Chapter Twenty-Five

"Unless I'm hallucinating, this ain't Jenks' office. Thinking about going back to school, Clearwater?"

Leah let out a laugh.

Those days were over.

"Hell no," she replied, "And with what money? Four more years, and I don't have to worry about the Department of Education chasing after me ever again."

"Ah, school loans. Never heard of 'em," Jacob boasted, puffing out his chest. "One of the benefits of never going to college."

"Oh, shut up. Why didn't you if you don't mind me asking?" Leah wondered, kicking a stray rock as she and Jacob walked along the stone path. To her left was the Loyola University Chicago campus with its constant construction projects, green glass, and students attending the summer session. On her direct right, was Lake Michigan.

The area, this campus, brought back memories; memories at one time, she cherished.

"I had a decent enough job out of high school." Jacob lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "It was all legit. I was working for another uncle's demo business."

Leah smirked. She was well aware of construction's less than savory stereotypes. Often times, the company had mob ties, even more times, violated labor (and pay) laws and hired workers with CVS-receipts for rap sheets. "You sure it was legal?" she asked, being cheeky before directing Jacob to turn around with her. They were almost at the edge of the path.

As expected, Jacob replied with a sharp, "Okay, first of all, fuck you," but the amusement in his eyes gave him away. He knew Leah was just messing with him. "And second, I'm talking about my uncle from my mom's side. They mostly operate on the right side of the law."

"So, you had a decent job…why choose this one?"

"Because I'm an idiot," Jacob said with a lopsided grin. "It's more stable. Don't have to worry about insurance. Don't have to worry about retirement. Pension is decent enough…"

Leah cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you earn more money in construction?"

"Yeah, at first. But it depends if you're in a union."

"Was it?"

"No. Under-the-table advances were more his thing."

The realization dawned on Leah's face. "Oh."

Jacob caught on to Leah's wariness but insisted that it wasn't that serious. It was just construction. "Happens all the time in that business," he said, waving dismissively and moved to change the subject. "So, Clearwater, if you're not here to register for classes or follow a lead, why we're here?"

Leah jerked her head in the direction of the large body of water. "The lake," she stared straight ahead. About twenty feet away was the roundabout that she remembered walking in her wedding dress and her bridesmaids. Emily had been one of them. "And… I was thinking about—" She sighed and shoved her hands into her pants pocket. "I got married here."

"Really? Nice." Jacob raised both eyebrows, impressed. "How much did this cost?"

"Too much," Leah admitted. She had enjoyed her wedding, but it would've been nice to use the funds for a down payment of a house. "But like I told you, my mom and former-mother-in-law were obsessed with those TLC wedding shows. We had to go big… But I do love the view of the lake."

"Can't beat that."

Leah lurched forward, resting her arms on top of the railing, separating her from the mounds of rock lining the shore. She breathed in and smiled. It was a gorgeous June morning. Not too hot, not too cold. Since it was the summer session, not many college students were hanging around. It was quiet, serene, and for a moment, Leah forgot that she was in a major city. She looked straight ahead at the marvel that was Lake Michigan. Thanks to the clear skies, the water appeared crystal blue—she could stare at this view forever.

"Today would've been my ninth anniversary," she quietly said, then snorted. She didn't even know why she was here. They were technically still on the clock, supposed to heading downtown to the prosecutor's office, not reminiscing on a college campus.

"Oh, are you serious?" Jacob let out a hearty laugh. "Mine was yesterday!"

Leah's eyes widened. "Wow, what are the odds?'

"Yeah, we did it on a Friday. It wasn't anything fancy like this. We wanted something simple," Jacob said. "So, we went to the justice for peace. We had a down payment on a house to worry about."

"You two were smart."

"What year did you tie the knot? 2010?"

"2010. Yours?"

"2005."

"2005?" Leah scoffed. How old was Jacob at the time? Nineteen. Goodness, she couldn't even imagine getting married at that age. "Why would you do that to yourselves?"

