Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
One of the few times I didn’t mind the weight the Rory name still carries in this town. The meeting where I handed it off was the last contact we had.
She’s too much like me—stubborn as hell and merit-driven. If my letter helped put her over the top, I never wanted any big thanks or special favors.
I just wanted to send her on to a second chance, living her best life.
Until now.
I can already tell she’s curious, glancing at me with eyes like drawn blades.
“So,” she says, perching on the edge of the table and facing me. “What’s got your panties in a twist so bad you come to see me this early?”
“I need a favor,” I say bluntly. “I’m guessing you know the name Forrest Haute?”
“Owner of Liberty Trails? The golf course?” She wrinkles her nose. “Oh, yeah. We always have a few incidents out there every year when rich kids get drunk and punchy.”
“That’s the place, yeah. I’m looking for any old records or incident reports related to Liberty Trails and any other Haute properties in the area.”
She raises her eyebrows. “As a civilian, you’re aware you have no right to that information, Captain. Nothing beyond the usual business filings with the state or matters of public record—”
“C’mon, Batista, I know you outrank me here. Just like you know I wouldn’t come sniffing around for favors if I thought I had no chance.”
“What makes you think I’m about to risk my job for this?” She folds her arms tightly.
“Because,” I say, “you won’t be risking shit. No one will ever know. Also, if I’m right, there’s a chance you could wind up with a very high-profile bust on your hands.”
“Forrest Haute is a powerful man.” She doesn’t budge an inch. “What is it you think he’s done?”
Shit.
The way I pause, clearing my throat, says it all.
“I don’t know. Not yet,” I admit.
She laughs bitterly.
“So, hold up. You want me to bring you privileged reports on a hunch over a wealthy businessman?”
“Unless you want to look through them yourself first. You know I trust your judgment.” I flash her a grin, knowing there’s a fair chance she’ll tell me to pound sand, and I’ll be forced to grind out what I can from old newspaper articles. “There’s a very large business contract on the line for my brothers and me with Haute. I’m simply trying to nail down his intentions and make sure there’s nothing nefarious that could hurt us.”
Her eyes drop and she looks me up and down, considering it.
“Well, I guess it’s fair you’re more cautious now. I hear you’re a taken man,” she says.
My brows dart up.
“What the hell? How?”
“The kids at the Sugar Bowl talk an awful lot. I make weekly muffin runs for my team.” She grins affectionately.
I groan inwardly, slumping in my chair. No point in denying it, though, especially if it helps sway her.
“What can I say? She’s the one.” I turn my hands out. “That’s what has me nervous, too. The fact that Haute’s working with the Sugar Bowl now, piloting their products in his properties. Please, Gill. This is important.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she says, standing. “I’ve got a phone and I’m pretty sure you still have the number.”
I lean forward. “I didn’t want you blowing me off. I knew you wouldn’t want to do it, but I need this information.”
Her mouth presses tightly as she looks at me. “Because I owe you my life, I’ll look into it. If I find anything damning—and that’s a big if—you’ll be the first to know. Even Steven?”
I nod. “Perfectly fair.”
“Oh, and when you leave, if you ever want to speak again, pick up the damn phone first. I still consider you a friend, Captain. I’m glad you manned up and got engaged. It should do you some good.”
“Time wears everybody down, I guess,” I say with a snort. “You’d better not quit kicking ass on me. I read about your part in the human trafficking bust with the attorney general’s office last year. Awesome work.”
“Yeah, yeah, stop flattering me so I can get out of your hair and grab those files. You wait here.”
As soon as she leaves the room, I lean back in the chair and let myself relax for the first time today.
There’s no guarantee she’ll find anything—if Haute is dirty, he’s a beast at covering his tracks—but if the cops have been involved at any stage, I’ll know. There’s a reason they keep records.
And if he has been involved in any shit, any whiff of the underhand and suppressed, we can figure out how to move on from there.
Gillian returns several minutes later with a chunky brown file.
“Here you are. Every incident ever at Haute properties. I skimmed through them, but there’s a lot of petty crap. I decided to be generous and let you knock yourself out with the boring stuff.” She tosses it on the table with a thump. “You’ve got one hour, Dexter. Anything you don’t find in that time goes unfound.”