“Apologies. I didn’t realize I had. I, uh, stopped by to ask if you had plans for lunch.”
“Oh, shit.” Lunch. She checked her watch. She had eight minutes to catch her cab at the café. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“You keep saying that.”
Kay ran to her desk and snatched her purse. Stupid, stupid color board. “I’m sorry, I have an appointment. I have to run.”
“Funny, Oliver didn’t mention you had plans.”
Of course he hadn’t. She’d kept the details of the meeting to herself. “Well, that’s because my lunch plans are personal, not something I felt compelled to pencil into my work schedule.”
“Gotcha.” He shot his fingers at her like a pistol. One eyebrow quirked playfully. “I had this most amazing salad last week from a new place down the street. I was going invite you to come along, but maybe another time. We’ll talk later?”
She paused. Was Brendan flirting with her? Was this why Oliver told her not to trust him? She knew she was probably looking at him like he was something floating in her water glass, but she didn’t have time to smooth things over just now. “Um, sure. We’ll talk this afternoon. About salad.” She fondly recalled a time when she’d excelled under pressure. Of course, that had been when the drama belonged to someone else.
Brendan beamed and gave her a cheery wave. “Cool. See you later, then.”
Thank God she’d worn flats instead of heels today. Kay didn’t even wave to Brit as she raced through the lobby and outside. It took her four minutes to reach the street, and another three to jog to the café. She stopped, breathless on the corner, and stuck her thumb out. A black-checkered cab with its light off pulled to the curb, and Kay triumphantly threw herself inside. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, thanking every god she knew for blessed air conditioning. They veered into traffic and Kay collected herself. Her breathing evened and she took a few tissues from her purse to wipe away the sweat gathered at her temples. There was no salvaging her makeup.
“This had better be worth it,” she groaned at the auburn-haired woman behind the steering wheel. “You must be Molly.”
It was immensely satisfying to see the woman’s face jerk to stare at Kay in the rearview mirror. She whipped off her dime-store aviators, and a pair of dark amber eyes met Kay’s. They reminded Kay of Neve’s, except they were like dark honey and carried the subtle hint of hostility.
Molly hid her emotion well when she finally spoke in a neutral tone. “Off the rails again. Not that Oli’s ever been good at sticking to the book. Yet I still find myself wondering what it is about you that makes it so hard for him to play by the rules.”
Kay had no idea what to say to that. What other rules had Oliver broken? “You’d have to ask him. Look, I just want to meet the guy in charge and know who exactly I’m working with, and why. I’m not here for the small talk, so we can skip the hazing.” She’d give anything not to have to hear Molly’s side of her relationship with Oliver. There was no way he came out sounding like a prince from her point of view.
“Shame.” Molly’s tone was conversationally polite. “After learning about Finn, I confess I’m deeply curious. You look so innocent. Like a lost little lamb. And yet, you’re about as cruel and heartless as they come.”
Kay’s mouth popped open. She shut it. She’d never had a perfect stranger pass wide-open judgment on her character. She made herself remember Oliver’s warning, but she couldn’t help herself. Molly struck a nerve. “You know the bullet list of what happened, not the story. The real shame is how bitter you are because Oliver didn’t return your feelings. And you somehow feel justified taking your bruised ego out on me.”
A long silence reigned. Kay would’ve been perfectly happy to have the last word, but Molly wasn’t content to let the confrontation die there. “I guess there’s always unintended side effects when we play with someone else’s emotions. Finn’s become Red Hill’s most notorious drunk. Did you know that? Amazing, the power we can wield without realizing it. I have to say, that was a surprising departure from the rest of your file. How’s being the villain working out for you, doll?”
It’s not, Kay wanted to say but she wouldn’t give Molly the satisfaction. Her heart twisted into a pretzel. She didn’t want to believe her, but somehow she didn’t think they’d lie to her about this.
The only power Kay had left was refusal to play the game. “Are we there yet?”
