Page 22 of Caught
Reuben wrinkled his forehead in thought. “He used to work with Nat at the Department of Justice. He left for private practice right around when Nat and I started dating.”
“The company Ryan works for is called Potomac Private Services,” Leilah explained. “They do some private military contracting, but they mainly offer private security services for civilians and businesses.”
“Okay.”
“Olivia and Marielle also work there.” She gestured to the two women.
“But you two don’t?” He eyed her and Chelsea.
“No. My brother does. And Chelsea’s fiancé owns the company.”
“So, this Potomac Private Services is looking into Nat’s death?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Leilah blew out a breath. “It’s a long story. The short version is that two days ago, someone tried to kill me and Ryan. Later that night, Ryan’s car exploded.”
Reuben gasped.
“He wasn’t in it,” she hurried to add.
“The next day, we were in DC, looking for answers as to who was trying to kill him and why, when we learned about Natsuo’s death. Meanwhile, these guys who may or may not be DEA agents were looking for us. So we split.” She paused. “It’s been a really busy couple of days.”
“Sounds like.”
“Ryan called Grover. He thought Grover might know what happened to Natsuo and if it was related. Grover told Ryan to come see him. When we got to Grover’s place in Saint Michael’s, he was dead. Gunshot to the head. And the police were on their way. We ran, spent the night in a state park, and today we went to see Juno Ito.”
Comprehension dawned on his face. “She gave you my name.”
“She did.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who’s trying to kill Ryan.”
“But you might know why—without even knowing it,” Marielle told him.
He frowned. “I don’t know anything.”
“You were dating Natsuo when he was working on the Cortez case, right?” Marielle pressed.
He answered slowly. “The ketamine dealer? The one who died in prison?”
“That’s the one.”
“Sure. We’d just started dating. It was sort of funny ….” He trailed off. “Not funny, coincidental.”
“What was coincidental?” Leilah asked. She crossed her fingers under the table. If he knew anything that could help them, this would be it.
“I was also working on a ketamine case. Well, not a case. I’m a specialist with the AMLC’s ILCS LTSD AAD.”
They gaped at him in silence.
After a moment, he shook his head and laughed sheepishly. “Nat always used to remind me that not everyone is privy to the military’s alphabet soup. AMLC is Army Medical Logistics Command. We’re headquartered here.”
“Right. That much we caught. The rest is gibberish,” Olivia said.
“ILCS stands for Integrated Logistics Support Center. Think of the ILCS as the data science and analytics arm of the AMLC.”
