hat are you doing here on a Saturday? How the fuck long have you been here?” Hagan asked Nick as he tossed his coat onto his desk chair.
Nick looked up from the files he was studying.
“Oh my God,” Hagan said as he saw Nick’s face. “You look like a feral cat in an alleyway. What have you done to yourself?”
“Found a case of energy drinks in the break room,” Nick answered, his words clipped and precise. “I think I got something on this case, man.”
“Is it contagious? ’Cause I’d rather not do… this,” Hagan said as he waved his hand at Nick.
“No. Okay so, we have the books they went after in the shop, right? But why take books you can’t hope to sell? Discounting the highly unlikely scenario that they had a buyer for those specific rare books, which could be true I guess—”
“O.”
“I mean they could just be front men for someone with money, but still, it had to be the books themselves they were after and those books specifically.”
“Dude, can you feel your tongue?”
Nick picked up the book he’d been examining and turned it so Hagan could see it. “Look. This one has a complete surveyor’s map of Boston from 1819, and a copy of an earlier reproduction from 1779.”
Hagan raised an eyebrow. “What happened in 1819?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. But that’s what all four have in common.”
“1819?”
“No. They’re all contemporary reports from Boston in the years after the Revolution.”
“Vive la révolution. So… a crew of highly trained thieves broke into a rare bookstore, stole four books and two as yet unknown objects, and then killed a man, all because they’re planning a heist of Revolutionary War era Boston?”
Nick glanced up at his partner, nodding.
“Where are they hitting next to get their time machine parts? We should put a few unis on that shit.”
Nick glared at him for several seconds, then his eyes darted over Hagan’s hands. “Where’s my coffee?”
“Oh, fuck no.” Hagan threw both cups of coffee in the trash can, shaking his head. “No more caffeine for you.”
Nick stared at them, seriously thinking about reaching in after one of them, when Captain Branson paced over to their desks. Nick and Hagan both watched him expectantly. He stood over them with his hands behind his back. Nick was pretty sure he and Hagan hadn’t done anything to draw their captain’s ire, but you never knew.
Branson pursed his lips and peered into the trash can, then back at Nick. “Correct me if I’m misreading you, Detective O’Flaherty, but were you about to go after that cup of coffee in the trash bin?”
Nick’s eyes darted to the trash can, then back to his captain’s again. “Yes, sir.”
Branson nodded sagely. “How long have you been here?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
Hagan cleared his throat. “Please don’t ask him to explain his current theory.”
Nick pressed his lips tightly together, self-aware enough to know when not to speak. He avoided Branson’s eyes for all of two seconds before he gave in, though. “I have a consultant I’d like to bring in on the case.”
“For?”
“Hunting treasure.”
Branson frowned, gave Hagan one last sideways glance, then cocked his head at Nick. “Okay. Make sure he signs the waivers.”
Nick and Hagan watched him walk away, aiming for his office with a steaming mug of coffee in hand.
“What just happened?” Hagan finally asked.
Nick shook his head, still frowning at his captain. Then he turned back Hagan and straightened up. “Where’s the witness?”
“I left him in the break room with a uni.”
“How’d he do last night?”
“After you left, he was fine. You got the Midas touch, my friend.” Hagan reached to his desk like he was grasping for a cup. He looked confused for a moment before seeming to realize he’d tossed his own coffee in the trash as well. He and Nick both leaned over the edge of the desk to eye their trash can.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Nick offered.
Hagan gave a single nod, then stood up and coughed, making a show of fixing his tie and smiling around the squad room as Nick fished the cups out of the trash.
Kelly had to get directions to Nick’s desk, and it was like trying to find his way through a rabbit warren as he navigated the department. When he finally saw someone he recognized, Nick’s partner Hagan, Kelly could have hugged the man.
“Hey, Doc, how they hanging?” Hagan asked as soon as he saw Kelly.
“Um… they can’t complain with the current situation.”
Hagan laughed. “Sorry, O always calls you Doc. I don’t remember your real name,” he admitted. He gestured toward the desk opposite him. “Have a seat. Want some coffee?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” Kelly eased into the chair, Nick’s chair, watching Hagan suspiciously. He actually reminded Kelly a little of Nick; he was so deadpan you could never tell when he was joking.
Hagan was alternately tapping at his computer and reading a notepad on his desk, probably filling out a report or transferring notes. Kelly glanced around the room. There were more pods of desks like this one, in various degrees of organization. Nick’s desk, in comparison to the others, was very clean. It was almost empty, in fact. There was a large doodling pad in the center with notes and rough sketches all over it. There was the regular desktop fare, such as a stapler and a cup of pens and a computer. Nick had been back at work for several months, but most of that time had been spent doing desk work. Kelly could imagine him sitting here, bored to tears, organizing everything again and again.
