In the fifteen minutes he took to wait in the line, wait for the coffees and pastries, and then make it back to their table, Maya had taken over the entire space. She’d grabbed another nearby table and pushed the two together and then covered the entire space with paper; pages of notes covered in colorful highlights, photocopies of what looked like official reports, also scribbled with notes, and random pieces of paper in all shapes and sizes dotted the table. Underneath them lay both books and copies of newspapers, some yellowed along the edges. In among all the chaos sat Maya, yellow legal pad out and pen moving quickly over the paper. Seth pulled out a chair next to hers and she looked up, smiling. “I reserved some time on the microfilm machine for later,” she said, waving her hand over the piles of paper. “For the older stuff. They don’t keep it all in hard copy and I wasn’t sure how far back we’d have to go.”
Seth nodded. He had a feeling they’d only scratched the surface yesterday, and they’d easily found references going back to the 1980s that could be relevant to Jesse’s case. He placed the paper coffee cups on the table, resisting the temptation to hide them under one of the mounds of paper. They were in the general reading area and he’d snagged a couple of plastic lids and so it should be okay to bring them in. If not, then he’d just have to figure out a way to get the librarian to let him.
He eyed one of the stacks, sitting by Maya’s elbow. Maybe the local kids would like it if the engine visited the library for a show-and-tell day. He’d even face that if it meant not having to go through the rest of the day without caffeine.
Maya spotted the cup and her eyes lit up as she grabbed one, taking a long sip. “Mmmm,” she said. “Perfection.” She leaned forward and scooped up a piece of paper. It looked like it had been torn from a children’s workbook and had a time line jotted out on one side. She turned it sideways, reading the first line. “The Dixie Mafia started in Biloxi in the late 1960’s, but anything as late as the 1990’s could easily be hiding in the microfilm records.” She took another sip of coffee and looked at Seth expectantly. He grinned and handed her the paper bag with the breakfast pastry inside. “You know me so well,” she said, taking a large bite. “Sugar is definitely going to be needed today.”
For the next several hours, Seth sat beside Maya, mostly in silence. Taking up the role of her research assistant, he combed through each book and pile of papers on the table and found the references she needed, then noted them and added it to the pile for her review. Most of the historical stuff came first and for that Maya’s face was passive. It was easy to distance herself from it, he supposed. It was when she opened her laptop and started searching for more information on the murdered judge from the 1980s that her expression changed. First tight muscles and a furrowing brow, her jaw set. Her hand gripped the pen a little tighter, her lip curling up when she got to the part of the extortion ring being run from prison by members who were incarcerated at the time. He tracked her gaze on the article and when she got to the part where both the judge and his wife were found in their home, executed with gangland-style shots to the head, she swallowed hard and leaned back in her chair, the pen dropping to the table with a quiet clatter. In his mind, Seth had expected it to make a louder noise. But then, anything quieter than the atom bomb would be too quiet for the emotions currently swarming through Maya.
He wrapped his arms around her and took her hands in his, uncurling her fingers enough so he could hold them. They sat quietly, him cradling her hands and stroking her palm gently, for nearly a full ten minutes, until the trembling stopped and Maya’s gaze returned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That hit a little too close to home.”
Seth pulled her closer and kissed her forehead, then released her. He didn’t move his chair back, though. Anyone who spotted them would be under no illusion that they were together; that Maya had his protection. “If we’re right,” he said, “then we’ll find what you need. We’ll get the bastards.”
Maya nodded, taking in a deep breath, then picked up her pen again. This time, Seth pulled out his phone and searched for the names mentioned in the article about the judge. Finding what he needed, he leaned over and pushed the screen in front of Maya. “He died in 2006,” he said quietly. “The last of the group responsible for the judge’s murder.”
She nodded crisply. “Good.” Maya typed something into her computer and then waved her pen at her own laptop screen. “Looks like after that a lot of people thought it would be the end of the organization as a whole. I wonder if they had any idea how wrong they were.” Before Seth could say anything in reply, her cell vibrated on the table. Maya picked it up, silencing the buzzing. “Microfilm time.” She waved at a librarian at a nearby desk, who smiled and walked over. As she stepped up to the table, the smile turned to a frown. “Something wrong?” Maya asked.
“No, Dear,” the older lady said. “Just I didn’t realize you’d have so many papers. You’ll never fit all that in the microfilm room.” She pointed to an open door on the other side of the room. “It’s tiny, you see. No one much uses it anymore.”
Seth looked across to the room. It was dark and so small you’d barely fit a desk and one person in there. With the door closed so she could read the machine’s screen, Maya would be safe in there, and probably a hell of a lot more comfortable without trying to squeeze around his large frame. “Why don’t I pack this up and take it to the car? Then I can find us something for a late lunch.”
Maya leaned over and picked up her ever-present yellow legal pad and a couple of different pens. Despite the librarian’s presence, she leaned in and kissed him, right on the lips. Seth’s lips turned up in a grin of surprise. It seemed Maya was ready to let the world know they were together, too. Good.