"Because we were dumbasses," Jacob joked, then, more serious, "We were high school sweethearts. Didn't see the point in waiting. Thought it would be forever."

Leah knew that feeling. "Forever is overrated."

Jacob snorted, not surprised by Leah's cynical remark. "Aren't you the romantic."

Leah gave Jacob a sharp look, attempting to be offended, but even she had to laugh at the thought. "That's overrated, as well."

To be honest, she was never thought of herself to be much of a romantic, even when during the time when she was supposed to be at her happiest. She didn't know what the concept meant. She wasn't the grand-gesture type, was never a fan of roses or whatnot due her to now-defunct allergies. Never truly cared for Valentine's Day. Going out for a nice dinner or attending a vacation was always nice, but she didn't need those other frills.

Or maybe her definition of "romantic" was too limited, too well-defined.

"You should mention that on your next first day," Jacob teased. "See what the other guy says."

"That's the plan if I want to scare him away," Leah said with a smirk. She silently asked Jacob for a piece of gum that she knew he had and thanked him. "Would you do it again?" she asked, then added, "If you could go back into time."

"Nah." Jacob shook his head. "That ship's sailed. I mean, I still care for her and stuff, but I'm not in love with her anymore. I guess not enough to hop on a time machine."

Leah nodded. Good enough answer for her. "It's such a weird feeling, isn't it?" she mused, thinking about her own experiences. "Loving someone, but not being in love with someone. I guess it's more of an active versus passive thing. Does that make sense?"

She knew Jacob's eyes were on her, but she didn't meet them with her own. "Yeah, I get it," he said. He placed his hands on the railing and squeezed. It was a habit, Leah figured. Jacob let out a low chuckle, then asked, "So, I assume that ship sailed in your case as well, huh?"

"It's sailing to another planet at this point," Leah muttered. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat. "Come on," she said, voice detached. She pushed off the railing. "Jenks is expecting us."

"So, what is your endgame?" Jenks asked, placing both hands behind his head. He looked tired, drained, and completely over Chicago. But he was here, inside his office doing his job because that was what the people of Cook County expected him to do. "Mike's case is more or less closed. We know who killed Jessica and why. We pretty much know who killed Gianna and why. But of course, said-killer is also dead..."

The detectives didn't respond immediately to Jenks' comments weren't surprising. It had been more than a year since the Dahlia case opened, and no one had been arrested for it. Despite the evidence. Despite everything. Damn it, if only Demetri hadn't been murdered. And Gianna? The detectives had an inkling, a very powerful inkling, but her case was just as frustrating as Dahlia's. Their only saving grace was that Leah and Jacob were assigned to a specialized unit with one purpose; it allowed them to narrow their focus without their captain breathing down their necks.

But even then, Paul was going to want some answers, preferably before the year summer ended. After all, he had people to answer to as well.

"Why don't we arrest the ones who disposed of her?" Jacob eventually suggested. "Start off there?"

Leah gave Jacob a sharp look. He would basically be throwing his people (well, his father's people) under the bus. Not that Jacob would truly care, but he did make a concerted effort keeping a distance. It made his life easier; he had told her numerous times.

But still.

Jenks cleared his throat. "Jacob—"

"Oh, come on, they know the drill," Jacob interjected; his voice hardened as he spoke. "They know what they've gotten themselves into. Get the judge to issue a warrant. Slap on some charges—"

"And what we will charge them with exactly?" Jenks challenged, crossing his arms.

"Unlawful disposal of a murder victim?" Jacob offered. "Trespassing?"

"Accessory?" Leah threw in.

"To what?" Jenks dropped his arms and shook his head. "They're a third party. With some good lawyers, they can claim that they didn't know they were disposing of a body. Check People v. Boyle. It's complete B.S., don't understand how the jury decided on it, but they did, and now, it's precedence."