A single photograph adorned the desk, in a simple black frame. Kelly reached for it, letting a finger run across the faces of his brothers-in-arms. It was a photo of the six men of Sidewinder, all of them ten years younger, all of them grinning at the camera, dressed in their combat gear. They’d taken a picture before every mission, just in case no one came back. This had been their last mission before being decommissioned.
Nick stood in the middle of the back row, a smile on his grease-painted face. Ty had his arm around Nick’s neck, and Nick was resting his elbow on Kelly’s shoulder. The other three members of the team, Owen Johns, Elias Sanchez, and the Cajun they’d called Digger, were kneeling in front of them.
Kelly glanced at the desktop again. No pictures of family. None of Nick’s sisters, whom Kelly knew he loved dearly. None of any of his coworkers here in Boston, past or present. Just Sidewinder.
Kelly’s chest twisted and tightened, and he rubbed at the scar near his heart as it throbbed. He replaced the frame carefully.
When he looked up, Hagan was watching him. “You boys must have been some kind of special.”
“We were.”
A hand clapped his shoulder, and he jerked in the seat. It was difficult sometimes for Kelly to resist the urge to defend himself when something surprised him, even a decade after seeing his last combat. Of course, almost being killed on vacation in New Orleans a year or so ago, and then again on vacation in Scotland several months back, had reinforced the instinct a little.
Nick leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Kelly turned his head and caught a real kiss from him before he straightened. He was shocked by the public display, but then, he kept having to remind himself that Nick had been out for a few years now.
“You got here okay?” Nick asked him. He sat on the edge of the desk, grinning down at Kelly.
“Yeah, no problem. Why do you look like you just ate a canary?”
Nick reached across his desk and opened a manila file folder. He tapped the paper and handed Kelly a pen. “Congratulations, you’re our newest special consultant.”
Kelly grunted. “Are you serious?”
“You have to promise the city you won’t sue if you die.”
“How could I sue if I died?”
“A paralegal,” Hagan said without looking up from his computer.
Nick barked a laugh. Kelly rolled his eyes and yanked the pen from his hand, signing the consent form before either of them could make another joke.
“What am I supposed to be specializing in?” Kelly asked.
“Treasure hunting,” Nick answered, still grinning widely.
“You’re insane. Seriously. Did you get checked out when they let you out of the Corps this time?”
“No.” Nick put a hand on Kelly’s head as he slid off his desk. “Come with me.”
“Are you… high?” Kelly muttered as he followed.
“There may have been a little too much caffeine consumption this morning, but it’s evened out.”
“You sure about that, bud?”
Nick laughed and ushered Kelly into what appeared to be a break room. The man from last night, JD, was sitting on one of the sofas. He stood when they entered, shuffling nervously.
Kelly went over to shake his hand. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Still no memory, though,” Nick added. He had his hand on the small of Kelly’s back, his fingers sliding beneath the belt. Kelly was almost positive he didn’t realize he was doing it. “We’re going to work on maybe trying to jog something loose. I was hoping you’d sit in with us.”
Kelly took a seat beside Nick. He knew what Nick wanted him to do without Nick having to ask him: he was using Kelly as a lie detector test without letting JD in on the fact that they were testing him.
Nick flopped a folder on the break room table and gestured for JD to sit with them. “Okay, I’m going to show you some pictures—just hold them up and then set them down. You don’t say anything, just let them sink in, okay?”
JD nodded, glancing between them uneasily.
Nick opened the folder and took the top photo. He held it for a few seconds, then laid it on the side of the pile. He went through several more, and Kelly focused on JD’s eyes. Whenever he thought he saw a glimmer of recognition or a reaction of any sort, he would tap Nick’s thigh beneath the table and Nick would lay that photo sideways.
When they got through the whole pile, Nick separated them, taking only the photos he’d set down sideways. “Okay,” he said to JD, still smiling warmly. “This time if you get anything, let us know. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Nick held up the first few photos. Kelly couldn’t see what they were, but as he watched JD’s face, he could see the man struggling to remember. He’d figured out what they were doing. He knew the photos in this second round were somehow more important than the first. Kelly’s heart went out to him. He looked so lost and frustrated.
On the fifth photo, JD held his hand out. “Stop,” he said urgently.
Nick froze, holding the photo up as JD stared at it.
