Fuck, this is going to be a very long day. We have a day filled with hours and hours of investigative research, and all I can think about is getting back to her. I feel like someone shot me up with some kind of personality-altering agent.
Rob and I met here an hour ago. I had filled him in over the phone on almost everything that happened since he and Andrea left for the beach on Friday night…almost everything. I asked him not to tell Andrea. I am leaving that up to Ella. The only reason I confided in Rob was because of Smyth. By the time we came face to face, he had his entire case prepared and ready to plead to me in person.
Rob’s gripe with me is bullshit. He is concerned with this new development, and I’m not referring to Smyth’s connection to Ella’s mother’s murder. I’m referring to our sudden coupling. The very man who has been relentless in getting us together is now concerned that we are together.
What the fuck?
“Ben, please tell me it’s for the right reasons.”
He didn’t wane from the incredulous, murderous look I threw him. He tried to explain why he felt that I subconsciously was with Ella for the wrong reasons. The more he rambled, the angrier I got.
“Why is it so hard to believe I care about her, and she’s changed me as a person?” I asked him point blank.
“The fact that you feel you need to save the world, and your newfound revelation of her past are suspiciously entwined.” He shrugged, nailing me with that one last zing. “You have to admit the timing sucks.” His comment had me truly analyzing if he was right. That doubt lasted less than thirty seconds.
It has nothing to do with being a cop. She broke down my stone walls. I’m not sure how or why it happened, but it happened. Now that it has, I can’t imagine hiding behind it without her beside me. The fact that she can be in trouble is a side note…and the fact that she can be in trouble needs to be addressed.
“If you found out this was Andrea instead of Ella, how would you feel?”
“It’s not the same, man.” He looked at me like I lost my mind. “You realized you loved her on the same day you discovered that the man, who may have tried to kill her, could also be the main suspect in our case.”
“Who said I love her?”
Farley walked in at that exact moment.
I managed to get Farley alone for five minutes to give him a very quick rundown. He nodded as I rambled about what little facts I knew. Rob kept quiet at my side. I admitted Ella and I were together and protecting her was my number one priority.
“This case is your number one priority,” he corrected.
“No, she is,” I said in return.
Farley didn’t say much after that, and I couldn’t figure out what it was he was thinking. He did say that he wouldn’t mention any of my information during his briefing since we have no idea what it all meant yet.
In the large briefing room, Farley has the seating arranged like a classroom. There are about a dozen faces we’ve never seen before. This case is taking on a life of its own. My girlfriend is somehow caught right in the middle of it. My best friend doubts my motives, and it’s obvious that my supervising officer is judging me as well, but I’m not sure why.
Fucking awesome.
Farley flips to the first of a million slides we are forced to sit through. Everyone frantically scribbles notes on their notepads, where I instead, sit memorizing every feature of every face he displays. Some I know very well, some are new.
The Chicago Department has sent three agents to aid in our investigation. Politto is back in Chicago, no doubt hiding from what is going down in New York. He hasn’t had direct contact with Smyth. Frank still hasn’t surfaced.
The main focus of the trip to Chicago was Volante. We were given new fact sheets that included everything from his birth to his death.
“Right before Volante’s murder, he discovered Politto Sr. was skimming profits. This was the beginning of the Volante / Politto war. Politto moved too quickly ordering the hit on Volante. No one in the family knew of Politto’s traitorous actions except one person. That same person is who handed over all evidence against Politto Sr., solidifying his conviction.”
Someone raises his hand, “Where is the informant now?”
“Deceased,” Farley responds, but offers no other information.
“So why the sudden rekindling of a war that’s a few decades old?” someone else asks.
“Just as his dad’s fate was sealed, we believe that Politto thinks the informant left behind evidence that could seal his fate as well. Politto wants that evidence.”
Farley flashes a grainy photo of a stocky man entering the back entrance of The Pole. “Looks like Frank Politto.”
“He’s alive?”
