Storm's Cage by Mary Stone (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

and reached for his orange and white coffee cup. When he sucked on nothing but air, he remembered that he’d polished off the latte close to a half hour ago. With a groan, he exited the car and stepped onto the drab concrete of the parking garage.

The thud of the car door closing echoed throughout the cement fortress as Zane ambled toward the set of glass double doors at the end of a row of parked cars. His first order of business was to find more caffeine, and then he’d meet with SAC Keaton.

He’d been hesitant to leave Amelia downtown with no means of transportation, but this was the city she’d grown up in. He, on the other hand, still struggled to remember the names of all the major streets.

Besides, calling Cassandra while Amelia sat close by would have been awkward. He still wasn’t sure why the call would have been uncomfortable. Maybe he was worried Amelia would tease him, or maybe he just wanted to keep the fact that he’d slept with a Federal prosecutor a secret from his colleagues. But then again, he hadn’t known that Cassandra was an Assistant U.S. Attorney until after their first night together.

Like he’d told Amelia, he had been new to Chicago, and he hadn’t known a single soul outside the men and women he’d met at the Bureau.

In his first few weeks in the city, he’d contemplated asking Amelia out for friendly drinks and unhealthy food. In the end, he’d decided against it. Though she was an intriguing woman, he hadn’t wanted the invitation to come across as a request for a date, especially when his intent was platonic.

Well, mostly platonic. If she’d made an advance back then, he wouldn’t have rejected her.

Instead of venturing down that questionable path, he’d taken the advice of an old friend from his ten years with the Central Intelligence Agency. Nate Tennick was happily married now, but in his single years, he’d used his fair share of dating sites and apps when he moved to a new location.

Zane had always thought the practice was odd, and he’d heard plenty of horror stories from his female friends back home.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he’d swallowed his doubts and made an account on one of the more popular apps.

Like Amelia had said, all the cool kids did their dating online nowadays. Considering his first and only date was an Assistant United States Attorney, Amelia’s words had some merit. Cassandra Halcott was cool, but at the time, he hadn’t been interested in a commitment that involved any sort of emotional labor.

As he shook himself free of the contemplation, Zane swiped his work identification over a badge reader, pushed open the door, and draped the lanyard around his neck.

His trip up to the Organized Crime floor was uneventful. After filling his stainless-steel thermos with breakroom coffee—as well as a heap of cream and sugar to make the sludge palatable—he set off down the hall to the office of the Special Agent in Charge. In the fifteen-story building, three floors were reserved for intelligence analysts and the agents who specialized in anti-terrorism.

As Zane approached the silver name plaque that read Jasmine Keaton, Special Agent in Charge, he stifled a yawn. The door was propped open, and a wide ray of late morning sunshine spilled over the durable gray carpet. Switching the thermos to his left hand, he rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.

Jasmine Keaton’s dark eyes had been fixed on the glowing screen of her smartphone. As she looked up, her stern look of concentration dissipated. She straightened in her seat and waved him in.

With an amiable smile, Zane stepped over the threshold. Plastic blinds clattered against glass as he closed the door behind himself. As he approached, he caught a glimpse of her phone and was sure he spotted the colorful tiles of a game of Mahjong.

“Agent Palmer, good morning.” She gestured to a pair of cushioned armchairs in front of the cluttered oak desk. “I got your message about Carlo Enrico. Take a seat.”

“I tried to get ahold of the Assistant U.S. Attorney on my way over here, but she didn’t answer. I left her a voicemail and sent a message.” He dropped into a chair and swallowed a sigh. “We’re trying to speed the whole thing up as much as we can, so that’s why I’m here. I figured you might be able to pull some strings with the U.S. Attorney’s office that Storm and I can’t.”

Sunlight shimmered on her glossy hair as she nodded. “I can do that. Cassandra Halcott is working this case, isn’t she?”

Zane balanced his cup on the wooden arm of the chair. “She is.”

The SAC raised a sculpted eyebrow, studying him closely. For a mad second, he wondered if his boss knew about his sexscapades with the lovely prosecutor.

“How much does she know about Carlo Enrico, and what kind of deal is he asking for?”

Instead of being relieved, Zane grated his teeth together and met her inquisitive glance. He hated giving these scumbags deals, but it was usually the only way to catch the even bigger scumbags. Chop off the head of the snake and all that drivel.

“He wants all the child exploitation charges dropped. Something about how he doesn’t want to be branded a pedophile while he’s in prison. And he wants the death penalty off the table.”

SAC Keaton narrowed her eyes. “He wants all of them dropped? What about the first-degree murder charges for Vivian Kell? Or all the racketeering and trafficking charges he’s looking at?”

Zane raised his hands. “Life without parole. He knows that since he’s facing Federal charges, Illinois laws about the death penalty don’t really matter. I think Cassandra made that abundantly clear to him, and that’s why he’s decided to make a deal, honestly.”

As she propped her elbows on the desk, SAC Keaton stared at the wall over Zane’s shoulder in deep contemplation. “I don’t think Simone Julliard will be happy about dropping the exploitation charges.