Page 26 of Secrets

My uncle nods to my trainee. “Because of the files that Fikes brought to our attention, I’ve invited Warren over and we went through them together, as well as with the commissioner.”

Interest piqued, I lean forward, my heart thrumming a little faster in my chest. "And?”

My uncle releases a weighted sigh before running a hand through his hair. “While the majority of the bodies found in the Savannah are affiliated with the cartel, everyone agrees that the dozen others with similar kill patterns are clearly the work of two distinct individuals. Now, whether those two are connected to said gangs currently running through the city is still unknown, and we’ll need you to join in on the investigation. Create a new profile.”

“Right.” I give him a curt nod, already adjusting to stand. There’s a shit ton of overlooked evidence to comb through to be able to draft a new one. But just as my ass lifts from the chair, his lips pull into a thin line.

“There’s more, Frances.”

“Oh?” I slowly fall back into my chair, brows raised in curiosity.

The police chief is the one to speak now, his graying head shimmering under the fluorescent lights as he adjusts in his seat to face me. “The commissioner has concerns that the vial may contain a new drug—or at least be the next thing thatlacesdrugs on the market. He has reason to believe they come from the cartel, but wants to leave the possibility it may be coming over the border as well.”

By some miracle, I manage to trap the laughter bubbling in my throat. “So he thinks there’s a chance these drugs are from the Babins?” It’s a well known fact Alexi runs one hundred percent of the state’s drugs.

“I’m not at liberty to say exactly where he has suspicions, but that other prospects can’t be ruled out just yet.”

My uncle clears his throat, his annoyance at Alexi being brought back into the conversation apparent on his face. “Fikes, please gather those files and meet us in the debriefing room.”

The trainee beside me nearly jumps to his feet, nodding a little too enthusiastically, reinforcing the image of a bobble head. “Yes, sir.”

As he scampers to the door, the room sits in silence, the eerie weight of it almost uncomfortable. And the moment the door closes, the deputy stands, shoving his hands into his uniform pockets.

My eyes bounce from him to my uncle. “What’s going on?”

The deputy’s dark eyes rove over me in a way that makes my skin feel slimy. “We have it on good authority where one of the cartel bases is located.”

If my eyebrows could lift my hairline, I’d look like I’m balding. “You have an informant?”

It’s been over twenty years since the cartel made their appearance into Georgia, and unlike Alexi, they move in complete silence. They’re organized and concentrated, focused solely on profit and expansion. Anyone who opens their mouth, doesn’t follow orders, or basically does anything that puts them at risk of exposure, is later found floating in the river.

Their notoriety stems from a silent, lethal violence, and as much as the local police department and the bureau has tried to find anything on them, they always come back empty.

“Yes.”

I don’t bother asking who, and instead question the obvious. For all that the cartel does, they pride themselves on not getting caught. And the only way an operation as big as they are don’t, is by their own informants in the PD. We know they exist but finding them has proved frustratingly impossible.

“How many people know about this location?”

My uncle’s jaw tics. “The three of us in this room, the commissioner, and our informant.”

“And you’re telling me because?” I’m a forensic psychologist so knowing this type of information isn’t particularly warranted.

“To be completely frank with you,” Warren stands, and positions himself next to my uncle, “you’re the only one in this room Agent James trusts.”

My gaze flits to my uncle. “You think we have a rathere?”

He winces with the use of the word rat, but nods. “I’m not saying we do, but it’s clear both the police department and bureau are compromised in some way. Any time we go to make a move, they’ve closed shop and relocated.”

This is true. There have been more than a few occasions when this office was turned upside down from my uncle’s rage.

“What do you need me to do?” His trust in me can’t be the only reason he’s telling me all this.

“We need profiles built on the two potential serial killers dumping bodies in the river. We’ve already contacted South Carolina’s unit and are having any files they have sent our way. You’ll work on this with the others assigned to the case, and it’s important you don’t try to tie it into any cartel members.”

“So simply analyze what we have and what type of person we’re looking for.”

“Yes. Find those patterns you excel at and we’ll build a media statement with the information.”

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