The Merchant of Death by Lisa Henry & J.A. Rock

Author:Lisa Henry & J.A. Rock [Henry, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2014-10-10T23:00:00+00:00

“I need her to leave me alone,” Mac said, slamming through the drawers of his desk, searching for his favorite pen.

Val didn’t answer.

“I need her to get the fuck out of my face so I can do my job.”

“And what exactly are you doing, Mac?” Val leaned against his door frame, her arms crossed.

He looked up. “What do you mean?”

“You’re supposedly on leave, but you’re in and out of the office, making phone calls, asking Dennis to run checks on names—”

“He told you?”

“Is there something I should know?”

He straightened. “I’m just trying to not fall too far behind.”

Great, now he was lying to Val. He was helping Henry masquerade as his twin sister, he was visiting crime scenes he hadn’t been invited to, he was letting a navy suit–wearing hell fiend try to destroy his reputation . . . and now he was lying to the one person who didn’t make him crazy. Who trusted his judgment.

“How was your doctor’s appointment?”

He blinked.

“Aha.”

“Oh that,” he said, a beat too late.

“Cut the shit, Mac.”

He sighed. Rubbed a hand over his chin. He was gonna have to tell her sometime. “I went to check out where Lonny Harris’s body was found.”

“I see.”

“I’ve gotta figure this thing out, Val. Bixler’s saying this guy was her informant. This guy turns up shot through the head and the heart, and he was gonna make a complaint about me? What the fuck is going on?” He glanced back into the drawer. “And where the fuck is my pen?”

“Your pen?”

“Yes, my pen. My fucking pen that I always use. Has someone been in my fucking desk?”

“You want to take a breath?”

“Not really.”

Val just stared at him until he took a breath.

“I don’t know this guy, Val.” He shoved Lonny Harris’s file across the desk. “I don’t know him, or any of his associates.”

He had a feeling he could list them in his sleep now, though. David Halloran. Charlotte Jackson. Remy Greig. Gary Bowers. Audrey Vega. And pages and pages more. Six pages of associates in total, and not one of them made a tiny ping on Mac’s radar.

“Bixler’s pushing me on Henry too.” He shook his head. “She wants to interview him.”

“You know where he is.” It wasn’t a question.

“I do. Sort of. Yes.”

“Then get in touch with him.”

“He’s a little busy at the moment.”

She kept staring.

He cleared his throat. “I’m in deep shit.”

“I know. But we’ll sort it out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet.” She entered the office and sat across from his desk. Crossed her legs. “You don’t think . . .”

“What?”

“I keep coming back to Jeff. Wondering how we— How I missed that.”

“Val.”

“He worked here for five years. And he didn’t— I mean, he did a good job. And now I’ve got to go back through every case he touched and try to figure out if he sabotaged it somehow. And it’s just, like, no. I knew the guy. I would have noticed if something was up.”

“Who knows when Maxfield bought him? He could’ve been loyal to the Bureau for years, and then last summer his wife mentioned wanting a bigger house .

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