“Apparently. Politto is either trying to frame Smyth or he just wants him out of the way for a while. We have a plant at The Pole. If Frank is coming and going, if he is indeed alive, then we need to release Smyth.”
The mention of Smyth being let out turns my blood cold.
Farley flashes photo after photo of Smyth and Razzo. “As you know, Razzo is Politto’s partner in many of their lucrative businesses. Razzo wants out, and he may be using Smyth to get what he wants.” Farley points to the screen. “These meetings are key as to why Smyth may be flipping his allegiance from Politto to Razzo. The problem is, Smyth has no idea both Politto and Razzo are both using him.”
Farley flips back to an image of Volante. It’s the same picture I’ve seen over the years. It’s an old mugshot. His cold stare gives a pretty good indication of the man that he was.
My father’s letter to me may have been a pile of ash, but the words on that paper still danced before my eyes. I could hear his voice. I could hear him say the name Politto, repeated over and over in my mind.
The next day, I skipped classes and took up shop in the library. Students littered the building, frantically cramming for finals. My motives were to find everything I could about the man who may have ruined my life. Why was Politto connected to my father? How was he connected?
Before he killed my mother, my father had been found with cocaine, causing his arrest and prison time of one year. He never told the cops, the judge, or his lawyer where he got the drugs from or what he was planning on doing with them. He, in essence, took the name of that connection with him to the grave.
I could only guess that the connection he protected was Politto.
My dad’s letter said he made a trade, yet I found nothing on Politto to make sense of it. One image showed Volante and Politto, side by side. Volante was a good-looking man who was probably in his early thirties. Sheer arrogance emanated from him. I stared at the computer screen for minutes, just staring at Volante’s dead cold eyes.
“Stone, Withers,” Farley calls out as the briefing room empties. We hold back, waiting to see what he wants. He closes the door once the last agent files out.
“Sit.”
We sit obediently while he chooses to stand before us. He lifts the folder McGee gave me and says, “You need to back off. You are too personally invested.”
“No way, I’m not backing off.”
“Stone.”
I stand threateningly. He doesn’t move a muscle as he stares me down condescendingly.
Who am I kidding? If Farley wants me off, I have no choice.
“Calm down, Stone. I’m not pulling you from the case.” He lifts the folder for emphasis. “Just this part.”
He may as well tell me to stop breathing.
“What does it mean?” I ask desperately. “Do you think it’s the same guy?”
Farley puts on his best poker face. “It can be. Either way, it’s not your concern.”
“The fuck it isn’t!”
“Ben.” Rob holds my arm in an attempt to calm me down. I shake loose from his grip.
“I saw the way he looked at her. I saw the way she panicked when he did. It is every bit my concern.”
“Ella Parker is your concern. Smyth is not.” He turns his back to us, moving to the podium to grab his things. He returns with an envelope. “Names and addresses of three of Politto’s pushers on the streets. Bring them in.”
Without further explanation, he turns and leaves us alone in the room.
“Don’t.” I point a finger in Rob’s face. “Don’t even think about saying he’s right.”
I storm out of the room, wanting to empty my clip into someone’s head.
That look I saw in Farley’s eyes wasn’t judgment, after all. It was something else. My gut thinks he agrees with me, that he also believes Smyth is connected to Ella’s assault and her mother’s murder.
The whole situation makes me feel sick to my stomach.
After wandering aimlessly, I return to my apartment, intent on combing through every file I have and everything I can find on the Internet regarding Smyth. Farley can go fuck himself.
When I open my door, I’m not the least bit surprised to see Rob sitting on my couch. “If you came here to bust my balls, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I came here because I agree with you.” He sits with paperwork and files surrounding him.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do.” He lifts Ella’s file. “This isn’t a coincidence.”
This guy is always in my corner. No matter what I bring into his life, no matter what chip I am trying to balance on my shoulder, he’s always got my back.
“Thanks, man.”
“I care about her, too. I saw Smyth’s reaction. We need to protect her.”
“I need to call her. I’ll be right back.”