“I’ve seen that,” JD whispered. He plucked the photo from Nick’s fingers and scowled at it. “This feels familiar to me. I know I’ve seen this before. What is this?”
Nick glanced at Kelly, and suddenly he looked grim. He rested both elbows on the table and frowned at JD. “It’s one of the items that was stolen from the bookstore. We got the IDs an hour ago.”
JD’s head shot up, his eyes widening.
“It’s a brooch worn by a Revolutionary War soldier during the Battle of Bunker Hill. The owner’s daughter said it’d been in their family for over two-hundred years.”
JD’s mouth worked silently, and he looked from the photo to Nick and back. “So since I recognize it… does this mean I stole it?”
Kelly glanced at Nick, holding his breath when Nick met his eyes. Nick looked truly regretful. He joked about being the bad cop and how everyone here considered him a hard-ass, but Kelly knew better. Nick had the purest heart of anyone he’d ever known.
“All it means is that you’ve seen this before,” Nick assured JD. “You could have been a regular customer at the shop. You could have seen this photo somewhere, say… an insurance company or a museum. The only thing it proves is that you weren’t there by chance. You are connected to this robbery somehow, that’s all we can say with any certainty.”
JD took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay.”
Nick tapped his stack of photos, straightening them, then he set them on the table as he stood. “We’ll be right back. You need anything? Food, drink?”
JD answered with a dejected shake of his head.
Nick and Kelly left him sitting there. Kelly noticed a uniform lurking near the door as they exited, and Nick gave him a nod as they passed. Whether JD knew it or not, he was being held prisoner.
“You were blowing smoke up his ass, right?” Kelly said under his breath. “He’s your main suspect, isn’t he?”
“Pretty much,” Nick admitted. “He’s looking damn guilty.”
“That sucks. To commit a crime and not even remember why you did it?”
“Like Tijuana that one time.”
Nick and Kelly both shuddered with the shared memory. Nick sat at his desk and turned his chair to glance back at the break room.
“Dude,” Hagan said. “I know in your mind he’s a puppy in a cardboard box with a ‘take me home’ sign around his neck, but you can’t fight the evidence building up here.”
“Did the prints come back yet?” Nick asked, sounding frustrated.
“Yeah. John Doe Number Alive didn’t hit anywhere. But John Doe Number Dead came up with a prior.” Hagan turned his computer screen around so Nick and Kelly could see it.
“Darragh O’Doyle,” Nick read under his breath.
“That sounds made up,” Kelly said. “Is that real?”
“He’s not local,” Hagan told them.
“Irish national?” Nick asked. Hagan nodded. “Known associates?”
“None listed. He got pinched last year but he never turned on his crew. Did six months, got out on good behavior, last record of him was that he’d headed back to Ireland.”
“Well he’s back now. So we have an Irish connection.” Nick sat back in his chair, making a clicking sound with his teeth and tongue as he stared at the screen. “Let’s expand the fingerprints to international databases, see if we get a hit.”
Kelly cleared his throat, waiting until Hagan got up and left before leaning toward Nick. “Isn’t Julian Cross Irish?”
Nick nodded and pulled his phone from his back pocket. “We need to talk to him.” He hit the speaker button and set his phone on the desk between them.
“Special Agent in Charge Garrett here.”
“Well, aren’t we fancy,” Kelly teased.
Nick shook his head. “Hey, Garrett, it’s O’Flaherty. And the Doc, obviously.”
“Oh God, what now? Are you in jail? Being held by the IRA? Stuck on a reef in the Caribbean?”
“Wow,” Kelly said. “That’s uncalled for.”
Zane laughed. “I thought being engaged to Ty gave me some extra snark privileges.”
“Hey!” Nick shouted. “Do I come running when you need help? Did I get shoved off the edge of a cliff for your ungrateful ass? Does my boat still have bullet holes in it?”
“It still floats,” Zane countered, a smirk obvious in his voice.
Nick grunted.
“Haven’t heard from you two in a while, what’s going on?” Zane said, voice casual. Kelly had grown familiar enough with Zane to know he was taking care with his words, though. “You need to come to Baltimore, come see us.”
Kelly gave Nick a sideways glance to see how he’d react to that, but Nick was expressionless. “Sorry, babe, this isn’t a social call. I need to know how to get in touch with Julian Cross.”
“Cross. Why?”
Nick made another clicking sound, refusing to answer.
“Never mind, I didn’t ask,” Zane said quickly. “I don’t know how to get in touch with him. I assume he just shows up when he smells blood.”
