Page 6 of Bare
But she didn’t know that he’d had to choose between her and Phillipe, between dashing the dreams of the living and clearing the name of the dead. There had been no choice. There was no point in ruining his mom’s political aspirations. With the FBI throwing up every possible roadblock, the chances of bringingPhillipe’s killer to justice were shit anyway. So, he lived with the fact that he’d failed his best friend.
And it was fucking brutal.
His phone went still for a few seconds and then started vibrating again.
He’d thought Kemper was done trying to talk him into taking the job in Chicago. His leaving the FBI and shifting to a consultant-trainer at Quantico had been a win-win. He’d needed some separation. He couldn’t stomach being an active FBI agent after the bureau had betrayed Phillipe, and the bureau was glad he was out of Philly. They didn’t want him drawing attention to the death of a dirty agent, and it was hard as hell to stir up trouble when you were in another state.
So why the hell was Kemper calling now?
He hit the green circle to accept the call. “I’m hiking, so this better be good.”
“You’d be less grumpy if you’d transferred to Chicago instead of schooling newbies.” Kemper’s deep, gravelly voice boomed through the phone.
“We’ve walked this road. You know I’m not coming back, and I know you don’t really care. If you did, you’d be on the streets doing everything in your power to put the asshole who murdered my best friend in a cage.”
Kemper sighed. “You’re right. We have walked this road, and you know this was out of my hands the second the ME pulled twenty grand in cash out of Phillipe’s pocket. You guys were undercover for months, and we had nothing to show for it but an agent on the take. No matter what I said, they were going to shut us down.”
Kemper was right. There was only so much Kemper could do. He was fifty-two years old with a wife, two kids in college, and one in private high school. The guy couldn’t afford to risk his job, but that did nothing to cool the ever-present lava of angerthat simmered in Aleksei’s chest day after day. Without the rigid control he’d learned in the military, some of that anger might have spilled out.
“If you aren’t calling to tear open old wounds, what are you calling about?”
The question was met with the hissing swoosh he recognized as Kemper taking a drag on one of his beloved Marlboro Lights. Kemper had smoked like a chimney but quit cold turkey after his brother died from lung cancer. If he was smoking again, something was up.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I think I might have found something.”
His chest tightened. Kemper knew there was only one thing that could get his hopes up. Only one lead that could possibly matter to him. Only one wrong he’d give almost anything to right.
Kemper had a line on Phillipe’s killer.
Aleksei forced himself to take a few seconds before responding. An excited mind prevented concentration. An excited mind meant mistakes. He’d spent nearly two years trying to convince himself to accept the fact that he might never have the opportunity to avenge his best friend’s death. Now, he realized that wasn’t what he’d been doing at all. He’d just been waiting. Waiting for an opportunity. Waiting for something to break. Waiting for a call like this.
“What did you find?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Kemper answered.
“You wouldn’t be calling if you thought it was nothing.”
Another sharp hiss filled the line while Kemper took another drag. “Even though we shut the operation down, I still had a couple informants on the payroll. We shared ’em with DEA, and they were under their budget, so they never got cut off. I’dforgotten about them until I got a call from one of them the other day. He must’ve still had my number.”
“Does he know who killed Phillipe?”
Kemper grunted. “You really think it’s going to be that easy?”
Of course not. Nothing truly worth having ever came easy. His parents had made sure he’d learned that.
“What did the informant say?”
“He said Salvatore Moresco had him follow an accountant. A woman. Rosemary Cashman. Moresco wants tabs on her. The CI said Moresco got pissed when he asked why. He also said that she’s related to a guy who spent a few months in jail for fraud. Davis Anderson. The CI thinks Anderson might have ties to Moresco.”
Salvatore Moresco.Just hearing the name made his muscles tense.
He quickened his pace. His mind always worked better when he was moving.Rosemary Cashman. Davis Anderson.He didn’t recognize either name. “Could the woman be Moresco’s girlfriend? Maybe Moresco wanted to make sure she wasn’t getting down and dirty with someone else?”
“I asked. The CI said no. Said he’d been following her for a few weeks, and she’s just an average woman with an average life. He actually sounded worried about her.”
Aleksei pulled Jaka’s leash from his jacket pocket, snapped it on her collar and then sped up to a light jog. His backpack bounced against his shoulder blades and lower back as his feet and Jaka’s paws thudded on the muddy trail. The increased blood flow and rhythmic pounding were like jumper cables for his brain. He could almost hear the gears clicking and whirring as he processed what Kemper had shared. A guy wasn’t going to follow someone day in and day out for free. Manpower had a price, and Moresco thought this woman was worth paying it.
“Embezzlement?” he asked.