"You don't think we have a case anymore," Leah concluded. It was a disheartening thought, especially since it involved one of the most supportive prosecutors Leah had ever known. But Jenks had his doubts, a lot of doubts, which didn't bode well for the investigation.

"You do, trust me, you do, but not for those two murders," Jenks insisted. At least, he appeared regretful. "The people who did it are dead. The only other witness, the fifth man, is also dead."

"What about conspiracy to murder?" Jacob argued. "Demetri didn't make the decision to kill Gianna. The Volturi most likely did—"

"Who is in Moldova," Jenks sharply added. "It's a part of a bigger case—Look, I'm a prosecutor. Nothing would bring me more joy to prosecute those involved, but I need something. And right now, you don't have much."

"Jenks, the Volturi put a hit on Heidi—"

"But that's not your case. She's the feds' problem now," Jenks stressed. "Your case involves Jessica Stanley and Gianna Castellano, both of which are more or less closed until some miraculous evidence comes up. Anything else investigation case, take it up with your captain."

Despite Jenks' words, Leah and Jacob fully intended to stick to their plans for the day: visit LaPush, visit the condo Jessica used to share with her recently-deceased roommate, Lauren Mallory and meet up with a couple of Gianna's Chicago-based, sort of acquaintances (names gratefully provided by Jacob's friend in the Cicero Police Department).

None of the prosecutor's remarks truly surprised Leah. Jenks needed evidence to put people away, evidence that the detectives didn't exactly have (and wouldn't have until a certain coven returned to the United States)—Leah wasn't too worried. They would fall upon something. Someone would talk. Someone would make a mistake. Someone would finally make sense of this mess.

But Jacob? Leah had a sinking feeling that her partner took Jenks' words to heart.

"It's not what you want to hear from our precious assistant state attorney," she said as they walked out of the office building. "But I think he has a point. He's not trying to disparage our work. Under all of those words, he still supports us."

"I know he does," Jacob gritted out; his hands tightened into fists. "It just feels… everything we've been doing for the past year was for nothing."

Leah understood; she truly did, but having all of this doubt wasn't going to make things easy. She needed him. The Voldemort Unit needed him. "That's not true," she insisted, turning him to her. "People are in prison. It's not a slam dunk, but don't say our work was for nothing."

Jacob swallowed. "That's not what I—"

"I know, but I wanted to tell you that just in case. Our life isn't a TV show. We're not going to solve every crime overnight or ensure that every perp gets what he deserves. All we can do is our best. Which we have been, thank you."

"Yeah, I know—"

"Don't tell me you know."

Jacob stiffened.

Admittedly, Leah was being a little harsh on him, but she couldn't let him think that they had been wasting their time since January 2018. True, it sucked that the main suspect, Demetri, was dead. It also sucked that their next targets were in another country, far from the grasps of the American legal system. It was frustrating, downright infuriating—but Leah felt that they were a part of something big. She could just taste it. Everything would come to light. Perhaps even sooner than later.

Their work solved Mike Newton's murder. That was something. That was huge.

This investigation wasn't over.

Leah told Jacob such, this time using a softer tone. She wanted him to know that wasn't chiding him or judging him for being doubtful. Just hold on a bit more; she hoped her words could remain entirely invested in the cause. Getting to the bottom of the investigation was probably, most likely, a lost cause, but fuck that. In the end, Jacob seemed to listen. His shoulders were no longer squared stiff; his hands no longer in fists. His expression relaxed—She was glad. It was a much better look on him.

"Let's see what we're working with…" Paul said later that afternoon as he opened a case file. "Jessica Stanley found DOA on January 15, 2018, inside an executive suite at LaPush," he paraphrased from the report. "COD: cardiac arrest induced by unknown poison—"

"Vampire bite," Leah corrected. Bella and Eric had confirmed as such months ago.

