I rubbed the side of my face to give my fingers something to do other than continue playing the rhythm of my frantic heartbeat on the top of the desk. “It can’t hurt, especially if there aren’t any other leads right now.”
Floyd sat silently for what felt like forever as he contemplated my clue. I held my breath in anticipation. If I had given too much away, the clue would lead them straight back to me. But…if they found the gun, the ballistics could get me off the hook.
Detective Floyd sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands. I waited and watched them both, praying they’d see the sense to conduct a scavenger hunt.
“He’s got a point. The perp probably tossed the gun in a river, but it’ll feel good to be doing something besides going over and over the same reports.” Floyd pushed to his feet. “Come on, Reyman. Let’s go do raccoon duty and see what we scrounge up.”
Natasha looked momentarily horrified but still managed a chuckle. “My twelve-year-old calls them ‘trash pandas.’” She cringed as she stood. “I don’t even like shaking people’s hands, but sure, partner. Let’s go dig through some trash.”
I gave them a sympathetic smile as they donned their jackets. “Good luck, Detectives. I hope you find something.”
“Me too.” Natasha fastened the buttons of her gray peacoat. “I appreciate your help, Detective. We’ll look around and see what we find. But even if we don’t find anything today, we won’t stop until we figure out who did this to your partner.”
I dropped my gaze and stared at my shoes, making sure to give off the impression that I was struggling to hold it together. “I appreciate your hard work. I know Ian’s case is in good hands.”
And more than that, I knew that Floyd and Natasha would find a piece of evidence.
They’d find the murder weapon, and then they’d find the D’Amato man.
10
Drumming his fingers against the doorframe, Joseph craned his neck, hoping to glimpse an end to the bumper-to-bumper traffic that had them in a standstill.
He slumped back against the passenger side seat. “It’s not even rush hour. How the hell does this happen?”
To his side, Amelia let out a quiet snort of laughter. It was the first sign of humor he’d gotten from her since they’d been in her car. “Trips downtown are always a hot mess. It’s why I try to avoid them at all costs.”
Joseph scrubbed his hands over his cheeks. “Yeah, I learned that the hard way when I first moved here. But still, even after living here for eight years, Chicago traffic still just blows my mind.”
“I think that’s true for most of us.” As her green eyes momentarily flicked to him, then back to the road as quickly, the corner of her mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles. “I don’t think I ever asked you, but where were you before you moved to Chicago?”
“Miami.”
One of her sculpted brows quirked up. “Really? I didn’t really picture you as a Miami type of person.”
With a chuckle, he shook his head. “I’m not. I was stationed in Florida, and then I met my ex-wife.” He was quick to correct himself. “The first ex-wife. Staying in Florida seemed like a good idea at the time, but I hated it. The ocean and the beaches are great, but that climate is not my idea of a good time. Then she cheated on me, so I filed for divorce and moved to the first field office I could find. And now, here I am.”
The recollection was only partly untrue. His ex had cheated on him, but his decision to transfer to Chicago was more calculated than he was willing to admit to Amelia. The Windy City was one of Brian Kolthoff’s stomping grounds, and Brian and his friend, Stan, had offered Joseph a job he would have been stupid to refuse.
On paper, Joseph’s employer was the Federal Bureau of Investigation. In reality, he worked for Senator Stan Young.
“Wow.” Amelia pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “That sucks, I’m sorry. About the ex, I mean.”
“It happens.” He waved her sympathy away with a swat of his hand. “And I guess it happens more when you’re gone working for weeks at a time. But the good thing about it was that she got turned down when she filed for alimony.”
She smiled again, this time a bit broader. Amelia did have a pretty smile. She should show it off more.
“I guess you’ve got to look for the silver lining when something like that happens.” Her voice had a hopeful tone.
“Yeah, I guess.” As the car crept forward a few measly inches, Joseph gazed out through the windshield. He wondered who would reach the traffic light first, them or the lady hobbling along on her walker. “Well, as long as we’re stuck here, what’s our plan when we get to the prison?”
Amelia tapped her index and middle finger against the steering wheel. “Security footage first. We might get lucky, but I doubt we can count on finding any witnesses willing to talk to the Feds.”
“So, we look into the physical evidence first.” He nodded. “That makes sense. Gives us more ammo when we finally start interviewing.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Well, so much for that discussion.
As the newest Creedence Clearwater Revival tune—one of the few bands he and Amelia could agree on—came to an end, the traffic finally started to move.
As much as Joseph hated to be stuck in traffic, he figured he might as well use his and Amelia’s time alone together to his advantage.
Clearing his throat, he turned his full attention to Amelia. “Hey, could I ask you something? Kind of personal, but not.” He waved a hand. “Not that kind of personal. More like a question from one combat veteran to another,
