“What do you think James’s part was in this?”
“Pawn,” Devon says without even thinking about it. “Extensive drug and gambling problem. In dire need of funds. Ridiculously easy to manipulate. Wouldn’t be surprised if Smith wasn’t behind the dad’s broken leg to get him here.”
Jesus. I hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“And do we think Ryan is involved in this more than just an unsuspecting mark?” We had a conversation before I was sent here and knew who the mark was. Also discussed the possibility that this whole job was just a ruse. Once we found out I was assigned to Ryan, Devon dug as deep as he could on him. Mr. Smith’s notes he sends on a job don’t compare to what Devon gives me. We learned about his business and how successfulit has become. It made sense someone would want it. Mr. Smith had used Ryan’s transport services a few years ago to move things on a few jobs I was a part of, so it’s easy to see how Ryan was on his radar.
Devon’s shoulders shuffle back and forth a couple of times as if he’s trying to determine how he feels about this subject. “First, we know anything is possible, right?”
“Right.”
“So knowing anything is possible, it’s still a long shot in my opinion. Regardless of the shady shit Ryan has going on, he is too rooted in this community, which goes against everything Mr. Smith looks for in the people he recruits to work for him.”
I was a nobody without family or connections. There would be no flags raised if I disappeared. No one to seek out justice for me if things go sideways. That is not true for Ryan. He lives in a house where his neighbors have literally watched him grow up from infancy.
“We deal in facts and we don’t have any that point in that direction,” he says.
We sit in silence for a minute or so, both contemplating this latest development. Finally I say, “I cornered her in the kitchen. Told her I knew who she worked for. Told her she could very easily find herself in my position.”
His pencil stops moving for the first time since I sat down. “L, why?”
“L” is the closest he’d ever come to saying Lucca, since it’s such an uncommon name and anyone listening would assume my name is Elle. But even with that precaution, Devon hardly ever addresses me directly, so I feel the weight behind it.
“I needed to know if she thought I was a random mark or if she knew I worked for him too. She didn’t, by the way. The surprise on her face wasreal. And it’s not like I discovered some big secret, since he already admitted to sending her.”
Devon’s pencil goes back to work, and he bounces his head to the assumed beat. “Smith’s greatest achievement is keeping everyone under him in line by keeping them blind to everything and everyone else in his organization. No one knows who he is, no one knows where they are in the chain.” Mr. Smith is the puzzle Devon has been working on for years.
“And the cops are aware of the name Evie Porter of Brookwood, Alabama,” I add in a near whisper, as if I’m confessing my sins.
This admission makes his face turn toward me. “Details?”
I fill him in on our visit to the Bernards’ house and the conversation with the police while he works diligently on the page in front of him.
When I finish, he says, “I don’t like this. I don’t like that I can’t see where this is going. I think we bail.”
This gives me pause. We have found ourselves in a lot of situations where a positive outcome seemed doubtful, but he’s never mentioned bailing before.
“And then what? We knew coming in he was pissed I didn’t get the blackmail info on Connolly back for him. We also knew he’s trying to determine if I actuallywassuccessful but kept everything for myself. If Mr. Smith wants to take me out, bailing won’t stop him, but it severely limits where I can go from here, especially now that Lucca Marino doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I still don’t like it,” he says. “You’re going to be a sitting duck while you wait for the next set of instructions. And what if they never come?”
“The only choice I have is to continue moving forward.” We both sit in silence for a minute or so, lost in our own thoughts. Then I ask, “How’s Heather?”
He ducks his head and I think he’s going to ignore me, but finally says, “Good. She’s good.”
“We stay the course, Devon. That’s the only answer.”
He hesitates just a moment, then says, “Got the details on the next big shipment coming through Glenview Trucking this Thursday. It’s in thePeoplemagazine in front of you.”
“Good. I think it will confuse Smith when he sees I’m still working this job, even after that woman’s death.” Somewhere between the first and second round of delivering the information on Ryan’s business to Mr. Smith, I was regretting the part I was playing. Maybe it was the daydreams that Ryan’s home could really be mine or the wishing this identity was real, but in a particularly weak moment, I altered a few key data points on the financials and client names before turning them over. It’s not enough that Mr. Smith would notice, but just enough to give Ryan a fighting chance at keeping his business.
I plan to make similar modifications to this latest set of information before passing it along.
Devon doesn’t know I’ve done this and I feel bad keeping it from him. He would think I was taking an unnecessary risk. “I’ll drop it by the mailbox on my way home.”
Devon’s head turns just slightly in my direction. “That’s not your home, L.”
I flinch at his words, then grab the magazine in front of me, shoving it in my bag. I pick up my cup and stand from my stool. “I’ll be in touch.”
