Page 100 of Diamonds in the Mud

Just then my phone started ringing, and I spoke with the Jasmine for the next few minutes.

“I’ve got to head in,” I said after hanging up.

“Me too,” Rayne said as we carried our dishes back inside.

“I’ll clean this up later,” I offered.

“Don’t bother. I have a little time now. I’m due to be in around eight.” She glanced at her watch.

“Dinner?” I asked.

“I’m supposed to go over to my folks’ place. I’d love for you to meet my mother,” she suggested.

“What time?” I asked, feeling nervous suddenly. I’d never met a woman’s parents before and, even though I’d had several encounters with Randy, suddenly the thought of meeting Rayne’s mother made me anxious.

“Six. We can ride together if you’re here a little before then.”

I walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her, and held on. “I’ll be here at five thirty. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to move a few of my things here. I need to clear out of the apartment they had me in. We’re using it as our base now.”

She smiled. “Yes, you can move in with me.”

I chuckled. “Another first,” I said as I brushed my lips across hers. “See you this evening.”

Jasmine and the team had set up camp, so to speak, in my old apartment. When I walked in, it was like walking into an office building instead of the place I’d called home for over a year.

The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with the weight of the events of the day before. Jasmine was there, her brow furrowed in concentration as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

“Morning,” I greeted several other agents, most of which I had never met, as I made my way over to the desk she had set up. She looked up, a weary smile gracing her lips as she acknowledged my presence.

“Morning,” she replied, her tone tinged with exhaustion. “We’ve got a lot of work to do today.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the other DEA officers scattered throughout the room, each one buried in their own mountain of paperwork from the boxes of material we’d gathered. We had made a lot of arrests yesterday, taking down the entire Reaper gang in one fell swoop, along with Wyatt Taylor. But there was still so much to do, so much evidence to compile and process.

And then there was Quincy’s death to contend with. The fact that he had shot himself still weighed heavily on my mind, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

I was worried how Rayne would handle being back in the station where it had happened, but to be honest, I’d seen a huge change in her from when I’d arrived the night before to this morning.

Our task for the next few days was to not only find proof that Quincy was the head of the Reaper’s drug organization but to make sure no one else in town was involved.

So far, we had come up empty-handed. His bank account wasn’t that of someone who shuffled thousands of dollars around like play money.

As I settled in at my desk, I booted up Quincy’s files that had been stored on his home and office computers. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I searched for any shred of evidence that might prove he was the head of the drug ring. But as I sifted through the files, photos, and reports he’d worked on, my heart sank. There was nothing here, no incriminating documents, no hidden files on his computer that showed he was in charge. No trace of large amounts of money being moved around.

It was as if Quincy had been careful to cover his tracks, leaving us with nothing to go on.

What we did have on him was his presence at the Taylor’s residence, and the massive drug pickup I’d gone on with Ben the other day.

Quincy had bossed Wyatt Taylor around as if he’d been in charge. The man even barked at Ben for bringing me inside for the deal, which indicated that Quincy had been present the other times I’d been at the Taylor place.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I slammed my fist down on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet office. We were running out of time and, without proof, we were fighting a losing battle.

I glanced over at Jasmine, who waved me over to her desk. I made my way over to her. She looked up as I approached, her expression serious as she gestured for me to take a seat.

“I’ve been going through Quincy’s files, trying to find anything that shows he was the head of the drug organization,” she said, her voice low.

I nodded, my stomach churning with unease. “Me too. Did you find something?”

“I think I did,” she replied, her eyes flicking to the computer screen in front of her. “There’s a series of encrypted files here, buried deep in his hard drive. I’ve been trying to crack them, but it’s slow going.”