An Offer You Can't Refuse by Sal Bianchi (best beach reads .txt) 📕

“Are you kidding me?” I groaned, my hopes of finding another line to the killer instantly dashed. “It wasn’t misplaced. Someone took it.”

“I don’t think that’s--” Officer Warren tried to argue.

“Yeah, well, I do,” I interrupted him before stalking away toward the entrance. Whoever had raided Ryan’s hotel room had somehow gotten here too. Somehow, they’d snuck into a luxury hotel, disabled a card reader, and ransacked a room without anyone noticed. As if that wasn’t enough, they’d also somehow stolen evidence straight out of a police station.

I sank heavily onto a bench outside the police station. As much as I hated to admit it, all signs pointed to the mafia being involved in this.

“Hey,” Jase called as he stepped out of the station and came to sit next to me. “They’re starting an investigation. I asked them to send us their security tapes as well.”

“Right,” I scoffed. “Do you really think they’ll find anything?”

Jase didn’t respond. Instead, he just cast me a sad look. I could tell that he was thinking the same thing that I was.

“What are you going to do?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m not leaving the case,” I replied with a determination that even surprised me. “I can’t keep running away forever, right?”

He gave me the same sad look from before.

“Stop staring at me like I’m some charity case,” I snapped. “Don’t you need to call Flint and let him know what happened?”

“Yeah,” he sighed after a few seconds of hesitation. I was avoiding the conversation, and he probably knew it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared about what might happen now. If the mafia really was involved with this, then I’d be openly going against them for the first time since I’d left the Family. This, on top of the fact that Ian’s “lawyer” seemed to know who I was, all seemed to indicate that this may all actually be the work of the mafia. Specifically, my former Family.

Still, as much as it filled me with dread, the same thought filled me with a sense of elation. I’d spent the past three years walking on eggshells, too nervous to even visit the woman who had practically raised me on her own. Maybe it was about time I stopped living in the shadows of my own city.

26

Bette

My mind was reeling as I left the office with Theo. Initially, the SDCT had taken on the case because Senator Rothschild was an influential and controversial politician, and it was possible that her murder had been politically motivated. Now, though, it seemed as though we’d stumbled upon something much bigger and more complicated than we’d initially anticipated.

Director Flint had tasked Theo and me with investigating the murder of Carl Johannson. Since we already knew that Ian Brooks had been the one to smother him to death with a pillow, our next course of action was to speak with Angela Martin, the person with the most motive to want him dead.

“This is it,” Theo announced as we pulled up to the apartment building. It was an unimpressive residential building located in a modest area of the city. “Do you want to handle the talking? She might be more comfortable with a female agent, considering the circumstances.”

“Sure.” I nodded as we got out of the car and headed into the building. To be honest, I’d had conflicting feelings when I’d heard the details of the case. I was no stranger to how it felt, as a woman, to be harassed and victimized by someone and not have anyone to turn to for help. The entire reason I’d decided to become a federal agent was that I knew firsthand how often female victims were cast aside and ignored, and I wanted to do something to change that reality.

To be honest, I’d felt satisfaction when I heard that Carl had been killed. If he really had spent a year tormenting some poor woman, then he deserved it, in my opinion. Still, as a federal agent, I couldn’t condone vigilantism. As much as I could sympathize with what Angela must have been feeling, she’d still taken the law into her own hands and taken a hit out on someone.

Before I knew it, we’d arrived at Angela’s door, and I still wasn’t entirely sure what I should say. Regardless, there was no point in putting it off for any longer, so I reached forward and knocked twice.

For a long moment, there was no response. I was just about to knock again when the door creaked open, and a pretty woman with long blond hair looked out at us.

“Hello,” she eyed us warily. “Can I help you with something?”

“Hi,” I replied. “I’m Agent Owens with the SDCT. Are you Angela Martin?”

“Oh, yeah,” Angela replied timidly. “That’s me. Is anything wrong?”

“We just wanted a moment of your time,” I answered vaguely. If I told her outright what we were here for, she might get scared and turn us away. Once we were inside, it would be more difficult for her to refuse us. “Would it be all right if we came inside and asked you a few questions?”

“Oh, sure,” she replied. Her eyes were wide, and she had a startled, confused expression on her face.

“Thank you,” I replied curtly before stepping through the doorway. Her apartment was decorated with a mishmash of furniture of different styles. Photos and drawings were pinned up on the walls, and every flat surface in sight was completely covered with a variety of knick-knacks and trinkets. It was a bit cluttered for my tastes, but it looked cozy and lived-in.

“Would you like some tea?” Angela offered as she led us over to a lumpy, worn-looking couch in the center of the living room. “Or some water, maybe?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” I answered for both of us as I took a seat on the couch.

“Oh, okay,” Angela muttered meekly before taking a seat opposite us.