Page 49 of Philly
He considered arguing with her for the sake of it but decided changing the subject was a better option.
“You read the dossiers Sabina gave you?” he asked, toeing off his shoes and sinking onto his side of the bed. He’d put his clothes away later.
Not at all surprising, she walked to the closet and began unpacking as she answered. “We skimmed them together yesterday, but yeah, I read over them again last night.”
“Anything jump out at you?”
The sounds of her opening and closing drawers filtered through the open closet door. “You might be winning me over to the theory that it’s Aiden,” she said. He’d pulled out his phone to check in with his brothers, but at her words, he set it down. Propping his hands behind his head, he gave the conversation his full attention.
“Why’s that?”
Her sigh made it from the closet to his ears. “He seems to be the deal closer.” A drawer closed. “When I looked at their files, then compared them to Liza’s notes, I found a pattern. It’s hard to say if it’s a real pattern, though, or just one I see based on the information I have.”
“You think you’re missing information?”
A hanger clattered on the metal rod. “No, I think I’m being…pessimistic,” she said, exiting the closet. She stopped outside the door and crossed her arms. “I’ve been going at this for so long and stalled out for well over a year. It’s all happening so fast now, and I think my natural instinct to be cautious is rearing its head. But my gut is telling me to trust Sabina, trust that she gave me everything relevant.”
But she didn’t want to commit and be wrong. He wondered if she realized how much her childhood, how much her parents’ insistence on perfection, affected her. Not the path he wanted to take for this conversation, though.
“Make it a game,” he said. She cocked her head, her long braid falling over her shoulder. “Pretend Sabina gave you everything. Pretend you have all the intel you need on the three Nolan men. What would you deduce?”
A thoughtful frown touched her lips. He hoped that if he removed the pressure—self-inflicted as it was—of beingright, it would make it easier for her to brainstorm.
“There’s a pattern. Joseph initiates the relationship. He’s the one they send to start the conversation with potential customers. He’s charming and easygoing and can befriend a turtle.” Philly nodded. That jibed with his impression of the youngest Nolan.
“Rian?”
“He’s the detail guy. The negotiator. The one who slogs through the contracts, deals with pricing, delivery, all those sorts of things.”
“And Aiden?”
“The closer. He makes the final concessions to close the deal.”
“Some of which are sketchy,” he said.
She bobbed her head from side to side. “In some cases, yes. Not all. Based on the financial information, the dossiers, andLiza’s files, I’d wager that 80 percent of their deals are legit. Of what’s not, I think about half involve direct bribery or a kickback of some sort and the other half become situations like the bomb in Paris.”
“Situations where maybe the officials are on the fence about inking the deal, but won’t be bribed, so Aiden creates a scenario where they don’t have a choice but to sign the contract?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
He watched her, standing still, closed off, and yet not. In the stillness, there were glimpses of what he thought was the trueher. Not the professional, not the daughter of two fucked-up parents, not the sister, not any of those. Just her.
Maybe he was being fanciful, but it didn’t feel that way. No, he felt privileged. Honored. As if he’d been granted a glimpse of something rare.
She looked up and caught his gaze. His chest tightened as the world sharpened, and tiny little details came into focus. The single lock of hair that had come undone from her braid and brushed her cheek, the deep brown of her eyes, the dusky pink of her parted lips. The curl of her fingers over her right elbow. The inhale and exhale of her breath.
She cleared her throat and looked away. A beat later, she walked to the wall of windows—a sliding door—and faced the view.
Feeling as if he’d run a marathon in the last ninety seconds, he took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. Running a hand over his face and through his hair, he focused on the questions at hand. Questions that seemed a lot easier to tackle than defining that moment between them.
“Do you have any leads on Liza’s informant?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder before returning her attention to the red earth and blue sky outside their room.
“If we can’t link the informant to Nolan, then we may be able to prove Aiden’s funding of the bombing, but not his role in Liza’s death,” he continued. If he had a role. Liza might have been lured to the club, but they had no evidence that Nolan was a part of that.
Her shoulders rose on an inhale. “I know,” she said on an exhale. “Her phone was with her when she died and was never recovered, so there are no call records. Not ones I could get. I’m sure the carrier has them. The FBI wasn’t willing to make the request, though, but maybe HICC will.”
