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As I tucked Da’s away into my inside pocket, Lucas asked, "Everything okay, boss?"
I scratched my jaw. "Yeah."
Rocking my head back against the rest, I closed my eyes as he drove us to my building.
I might have looked like I was zoning out, but mostly, I was thinking about what Grainne had said.
Someone had sent her a newspaper.
Someone on Da's detail?
Another fucking leak I needed to plug?
I narrowed my eyes as a thought occurred to me.
Occam’s Razor… Conor was the one who’d taught me about that.
Me:Have you been fucking around in West Orange?
Conor:Be more specific.
Me:Jesus H. Christ. Don’t we have enough shit to be dealing with?
Conor:I’m better at multitasking than you.
Me:You’re behind the Miles Monroe murder trial, yes? Please tell me you are.
Conor:Of course.
Me:What else are you fucking around with in West Orange?
Conor:It’s more of a long-term project.
Me:Meaning?
Conor:Da set me the task of finding pedophiles for the Sinners’ VP to kill. I’ve been busy though.
Me:Can you get someone else on the job? That’s a worthy cause and I don’t want Da’s death to hinder it.
Conor:I’ll figure something out.
Me:Great. So, no more leaks to plug?
Conor:Well, not in this instance.
Me:I’m surprised Da cared about Miles Monroe…
Conor:He didn’t. I did.
Me:Wait, you’re the reason he’s in jail now?
Conor:I used to have nightmares about Grainne, Aidan. Bet your ass I wanted a resolution.
Me:How did you find out who her attacker was?
Conor:I asked her. When we visited Ma the next day, I said I needed the restroom but went and found her in one of the wards. It took me a fucking lifetime to track her down, but I did it.
Me:You’ve always been a stubborn PITA.