Molly drove in circles for fifteen minutes. A squeal came from the front seat, and Kay realized it was Molly’s phone. She picked the phone up and waved it in the air. “Oh, look, your boyfriend’s calling me. He does that a lot. Oli, my love. How can I help you, babe? Yeah, of course we can meet somewhere. I’ll be right there.”
Kay shook her head. This was some psychological warfare crap. She knew Oliver didn’t have feelings for Molly, but her easygoing familiarity with him sat like soured milk in Kay’s gut. Had he intentionally waited until Kay left the building to call Molly? She didn’t want to do this anymore. Screw Cappy Don, screw the investigation. Kay wanted out. She was about to open her mouth to say so when Molly slammed on the brakes, and Kay clutched the passenger side headrest to stop herself from hurling into it.
“Here you are. He’s the old man drinking Sprite in the corner. In there, he’s Uncle Tom. Someone else will take you back to the office when the meeting’s done. Tata, darling.”
“Whatever,” Kay muttered, pulling herself out of the cab and slamming the door with everything she was worth. The cab peeled away from the curb with an awful shrieking of tires. Kay choked on the stench of burning rubber.
Molly might be unreachable, but Uncle Tom was about to get his ass handed to him. The old man drinking Sprite turned out to be the most innocuous fellow in the drab rundown diner.
Kay didn’t bother with pleasantries but dropped herself into the chair across from him and crossed her arms.
He tipped the can toward her. “Ms. Bing. I’m glad you came. The ride can be a little rough.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t notice.” She tried to mean the words, but they were weighted with bitter sarcasm. Cappy Don was kind enough not to point it out. “What’s with the secrecy? Are you FBI? CIA?”
“Retired military.” From his shirt pocket, he withdrew an ID card, showing his photograph next to the full name Oliver had given her. Captain Donald Cappricci. “Active captain on the Little Rock police force, and a familiar figure in the local media. If someone from Free Leaf saw you with me, they might get the wrong idea—that you’re an undercover cop. Or the right idea—that you’re helping us bring down a bunch of brains selling genetically modified drugs that are killing people. Better for everyone involved if we’re not seen together.” He reached beneath the grubby plastic table and withdrew a familiar newspaper clipping. He slid it toward her. “Reread that last bit for your old Uncle Tom, will ya? The part about folks dying. Eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
Kay believed him. The captain’s hair was stark white, but his eyebrows clung to their deep black roots, sprouting out of his face like gnarly poisonous caterpillars. She sighed and read the last portion of the article aloud. “Let’s see...one isolated incident in Jonesboro, which may be the most tragic and telling report so far. Three people died—”
“There. That’s it.” He wagged a finger at her, tucked his identification away. She had a feeling he was deliberately exaggerating his age. “One of them happened to be the troubled childhood friend of our boy, Oliver. I like to call him Pierce. Sounds cooler.”
“Cooler. Sure.” She glanced around. No waitress came to ask for a drink order. Kay assumed he’d asked their table remain undisturbed, but she could really go for a coffee.
The captain sighed and settled his hands together on the tabletop. “There’s a lot riding on this investigation, Ms. Bing. More than tracking down some dirty drug dealers. It’s personal.”
She tapped the article. “For Oliver. I get it.
”
“Maybe you do. But I’d like you to know what you’re getting into here. Oliver’s friend, he did a stint in rehab two weeks before his death. Oliver swears on his mom’s grave his boy was clean as a nun’s diary. Besides that, Manny—that was the kid’s name—had a taste for uppers, not hallucinogens, so it came as quite a shock for Pierce. See, he and Manny went separate ways after making some bad choices in their youth. Couple of delinquents all through high school. Oliver eventually got his shit together and joined the Jonesboro PD. He was regularly arresting good old Manny on petty drug charges. He was a beat cop, Oliver was. Too young to make detective yet, when this crap here hit the streets.” Cappy Don sneered at the article. “The department had a few cases tied to the mushrooms. Pierce knew about them, but they weren’t his cases, and he never expected Manny to get into that sort of stuff. Or he might’ve warned him. Alas, Jonesboro PD kept the incidences out of the local media. At least, until people finally died. Manny being one of them, well, that got Oliver’s attention. He had questions, but the drug enforcement unit wasn’t handing out answers. It was an ongoing investigation, and Oliver’s attempts to join the task force were denied. He began to suspect the police chief and the mayor were covering for something.”
