"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears," -Nelson Mandela
It's been a week.
A week of checking if Davis is still breathing and waiting for the day he isn't.
7 days of coming home with the bubbling fear and the shaking of my hands.
168 hours of acting like everything is completely fucking normal when I feel like I am going mental.
Sometimes I think there is a car following me. There is this itch that there are eyes on me.
I can't focus at the Colleagues Drink Night. Ann is giggling with Richard, a college intern.
The bar/restaurant is one of the nicer ones, but my cocktail is bland in my mouth. I am bored with idle hands and a reeling mind.
I want to be out doing something.
I want to research the license plate on the car in the video. To find out which police officer had been paid off. To interview Davis.
I check daily to see if Andrews and him are still alive, the smart thing to do would be to pick them both off. But I bet with the heat I provided with the FBI they will wait a few more weeks before they make the kills.
He didn't promise me he would keep Andrew alive. He simply said Davis would be on me. Or maybe he did promise.
Stop, only a fool would think he would let him live.
The seat shifts beside me and I glance up to come face to face with John Kennecky. He orders a bourbon on the rocks.
He takes a long sip, staring out at the view as he speaks,
"How have you been doing Ms. Canegallo?"
I turn to face him,
"It's been a quiet week. Which is nice."
There is a glint in his eyes that tells me that he knows what I mean by that,
"We never had a follow up conversation after you confronted me."
I keep my face neutral,
"Here I am Mr. Kennecky, what do you want to say?"
He looks down at his drink,
"Do you still need the Davis Case to be explained to you?"
I wonder if this is a threat. I tilt my head to the side and observe him for a moment,
"If you are offering, sure thing."
There is an anger in his eyes,
"Ms. Canegallo- let me offer you a piece of advice."
I stare down at my cocktail, he continues,
"Do yourself a favor and stop asking so many questions."
I snort, eyes flashing to his,
"Everyone is really good at giving a young woman advice. But they are never very good at taking theirs are they?"
I lean back in my seat, jutting out my chin,
"What are you doing with someone like that Mr. Kennecky?"
His eyes narrow, accentuating the crinkles around them. His voice is tight,
"How many times do you need to be warned to understand that this is far bigger than you can comprehend?"
I cock my head and feel the heat of adrenaline, my boredom slipping away, replaced by that heating buzz,
"I think at least a few more times."
I stand, grabbing my purse and brushing past him.
The glass of wine that sits next to me on my night stand is almost empty. My fingers itch for something, a pill, a drag, some weed, just more than whatever I have right now.
I grab my laptop and unfold it, placing it on one of my pillows. I open the video and watch it again.
I should stop.
I shouldn't have started.
I take a screenshot of the license plate and then zoom in on it. It's a Michigan Plate. My fingers are moving as I go to the DMV website and begin to search it up, looking for the VIN Number, nothing comes up.
I let out a groan of frustration and forgo the glass, reaching for the bottle.
I zoom in on the badge number on the police officer and write it down.
The Police Headquarters is empty this early in the morning. I wave at the front desk as I make my way toward Detective Kourish's office. I knock on the door before stepping inside. She is asleep in her chair, a line of spit slipping down her chin.
She sits up sharply and sucks in a breath. I pull out the badge number and push it across her desk towards her,
"I need to know which officer that is."
She rubs her eye,
"Good morning to you too."
She picks it up and skims it before looking back up at me,
"What is this about?"
I tilt my head to the side,
"I need this favor. I'll owe you one."
She brings her eyebrows together and then stands handing it to me,
"This isn't a good idea."
I tilt my head to the side,
"For who? Me? You? Or the general public?"
She starts to boil her electric pot of water. She studies me for a moment, eyes almost sad. It is like she doesn't see me, but what he will do to me. I can feel the ghost of his gun catching on my collarbone. My fingers idly trace the bone.
She walks to her desk and opens her computer, typing in her password before standing.
"I need to go use the bathroom. If my desk is unattended then it is hardly my fault if something were to happen..."