“How about Grady? You think he’d know?”
“Hell no. Ty spits nails when you mention Cross’s name. He says Cross stole his kitties.”
“That’s what I figured,” Nick said with a sigh. “That’s why I called you.”
“Is it?” Zane asked pointedly.
Kelly tensed and couldn’t stop himself from glancing toward the framed photo of their team, Ty’s arm around Nick’s shoulders as they smiled. The state of Nick and Ty’s fracturing friendship was a topic only the bravest of men would touch on. Zane had balls of brass to do it.
Kelly cleared his throat and leaned closer to the phone. “We figured with your Bureau contacts, you’d be the better source. Since Ty is all… wild card now.”
“Right,” Zane said wryly.
“You got a lead on Cross, or no?” Nick asked, his words more clipped than they had been.
“No. Want me to put out some feelers? Or get Ty on it? Please God, let me put Ty on it, he needs something to do besides remodeling that damn building.”
“No. Fuck no. I don’t want Cross to know I’m coming.”
“If you’re looking for him, he already knows.”
“Right. Hey, thanks Garrett. We’ll talk to you later.” Nick ended the call and slammed his hand onto the desk. “Damn it!”
“That mean Cross is a dead end?” Kelly asked gently.
“For now. Next thread.” Nick tapped the evidence photos of the books that had been recovered at the scene. “We follow your books.”
“My books? No. No, you’re not pinning those on me for when they go bust.” Nick smirked. Kelly snorted. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Come on, babe, it’s a treasure hunt,” Nick teased.
“You hope it’s a treasure hunt, or you’re going to look stupid.”
“You’re the special consultant.”
“You’re the detective who called in the special consultant.”
Nick glanced over Kelly’s shoulder, then stood and stole a quick kiss. “Come on. Let’s get some lunch before Hagan gets back and I have to buy his food.”
They didn’t even make it to the stairs before Hagan caught them trying to sneak out. “Fuck no, I get to interrogate the boyfriend, damn you,” Hagan called to them. He grabbed his coat off his chair, making it spin around and bang into the desk.
They stopped to wait for him. Nick was chuckling softly.
“I like your partner,” Kelly said quietly.
“Yeah, don’t tell him that though.”
Kelly nodded, but Nick’s eyes were straying to the break room, where the uniformed officer was still standing guard. Kelly’s brow furrowed as he thought about JD sitting in there alone, his mind turning over everything he couldn’t remember. He knew Nick was thinking the same thing.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Is it legal and shit to take your witness with us? Maybe new surroundings will get him remembering faster.”
Nick chewed on his bottom lip, frowning, his eyes lingering on the break room door. He took a deep breath and then sighed before heading over there.
Hagan was fighting with his coat when he joined Kelly. “He bringing the stray to lunch?”
“Did you expect anything less from him?” Kelly asked fondly.
Hagan grunted. “You should see the last stray he convinced me to keep around. Teeny tiny little puppy he found in a storm drain, half-dead and starving in the middle of the night. All the local shelters were closed up so we had to take it in for the night. Bastard told me he couldn’t have it on his boat ’cause it’d fall off and drown. Fucking thing was too weak to walk and he convinced me it’d take a header off the side of a boat!”
Kelly couldn’t stop his grin.
Hagan appeared almost sheepish. “I still got that damn mutt. Weighs a hundred pounds. Best friend I ever had.”
Kelly laughed. “Well he can’t keep this stray either. You have room for an amnesiac with great bone structure?”
“Not if he pisses on the carpet like the last one,” Hagan grumbled as he headed for the elevators.
They sat at a booth in a local pub near the precinct house that obviously catered to cops. In fact, after staring around at the pictures on the walls long enough, Kelly found Nick up there. He gazed up at the photo, smirking. Most of the photos were official, full uniform and regalia, with stone-faced men and women staring at the camera like they could cause it to burst into flame. It reminded Kelly of the military photos they’d taken.
Nick didn’t exactly smile in photos, but he didn’t keep a straight face either. The look he usually gave was more of a challenge, with a half smirk that basically said “come at me, bro” and a glint that said Nick would enjoy the fight. He’d made the same expression in his police portrait that sat high on one of the walls, and Kelly couldn’t take his eyes off that face.
“So,” JD finally said, clearing his throat and glancing around uncomfortably. “Is this like a last meal or something?”
“You’re awful fatalistic for a dude who lived through being shot in the head,” Hagan observed.
“Maybe if I remembered it, I’d be more likely to look on the bright side,” JD grumbled.