I dial her number and close my bedroom door behind me.
“Hey,” she answers, the enthusiasm evident in her voice.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?”
“Good. How about you?”
“It sucked. I have work to do, I can’t see you tonight.”
“Okay,” she says with disappointment. “I assume Rob, too?”
“Yes. He’s with me. Where are you?” I ask, hoping she listened to my request and didn’t hit the gym.
“I’m home. Andrea’s here with me. I decided to tell her about us. This will be a good opportunity.” At my silence, she adds, “Is that okay with you?”
“Of course. I meant it when I said it’s up to you. Are you staying in?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, I’ll try to call you later. I gotta go.”
“Okay. Ben, please be careful,” she responds softly. Hearing her voice makes me ache to hold her. I can see her sitting on her couch, her hair up, her legs tucked beneath her. What I wouldn’t give to be there with her, my lips on her neck, my hands caressing her smooth skin.
When I return to Rob, I sit across from him staring at the files.
“We’ll hit Farley’s list of pushers tomorrow.”
I nod in agreement. “I don’t know where to start. McGill knows nothing. He’s a homicide detective from Po-dunk, U.S.A. What the hell does he know about organized crime?”
“Let’s start with what we know.” Rob grabs Smyth’s information. His brows furrow in concentration as he reads the fact sheet. “He lived in Cleveland for a while.”
“So did Volante and Politto.”
“When your dad was arrested, his one and only phone call was to Politto. Problem is Politto Sr. didn’t get his hands dirty. He never got involved with petty shit. He used his men. If your dad were being used as a mule, he wouldn’t have dealt directly with Politto. It would have been Smyth or Razzo, or even Politto Jr. who managed your dad.”
“Maybe he meant Junior.” A headache forms at my temples. Rubbing them distractedly, I voice out loud, “We’re missing something.”
Rob powers up the laptop and gets on the phone. “April, it’s Rob. I need a favor, off the cuff.”
Whatever she says in return, he responds with, “Deal.”
April is a fact checker at our precinct. She’s been a fixture there for over twenty years. “Todd Smyth, spelled with a y. He’s in custody downtown. I need everything you can find on him dating back two years. Phone bills, bank statements, air travel, everything. Thank you.”
“Farley will be pissed.”
“He told you to back off Smyth. He never told me to.” He buries his head in another file and shrugs. “Loophole.”
I pick up Ella’s file and flip through it page by page. Sliding the laptop toward me, I Google Virginia Parker. There are thousands. I plug in Virginia Parker, Danbury, New Hampshire. One reference pops up. I then try Virginia Parker high school, nothing. Virginia Parker birth, nothing. I tried Ginnie. I tried V. Parker. Besides the one reference to her birth, nothing else turns up. She didn’t have any social media accounts. She was a very private person.
I decide to try Ella. She won some awards in high school. Some photos come up from her college days, but most are from friends’ Facebook or Twitter pages. She doesn’t have a Facebook account or any social media accounts. Neither do I, but I’m a cop. I’m not sure I know of a twenty-something-year-old that doesn’t have a ton of social media connections.
“What are you looking at?” Rob asks.
“I Googled Virginia Parker. Nothing. I Googled Ella, not much there either.”
“Her mother sheltered her. Ella’s grandparents were assholes, and her biological father was very abusive. When her mother got pregnant, she took off. She was always afraid he’d find her. She kept her privacy because of it.”
“Makes sense.”
An image of Ella and Andrea catches my eye. They are in cap and gowns, both smiling wide. When I click on the image, it takes me to Andrea’s Facebook page. The posts below the pictures date back to their graduation a few years ago. There are many posts from friends wishing them congratulations and well wishes, some suggestive comments, but nothing out of the ordinary.
I backshift to Ella’s image again, tracing her lips with my fingertip. That fire I sometimes see in her eyes, when she gets angry with me, is visible in the picture. She was always feisty. I wish I knew her then. Besides the fire, there’s peacefulness, a calm about her that I don’t see today. I want to see it again.