She steps out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I move around the table and open the police database. I type in the badge number with shaky hands. A name plus a picture comes up- Jonathan Ballew. I open his file and hit print.
I grab the 3 sheets, that include his routes and partner.
I exit out of the building after shutting off her computer.
Lunch is a quiet affair, it's just me and my BLT that is now on soggy bread. Ann knocks softly on my door. I look up,
"What can I help you with?"
She closes it behind her and gives me a look,
"Are you still looking into the Kennecky case, the one with Williams?"
I straighten slightly, swallowing my bite,
"Why?"
She walks towards me,
"I heard from an intern at Kennecky's that one of the witnesses- Andrew- is missing. That his apartment was overturned."
I remember her talking to him at the drinks, I think Richard was his name. I can see those dark eyes pressing into mine telling me to choose. Yet, why is it Andrew is missing and not Davis?
I set my sandwich down, wiping my fingers on a paper towel,
"Did they steal anything?"
She shrugs slightly,
"I don't know. I just thought you should know, in case it's relevant."
I give her a slow nod, weighing my options. Anyone could be on their payroll. I give her a shrug,
"I'm no longer looking into it, but I appreciate your candor. Enjoy the rest of your lunch Ann."
I don't head home that night, I instead track down the intern Ann was talking about. He leaves Kennecky's office at around 8, I almost miss him. I follow a few blocks back as he makes his way into a ramen shop downtown.
I enter as well and go to sit separately but then wave at him, approaching,
"Hey, aren't you one of Kennecky's laggies?"
His cheeks flush as he stands from his food, swallowing his huge bite of noodles,
"Um. Yes, I'm sorry I'm so bad with faces, you are..?"
I extend my hand as I take a seat across from him,
"Everyone calls me Ele, I worked with Kennecky on his latest case, the one with Williams."
He wipes his lips, I can see the tinge of embarrassment and annoyance. He just wants to eat his dinner in peace. I grab a menu and as I skim it, I try to sound like it is idle conversation,
"It's so awful what happened at Andrew's apartment."
He nods, eyes wide,
"Yeah, it is. The whole place was torn up."
I turn the page, cocking my head to the side,
"Did Kennecky seem perturbed?"
He shrugs slightly, his finger ticks against the chopstick. I can't tell if it's nerves, annoyance, or that he is lying,
"No, I mean the case is closed."
I give him a bright smile as I snap the menu shut,
"Right. And I'm glad for it, it's hard to focus on your own work when you have to do his."
He laughs slightly at that, I join in lightly. I call the water over and order udon noodles.
"What part of town was Andrew's apartment?"
He looks at me with round brown eyes. I smile slightly,
"I work closely with a Detective in the police force and we are always making bets about which part of the city is the worst in regards to crime."
I lean back in the booth, crossing my legs,
"She says the south, but I think it's the west."
He seems to relax slightly,
"Surprisingly it wasn't in either, it's more up north- by 16th."
I make a face,
"Huh! Damn, I wish I had an apartment around there."
He laughs.
The food is warm on my lips, we split some vegetarian spring rolls as well. I wipe my mouth with a paper napkin and grin at him slyly,
"So you and Ann, huh?"
He turns a deep shade of scarlet,
"Uh, she is very nice. She has been a huge p-proffesional help for me. She knows the system so well you know."
I regard him for a moment,
"You're what? 20?"
He nods, I laugh slightly,
"Have you always been into older women?"
He lets out a groan, burying his face in his hands,
"You can't tell her."
I eye the last spring roll,
"I won't if I get the last one."
He gives me a playfully dirty look as he pushes the plate towards me.
I hail him a cab,
"You know if you ever need any advice or anything feel free to ask. I'm relatively new and I remember how it felt."
He opens the cab door,
"Thanks."
I lean into the window and extend my credit card to the driver,
"I'll pay for his ride."
His eyes are large in the backseat,
"You really don't have to."
I give him a reassuring smile,
"We've got to look out for each other, don't we?"