Paul looked up from his file, eyebrow raised. "We can't exactly have that on record," he reminded the detective with a light scoff. "But yes, a vampire bite." He turned to the opened folder on his desk. "All lacerations occurred post-mortem. Time of death between 7:00 pm and 9:00 pm. Main suspect Demetri Karlov who is also conveniently dead… So, we know this was a hit. People just don't leave body parts displayed like that unless they're insane serial killers, which we've established isn't the case." He glanced up for confirmed; he received it. "Right. So, Demetri bit her, that was clear, but did he chop her up?"

Jacob adjusted in his seat, shared a glance with Leah, and replied, "We... don't know."

"You don't know," Paul said. At least, he didn't sound too disappointed, Leah thought. The captain then closed that file and reached for another, "Okay, Gianna Castellano. Based on video evidence, she was present before, during, and possibly after Jessica's murder. No proof that she contributed to the death, but she didn't do anything about it. Now, she was found some time back in a dump. Based on evidence collaborated by Jacob's dad's buddies—"

Jacob rolled his eyes and snorted, "Thanks."

"No problem," Paul replied with a smirk, and then, dropping his playful tone, "She was likely killed on the same night as Jessica, but sometime after midnight. COD: slit throat. Main suspect: Demetri Karlov. Once again, a hit most likely made by the Volturi who did not agree with her liberal definition of dishonesty—"

"They must have found out about the ten grand Gianna was given for her cooperation," Leah interjected.

"Yeah, apparently not. But not to disparage the dead girl, but if I'm going to betray the Volturi, I'll demand a helluva more than that."

"Wouldn't we all," Jacob mumbled.

"Now, we do know that Jacob's dad's buddies had received the contract to transport Gianna's body to the landfill," Paul paused and looked up. "Now, was Novak involved in that?"

"No, he was involved in the transfer of ten grand," Leah clarified. "The Volturi must have chosen someone else?"

"Who?"

"We don't know," Jacob admitted. "But we're going to find out."

Leah nodded.

"See that you do," Paul said before slapping the desk and declaring, "We're missing something. I don't know what, but we are, and quite frankly, it's getting on my damn nerves.

The detectives nodded.

"Join the club," Leah remarked.

"Why cut her up?" Paul wondered, shaking his head. It was a question that plagued everyone involved. "I mean, they killed Gianna for pretty much the same reason, presumably by the same people. Why was she found in a landfill and Jessica found at LaPush? Why the difference in treatment? Which style is considered worse?"

"Jessica pretty much became the 2018 version of the Black Dahlia," Jacob replied. "Is that really a question?"

"Do you think they cared about that?" Leah asked. "Maybe it was a part of a ritual."

"Hm..." Paul stroked his chin. "Jessica was messing around with Carlisle, right? What was his reaction to her death?"

"We don't know," Jacob said. "We never had the chance to speak to him in this manner, and he's dead-dead."

"But we do know that Demetri was found with a UV in the head not long after," Leah followed. "Has to be retaliation."

Paul drew his eyebrows together. "For which one?"

"Possibly just Jessica," Leah said. "Until we found Gianna, everyone just assumed she was missing."

"Hm…I don't think the Cullens were innocent."

"Yeah," Jacob agreed. "Esme knew what was about to go down and didn't do a damn thing because Jessica was screwing her husband."

"But did Carlisle know?"

"He knew she was there," Leah said, flashing back to the last conversation she had the coven matriarch. "But to only go through with a deal. We don't know if he, you know, knew about her extra-relationship activities."

"Hm." Paul leaned back in his chair. "Jenks called this morning. He's pretty much giving up on any hopes of prosecuting anyone for the death of Jessica Stanley and Gianna Castellano. Main suspect is dead. Volturi is fuck-knows-where..."

The detectives shared an alarmed look.

"You want both cases closed?" Leah asked, leaning forward.

"No," Paul said definitively. "Not officially. But the higher powers got wind of it, and would like to shift our attention to more pressing matters—"

Jacob threw up his hands. "Paul—"

"Can I finish?" Paul interjected, giving Jacob annoyed look, then, "I said not officially, didn't I? Jessica and Gianna's are just as important in this investigation as everyone else. Something happened that night, and I have a sinking feeling that those two deaths weren't for revenge."

