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“You were scared. It was a dumb thing to do, sneaking out like that, I know. I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” she said, gesturing to the penthouse, “this is…well, it’s really wonderful, and would make any girl happy, but it’s just not me. I miss my job. I miss my friends.”
Cassidy pulled her long legs up on the sofa and wrapped her arms around them as she recounted everything that had happened since the day I first saw her in the snow outside Boston Medical Center. Piece by piece started falling into place. By the time she was done, I felt sick to my stomach. Seeing it from the outside, from someone unaccustomed to our way of life, it must have felt like she was trapped in the backseat of a runaway vehicle, careening towards a brick wall, and my heart broke for her.
No wonder she hated me.
“All that’s beside the point now,” she said. “What’s done is done, and now we’re both stuck here.”
I hated that. I hated that she felt trapped with me
“Cass—”
“Please, I need to say this. Mistakes were made on both sides. Yes, you were cold and said some cruel things, but I’ve made mistakes too. Things are happening that I’m not aware of,dangersI’m not aware of, because I didn’t let you explain them to me.
“I wanted to hate you. Since the first time I saw you, I wanted to hate you. Before I even knew you, I’d judged you and painted you with the same brush I’ve painted my father and Tommy. I have a very bad habit of doing that with people. I wanted to hate you, Connor, but the more I got to know you I realized I was in danger of falling in love with you.”
My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest, and I felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the flu surge through me.
“I care…very deeply about you Connor, against everything my mind was screaming at me in warning. I liked the man I met at that beach house in Maine, the man that peeks out around the edges of the mask you wear. I know the mask is necessary in your line of work, and honestly that’s been my biggest struggle.”
Now we were getting to the crux of it. She was willingly and openly talking about my work. I just listened, silently urging her to continue.
“I asked Sloane how she does it. How my mother did it. How Rosaleen reconciled herself with all the violence and the killing, where the money comes from, and who her husband had to be the second he stepped out of the door. She said that I have to ask myself what exactly it is that I hate so much about this life, separate it from the rest, and talk about it with you.”
While she talked, Cassidy stared at the floor, twisting her hands together nervously. Now, she lifted her head and looked at me dead in the eye.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I…” she took a shuddering breath. “I want to know everything. It’s going to be hard, but that’s the only way this is going to work between us. Trust and complete honesty.”
I was stunned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
So I told her. Everything.
She already knew quite a bit more than I realized, so instead I brought her up to speed on the rising tensions between us and Moretti in the north, the suspicion of the mole.
Cassidy's eyes widened. "Do you have any ideas who it is?"
I didn't want to say it out loud. As if that would make it any less real.
"Alfie." I sighed heavily, the single name hanging like a stone around my neck. "I think...I think it might be Alfie."
Cassidy was stunned into silence, her eyes wide with shock. After what seemed like an eternity of silence she finally spoke up. "Why do you think it's him?"
I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back out of my eyes. "He's just been acting so strange, lately. First he went missing for two whole days and never really gave a reason for it. He's missed appointments, pickups, his work has been slacking. He's fidgety, nervous, always on his phone, always somewhere else other than where he needs to be. I asked him what was going on and he says what he always does, that he was with a girl--"
"Do you think he might be telling the truth?" Cassidy's lips twitched in a humorless grin. "I mean, Alfie's not exactly known for his chastity."
I sighed. "You're right. Alfie's one step above notching his bedpost, so I don't know why he's being so damn secretive about it this time. It feels like I've caught him in a lie, instead."
Cassidy frowned and stared intently at the ground. I could see the same focus come over her as when she was working, trying to sort out a complex problem. "Does this have anything to do with Johnny's murder?"
"Yes," I said reluctantly. "Tommy and I think the mole had Johnny killed to stop him from revealing his identity. Johnny was our snitch. He supposed to meet me that day, and we never met, not unless it was something big."
"Something big," she murmured.
Suddenly, Cassidy jumped up and rushed into her bedroom. I stood to follow her, too fast, and a wave of dizziness swept over me. I grabbed at the back of the couch, legs shaking like a newborn foal, as she hurried back into the room.
She thrust a crumpled piece of paper at me. "Johnny woke up just once, right before he was murdered. He was still intubated, and he couldn't speak. He was so scared. Desperate, almost. He mimed that he wanted to write something down, so I got him a pen and paper."
