost my fingers trying to find them for you, but hey, what’s a hand in the grand scheme of things. What?” he bellowed as he paced by his door.
The doorknob turned, and the door opened less than an inch as Bouncer poked her head inside.
This woman had chased down drug runners and carjackers, been thrown out a second-story window, and survived a motorized encounter with a speeding Cutlass, but at this moment she looked pre–training academy pee-her-pants anxious.
“Yeah.” Gage let out a long breath, pushed Morgan’s irritating self-sufficiency out of his mind, and waved his teammate inside. “Sorry. Shitty morning. What’s up?” When she stepped inside, Gage noticed she was sans crutches. “They put you in a walking cast already?”
She gave him a tentative smile. “I went to the emergency room and told them I couldn’t stand it anymore, threatened to use a rusty hacksaw if they didn’t take it off. Are you sure now is okay?”
“It’s fine.” Somehow he needed to find a way to separate his personal life from his professional one. This wasn’t the last fight he’d have with Morgan. Taking his frustration out on his coworkers would make him the boss everyone loathed to be around. “Sit. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I’ve already had three cups this morning. That’s my limit.”
Gage continued to stand, the rustling of papers in Bouncer’s hands a telltale sign of nerves. “Okay, let’s have it. Does this have something to do with Van Keltin?”
She rubbed fingers across her forehead. “Um, we’re still working that angle, actually. This is something else. But with the mood you’re in, I’m not sure how you’re going to take it, which is why I thought I should give this to you privately.”
Gage felt as if a heavy metal band had taken up residency at the base of his skull. “Let’s go with the Band-Aid method and rip this off. Out with it.”
“Okay. Well, seeing as we still don’t know exactly what case the FBI is working on, I don’t know if they’re pulling your chain or if there’s something to this.” She winced and handed him the two stapled pages. “It’s a list of search warrants Agent Kolfax has applied for with a federal judge out of Los Angeles. Thirty-seven bank accounts at six branches of Federal Consolidated between here and L.A. He, um, should have the warrants by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Gage skimmed the names, some of them familiar, but nothing that got his pulse going. “I don’t—”
“Next page.” Bouncer folded her hands in her lap before pressing her lips into a thin line.
He flipped the page, ran his thumb down the list, and felt the world drop away. “What the fuck?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why is Morgan’s name on this list?” Was this what Kolfax had been up to this whole time? “And the Tremayne Foundation?”
“I don’t know, which is why I kept calling you this weekend. I wasn’t sure what to do, and then you, well, you told me to take the weekend off and I didn’t want to ruin your plans so—” She shrugged. “Nothing they could have done on the weekend anyway.”
“This is bullshit.” And his fault. If he hadn’t let himself get distracted, he’d have been here on Friday when the list came in. He could have gotten a jump on this sooner. His head spun like an orbiting astronaut off his tether.
“What are we going to do?”
“Find out what the hell is going on. Janice!” Gage headed to the door. “Sorry.” He should just make the apology for his shortness automatic from now on. “Let Evan know I’m on my way up to his office.”
“I think he’s in meetings all morning,” Janice called after him as he stalked to the elevator.
“Tell him I don’t care.” Elevator wasn’t fast enough. He shoved through the door to the stairs and took them two at a time.
“What on earth is going on?” Janice asked Bouncer, who looked to Peyton and Rojas as they came out of the conference room.
“Whatever it is, we need to be ready to help.”
***
“Morgan, how nice to see you.” Randolph Morton swept into the snow white showroom of Curtis & Green Jewelers with a permanent smile etched on his face and a royal blue ascot around his neck. Randolph might look as if he’d stepped out of a 1960s Vincent Price horror movie, but when it came to the jewelry business in Lantano Valley, he had no rivals.
The sole owner and hands-on manager of the upscale store considered the West Coast Tiffany’s, Randolph prided himself on providing the best, and more importantly confidential, service to his customers. While this storefront was a small one, his reputation for being able to get anything—or sell anything—for anyone was unrivaled.