“Were they?”
“No. Oliver was emotional. They saw him as a potential liability, not an asset. And he was powerless to do much about it. He took it personal.”
Kay shook her head. “Seems like a good idea to have one super motivated cop on the team.”
Oliver, a cop. She’d asked him once, and he’d dodged the question. While it made sense, it was still hard for her to coincide the image of him in a uniform with the careless, charming guy she knew. Or thought she knew.
Cappy Don grinned. “My thoughts exactly. When the first case hit Little Rock, we kept it under wraps for the same reason the Jonesboro PD did—we don’t want the people running the drug ring to know we’re circling. Little Rock is special. Intelligence tells us the drugs are coming out of our town, but the super shrooms, as the media so delightfully coined them, didn’t hit the streets here until recently. Almost as if the other cities were trials. The governor assigned my precinct the case, and I put together a team from the best the city has to offer.”
“And you adopted Oliver. Did he transfer?”
“Kind of.” The captain shrugged. “Pierce took leave. Well, that’s stating it rather broadly. Oliver essentially went rogue, determined to investigate with or without the support the of local police authority on his hip. He crossed our path while hunting down a lead. I could’ve turned him over, but we went through the proper channels and had him recruited instead. Like you said, it’s good to have a highly motivated man in the field. Besides, I was pretty damn impressed that he’d matched us while working on his own, without a fraction of the resources. He’s got some very useful skills.”
Now, there was something she wouldn’t mind hearing more about. “Oh?”
“Eidetic memory, or very close to it. Extreme detail recall. If he’s read it, he can remember it with ninety-seven percent accuracy in standard tests.”
Kay nodded. “That’s why he’s your inside man. If he were to come across any pertinent documentation, he wouldn’t need to copy it.”
“He would, actually, for us to have viable evidence. But yes, the skill makes him a good plant. He picks up leads other informants would miss. Unfortunately, he’s got other problems. Rogue beat cop. That’s not exactly resume material, is it? It makes the kid unpredictable. Effective, determined, but he’s not opposed to going off the books if he thinks he’ll get something out of the risk.” The captain shifted and leaned in closer to Kay. “Now, I tell you this for a reason. When we took Pierce in, he was lost. Grieving and pissed off, it’s an ugly combination. Like I told you, there’s a lot riding on this investigation, and Oliver’s future is one of those things. We might be able to salvage his career on the force if we nail these sons of bitches. Success means commendation. If we fail, well, I don’t know what he’ll do. But I know he won’t be a cop again.”
“Why?” Kay couldn’t believe they’d hang a man’s entire career on a single investigation. “You said he’s skilled beyond your average cop. He should get promoted regardless.”
“Failure means the feds take over. Local law enforcement will need a scapegoat. A rogue cop is an easy target to hand over to the media.”
Kay sat back, astounded. Politics were like poison in the air, seeping into places it was never meant to inhabit. She drummed her fingers and tried to figure out where she fit into the landscape. She didn’t need long to figure it out. “You think I can break the case.”
Cappy Don whacked his fist on the table and laughed. “Ha! You’re quick. I see why Oliver likes you. You two are a fine match. Yes, I think you’re key. Now, did I want you this involved in my investigation? Hell no. It’s messy. You’re not trained, and I can’t tell if you’re all that committed to bringing down the company that just handed you a cushy job at the top of the ladder. By the way, smooth work on your résumé. As long as no one watches too closely, I think you’ll fly right under the radar.”
“Thanks,” Kay mumbled, uncertain if she’d been complimented or insulted. “I think.”