"What do you want us to do?" Jacob asked.

"Ask around," Paul implored. "About anything. Hell, everything. This is all connected, and we need to find the connection. If we find out what's going on between all of these covens, we find out what happened on January 15th."

"A different approach," Leah remarked.

"At this point, we don't have much of a choice."

"I guess we're being reassigned to the general populace," Jacob grumbled as he and Leah returned to their desks. It was near the end of the shifts. Ten more minutes, and they were free. "No more specialized homicide cases for us."

"You heard what Paul said: they're not closed," Leah reminded her partner. "We just can't focus all of our attention on them anymore. And with everything all connected, we may even get a break on those fronts… It'll all work out in the end."

Jacob wanted to believe her, Leah knew he did, but he couldn't let go of the doubt. "Look at you, being optimistic." Sighing, he shook his head. "Gotta love the higher powers."

"Despite what some people think, Paul does have to answer to a bunch of people," Leah said, glancing at Paul's office behind her. "Thankfully, the brass respects or fears the man enough to get off his back. For the most part."

Plus, it did help, for Paul's sake, that no one with any sense of self-preservation wanted his job. The position was full of headaches and not much official help since, according to the law, the existence of the supernatural was solely tied to folklore.

"Yeah."

"He doesn't look thrilled about the new change of plans," Leah pointed out. "I think this is going beyond him."

"Everyone likes to keep things in-house," Jacob said. "Until they can't. Things changed after that trafficking case and when the Volturi decided to jump ship. Involves more people, more jurisdictions."

"We have to get more help."

"I think Paul needs a stronger justification."

Leah rolled her eyes. "This past year and a half haven't been justification enough?'

Jacob didn't disagree with her, but he understood the reality. Leah did too, but she hoped she could see a sliver of the benefit of the doubt. "I guess we'll worry about that tomorrow."

Leah nodded.

Jacob finally faced his partner and squeezed her shoulder. "You good?"

Leah forced a smile. "Yeah."

Jacob didn't believe her. She knew that, but thankfully Jacob didn't press forward. He dropped his arm and the topic. "Heading home?"

"Going to stop by a friend's place for a moment," Leah replied, checking the time on her phone. The meeting wasn't anything special, but if everything worked out how she planned, she might be able to squeeze some leads out of this "friend". She pocketed her phone and added, "For some recon."

"Paul would be so proud," Jacob said. "Want some company?"

Leah shook her head. It wasn't that kind of an interview. "This friend gets squeamish when more than one cop is involved," she explained. "I'll keep you posted."

Leah didn't have to explain any further. Jacob looked at his partner and nodded. He knew what this was about. "Oh, you're going to see that one." He nodded, then, "Pick you up tomorrow?"

"Same time."

"Oh, great..."

Leah hid her satisfied grin behind her hot drink as she watched her target toss aside his dish towel and headed her way. She took a long sip, savoring the milky foam and the espresso, and carefully placed it on the table. "Buona sera, Signore. Come stai?"

It was a random night, towards the end of the week, about twenty minutes after Leah's shift ended. She could have gone straight home, had fully intended to, until she had caught sight of the establishment she was currently inside, all the way from the L's above-ground platform. She couldn't just board the train and leave the street cafe in the dust. That would have been responsible, especially with everything that was going on at work.

"Your accent is still terrible," the man remarked, giving Leah a cagey look before finally relaxing. "And I was fine, then I saw you here, sitting at one of my tables. Hiding out in the corner. If this was a different time, I'd have to call in some people."

"After all this time?" Leah shook her head, feigning disappointment. "I thought we were friends…"

The man let out a snort before snapping his fingers, getting the attention of a wandering waiter. He ordered a coffee. "Extra sugar," he demanded, tapping his temple. "For the stress."