She set her purse on the Atlas display case and greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, hoping Randolph’s decades-long relationship with her mother would work to her advantage. “I appreciate you seeing me this morning. I know how busy you are and I’m sure I should have called for an appointment.”
“I am never too busy for one of Catherine’s beautiful daughters. I miss you coming in to shop for her with your father.” A sad smile touched his lips as he tapped a finger against his heart. “She was a wonderful lady.”
“She was very fond of you as well.” Morgan waited a beat. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“Yes, of course. Come into my office.”
Morgan followed him through the displays of Omega and Tag Heuer watches, Mikimodo pearls, and a selection of Paloma Picasso jewelry that jostled even Morgan’s practical sensibilities.
“Please, sit.” Randolph indicated the plush purple leather seat across from him as he notified his floor staff he would be in a meeting. “What can I help you with?” He closed the heavy wooden door and joined her.
“I’m wondering if you might be interested in any of these pieces for your estate auctions.” She pulled out the velvet bag she’d used to transport her grandmother’s jewels in. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about jewelry, which I know would horrify Mom, but if you wouldn’t mind taking a look?”
“Of course, of course.” He pulled out a velvet-lined tray. “This is why I love my job. I never know what beauteous items I might come across on any given day.”
Morgan didn’t have the heart to tell him he needn’t take such care with the drawstring bag that until a few hours ago had contained a hundred dollars worth of chocolate poker chips.
“Oh, my. Morgan, I recognize these. Your grandmother was one of my father’s most faithful customers, and of course, these must be what she left you when she passed.” Randolph placed the seven bracelets in a single row, using his magnifying monocle to examine the stones Morgan prayed were real.
Morgan tried to stop her mind from ringing like a cash machine. She was so tired of hoping, only to be disappointed, but she couldn’t help herself. These jewels were her last chance to save the foundation from ruin or at the very least scandal. She shifted in her chair, clenched her fists, and tried to put the morning’s argument aside.
“Judging from these pieces, I’d say you could expect anywhere from five to fifteen thousand each. Maybe more depending on who participates in the auction. I could be sure to tweak the invitation list to ensure they bring in as much as possible. Both Victoria Bolton and Evelyn Cranston recently started antiques collections, and I think the competition could be quite beneficial for you as a seller.”
By the time he examined the three necklaces and the half-dozen brooches, Morgan felt her body lift as hope inflated her lungs. To hedge her bets, Morgan withdrew the small black velvet box from her purse and, after a last internal debate, passed her grandmother’s engagement ring across the desk.
Randolph accepted it with a mixed look of sympathy and understanding. Soon after he said, “If we add all this up”—Randolph scribbled on his notepad—“you’re looking at between one hundred thirty to one hundred fifty for the lot. If.” He held up a finger and smiled. “If we get that competitive bidding going.”
Morgan sagged in her chair. More than she’d expected, but she’d still need to use the Nemesis cash. She gnawed on her thumbnail. “Your next estate sale is scheduled for when?”
“Oh, not until the fall. We just closed our summer catalog offerings.”
Her expectation evaporated. Six months would be too late. She needed the money in two days.
“Not the answer you were hoping for, then?”
“No.” So close. She was so close to fixing everything, and yet she didn’t want to part with her grandmother’s treasures if they wouldn’t bring her what she needed when she needed it. “No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.”
Concern crossed Randolph’s waxy botoxed face. “I don’t suppose you want to confide the reason for the urgency.”
“I’d rather not,” Morgan admitted. She was so tired of lying. To everyone. To her family. To Gage. One more lie might just be her undoing. “I appreciate your time, Randolph.” She started to reach for the ring box.
“I’ll tell you what I can do.” Randolph touched her hand. “That center of your mother’s is coming along, is it not? And I imagine there’s always something new cropping up that needs tending to. Seeing as how she was so dear to me, I do want to help. Let’s say I buy these pieces from you now, for the prices I quoted you, and if they bring in less than that at auction, we’ll consider the balance a charitable donation to the Center. Does that sound reasonable to you?”
