Page 54 of Dichotomy

She had just given me the layout of the house and the exact room I needed.

Marcus’s hand circled my wrist gently, halting my movements. “Try not to get kidnapped this time,” he said. His smile was light, but his eyes were dark and stormy.

I brushed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll try not to.”

My track record wasn’t great, so I didn’t blame him for getting worried, but I was a big girl. I could handle myself.

He let me go, and I wove my way through the crowds, ignoring the judge and the director off to my left. Agent Hayes had disappeared. When I stepped into the hallway, the noise from the crowded room dimmed considerably. I didn’t bother checking the first bathroom. Regardless of whether it was occupied, it was too far from my target tonight.

I followed Gemma’s instructions, taking a left at the end of the hallway. Before I made it to the third doorway, though, the door on the opposite end of the hall opened.

“Miss Harper, may I have a word with you?” Agent Hayes stepped out of the room. “Now.”

Marcus was going to kill me. The odds were slim that a federal agent would kidnap me, but with my luck…

“Agent Hayes,” I greeted. “Do you accost many women in dark hallways?”

“Only the ones I need to speak with urgently.” His eyes flicked up and down the corridor, sharp and restless, like he was already calculating how much time we had before someone noticed us missing.

I hadn’t gotten a bad vibe from him…yet. I didn’t love the lurking, but curiosity won out. Nothing crackled in my ear, which meant Liam had muted my earpiece. If he hadn’t, Alexander would probably be trying to shut this down, but Liam trusted me, and I trusted my gut.

I stepped past Hayes into the room he’d just exited. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, packed tight and meticulously organized. A square table dominated the center of the space, scarred faintly with use, while a single window held a deep seat piled with brightly colored cushions that felt wildly out of place. According to the blueprints, this was MelanieJefferson’s office. It looked more like a carefully curated private library.

I leaned back against the table and crossed my arms. “You wanted to talk.”

Dominic didn’t waste time. “What are you doing here, Evelyn?” Straight to it. Interesting.

“And why do you think I owe you that answer?” I countered. He may have helped us before, but I didn’t owe him any answers.

He paced, slow and deliberate, like movement helped him think. “I got a visit from Adrian Cross a couple weeks ago. He had some interesting things to say about our investigation. Interesting, because I already thought something was up with how the investigation had started. This whole thing has been strange from the start.”

I held my breath. We hadn’t been able to uncover who started the investigation into us. We had theories but nothing concrete. I hadn’t realized that the agents investigating us didn’t know either. But still, I didn’t have the whole puzzle, and Dominic was holding the missing pieces.

“What else about this has been strange?”

“The director’s involvement, for one. He never gets involved in cases like these unless they’re high profile, and no offense, but the existence of a vigilante organization in a city doesn’t count.”

I smirked. “No offense taken.”

Dominic rolled his eyes, but I could see a smile playing on his handsome face. “And then there’s the evidence that mysteriously appeared. Recorded by a witness who vanished.”

Luke Jones. Did Dominic not know what happened to him? But the director had been the one to have him released. I decided to share a bit of what we knew and see what Dominic said.

“Luke Jones was released because Director Keller sent an email and said he was a confidential informant.”

Dominic stared at me and then cursed, rubbing a hand over his face. I wanted to trust him. An ally at the FIA would be huge for us. But I needed more.

“Why do you care that this seems strange? Shouldn’t the existence of a vigilante organization and taking it down be your focus? Not how the investigation started?” I pushed him.

Dominic’s jaw tightened, and he stopped pacing. He heaved a sigh. “My father was a cop,” he said quietly. “A beat cop who cared…too much, probably. I was in high school. There was this call—well, multiple calls, actually—to this one house. Four times in one month. Each time, the woman refused to file a police report. The fifth time…” He closed his eyes tightly, and I braced myself for the rest of the story. Unfortunately, I knew where this was going.

“Their six-year-old daughter had called the police because her mother wouldn’t wake up. Her husband beat her to death and then only served six months for it because his uncle was a local judge. That case…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That case broke my father, and he spiraled into alcoholism for ten years before he got sober.”

“The reason I don’t care about the existence of a vigilante organization even when I should? I can’t help thinking if an organization like that existed, if my father had known of them, if they could have helped where he couldn’t… If they could have helped where the system failed… Maybe that six-year-old never would have had to make that call, and my father might have been spared the years of self-loathing. If only someone could have just stepped in where he hadn’t been able to…”

His eyes were tortured with memories, and my heart ached for him. I sagged against the table. His words were real and honest, and any worries I had about this being an elaborate plan to catch me and the Archers faded. Dominic Hayes was a good man. He cared. He wanted to make a difference, and so did I.

“I’m so sorry he went through that,” I said softly.