“Look, Ms. Bing, it’s entirely up to you. If you’re loyal to Free Leaf Concepts, I can order Oliver to cut you out of the loop—”
Kay’s hand shot out. “No. No, I don’t want that. I just wanted to know what I was getting into. For a while, I thought Oliver be might be trying to steal ideas for another company or something. I mean, Free Leaf is like the space station of modern interior landscaping. They’re next level. It’s stupid, but the whole drug thing seemed really farfetched.”
“Not stupid. Espionage is a viable concern, especially with Free Leaf’s considerable government subsidies.”
“So, what brought your attention to Free Leaf Concepts, specifically? What evidence have you got implicating them?”
The captain glanced around the room. It seemed like the careless action of a bored old man, but Kay didn’t miss how his sharp eyes scanned each face in the diner. He studied her for a second, judging and weighing. “You go right for the goods. I can’t tell you much, Ms. Bing, but I guess it won’t hurt to answer one of your questions. We have an anonymous source inside Free Leaf Concepts. They contacted us.”
“Us as in...?”
“As in, they informed the governor of their suspicions. And before you ask who it is, key term here is ‘anonymous.’ That was part of the deal. I have a decorated military record and experience in espionage, so I was handpicked to handle the investigation. Soon after, Oliver Pierce became Free Leaf’s newest employee.” Cappy Don grinned, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a five-dollar bill. He dropped it on the table. “I don’t expect to see you again, Ms. Bing, but I’m glad we met. You’re as interesting in person as you are on paper. Try to keep Pierce in line, will ya?”
Chapter 11
Oliver watched Molly take a dainty bite of salad. All he could think was it didn’t smell nearly as wonderful as his blueberry scones. He skipped the preserves and set aside one of the scones to take back to the office for Kay. She’d deserve something nice after what Molly probably put her through. He checked his watch. How long would the meeting last? How much would Cappy Don tell her?
“Relax.” Molly shot him an annoyed look from beneath her lashes. “Cap warned it might take longer than usual.”
“I’m relaxed.” He wasn’t actually. He was hot and bothered, but not in the fun, sexy way. “How thick did you lay it on, Molly?”
“Ha.” She smiled and popped a crouton into her mouth. “Your girl gave as good as she got. Cap’s going to be pissed you coached her on protocol. Gave away my name.”
“Only if you tell him.”
“Of course I’m going to tell him. One of us actually follows the rules.”
Oliver harrumphed. “If I followed the rules, I wouldn’t be
here, and we wouldn’t know half the shit we do.”
Molly’s eyebrows went up. “Taking credit for your girlfriend now?”
He sighed and gave up. “I’m the one who dragged her into this, so yeah. A little.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Interesting.”
“What?” He didn’t like when Molly got coy.
“She didn’t protest, either.”
He blinked at her. No telling where she was going with this. Obviously, it had to do with Kay, so against his better judgment, he had to ask. “What are you talking about?”
“Kay. When I said you were her boyfriend. Not a peep.”
Oliver slumped in his chair and didn’t do a damn thing to hide his dwindling patience. “Come on, Molly.” He groaned and pushed aside his last scone, his appetite withering. Kay could have them both. He needed this investigation to be over, because as long as Molly was in his life, he’d never live down their short-lived relationship snafu. “It’s childish to even go there. If Kay had argued with you, it’d be ‘oh, the lady doth protest too much.’ What’s this then? ‘The lady doth not protest enough!’ There’s never a right answer with you.”
Molly’s lips were pinched. She focused on her salad, stabbing at the purple bits of radicchio with her fork. “You’re the one who called me, Oli. What did you want, anyway?”
“Besides a normal working rapport between two professionals on the same team, striving toward a common goal? Information. What do you know about the lab tests on the super shrooms?”
She stared at him for a beat before answering. “Not much. I mean, I know they don’t have a complete sample. Obtaining one is difficult. Dealers know the product is hot, so the samples have all been from users who end up in the hospital. But by the time they pump their stomachs, the material is too degraded to get a full DNA profile.”
Oliver wished he’d have paid more attention in chemistry. “What if they had a sequence to compare it to?”
Love on the Vine Page 17
