Deception (The Chicago Mob Series)

Prologue

   I shook my head because that's all I could do, my eyes lowered toward the ground. "No," I said after a while. "No, she never said anything. I didn't even know she was seeing anyone. The last time I came to see her was a little over a month ago."

   "Well, according to her text messages, they'd only known each other for about that long. Guy's name is Jarred Broderick. He was on probation after serving time for possession. The heroin is the only source of drugs we found in here. Were you aware—?"

   "No, Oliver," I interrupted, knowing what he was about to ask. "She didn't do drugs. She was clean. Or, at least, I thought she was."

   He gave me a moment before asking, "What do you want to do here?"

   "I don't know," I replied. When I arrived earlier this morning, I wasn't expecting to find my sister dead in her own home. I had planned on spending the entire morning with her. Now I'd spend the entire morning trying to wrap my head around all of this.

   "She's your twin, Reyes," said Chase.

   "Was my twin," I reminded him. "She's dead now."

   "Your identical twin," he continued. "Reyes, there's a reason why you called me first instead of 9-1-1. There's a reason why you decided against that. What do you want to do here?"

   "How the hell did she get mixed up in this shit?" I asked, looking around at the evidence of drugs on the round coffee table in front of the bodies. My sister was never the type to do drugs. She never even liked taking pain meds. How the hell did she end up with a guy who did drugs as a boyfriend? How the hell did she end up dead like this? "She didn't deserve this, Chase."

   "Reyes... I'm sorry about your sister. And we will get to the bottom of this... but there's nothing we can do to bring her back. Right now, we have two options: We can let County take over and let them rule her death as an accidental drug overdose, let her have a proper funeral and burial, and let the world think Camila Russo is dead and no longer with us... or we can make sure her death means something."

   At first, I didn't know what he was trying to say. I stared at him, confused... until I finally understood his words. "You want us to use her life as a cover for me?"

   "She's an attractive girl with an Italian background and surname, and she lives in Chicago... the same city that's ran by the Outfit."

   The Mob?

   What the hell did they have to do with my sister?

   "There's an Op team in the Bureau that's looking for the right female agent," Chase explained. "Law enforcement has had no luck with men infiltrating the family. The last guy who got close to them was found dead last month—in pieces, out in the woods. He was undercover for CPD, lasted almost a year. Unfortunately, without his knowledge, he got made, and he never got the chance to get the hell out of there."

   I felt a small pang in my chest. "I remember hearing about that." Going undercover was always a risk. I had done it close to a dozen times throughout my career, two of those times lasting over six months and only one of those times lasting over a year. The danger of risking your life and never knowing when you could be killed was something only an undercover cop or agent would understand.

   My mind traced back to what was originally suggested—using Camila's life as a cover. "Wait. How would we even pull it off?" I asked. "I mean, has that even been done before? Wouldn't living my life as Camila Russo after she's dead be considered fraud?"

   "We'll take care of it," he said. "Your situation is what we'd call a special circumstance. Not many FBI agents can say they have an identical twin. And it's not like you plan on being Camila Russo forever—it'd only be temporary."

   I looked down and started to lightly fidget with my fingers. It felt so wrong. This wasn't the way the FBI normally did things.

   "Look. Don't worry," Chase said. "We'd get the right people to sign off on all of it. Nothing will happen until everything gets approved. And there's no reason why it shouldn't. Local PD wants justice for their guy—we all do—but they're not allowed to send anyone else in undercover with the Outfit after what happened. So, the FBI is taking over. As of now, there's not a government official who doesn't want the Outfit dismantled. We're pulling out all the stops for this, Diana. So, what do you say?"

   I looked back over at my sister's body lying on the couch, as if I were waiting for her to, by some miracle, open her eyes and give me her blessing. But that was never going to happen. She was gone.

   Was it possible?

   Would I really be able to do what Chase was suggesting?

   Would Diana Reyes truly be able to live a life as Camila Russo?

   Camila was a hair stylist. She worked at a salon on the West side of Chicago, but despite being good at her job, she didn't have too many friends. She was extremely private. She liked staying to herself and preferred not to go out or party too often. Truth be told, actually, she was the kind of woman who preferred to rather come home and put on her pajamas and relax in the comforts of her own home with a glass of wine while sitting in front of the TV screen or reading a book in bed.

   But she was a smart woman. She had obtained a business degree from which she earned by attending night classes mostly, and she planned to one day own her own salon. She had dreams, just like any other person did. She wanted to travel Eruope and visit Sicily, see where our grandmother grew up in Palermo. But sadly, none of that would ever happen for her. Just like that, all her hopes and dreams would vanish right along with her.

   "Using my dead sister's identity as a cover." I scoffed at the thought, almost disgusted with myself. "How the hell am I supposed to be okay with that when her body's not even in the ground yet?"

   "We all have decisions of our own to make, Reyes. You said it yourself—she didn't deserve this. I think the question now is, how far are you willing to go to honor your sister's memory?"

   And that is the question I always kept with me after that.

   How far would I go to honor Camila's memory?

   "It could work," I eventually said. "Camila and I were always careful. We were never seen together out in public; she never even told anyone she had a twin, not even her friends from back in high school. When she realized our mom had kept me a secret from her for all those years, she was furious, but it was my refusal to have anything to do with them that made her continue on as if she never found out about me at all.

   "There's no more family left, Chase. No one else out there who can corroborate the story of Alina Russo ever having twins twenty-eight years ago. The little bit of evidence there is, the FBI should have no trouble erasing."

   "So, you're saying you're on board, then?"

   Again came the question: How far would I go to honor my sister's memory?

   My parents, Claudia and Johnathan Reyes, were already gone. To honor their lives, I decided to dedicate my entire career to them. Now, for my sister, I would dedicate this entire next FBI undercover operation.

   "Yeah," I replied. "Set up the meeting."