I take the card back and step away before he can argue more.
It didn't take much asking around 16th to figure out where Andrew's apartment was. The old ladies that had knitting in the courtyard all had a lot to say about how the crime was so scary and how rare it was for something like that to happen around here.
The apartment isn't blocked off by police tape. Which is just plain odd.
I knock on the door and then wait. There is a long silence. I knock again, harder.
The door opens with a snap. I take a step back as I come face to face with a bulking man with a long beard and a tattooed scalp.
His eyes narrow,
"The fuck you want?"
I swallow my panic and play it off as confused,
"I'm sorry does Mary Murdock not live here? She is a friend of my great aunt, I swear this was her address."
I dig out my calendar book and pretend it is a phone book, hoping he doesn't see my shaking fingers. He watches me for a moment and then shakes his head, closing the door with a snap.
I walk regularly back to the elevator, but as soon as I am in it my fingers curl around my pepper spray.
There it is again, that curl of adrenaline that is lit with the first spark of danger. It plays a battle within me to step back out and push past the man into the apartment. It wants to fight instead of run away.
I lean my head back against the cool metal, pulse thundering in my ears.
The police did not clean up Andrew's place.
I did assume that they would kill Andrew and Davis in the near future. I thought Davis would be first, based on my choice. Yet I shouldn't assume that he is a man of his word or that I have that much power to decide who gets to live and die.
Why take out Andrew like this? It doesn't sit right with me.
The style of this is different- this isn't him. It isn't clean. What if Andrew's isn't even dead? What if he got out before they could reach him. Before either could reach him? What if he is dead, is that on me?
I took the tip back from the FBI, he isn't in witness protection right now because I chose my life over his.
What does that make me worth?
I can't say the answer out loud.
My apartment is dark, I kick the door open with my heel and slam it shut with my ass. I pause. It wasn't locked. I immediately flip the light on, balancing the box of cases on one hand. A low chuckle comes from the living room,
"I see you are starting to catch on."
I step out of my hallway and glare at the man that is sprawled across my couch, gun on his lap. I give him a wary look as I step into the room, dropping the files onto the chest.
"What do you want?"
He looks me up and down,
"What did I say about the heels?"
I am momentarily confused until I notice my feet are still clad in the nude stilettos which stand on my wooden floors. I reach down and take the first one off, dropping my height a good six inches. I lift my foot up and get the other one off in a fluid movement. I arch a brow at him,
"Happy?"
His lips twitch,
"Did you take them off to make me happy Eleanora?"
My eyes jump to his,
"I took them off so you didn't start to wave your gun at me."
His eyes gleam,
"Is that right?"
My eyes go to the gun that is placed over his black clad thighs.
"What do you want?"
He stands,
"I need you to assist John with a case of mine."
My mouth goes dry.
"Excuse me?"
He tucks the gun into his pants and cocks his head at me,
"Which part of that did you not get?"
I can feel the rising fear,
"I did what you asked me to. Our deal is done."
He ducks his head as he licks his lips, smirking,
"Are you going to keep your nose out of my business?"
I can feel my wariness turn into the need to flee,
"Of course."
He tuts his tongue,
"Really? It is so strange, isn't it then, that a few people have reported back to me saying you have been asking about Williams. Trying to get into Andrew's apartment. Attempting to talk to Davis. Asking how Andrew disappeared."
He tilts his head to the side,
"Unless they are mistaken and that wasn't you."
I eye the top of the gun that pokes out from under his leather jacket,
"I have a moral duty-"
His eyes harden, his tone scrapes down my spine, making my hair stand up,
"Bullshit."
I follow the urge to lower my gaze and stare at the rings on his right hand.
"You are curious. There is no harm in that. Unless you decide to use the information against me. But you wouldn't be dumb enough to do that, now would you Eleanora?"
My name on his tongue is almost a power play, it is formal, yet respectful, it's intimate, yet foreign. It is an intrusion. It is dangerous.
No one calls me my full name.
"What I do or don't do with any information I gain is my decision and mine only."