Leah gave the man an unimpressed look.

"Of all places to get a cappuccino," the man carried on, shaking his head as the waiter left. "You decided to choose here. Why?"

Leah didn't take the man's biting words too seriously. He might not be too entirely to be in her presence, but he wasn't hostile. And he wasn't under arrest, so technically, he could just walk away. But he didn't.

"Oh, Genny," Leah said, smirk returning. "I thought you said your place makes the best-caffeinated drinks? I'm just testing it out. Making sure you're telling the truth."

"Oh, I'm sure that's why you decided to pay a visit…"

Leah took a bite out of her cannoli. "Genny, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Genny looked up at Leah and huffed. "And here, I thought you were gonna leave me alone."

Gennaro "Genny" Marzano, a blast from the past. An interesting guy, some years older than Leah. He had his own run-ins with the mob and the law, but then his older brother got killed during a trivial turf war and decided to cooperate.

He wasn't a snitch, at least, not in the legal sense of the word. Not once had he testified on the stand. A blessing and a curse, Leah had realized. The curse was obviously; no testimony, no real evidence. But the blessing, they could talk "off the table", revealing some pertinent information without really revealing it, "off the table". It kept the information sharing alive—Just as long as money was involved.

Paying people off for some intel was a part of the job. The hard part was determining whether or not it was worth it. Some people Leah had encountered were not, but Gennaro. He hadn't failed her yet.

"You're not in jail, right? You don't see the handcuffs out, right? That's me leaving you alone." Leah scanned the establishment. "I see you still have the cafe. New décor, huh? I guess the weed business is still rolling in the money. Keeping investors happy, aren't you?"

"I'll have you know that's it's no longer a crime," Genny argued. "I even got a license from the state."

Leah took another bite of the dessert. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Genny said. His eyes portrayed doubt regarding the authenticity of Leah's compliment, but his smile clearly stated that he was proud of his work. "I'm trying to live an honest life. The running numbers game and all of that smuggling—it's no longer fun. Too many things can go wrong."

"You can say that again," Leah muttered, and then asked in a clearer voice, "How's Connie?"

Gennaro cleared his throat. "You remember Connie?"

"Of course, I remember Connie. She's the fool that married you."

She was also the smart one who knew how to rein in her husband, who knew how to say just enough words to scare him into believing that she would leave with the kids if he didn't get his act together. She was tired of the mob-life. Too much drama, Leah recalled Connie telling her.

"Hahaha, very funny," Gennaro said. "She's fine, by the way. She's outback, making sure the place doesn't fall apart."

"That's good," Leah replied, sincere. She had no issue with the woman. "Tell her I said hello."

Gennaro scoffed, and then, "What do you want? I know you're not here to ask about my life."

"I did want to see how you're doing," Leah insisted before taking a sip of her drink. "But you're right, enough with the BS. You're still in the know about the illegal blood market?"

The industry wasn't the priority in the Voldemort's investigation. Paul had decided to let the ATF deal with that, but Leah did recall Jane mentioning the blood market during their last conversation. There had to be a reason.

Gennaro froze, then added more sugar into his coffee. Leah was more than aware of the correlation between the man's sugar intake and nervousness. But she could tell that he wasn't ready to lie. He was on edge because simply he was conversing with a detective. "You know I'm not involved in that industry anymore."

"I know, I know," Leah said, resisting the urge to snatch the container of sugar from Gennaro. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Gennaro finally put the sugar aside. "It depends."

"On?" Leah asked, then pulled out five twenties and handed them over. "Ah, some things change, some things still the same…"

"Money talks," Gennaro said, pocketing the money. He checked his surroundings; no one was paying him or Leah any mind. The smart ones knew to mind their own business in these parts. "La Madrina de Sangre's trying to make a comeback. You'd think she'd lay low after getting shipped off to Mexico, but no." He rolled his eyes. "I may have heard from unconfirmed sources that she's trying to get the Cullens to do business with her."

