The line went dead.
Unfazed, he lowered the phone. Adrian Hernandez didn’t waste time on conversation, and his associates learned not to expect it. The man ran a large piece of Chicago’s drug trade and paid well for useful information. Tracking down Moriah Jensen definitely qualified.
Parisi had gotten himself assigned to the Jensen murders as a calculated move—one that put him in position to clean up the fallout from Leo Simmons’s mistake. The idiot had handed off a duffel stuffed with cash and a gun—one that could be tied toseveral murders in the city—to his girlfriend for safekeeping.
Now, the chick’s sister had disappeared—and the bag had gone with her.
And that made everything more complicated.
Parisi shoved the phone into his pocket and climbed into his car. If Hernandez decided to deal with Leo when this was over, that was his business. Parisi wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.
For now, he had something more immediate to focus on.
He started the engine and pulled out of the lot, heading back to the station to wait for Malone to return his call. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long.
Sean Malone ended the call with his brother and stared at his phone.
So much for a few days off.
KC and Dan had stepped right into a mess this time.
He set the phone aside and opened a file on his laptop, scanning through his list of law enforcement contacts until he found the number heneeded—a DEA agent out of Chicago. They’d worked together on a joint task force case a few years back. He hoped the guy was still assigned there.
He made the call. On the fifth ring, Agent John Samson picked up.
After a quick exchange of greetings, Sean walked him through Moriah Jensen’s situation, laying out the key details and asking what he knew about the case—and about Leo Simmons.
The answers he got weren’t reassuring.
Thirty minutes later, Sean moved quickly through his bedroom, packing a travel bag with practiced efficiency. He had two hours to get to the airport, clear security with his weapon, and catch a flight from Jacksonville to North Carolina.
He’d fill everyone in when he got there.
The Malone brothers would be together again, this time to rescue a damsel in distress.Yee-haw!
After two hours of waiting for the phone to ring, Frank Parisi was on edge. More than once, he’d considered slipping into the men’s room for a quick hit of cocaine from the stash tucked in the hidden pocket of his sports coat. As he pushed back from hisdesk, the phone rang, the caller ID flashing the North Carolina area code he’d called earlier.
He dropped back into his chair, hand already covering the receiver. Drawing in a steadying breath, he picked up and forced his tone into something neutral, almost bored. “Detective Frank Parisi.”
“Hello, Detective. This is Special Agent Brian Malone from North Carolina’s SBI, returning your call.”
“Yes, Agent Malone, thanks for getting back to me. I received an alert that you ran the license of one of my BOLOs… a Moriah Jensen.” He grabbed a notepad and pen, more out of habit than necessity.
“Yeah, um, someone turned in a purse with that ID. I ran it to see if it was stolen property. I thought it was a little odd to find her bag in North Carolina when she’s from Chicago.” A brief pause, then, “So this Jensen is wanted for questioning in a couple of homicides, huh?”
Parisi let his gaze move casually around the room, keeping his voice low enough not to carry beyond his desk. A few detectives were still working, heads down, but he wasn’t taking chances. “Yup. Looks like she killed her mother, sister, and the sister’s kid. Shot them several times, then took off.”
A low whistle came through the line. “Really?Damn, that’s cold. What makes you think she did it?”
Parisi paused, narrowing his eyes slightly at the question.“Well, as the BOLO says, she’s only wanted for questioning. It’s a little suspicious she disappeared right after the murders.”
“Yeah, I guess that is. I wonder what her motive was if she did do it.”
Leaning back in his chair, irritation crept in despite his effort to stay even. “That’s something I’ll ask her when we locate her.”
Malone let out a heavy breath. “Well, I wish I could help you out, Detective. But I’ve got her picture—I’ll pass it around headquarters and see if anyone recognizes her.”
“I’d appreciate that, Agent Malone. And if you could put that purse in your property room, in case we need it, that would keep the chain of custody intact.”