“Innocent until proven guilty, babe.” Nick’s voice was low and sent a shiver up Kelly’s spine. “Look, we haven’t had any hits, but we have eliminated some things, and frankly, that’s as good as we could hope for.”
“Right.” Hagan pointed his fork at Nick. “We put you through all the systems and got nothing.”
“That… sounds awesome,” JD said, voice flat and sarcastic.
“What that means is you don’t have a record,” Nick offered.
“Meaning I’m a smart felon and I’ve never been caught. You’re right, that is good news.”
Kelly coughed to cover a laugh.
Nick pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. “It also means you’re not military, and you’ve never worked government or municipal. You’re not part of any education systems, and so on. Rules out everything you would have been printed for.”
JD nodded and looked down at his hands, turning them over to run a finger across his tips. His nails were still stained from the ink they’d printed him with.
Nick was watching him too, frowning harder the longer he looked at him. He reached to the cuff of his shirt, unbuttoning and rolling it up. He showed JD the inside of his arm and tapped the tattoo with his finger. “You know what this is?”
JD nodded. “I told you yesterday, I recognized it. It’s the Recon Jack.”
Nick glanced at Kelly, one eyebrow raised. Kelly couldn’t school his features fast enough to hide the surprise. Nick looked around the pub. It was early for lunch, so there weren’t many people there. He began to unbutton his shirt.
“Dude,” Hagan said through a mouthful of food. “That’s your other job. Got to stop confusing them. Tired of suspects stuffing your pants with dollar bills during interrogation.”
Nick shoved his sleeve aside, then pulled up the sleeve of his undershirt to reveal a well-defined biceps and shoulder. Kelly leaned away from him to get a better view. Nick glanced sideways at him, giving him a dirty look.
“Yeah, I’m perving on you. What then?” Kelly asked.
They all laughed at him, and Hagan whistled and pointed his fork at the bite mark Nick had exposed on his neck. “Good Lord,” he said. “Do you even call it sex, or is it more like sparring with you two?”
Nick rolled his eyes. He tapped the oversized tattoo on his shoulder. It covered his entire shoulder, running from the center of his collarbone to his biceps and covering both the front and back sides of his arm. It was a work of art, pure and simple, following the defined lines of Nick’s muscles. “You know what this is?”
“Eagle, globe, and anchor,” JD answered immediately. “Marines.”
Hagan’s eyebrows had shot higher, but he remained silent.
Nick began to button up his shirt again, and he jerked his chin toward Kelly. “Show him yours.”
Kelly nodded. The one on his arm was partially visible under the sleeve of his T-shirt, so he just pulled the sleeve up and turned so JD could get a good look. It was a simple anchor, but with snakes encircling it and wings at the top to form a caduceus. The word NAVY was written on a scroll at the bottom.
JD studied it for a moment, then glanced between Nick and Kelly. “Well, it’s a Navy tattoo, that much is obvious. I don’t recognize it, but I know it means you were a corpsman. Probably a SARC, since you two served together and he’s a Marine.”
“Goddamn, he knows more about this shit than I do,” Hagan said.
Kelly glanced between them. He wasn’t sure what this meant since he didn’t have the whole picture, but Nick looked troubled. Kelly didn’t blame him. This guy hadn’t printed as military, but he knew what Nick’s Recon Jack was, and that was a pretty specialized symbol. People might recognize it as being military, but they didn’t know what it meant, not really.
JD did. People who knew military but weren’t military were usually mercs.
“What?” JD asked, beginning to fidget again. “Is this bad? I see the look on your faces; this is bad.”
Nick ran his fingers across his lower lip, not responding. Kelly watched him, wondering if he’d come to the same conclusion, and if he’d be honest with his suspect when he did.
“Okay,” Nick finally said. “You’ve obviously been exposed to some military culture at some point because your knowledge is above average.”
“So… what, I’m some sort of gun for hire then? Like Blackwater, or…” JD trailed off, staring at the tabletop. “How’d I know that name? How do I know what that is?”
“Hey, yesterday you were telling me you knew all kinds of things, sparkly vampires and whatever,” Nick said, his voice sliding back into that soothing honey tone he used so often. “Blackwater is a well-known company, it’s not weird you’d know it. Just stay calm about it. This is stuff any military brat would know, okay?”
Hagan gave JD a pat on the shoulder and an almost reassuring smile. “We’ll figure this shit out. My boy here is a dog with a bone; we got you.”
Kelly stayed quiet. He did wonder, however, if Hagan’s words were a warning for JD to heed when his memory did start coming back.
We got you.