He grins slightly, I'm not sure if it reaches his eyes,
"Yeah? Okay. But anything you do with my information concerns me."
I meet his gaze and then brush past him with an annoyed noise deep in my throat. I am not going to run. The adrenaline floods my system, hot and heavy. I walk towards the kitchen, padding on my stocking feet to feed Plushies.
I have made a split decision. This is my home. If he wanted me dead he would have killed me by now. My voice is tight,
"I understand that. But my job concerns the law. And you have a nasty habit of breaking it."
He follows me, leaning against my counter as he watches me open the can of tuna and mix some of it with a scoop of dry food.
"Then let's find a middle ground."
Plushies stretches over to me and rubs against me with a meow before beginning to eat her food. The animal doesn't even realize just how close I may be to being shot. Her instinctual instincts are far worse than mine. Or perhaps we are both fucked, I should cower, shouldn't I?
I stand back up and turn to face him, my heart beating fast in my chest,
"Like?"
He watches me for a long moment,
"If you work with John on this case I will give you any information you want and I will pay you."
I narrow my eyes, attempting to hold my ground,
"How would that benefit me if I can't do anything with it."
He grins, slow, predatory,
"We can arrange... certain actions you could do... I am not the only, what did you call me? Gang? Mafia? Within Chicago."
I ponder him for a moment and then snort,
"You want me to take them down. You would give me information on them. Not you."
His smile briefly flutters into his eyes,
"You are catching on."
I study him. That shouldn't feel like such a fucking compliment.
I choose to stall, moving to get a glass of water,
"Why do you even want me to work with Kennecky?"
His jaw tightens,
"I don't trust him. I need someone that can watch him closely. The slip up he did with the evidence was too obvious. He needs to be more discreet. He thinks he is untouchable. He is wrong, no one is untouchable."
There is the lace of violence and a hint of a promise under his words. I extend the water to him, cursing the way my hands tremble, he shakes his head slightly. I place it back into the fridge,
"He isn't a part of the firm I work for, it would look weird. Plus- I am not going to assist you in carrying out your..."
I trail off, plans or schemes sounds almost comical. He leans off of the counter,
"You wouldn't be working on it. You would simply be doing what you were doing with that detective- gathering the evidence. I was successful enough to get a prosecutor, a judge, and a jury that were all coerced into my favor last time. I understand that that was lucky. I need a good defense, I need to know what the other side would be planning. I need to hear what the prosecutor would strategize and focus in on."
There is a gurgling fear when he mentions Kourish. I swallow a scream with a long drink of water, easing my itchy throat, he continues,
"Something tells me you might be good at that."
He looks down as Plushies, the betrayer, rubs herself against his legs, wandering over his boots.
"I would have access to all of the information on the case. On your strategy as well as John's?"
He watches the cat for a prolonged moment before looking back at me,
"Yes."
I can feel the excitement of being in the thick of it, the adrenaline of being caught, the desire to know more than others do, to have the upper hand. It is a sickening feeling that I should quench. That I shouldn't have had in the first place.
Don't be a fool Ele.
He studies me,
"I'll be back before the end of the week to hear your answer. Don't disappoint me Eleanora. And do not continue to ask about Andrew, Davis, or Williams. I will know. Though I have been lenient thus far- my amusement is wearing thin."
The threat is plain and clear. The 'or else' does not need to be spoken, it is simply inferred. The trickling of fear that has been itching at the back of my head for the entirety of this absurd conversation is back in full force. I can feel my complexion drain. My eyes adverting to the ground as my pulse thunders at the speed of light. He brushes past me, towards the door, his eyes falling to my discarded heels,
"I have marble and granite floors you know."
With that he leaves. I play over his last statement, confused.
And then it hits me, heels can't scrape granite.
A/N
I feel like at this point I should admit that.... I have never been to Chicago
Sooo though I have done a bit of research a lot of the streets and so on are... you guessed it... MADE UP! WOW!
I know, I'm a fraud.