Reasonable? She clasped her cameo in her palm, giving silent thanks for whatever otherworldly persuasion Catherine had wielded over Randolph. It sounded like the end to all of her problems. Dare she believe?
“That sounds quite reasonable.” Which left one issue. “Um.” How did she ask without sounding rude? “How soon could I expect a check?”
“Well, I’ll need to do some fancy footwork with my accountant, but I think I could have one for you by this time tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?”
It was all Morgan could do not to sob in relief. The iron band that had locked around her chest months ago clicked free. She wouldn’t be able to breathe easy until she put the money back in the account. But for now? Yes, it would most definitely do.
“Thank you so much.” Seeing as she had a standing appointment with the bank branch manager at eleven tomorrow, that gave her plenty of time to make it across town.
“Excellent. In the meantime, should you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” If only she could. They were things, sentimental perhaps, but her grandmother’s jewels would do so much more good this way. She ran her finger along Granny’s engagement ring one last time, saying good-bye to childhood dreams as she embraced the completion of new ones.
***
Gage plowed into Evan the second he opened the fourth-floor stairwell door.
“Janice said you were on a tear.” Evan caught his balance, rubbed a hand across his chest. “Office. Now.”
His boss’s cool tone doused the fire that propelled Gage up two flights of stairs, as did the curious gawks and mutterings of Evan’s office staff that followed the two of them.
“I’ve had it with Agent Jerk-Off,” Gage blasted as he stepped into Evan’s office and found said agent inside, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap, an expression on his face that made him look like a seventies porn reject. “What the hell is this?” Gage threw the list of names into Kolfax’s face.
“You saved me a call, Inspector,” Evan said, as if he felt the need to remind Gage of his position. Evan closed the door and took a slow seat behind his hideous mass-manufactured desk. “Agent Kolfax was about to read us in on his case.”
“How generous of him.” Goddamn Feds had to ruin everything they touched. They’d almost cost Gage his career, not to mention his life, but he’d be damned if he’d let them go after Morgan and the foundation.
“I’d make quick work of it, Agent.” Evan motioned for Gage to take a seat, which Gage refused. “You’ve been stalking my inspector long enough.”
Kolfax placed Gage’s mangled list on Evan’s desk, then handed Evan a new file, this one filled with two inches’ worth of documents.
Evan went up ten notches in Gage’s estimation when the D.A. didn’t so much as blink in the file’s direction.
“Eighteen months ago I was assigned a new case, a joint undercover investigation with the DEA—”
“You mean this doesn’t have anything to do with your personal vendetta against Mac Price and his previous business relationship with Jackson Tremayne?” Gage demanded.
“No.” Kolfax’s self-satisfied smirk had Gage seeing murder red. “No, this was an investigation into the Benetiz cartel.”
“South Miami,” Gage explained at Evan’s non-reaction. “They have connections throughout South America. Take them down, the entire syndicate falls apart.”
“That was the plan,” Kolfax confirmed. “The BC is fast becoming the major supplier of cocaine in the United States. One of our agents managed to get in pretty deep, worked his way up to the number three position just as a huge shipment was due in to port. We wanted to get our hands on those drugs, stop them before they hit the street, so we set up a buy through our agent. Somehow his cover got blown and the bust went to hell.”
“Been there,” Gage muttered. “What happened to the agent?”
“He didn’t make it. We think he was taken out by the number two guy, Carlito Benetiz.”
Not a glimmer of emotion crossed Kolfax’s face, and Gage’s loathing of the agent increased.
“The three million in marked bills we supplied for the buy disappeared in the chaos,” Kolfax continued. “The plan had been to buy the drugs then trace the money to its source, take out the entire operation. But with the agent dead, the drugs and cash gone, the case went cold. The remaining cartel members burrowed further underground. Snitches we’d relied on for months disappeared or turned up in the morgue. We thought the case was dead. Most of us moved on, and then six months ago, the money started turning up.” Kolfax looked up at Gage. “In Lantano Valley.”
“You think the BC shifted its operations here?” Evan asked, the disbelief in his voice echoing Gage’s. “I might be new to the job, but I think we’d have noticed if a drug cartel moved to town.”
