Chapter Eighteen
Simon sat with his laptop balanced onhis legs, his feet on the coffee table.
Every so often, Harry or Hermione would pass by, rubbing against his calves or stepping over his feet.They seemed content that he wasn’t doing anything, which was a far cry from the way their favorite human had been wearing a path in the hardwood for most of the morning.Violet had taken her pacing and sighing to the bookstore, leaving him at home to work.
In his defense, he did offer to go with her or help with the search for her father.She adamantly insisted that he not do either, telling him it was more important for him to do something other than babysit her or look for a man who had a tendency to disappear when the mood struck.
He wasn’t so sure that was what happened this time, but they were getting updates from Luca and Slade, who were both working to find Harold.Last he’d heard, they were following a lead and would let them know what turned up.
Simon wasn’t holding his breath.He hoped like hell Harold was okay, that he wasn’t locked in some asshole’s dungeon somewhere, but he’d been told not to fret, so he wasn’t.
Yet.
He toggled to the spreadsheet he’d started building with the names of previous and current Censorious members.
As soon as he had seen his name on Archer and Atticus’s task list, he’d been relieved that they were giving him something to do.Granted, his assignment included finding members of Censorious as well as the history of the group, so it wasn’t anything really glamorous.Unlike Evan and Becs, who were tasked with getting information from Meredith, or Holly, who was digging into Martin Calloway’s life.But he figured everyone had to play their part, so he was doing what he’d been told.
He had some details on Censorious from his brief investigation when Holt first told him about his theory.But they needed more.A lot more.Especially if the goal was to take them down once and for all.
And while he was running searches and identifying the connections between members, he was getting updated on what the rest of the team was working on.Per Archer’s instructions, each person was uploading the data they had as soon as they got it, making detailed notes.It wasn’t exactly what he needed to build a story outline for the future podcast, but it was something.It provided him with names that he was adding to his interview list.
Using the database that JJ had supplied him with, Simon searched known associates of Martin Calloway just for shits and giggles.To his surprise, it kicked back a list that was far more extensive than he expected.It also provided links that gave him summaries of those associates, most of whom were FBI or former FBI agents that Martin had worked with over the years.
A ping sounded, signaling another update to the spreadsheet.Because it was fueling his addiction to data, he toggled over to the sheet and noticed an update from Charlie.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, leaning in to read the notes on Allison Bogart.“They found her.”
Well, not exactly, but they had more to go on now that they’d traced her credit card.
He grabbed his phone.He needed to know who was going to talk to her and when.He wanted a chance to pick the woman’s brain, to find out just how close she was to Martin Calloway.
Simon was about to dial when he paused, staring at the screen.If he called Archer, he would look like he wasn’t pulling his weight.They’d given him an assignment, and it didn’t involve talking to Allison.
He dropped the phone on the cushion beside him.
This whole working with a team thing was going to take some getting used to.
As he stared at the phone, continuing to debate whether to make that call, he wondered whether this was something he could do long-term.Or if he would always be overwhelmed with a need to quench his thirst for information by going to the source himself.
For right now, he would be a team player.Once they’d determined whether Holt’s theory had a ring of truth to it or not, he’d decide how he wanted to proceed.
Harry walked over, rubbing his back against Simon’s calves.
“I know, Harry.It’s not easy, but it’s the right thing to do.”
His inner journalist heard the words and rolled his eyes.
Archer was staring at his computer screen, wondering if his eyes were beginning to cross from information overload, when there was a knock on the hotel room door.Tesha was instantly on her feet, her full attention on the door.
“It’s all right, girl.Probably just your dads,” he told her as he set his laptop aside and got to his feet.
“It should be Brantley and Reese,” Atticus noted, not looking up from his screen.
He chuckled.Apparently, Atticus was too focused to know what was going on around him, too.He appreciated the interruption because it allowed him to switch gears.It also reminded him that Brantley and Reese hadn’t gotten anywhere with tracing down Martin Calloway, which had been disappointing all around.
This trip was netting them very little when Archer had been so hopeful in the beginning.
“Hey,” he greeted as he opened the door.
