Page 32 of Sins of the Father

"That goes beyond organizing files," I say.

Her hands shakes. "My last job included identifying errors and discrepancies. I notice patterns."

I take the folder and look at her notes. She notices far to fucking much.

"You have audited these companies very carefully."

"They had the biggest problems," she says, looking straight at me. I know we have a problem, that I am going to have to get rid of her.

Back in my office,I call the head of IT security. "Track Orla Kelly's system access. Every file, every search. Run deeper background checks on her. I have a bad feeling."

Logic points to her being an investigator, possibly even law enforcement. Yet I can't reconcile that idea with the woman who shared my bed, whose touch felt so genuine. Could she really be that good of a liar?

I watch archive room footage from past weeks. Hours of Orla working through files, taking photos with her phone when she thinks no cameras can see her. The same documents linking Eamon to large financial transfers before Nolan died.

Eamon texts.

Moran's crew are poking about at south docks. What must I do with them?

Family matters need my attention, but this security issue can’t exactly be ignored— or left alone. I need to know who she is, what she wants and why my brother was signing bank transfers?

I look again at Nolan's photo. A greying man with green eyes that I am sure I have seen before, he’s familiar but I can’t place the memories.

I decide that a security audit gives me perfect cover for a full investigation without alerting Orla. I need more facts before I confront her.

I close the files and text Eamon.

Keep them entertained. I’ll join you soon.

I need to hit something, anything to get rid of the anger that is building up inside me. I should want to kill her, to get rid of her, but when I see her it just stops and all I can think of his how badly I want to fuck her again.

The files spreadacross my desk tell a story I don't want to believe. Thomas Nolan's employment records. His daughter's obituary.

I lean back in my chair, studying the evidence my brother Eamon collected overnight. Financial accounts. Archive access logs. Photos of Orla meeting Detective Doyle at Parker Street Café—often.

My door opens without a knock. Eamon barges in, slamming it behind him.

"What are you going to do with her?" he asks, sinking into the chair across from my desk.

I tap the folder containing Orla's real identity. "She's Thomas Nolan's daughter. She has been out for revenge for seven long years."

"Dad's accountant who got himself killed." Eamon's jaw tightens. "The one?—"

"The one you shot, yes." I watch his reaction. "She's building a case for the cops. There is Federal involvement through Detective Doyle."

Eamon processes what I have said, his hands clenching. "What do you wantmeto do with her?"

"Nothing." I close the file. "She has information we need. She knows how much the feds know. And who else might beinvolved. For now, we keep our pretty little enemy very close, I will handle her."

"Are you going to interrogate her?"

"I want to extract everything she knows without her even realizing what's happening." I stand, moving to the window. "Confronting her directly gives her the opportunity to lie, or run away. But isolated, comfortable, thinking she's safe?—"

"She might reveal more." Eamon nods. "Where?"

"The beach house. No surveillance except ours. No interruptions. No family asking questions." I turn back to him. "I'll take her away for the weekend. Make it seem romantic."

"Risky move, getting that close to someone you know is hunting you."

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