And my head swims with relief.
“I think he may have hurt Faith,” I say.
“Look at me.” Honed with intensity, his eyes bore into mine. “Were you going to let him get away with murder if he did do it?”
“No!” I say. But my voice sounds flat, even to me. I’ve let Branden get away with so much. And why? For one pathetic reason. “I thought… I thought it was my fault.”
Rafe scoffs. “Because he’s fucking brainwashed you.”
I don’t counter that. “But I don’t think he was working alone.”
He stands, crossing to the window. Watching him from this angle, I can fully appreciate his strength in every sense of the word. His size, his muscle, and namely his ability to think critically. To push through his own rage and betrayal and see the truth at the heart of the matter.
“Fine. So Shen’s dirty,” he says, glaring at the street below. “What do we do about it? He must have the cops in his back pocket.”
“Not all of them,” I say quickly. One person, in particular, comes to mind.
Rafe fixes me with a raised eyebrow. “Let me guess,” he says. “Your fake boyfriend?”
I try to ignore his obvious hostility. “I think he learned the truth about Bran too. Maybe he can reach out to someone else in the department? Someone your uncle doesn’t control.”
“It’s dumb,” Rafe says bluntly. “It probably doesn’t have a chance in hell of working. But we don’t have any better options. And… I trust you.”
I shiver at the heat in his voice, but I don’t allow myself the chance to decipher it. Instead, I fish through my bag and grab Liam’s business card.
With a harsh exhale, Rafe snatches it from me, withdrawing his own phone from his pocket. “We have nothing left to lose.”
Chapter Eighteen
“There are about a million reasons why I shouldn’t even be here right now,” Liam says, warily eyeing the drawings hanging on the walls of Rafe’s shop. I doubt he can see much, considering the lights are off—a detail Rafe insisted on to avoid anyone from the outside being able to look in.
Another precaution is Liam’s lack of a uniform. A nondescript sweatshirt instead helps him blend into the shadows.
But his presence here at all is jarring regardless.
“What is this about?” he asks, finally looking from me to Rafe. All I can make out are the whites of his eyes and the firm set to his jaw.
Was calling him here a mistake? Even so, it’s not like we have any better options. Taking a deep breath, I decide to forgo any pretense. “Before, in front of the café… You were trying to tell me something about Branden.” I hesitate before adding, “I want to know.”
Liam’s silent. Even with part of his face illuminated by the glow cast by an outside streetlight, he’s unreadable. Doubt creeps in with every passing second, and sweat is beading at the nape of my neck by the time he finally sighs.
“I think you should tell me exactly why I’m here before I jump to the wrong conclusion.” He cuts his gaze to Rafe, who is lurking near the hallway, his arms crossed guardedly.
Before I can open my mouth, Rafe steps forward. “Lee Wei-Shen,” he says gruffly. “Does that name ring a bell?”
Liam cocks his head toward the window, and the extra light reveals his raised eyebrow. “Your uncle? What is this about?”
“Tell me the truth,” I say, taking a step closer to him. “You can trust us.”
“You go first,” Liam counters, turning to me. “Tell me about your brother. The truth.” The hardness in his tone warns that he has one topic in mind.
And there’s no point in running from it any longer.
I tell him everything. Lexi. Faith. The rest. At the back of my mind, I hate how it sounds out loud, not to mention the risk may not be worth it at all. But when I finish, Liam looks anything but surprised.
“He’s been under investigation for months,” he admits. “I didn’t know about the Winacott case, but there has been suspicion regarding him and corruption stretching back at least a year. However, there’s been no solid evidence yet.”
Dread congeals in my stomach, as painful as jagged shards of glass. It takes me several tries to form a coherent reply. “What can we do?”
“And how do we know your boss isn’t dirty too?” Rafe pitches in. I flinch at the hostility in his tone, but Liam doesn’t seem to take it to heart.
He meets my gaze directly, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “Because I’m not really a member of the police.” Before the shock can fully set in, he says, “I’m with the FBI.”
Rafe hisses. “I hope that’s a joke.”
“This area has been under surveillance for a long time,” Liam says without addressing him. “But we need proof. At least a confession on tape, and I shouldn’t have to say that consorting with a suspect’s sister and a local criminal wouldn’t be cleared by my higher-ups.”
“I’m guessing Branden doesn’t know, either,” I croak.
Liam nods. “Look, if this information gets out, it won’t be corroborated by my department, but we suspect some officers have been participating in illegal activities involving a local club and one Lee Wei-Shen.” He nods pointedly toward Rafe. “That same club is at the center of a parallel special victims investigation involving suspected human trafficking. Again, we’ve yet to find any solid proof.”
“How the fuck do we get that?” Rafe demands. “Ask him nicely?”
“Or I could,” I blurt without thinking the plan through. “I could be the one wearing a wire.”
“No,” Liam says. “This isn’t a TV show. I shouldn’t have to tell you that involving civilians would never be approved by my superiors.”
Rafe scoffs. “Well, you can give them this.” He approaches the counter, placing an object on it. Even in the dim lighting, I can make out its shape. “That’s Faith’s phone,” he adds. “We think she hid GPS
