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

was a Leóne lieutenant. Even if there was a possibility before, there’s none now.”

A look of hesitancy kept SAC Keaton’s expression flat. “Okay. I trust your judgment, Palmer. The main reason I wanted to know what you thought about her was because there’s the potential to bring her in on this in the future. Two sets of eyes are better than one, you know?”

Cautious relief edged its way into his thoughts. “That’s true. I’ll keep that in mind.”

After a quick reassurance that SAC Keaton would reach out to the U.S. Attorney, Zane headed back to the shoebox-sized workspace he shared with Amelia. A couple of the photos taped to the whiteboard fluttered as the door swung closed, but otherwise, the space was still.

Though he knew without a doubt that Amelia was no friend of the Leóne family, he suspected she had her fair share of secrets. They’d worked side by side for the Jackson and Flores cases, and for both, Amelia had proved to be a wealth of information about the inner workings of the city’s two Italian crime families.

The Leónes and D’Amatos were both local to Chicago, so her knowledge hadn’t come from the year she’d spent in Boston. And based on the way she perked up any time the D’Amato family was mentioned, Zane couldn’t help but wonder if she’d struck a deal with the Leónes’ archrival.

Weary from the weight of his dark thoughts, Zane slumped into a rickety office chair. Morality didn’t exist in black and white for Zane. Not anymore. Not after the things he’d done on orders from the United States government.

Absently, Zane rubbed at an old and faded tattoo halfway between his collarbone and his shoulder as he stared at the closed door.

At the end of the day, he trusted Amelia. As much as he was capable of trusting another human being these days, anyway. If she’d reached out to the D’Amato family in order to find Leila Jackson or Javier and Gloria Flores, then he was sure she’d had a damn good reason.

He just had to hope the decision wouldn’t circle back to bite her in the long run.

4

Through the haze that hung like a poisonous cloud in my mind, I couldn’t tell if I was awake or if my dreams were mirroring reality.

The room was mine. I knew that much.

Dark sheets and a gray comforter lay disheveled from where I’d been sleeping only moments ago. The icy blue glow of a digital alarm told me it was a quarter after five in the morning. But as I shielded my sensitive eyes from a sudden stream of sunlight, I knew that couldn’t be right.

The sun didn’t shine at five in the morning any time of year, much less at the beginning of September.

As soon as it had appeared, the pervasive glow vanished, leaving me alone in the darkness.

Blinking to clear my vision, I moved across the plush carpet at a painstaking pace. With each step, I swept one foot forward to feel along the floor in front of me as I waited for my eyes to adjust.

But the darkness only intensified as I grew closer to the hallway. When I glanced over my shoulder, I half-expected the blue numbers of the clock—my only anchor to reality, if that’s what this was—to be gone, swallowed by the inky black that was so complete, it permeated the air around me.

Through my sleepy vision, I managed to focus on the eerie glow. It was my touchstone to this reality. But as the numbers came into focus, a shadow flitted in front of the clock. My blood instantly froze in my veins.

I couldn’t be sure in such absolute darkness, but my first instinct told me that the figure was a man, though their movement was far quicker than that of any human being I’d ever seen in my years as a homicide detective.

The faint scraping of nails against drywall was followed by the muted shuffling of bare feet on the carpet.

With a slow step backward, I squinted into the oppressive gloom, seeking the source of those sounds. As I searched, the cadence of my rising heartbeat pounded at my head with the force of a sledgehammer. Over the rush of my pulse, all I could hear was my labored breathing.

My forearm brushed against the doorframe as I backed up another step. I was almost to the hallway, and as soon as I set foot on the hardwood, I would turn around and run as fast as my legs would carry me.

And then, in the corner of my eye, I spotted movement. The quiet scuffle turned into a grating screech as a shapeless mass of shadow clawed its way up to the ceiling.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I eased my foot down until my heel met the cool hardwood. I grasped the doorway with one hand to balance myself as I spun to face the hall. My footsteps thudded against the floor as I took off through the ubiquitous darkness.

I skidded toward the end of the hall, moving so fast that I worried my feet would fly out from under me before I came to a stop. Throwing one arm up to keep myself from toppling over, I came to an abrupt halt as my shoulder slammed into the wall. A faint crackle, like the crunch of a dry leaf, sounded out behind me.

Without stopping to gauge my location, I crossed over the threshold to the kitchen. Outdoor light cast an eerie glow to the marble countertops. Though I squinted against the sudden change, I was overcome with a soothing wave of relief.

I could see.

Grasping the edge of the counter with both hands, I gulped in as much air as my lungs would allow. The ruddy orange of a nearby streetlight was all that remained after the flash had cleared, but to me, the glow was like sunlight.

My heart still knocked against my ribs as I turned to take stock of the doorway from which I’d just