Moretti threw his head back with a laugh that shook his entire body.
“Payback? How would that be payback?” he asked when the laughter had subsided. “Payback would be hot sex together and then slowly strangling you.” Lara’s eyes widened. “Hell, the word payback doesn’t even begin to describe what you, Miss Lara Grant, deserve.” His smiled was wiped away in an instant. Lara’s heartbeat quickened. The change in his emotions was giving her whiplash. “Don’t you agree?”
Lara ignored the question. She’d had enough. She pushed her shoulder farther back.
“Do you know who the killer is?” Lara asked, voice low. She could feel the edge of her cool cracking. She needed to know if he was pulling the strings. No more verbally dancing with him.
Moretti took another long moment. Lara readied herself for a more aggressive approach. She needed answers. Hell, she’d even take just one at this point. But, she bet the man across from her knew this. He knew she needed him. She hated him for it.
“When we met again, I had hoped it would be more fun than this. You’ve disappointed me, again, Agent Grant.” He stood.
“Moretti,” she warned. “Answer my question! Do you know the identity of the killer or not?”
“Of course I do.” Moretti smiled. “Guard, we’re done here.”
Lara spent the drive back to the office submerged in a sea of inner turmoil. Instead of the rage she’d felt after leaving Macy’s and the body of Elizabeth Grant, she felt almost exclusively shame. She’d let a man in prison—one she’d had a large hand in bringing down—mentally stun her. He’d intimidated her on the opposite side of freedom without even touching her. All within the span of five minutes.
Of course I do.
His admittance had, and simultaneously hadn’t, surprised Lara. He was a proud man. If he had a hand in something, then he would own up to it—without incriminating himself, of course. Or else he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had running the syndicate. He was also a man who got off on playing with the people around him. His truths and lies were instruments, always working to form a larger picture. One that she hoped she wouldn’t see.
What part did he have in the murders? In the actions of the so-called Black Stamp Serial Killer? What was his next move?
Did he know about the family?
Lara should have found all the answers out during her visit, but all she’d found was regret at not being stronger. How could she keep others from dying because of her if she could barely stand her ground to a man dressed in an orange jumpsuit?
She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. The action revived her earlier anger. Was Moretti really talking to a different part of the FBI? Would they really give a man like him perks and sentence leniency for what he knew?
Lara swore beneath her breath.
Of course they would.
“Why the hell is another section of the FBI dealing with Moretti?” Lara asked, barging into Victoria’s office on a wave of anger that hadn’t moved since she’d had the thought a half hour later. Victoria looked up from her desk with no amount of surprise across her expression. It only made Lara admit to the main reason she was so pissed off about it all. “All the work I did—everything I sacrificed—to shut this man down, and now it could be undermined by bureaucracy? What’s the fucking point then?”
Lara’s chest was heaving. Her face was hot. Her hands were fisted.
Victoria’s eyes traveled to each detail before she spoke.
“Dismantling Moretti’s crime syndicate was a massive win for us—for the ‘good guys’ in general. We were able to get a plethora of criminals off of the streets as well as guns, drugs and trafficking victims. All of this is true, and all of this is in such a large part due to what you did. And for that no one within this organization or any other can fault you.” She intertwined her fingers. “However, Moretti was a supplier—a man who got people what they wanted. Narcotics, weapons, women and children. To us those people are thought of as monsters—scum—but to Moretti? They were clients.” Lara started to feel the steam of anger whistle out. The point Victoria was getting to was one she’d never considered, too caught up in the man to think about his connections. His, as he said, knowledge. “While I don’t know the extent or frequency of these other agents and their meetings with him, I have always known that even behind bars, Moretti is still of interest to the FBI.”
Lara took the seat opposite her boss with no grace. Suddenly she felt tired. They both knew Lara wouldn’t continue her outburst—if she did, Victoria wouldn’t have had it—and so Lara recounted the story of her meeting with Moretti. If she judged Lara as harshly as Lara judged herself, she didn’t voice it.
“What’s your take on him?” she asked when Lara had finished.
“My take? I honestly don’t know,” she admitted. “He’s clever, he’s connected, and he’s certainly capable. His admission of knowing the identity could be his way of playing us or he knows everything. He’s snowed me before, and this could be him doing it again.”
Victoria exhaled but didn’t lose her impeccable posture. “It was a long shot,” she said. “One we needed to take.”
Lara nodded. She may not have liked it, but she agreed they’d needed to search every avenue. Even the ones that she’d hoped to never travel down again.
“I have a meeting now, so you’ll have to excuse me,” Victoria said a moment later. Her tone hardened. She was in full work mode. If Lara thought the team was in the shit trying to find the truth and the killer, she knew Victoria was in even more with the higher-ups. The pressure she must have been receiving was probably intense. It made Lara appreciate her job versus her boss’s, despite everything that had happened. Lara followed the woman out and started to walk back to her cubicle. “And Lara?” Victoria’s tone alone would have stopped Lara. It was fully authoritative.
“Yes?”
“I want you to go see Dr. Oliviero,” she said. “Now.” Lara didn’t make the fish out of water face, but she certainly felt it. Victoria must have picked up on the lengthy hesitation because she held up her hand. A physical show of her position. “This isn’t a suggestion. Don’t insult my intelligence by saying you’re fine after your meeting with Moretti,” she said, voice dropping in case anyone could hear them. “You came into my office in a blaze of emotion. You can’t do that again. You don’t need to. He’s one of the best, Lara. Use him.”
Victoria had no more to say and took her leave. Lara, on the other hand, stood still for a moment. Was Victoria right? Probably. But did that mean Lara wanted to follow orders? No. However, her feet began to take her down a path she figured might become familiar as the case carried on. They led her to a separate floor and right up to an office with a shiny silver nameplate across its wood.
Lara brushed her knuckles against the door. She tried to focus on the nameplate and not the storm of emotions that had been unleashed within her. It was true, seeing Moretti had shaken her up and now she was nursing a kind of anxious high.
One that had managed to break down her ability to compartmentalize.
One that she needed to come down from.
“Come in,” a man called after the second knock.
Lara took what was supposed to be a calming breath and pushed inside.
Dr. Luca Oliviero, assigned to help their task force with case profiles and also acting staff psychologist, didn’t show surprise at seeing her. Which was odd since she was certainly surprised that she was standing at his door. He stood from behind his desk and smiled. He was tall and imposing yet exuded a demeanor of comfort. Thick salt-and-pepper