“What do you mean?”
He sits on the edge of his chair, wordlessly building the suspense. “What’s the average number of search warrants a special agent conducts per year?”
I shrug. “It varies depending on the agent. Some could be a hundred, others as few as ten.”
Reid’s lips twist. “So even if we went with the lower end of the scale, I would have conducted over one hundred and fifty searches in my fifteen years on the job, so you could say I know what I’m doing.”
I nod in agreement. Reid is a good agent. It’s why I brought him onto my team.
“That. . .” He points to the stack of photos. “. . .will get me nothing but my case thrown out of court.” He slouches back in his chair. “I don’t know about you, but I ain’t in this job for the money.”
A ghost of a smile cracks onto my lips. Only a moron would join law enforcement if they’re chasing a money pot.
My smile falters when Reid digs his phone out of his pocket. Remaining quiet, his finger slides across the screen before he punches in a six digit lock code. Although I’d never ask, I’m confident his security is as lacking as mine. Every agent knows a six-digit code is a birthday of a loved one. MM/DD/YY. That’s what mine is. Except the birthday code in my phone isn’t my mom, dad or any of my siblings. It’s not even mine. It’s Rae’s.
I stop thinking back to the giddy fuck I was when I placed her birthday as my lock code when Reid tosses his phone into my chest.
“That’s how we left Isaac’s residence after our search.”
My eyes drop to the screen. Drawers are open, a few cushions are tossed around, and almost every cupboard in his kitchen has their contents removed, but there are no torn couches, shredded paintings or cracked ornaments. You can tell every surface was thoroughly inspected, but they weren’t close to being destroyed.
I hand Reid back his phone before inspecting the photos Brandon gave me more diligently. They’re a stark contradiction to Reid’s recollection of events. “Someone is playing tricks on me.”
Reid murmurs in agreement. He only knows of my suspicion that I have a nark in my team because I crossed him off the list fairly early in my investigation. He passed the test I gave him with flying colors. Other agents, including the one who supplied me these photos of Isaac’s residence, didn’t ace the test. Don’t get me wrong, they came close, but not enough for me to remove them from my list.
“Do you think it’s Theresa?”
Reid halfheartedly shrugs. “Hard call. Before you logged Isaac’s arrest warrant, no one knew of his private residence. We all thought his main base was his apartment on Hector. If she jumped straight on a plane, she could have been here in time, but that means she’s been watching your investigation for some time.”
I jerk up my chin in both suspicion and confirmation. My suspicion is based on Theresa’s interests; for how quickly she arrived on scene, I wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’s never let this case out of her sight. My confirmation centers around his disclosure of Isaac’s residence.
I knew Isabelle would unlock Isaac’s case, but I had no clue how profoundly her influence was on him until she led me straight to his private residence. Isaac has always kept his business ventures and his personal life as two separate entities. Isabelle is the first person to merge them together.
A line I swore I’d never cross gets crossed when I say, “Put a tail on Theresa. If this is her, I want to know.”
Reid looks highly uncomfortable by my request, but he nods his head all the same. “And this?” He hands me the itemized bill Regan dropped off days ago.
I swivel my tongue around my mouth to soothe its sudden dryness before forcing out, “Pay it.”
Reid looks like he wants to say more, but he saves his retaliation. Lucky, as the shrill of my cell phone would have cut him off.
The ragged beat of my heart amplifies when my eyes drop to the screen of my phone. Regan is calling me—again. This isn’t the first time she’s reached out this week, but it is the first time she hasn’t hung up after four rings. It rings and rings and rings until it is seconds away from going to voicemail.
I snatch up my phone, slide my finger across the screen, then squash it to my ear. Although confident her contact is in regards to the matter Reid and I are in the process of discussing, my intuition is begging me not to act in haste. It’s warning me to be cautious more than anything.
Still, I answer her call with unbridled attitude, my anger not as quick to subdue when I see her name as it did twelve months ago. “The Bureau is processing your client’s claim. Payment will take six to eight weeks.”
A sharp exhale sounds down the line. “Good. I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.”
I smirk. I’m not the only reeking with attitude. Regan’s tone has it in abundance.
“I’ll update you when I hear anything.”
I’m dragging my phone away from my ear to disconnect our call when I hear the quickest, “Wait.”
I try to act cool, but the lightning fast return of my phone to my ear undoes my ruse. Even Reid smirks at my pathetic attempt.
“Yeah?”