The librarian smiled and walked Maya over to the microfilm room. Once Seth watched her disappear safely inside, he started packing up the papers. He took his time, skimming through each, along with notes Maya had made in the margins of some of the photocopies. Other sections were highlighted. She’d been researching this for months, and it was all up inside her brain. He needed to catch up so he could help her more, look for any connections she might have missed. She was smart as hell, but a second set of eyes never hurt. He sorted some as he went and finally reached the last piece of paper, one that had gotten stuck in the join of the two tables and nearly slipped to the floor, and bundled it all up in his arms. He’d just made it out to the parking lot and pressed the remote on his keys to unlock the door when his cell rang. Fumbling to answer it, he dropped the entire pile on the backseat. Seth rolled his eyes, grinning to himself. There went forty minutes of effort. It didn’t matter. This kind of filing was clearly more Maya’s style, anyway.
He pulled out his phone, his eyes widening at the name on the screen. Scott—his cop friend. “Scott, what’s up?”
“My man!” came the greeting down the phone. “Anne said you called?”
So that was the name of the unhappy dispatcher. He’d remember that. Maybe he’d be able to charm her better next time if he knew her name.
“Just wanted to follow up on a report we lodged last night,” Seth said. “The guy who took it didn’t seem very interested in being actually helpful.”
Scott was quiet and Seth heard paper shuffling in the background, then the click of a keyboard. “Okay, got it . . . a stalker? Seth, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
“Remember Judge Turner?”
Scott whistled. “Who could forget? Your squad caught that fire, yeah?”
“Yep. It was a real mess, too. The house was already blazing by the time we got there.”
Scott was quiet for a few seconds again. Seth could picture the look on his face. They’d been friends for years, ever since Scott—a few years older—had scared off the bullies looking to take Seth’s lunch. Seth was fit now, but he been a late bloomer and a short, wiry kid. Without befriending Scott, he would have spent the years of middle school being very hungry. Looking back, he should have pegged Scott as becoming a c
op from the beginning. He was always looking out for those smaller than he was and would help you out if he could. Like Jesse. The thought surprised him, but it was right. From what Maya said, her brother had the same determination and sense of justice that had always been inside Scott. Maybe Scott could be more of an ally here than Seth had originally realized. Seth spoke again. “The woman who filed that report, I’m seeing her.”
“Since when?” Scott’s voice was sharper now. He’d be leaning forward in his chair, his eyes sharp.
“It’s new,” he said. “Don’t worry, I would have told you everything at the next poker night.”
Scott chuckled. “You better. I want to know everything.”
“You got ten hours?” Seth replied. “It’s complicated.”
“If she’s got a stalker, then you’re already about fifteen steps past complicated. But what has all that got to do with the judge? That was months ago.”
“The FBI agent involved, the one who is reported to have killed the judge. He’s her brother.”
Silence again, only for a second this time, before “Well, fuck me,” came down the line. “You don’t go half measure, do you, Bro?”
“She’s in town trying to prove her brother’s innocence. And I’m helping.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?” Seth said. “No lecture, no telling me to butt out and leave it to the professionals? You’re going soft in your old age.”
Scott’s voice lowered. “Not soft. The exact opposite, in fact. Listen to me carefully, Seth. Your new friend isn’t the only one that thinks there was something sketchy about that whole setup. I just can’t shake too many trees without being fired. Maybe you and she can do a better job.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed. “What haven’t you told me, Scott?”
“I was one of the first locals on the scene from my side of the yard. My cruiser was closest when the call came in. You guys had barely put out the last smoldering embers when I arrived. And yet the G-man who was a complete pain in everyone’s asses was already there.”
His eyebrows shot up. “The SAC?”
“Yep,” Scott’s voice was grim. “He was already standing there, barking orders at anyone who’d listen. By the time the morning was over, he’d officially taken over the entire case. I didn’t have the authority to question it, but I always wondered how the hell he got there so fast. Even if he was at the field office in Atlanta, that’s at least a fifty-minute drive, and someone had to find out his guy was involved and notify him. At five in the Goddamned morning. And yet he was already standing in the yard before the local cops even responded.” Scott paused, then spoke again. “Seth, I’m not sure I like the idea of you and your girl poking around in this.”
Something tingled on the back of his neck and Seth turned, quickly surveying the parking lot. Nothing. It didn’t stop the tingling, though, or the lead growing steadily in his stomach. “He knew, Scott. He knew his man was there the entire time. And I’ll bet you my entire next poker night’s winnings that the bastard set the whole thing up.”
23
Seth
After promising to fill him in properly at the earliest possible moment—Scott’s emphasis—Seth slammed the truck door shut and jogged back into the library. He had to hold his feet back from sprinting. Just in case he’d missed someone in the parking lot and he was being watched, that would be a little too damn suspicious, but he wasn’t leaving Maya alone for another second. Scott’s info had filled in another crucial piece. Maya had known her brother was working undercover, and the information she’d uncovered had linked it to the Dixies. The history they’d uncovered at the library made that seem even more likely, but now? There was a long history of members of the organization being in league with law enforcement from all levels, but the modern-day FBI? Seth swung through the library doors and kept walking swiftly to the microfilm room’s doors. Fuck following the party line. With what they already knew, and Scott’s smoking gun, it was the thing that made the most sense. Just how the hell were they going to prove it?
