“At least six that I can find.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Are there more?”
“I don’t know. Clara can’t tell. Based on what I know of the family, though, it’s not improbable.”
Bringing Clara back into the conversation leaves the cop confused, leaning back in his chair, looking between me and Walker. “Where is she?”
“Do you follow society news?” Walker asks, pulling up the engagement announcement and handing his phone to the cop with less caution than I’d prefer.
Reed’s nostrils flare. “Fucking Westerhouses.”
“Not all of them are shit. Just most of them,” Walker says, holding out his hand for his phone. I catch sight of Clara on the screen, frozen in a caricature of the woman I love.
The cop closes his eyes, the weight of his indecision lying between us as I take another sip of the tea. I officially hate it and have no idea how Jansen stomachs the stuff. While he contemplates his next move, I pull out the thumb drive, filling it with information on a couple of small fish I’ve nailed down. “So?” I prompt.
He leans forward. “Which one?”
“Representative Trevor Westerhouse.”
“Fuck.”
I unplug the thumb drive. “Here are some other leads. Smaller fish.”
“I have to be careful who I work this with. A fish like that…”
“You’re right, you do. The elder Westerhouse has ears in several precincts. I’ve found some of them, but I can’t be sure I’ve found all of them. Not yet, anyway. In a few months, I can probably give you a complete list.”
He looks at me as if I’ve grown antlers. “Who’s dirty?”
“Marshall, Ben Nelson, and Graves, so far.”
His face locks somewhere between disgust and disbelief. “Who the fuck are you, kid?”
“Just a guy trying to keep his girl safe,” I say, stashing my laptop and getting to my feet, Walker doing the same.
“I don’t understand what you guys have going on,” he says.
“You don’t have to,” Walker replies. “It’s none of your damn business.”
“Catching criminals is my business.”
“Good thing we’re not criminals, only college students,” Walker replies, tossing his cup into the garbage, my full one joining it a moment later.
“Right. And I’m Batman.”
“Wouldn’t you be more like Commissioner Gordon?” I ask before I can stop the unnecessary correction.
“Fuck you, kid,” he says, Walker chuckling as he pulls me out the door.
Another ball rolling. Another moving part of this impossible puzzle Clara’s certain we can solve. Something else to monitor until it’s the right time to pull the lever.
A win, even when everything feels like a loss.
Chapter 8
Jansen
Emma is sick of me. I can’t blame her. I know I’m probably the worst patient, as she’s more used to fluffy friends instead of the restless little brother of her newly ex-girlfriend. It’s surprising she’s helping me at all.