“I didn’t say we tracked the cartel here.” Kolfax indicated the folder. “We traced cash deposits to Consolidated Federal branches either in Lantano Valley or Los Angeles. The names on that warrant list all made cash deposits on the same dates our money popped in the system. Someone is laundering money for the cartel.”
“Wouldn’t that be kind of stupid?” Gage asked. “Depositing marked money into the banking system?”
“We weren’t able to confirm the cartel was aware the buyer was a plant. Could be they assumed the money was clean, or maybe they figured enough time had passed where they could start using it. Small amounts here and there as a test run. That would explain why the full three mil hasn’t been accounted for yet. We think whomever is responsible is testing the system, which is why we didn’t give the details on our investigation before now.”
“So you don’t know much beyond the fact that the money is in circulation,” Evan said.
“It’s enough to get me my warrants.” Kolfax stood to address Gage, his expression daring Gage to argue with him. “Your hostility regarding our presence hasn’t gone unnoticed, Inspector, which has led some to suggest you might be involved.”
Gage laughed, rubbed his eyes, but when he let his hands drop, he looked Kolfax in the face. “Oh man. I so wish I could say I was surprised you just said that.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Evan said.
Kolfax held up his hand to silence the D.A. “Ever work with Agent Sean Salcedo?”
“Salcedo?” Gage frowned, considered. “Yeah. We did our Quantico training together two years ago. Worked a couple of undercovers.”
Kolfax’s eyebrow quirked.
“Salcedo was the agent who was killed?” Gage’s blood turned frigid, as if he’d body-surfed an iceberg. Oh, shit. “He was just a kid.” His head went light and he bent over, tried to catch his breath. “Man. Oh, man. Salcedo’s dead.” The same as Gage might have been save for two centimeters. His shoulder throbbed. The scar on his back burned as if he’d been branded by the past.
“Sit down.” Evan had come around the desk, shoved a chair under him, and pushed him down.
“He was getting married the last time we spoke.” Gage couldn’t wrap his brain around it. “Talked about having kids and helping his mom buy a new house. He’s really dead?”
“When did you last speak?” Kolfax asked.
“You can’t be serious,” Evan said. “You think Gage had something to do—”
“Of course he’s serious, Evan. Me and the Feds are like this.” He held his hands a foot apart before burying his face in his palms, tried to focus on the question even as resentment covered him like a suffocating thermal blanket. “It was maybe two years ago? Before either of us went under. We met for a beer to celebrate our grand career achievements.” He couldn’t have sounded more bitter if he’d tinged his words with vinegar.
“What did you talk about?” Kolfax asked.
“I told you, family issues. Providing for his mother who’d been ill for some time.” Gage thought of his own mother, how difficult Gage’s injuries had been for her, and Salcedo’s mother had had to bury him. He couldn’t shake the cold.
“Nothing else? No plans to meet later? Nothing off the books?”
“Nothing like that, and fuck you very much for the implication.”
“Your affection for the FBI gives you motive to work against us.”
“My affection for the FBI is reciprocal. And apparently you all think I’m idiotic enough to deposit dirty money into the ATM two blocks from my house.” Gage clenched his fists. “Let’s forget your agency nearly got me killed, and this assumption that I’d throw away fifteen years of hard work for cash I don’t need. The idea that Salcedo was a wrong cop—”
“I didn’t say I thought either of you was dirty. I said it was a thought. Personally, I’ve developed another theory.” And didn’t he look happy about it. “Jackson Tremayne. He’s been known to have, shall we say, less than honorable connections over the years. I don’t see it as out of the realm of possibility that he’s involved in this money situation somehow. Given his position in the community and what I’ve witnessed in the last few weeks, the Tremayne Foundation is the perfect front for money laundering. No one would ever suspect them of anything untoward. Although considering your relationship with Morgan Tremayne . . .” Kolfax shrugged as if waiting for Gage to fill in the rest.