He was within two strides of the door when it burst open and Maya flew out. Seth’s heart leapt into his throat until his brain caught up with his eyes and he realized she was smiling. “Seth! I found it! The missing link.” She thrust a printout into his hands—a newspaper article from nearly two decades ago. His eyes flew over the text, him moving to stand subtly in front of Maya even as he read. It wasn’t the first time the mafia had been discovered working with other criminal organizations in Georgia. Twelve years ago, the FBI had broken up another racket, this time gun running. The raid had connections with people and buildings associated with the murder of the judge from the 1980’s.
Maya’s finger pointed to the photo accompanying the article. It was a little fuzzy and in grayscale and Seth squinted at it. “Notice anyone interesting?” she said. He looked again. The photo was of the aftermath of the raid on a warehouse where the guns had been stored. Members of more than one agency, local and federal, were captured in various streams of motion across the scene. The ATF and FBI were both there, along with the county sheriff, local cops, and several plain-clothed people he couldn’t identify. The photo had been taken wide, encompassing the entire crazy scene. Maya pressed into his side and pointed at one man standing half toward the back of the shot. He was talking to someone else, an unidentified male dressed in business clothes. His back was to the camera, the yellow FBI lettering visible on the back of his jacket. He’d turned at the waist when the shutter had clicked, exposing a profile image to camera. “That’s him,” she said. “Bill Miller, my brother’s supervisory agent. He was there when it all went down; the last major arrest and capture of the Dixie Mafia in Georgia. He was a part of it all.” She turned to him, her eyes bright. “We’ve got it—proof he knows the major players.”
Seth returned her smile. He was still as worried as fuck after Scott’s call, but this was her moment to celebrate and damned if he was going to rain on her parade. Besides, with her find, Scott’s smoking gun became a much sharper piece of evidence. “Baby, we’ve got a hell of a lot more now, too.”
Seth felt like his head was on swivel. They’d picked up sandwiches and another dose of caffeine at a sandwich shop on the corner. It was past lunch and heading into late afternoon by the time they’d left the library, and neither of them had felt like making the drive across town back to his favorite diner. Maya had wanted to sit outside and catch the sunshine before it disappeared and he hadn’t had the heart to say no, but it meant that he’d spent the entire time scoping out their surroundings. “Seth?” Maya said after he’d feigned stretching to look behind him for probably the fiftieth time. “Why do you keep looking at that statue like it’s out to murder us?”
Crap. He’d wanted to wait. After telling her about the conversation he’d had with Scott, the smile had returned to Maya’s face—a genuine one, the first time since he’d wiped it off her face earlier that morning. He was due back on shift the next morning, and so he was going to have to bring it up soon, but couldn’t they just have that afternoon without the never-ending shit piling up again? He turned, keeping his senses on high alert but insisting on paying her proper attention while he told her this. “Scott wasn’t any happier about us digging around in all this than Liam was.”
“But . . .” Maya said. Seth grabbed her hand and she stopped talking.
“I can’t say I disagree with him,” he said. “We already knew that whole day was damn suspicious, and now that you’ve found something tying Miller to the organization years earlier. With Scott’s recollections of the morning of the fire, Honey, the guy looks as guilty as hell.”
Maya’s chin rose, her eyes focused. “I don’t care.” She looked at him, her gaze softening. “I knew, you know. From the beginning, my heart knew there had to be something more to all this, something big. Even if I didn’t know all the facts then, my heart knew. There’s no way Jesse was ever dirty, and no way he’d ever kill an innocent. For things to go down the
way they did . . . this was more than just a simple misdirection or a quiet screw-up that the FBI swept under the rug.” Her gaze locked with his. “This is big, Seth, way big. I know it, and I’m going to prove it.”
He couldn’t help it. Seth leaned down and took her mouth, kissing her. He wasn’t gentle this time, his mouth moving in a kind of desperation—half needing to keep her safe, to protect her, and the other simply needing to feel her again, to be inside her. His tongue swept into her mouth, moving against hers as his hand moved across her hip and up toward her breast. He swept a thumb across her clothed nipple and Maya groaned, leaning further into his hand. God, she felt so damn good against him. After another searing kiss, he reluctantly pulled away, keeping his gaze locked on hers. Maya’s eyes were bright but slightly glazed, this time with arousal. Her tongue darted out to moisten her already wet lips and Seth’s dick grew so hard his jeans were going to leave zipper imprints on it. Fuck, he’d never been one for public displays much before, but he couldn’t help himself around Maya. He grinned. If the librarian hadn’t already told everyone in town they were together after the last two displays he’d put on inside the building, then they definitely knew now. They’d just put on a show for the entire afternoon crowd in the town’s center, and he didn’t give a shit. Seth reached over and rubbed his thumb gently over her jaw line, reveling in how she leaned into his touch. Somewhere over the last week he’d fallen in love with Maya, and if he had his way, he’d shout it from the rooftops.
Right after he took her home and fucked her brains out.
Trial by Fire (Southern Heat Book 4) Page 14
