“Good morning, Officer Doblanski,” I reply, pasting on my best practiced smile.
“Ah, come on now, kid. How many times have I told you to call me Tom?” he teases, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s an older man with short salt and pepper hair, a thick mustache, and thick gray plastic-framed glasses.
“Sorry. I’m still getting used to the rules. Not everyone wants to be so informal around here,” I say as I continue uploading the next group of pictures into the software program.
Tom chuckles. “Yeah, don’t take Michaelson so seriously,” he says, talking about my supervisor. “He’s always had a stick up his ass and thought himself better than everyone else around here because he’s a science wizard or some shit.”
I smile at that. “He is a very intelligent man when it comes to forensic science. I’ll agree to that, but between you and me, I think someone should give that stick a twist or two and loosen him up a bit.”
“I’ll ask around for volunteers.” Tom laughs. “Listen, some of us are heading out to the bar after work, and I thought maybe you’d like to join us for dinner and a beer. My wife can meet us down there if you don’t want to be the only female in the bunch. I just thought it’d be nice for you to meet some of the guys you’ll be working closely with while you’re interning with us.”
It seems odd to me that a street cop would want me to come meet his wife and have a few beers, but somehow, I don’t think turning down the invitation would be a good idea. There’s something about Doblanski and the way he’s always showing up wherever I am during work hours that makes me wonder if he’s not on a certain family’s payroll and been sent to keep an eye on me.
Maybe they have him watching to make sure I’m not snooping around in things I shouldn’t be.
It’s definitely something Papa would do if he found out someone from another known crime family was suddenly working for our local police department. He’d be suspicious as hell and probably have their entire lives bugged and monitored.
Hmm.
I make a mental note to check my apartment and my car. I wouldn’t put it past Enzo to have my shit under surveillance. It would only be right since he already has a man following me around, watching my every move. It’s actually sort of cute how he thought I wouldn’t notice. Liam and Drew don’t seem to have caught on, but I can use that to my advantage. They’re good guards and follow orders well, but it’s not hard to give them the slip when I want my privacy. The beauty of it is, they will never tell Papa about my escape artistry or any of the shit I’ve pulled on them because they don’t want him to murder them for being outwitted by me.
Deciding I need to see where this goes, I agree to meet after work with the stipulation that I need to go home and change first and pick up my date for the night. I’ll bring Drew with me in case this is a setup of some sort.
Tom doesn’t argue. In fact, he seems relieved that I accepted his invitation. Which makes me wonder even more if he wasn’t put up to this by a certain Italian enforcer.
Making Doblanski befriend me—as a cop I’m now certain is on the Venatti payroll—would serve two purposes for Enzo. One, keeping tabs on me, and two, having someone Enzo believes I trust to keep me out of shit they don’t want me involved in. Things that I could possibly use against them.
Like evidence of kidnapping children.
Three hours later, I’m driving with Drew to the dive bar in central Dallas to meet Tom and his wife. I spent most of the ridewith Drew questioning whether I’m sure this is a good idea and if I shouldn’t see about another job since the Venatti won’t trust me to be involved in their cases or the lack thereof as it may be.
“What if they believe you’re here to stick a case to them?” Drew asks.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“What if they think Caspien planted you here to fuck with evidence and cause problems for their organization?” Drew suggests. “That would not only put a target on your back but could start a war between the families.”
“Which is why they should know better than to think I would do such a thing. I’m not about to start a war with the Venatti. Although our empire is strong, they have more allies. There would be no benefit to us in causing them any issues. Besides,” I add. “I’m not looking into current cases to stir up trouble. I’m only trying to find out if there’s anything here that could lead to finding my brother.”
“Explain to me again how working in the forensics department is going to help with that again?” Drew says sarcastically. “It’s a cold case, Thea. And the evidence would have been at the Vegas PD, not here in Dallas.”
“It’s a shared databank.”
Drew sighs. “Yes, but wouldn’t you be better served if you used the men your father employs to dig that shit up for you rather than attempting to do it yourself and risking life in prison or worse if you get caught?”
“Ah, Drew. You’re worried about me,” I tease. Then with a cold, unwavering tone I tell him, “I know what I’m doing. I’ll be fine.”
We drive the rest of the trip in silence.
We’re pulling up to the parking lot when my phone vibrates. Pulling it out of my purse, I open the lock screen and throw up a little thanks to the heavens that we drove Drew's carand not mine, so the Bluetooth wasn’t connected to my phone. Otherwise, I would have to field a hundred and one more questions about the unknown number and the message they sent.
Unknown:Meet at The Landing Strip club at 9pm. Come alone. Don’t be late. I’ll tell you what you want to know about your brother
I don’t respond, tucking my phone back into my purse. Drew comes to my side, opening my door and helping me out.
“Come on, brat,” Drew teases. “Let’s go get this shit over with.” He ushers me into the bar and over to the table where Tom and his wife, along with three officers from the precinct, sit.
Oh, fun.