“The only reason I went near Morgan was because I saw—” And then the light dawned. “You son of a bitch. You’ve had this list for weeks. You were just waiting for the right time to use it. Evan was right. You left their name in the open on purpose that day in your office for him to find because we could get close to what you couldn’t.” Goddamn it! Heat swept through his body like a sandstorm as his arms quivered. They’d used his personal bias against the FBI against him. Kolfax had played him.
Worse. He’d let them, and thrown Morgan right in his path.
“We knew you’d never look into the Tremaynes for us if we asked, and we wanted someone to keep an eye on her.” Kolfax sounded so proud of himself, Gage wanted to pound him into the floor. “But knowing how you feel about the agency, I figured you’d do just about anything to keep us out of your pittance of a robbery case. Gotta admit, didn’t take much of a push.”
“The Tremayne Foundation is not a front for the cartel. They don’t launder money.” The thought of what Kolfax was suggesting was so far out of left field it wasn’t even in the stadium. “Morgan would never do anything illegal to jeopardize her family’s work. And neither would her father.”
“If that’s true, then monitoring the foundation’s accounts for the next month will bear that out.”
“This isn’t some game, Kolfax,” Gage ground out. “This is somebody’s life you’re playing with. Dozens of lives. The accusation alone could destroy years of work and dedication.”
“In my experience, people like the Tremaynes think they’re above the law, which means they’re more inclined to participate in questionable activity. You look at the evidence in that file. Morgan Tremayne fits. And thank you, by the way, for keeping tabs on her and her family while I finished gathering the information I needed to get my warrant. Besides,” Kolfax said with a cocky smile that made Gage’s fists clench. “It’s not like you didn’t get something out of this. Looks like she was good for a ride or two.”
Gage vaulted out of his chair only to have Evan block him with a hand on his chest. “Enough.” He shoved Gage back, turned his attention to Kolfax. “Just to play this ridiculous scenario of yours out, what’s your plan?”
“I’ve got teams ready to stake out each bank.” Kolfax straightened his sallow yellow tie. “Any of those thirty-seven people makes a cash deposit, we verify the numbers on the bills right then. If the serial numbers match, I’ve got my connection and I get the collar.”
“Not to mention your headlines. You’re wasting your time. Morgan can’t lead you to the cartel money. She doesn’t have it.”
“And you would know, being such a good judge of character,” Kolfax said
“Pegged you as an asshole from the start, didn’t I?”
“We both did,” Evan added, but he looked over his shoulder at Gage. “You’re sure about Morgan? No second thoughts?”
“I know her.” I love her. “She wouldn’t do this. Not to the foundation. Not to her family.” Not to me. She might have trouble asking for help, might be a little too secretive for his taste, but that didn’t mean she was a criminal. Did it? “She didn’t do this. I’ll prove it. You don’t need your teams, Kolfax, if it’s Morgan and the foundation you’re looking at. She has an appointment at the branch on Twenty-second Street at eleven tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you there.”
“To observe. Nothing more,” Kolfax said, as if granting Gage a pardon from execution.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, you prick.”
“Your job,” Kolfax sneered. “You’re a glorified private investigator, Juliano. You didn’t have the stones for the agency. Your own department couldn’t find a place to put you, so you ended up here, running down stalled cases that won’t get you anywhere but into an early grave. You’re dead weight in a dead-end job and you will not interfere with my case.”
“You didn’t think him so incompetent he wasn’t of use to you,” Evan said.
But Kolfax’s tirade triggered a calm Gage had been waiting for years to experience.
The underlying roar that had been his companion for as long as he could remember went silent. The tightness in his chest eased. His brain unlocked, releasing the pent-up hostility and frustration that had been mounting since he’d been shot. “You might be right, Kolfax,” Gage said. “Maybe I’m not cut out for a job that doesn’t take a person’s character into consideration before decades of their work is put on the line. Or maybe because of agents like you, I’ve lost faith in what used to be an honorable system. A system I joined to try to make a difference.” Gage scooped up the file Kolfax had brought with him and headed to the door. “You’re wrong about Morgan. You’ll see that tomorrow morning.”
This time he did slam the door.
And relished the sound of breaking glass.