La Madrina de Sangre. Godmother of Blood—It appeared that Maria got her own nickname back.

"Esme's only interested in legit businesses," Leah told Gennaro.

"Yeah, we know. And that's why Madrina is banking on Edward or even Sicario changing Esme's mind, but she has them both wrapped around her finger."

"So, I've heard." Leah took another bite of her dessert. "She's an impressive woman."

"I've met her a few times. A sweetheart. But you don't mess with her."

"I'm sure some people found out the hard way," Leah remarked, giving the man a knowing look.

Gennaro nodded. "She doesn't get her hands dirty. Why do that when you have a bunch a people willing to do that for you in a drop of a dime?" He tapped the table a couple of times. "That, amica mia, is what I call power." He shrugged. "But, honestly, based on my experience, I think she's the least of your problems."

"Yeah, she knows how to keep quiet, I give her that."

"Nothing like her husband."

"He used to be like her."

"Yeah, but then that whole thing with the Volturi screwed everything up," Gennaro said. "And his slew of girlfriends didn't help."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Girlfriends?" She folded her hands and leaned in. Ah, this was why she was here. "I only know about one."

"I suppose you mean that cut-up dame found inside LaPush's. Saw that coming from miles away. If you're gonna mess with the big boys, you gotta know what you're doing."

"You met her?"

"I may know people who've met her."

"May?" Leah pressed against the back of her chair. "And the other girlfriends?"

"I don't know why someone would want to go through that mess," Gennaro shook his head. "Being tossed around from boss to boss like a goddamn hot potato. And it's not just the dames, either. They're some fellas running around, too."

"An equal opportunity enterprise," Leah remarked. As long as the money was green, some didn't give a damn. "Are you, Mr. Marzano, implying that there's a ring?"

Gennaro paused, then downed some coffee. "I'm not implying anything."

Sensing the conversation about to stall, Leah slid some bills to him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

He stared at them for a moment before quickly pocketing the money. "There have been rumblings on the street about the Olympic," he said. "More on the Denalis" They're not exactly happy with new management."

"Really?" Leah sat up and crossed her arms. "According to rumblings on the street, they've made more money the last few months than they had all last year. Shouldn't they be happy?"

"Yes. But money doesn't solve all problems. First, the head lady in charge was engaged to the new head, and now, she's been kicked aside. Completely shut out. Her surviving sisters are running the show now, but everyone knows they're taking orders from Esme."

Carmen and Kate. Goodness, it had been a while since Leah last heard of them. They usually operated in the shadows, way beyond the police's grasp. "What started all this?"

"I don't know all the details. Something about Irina betraying the family and Tanya being extremely upset about it."

"She's dead," Leah said. "Irina."

Gennaro sighed. "I know."

"You look concerned."

"The Volturi's out of the picture, sort of. Victoria's locked in Alcatraz. I heard about Mike Newton and Edward's involvement. That means there's a power vacuum. On top of an unstable, hostile work-environment within the Olympic," Gennaro explained, then huffed, "Of course, I'm concerned."

"I thought you weren't involved in the business anymore?"

"There's no such thing as completely getting out," Gennaro told the detective, forlorn. "I may be going straight, but I guess that's just an illusion in reality." He snorted. "The Volturi still knows my name…"

"They've been in Moldova for several months now," Leah reminded him. "They're gone. Out of our hair."

That was a lie, but Leah wanted to make Gennaro (and herself) feel better.

She wasn't successful.

"They're not gone, just in another country," Gennaro said. "They got some underlings running around, making sure things don't implode, but they're nothing like their old-school bosses. They have no sense of respect, territory. Honor. Going around, dropping bodies like it's—What's that game my nephew won't shut up about?" He snapped his finger. "Call of Duty."

Leah's eyebrows drew together, completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

Gennaro let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you don't know?"

Leah leaned forward, dropping her voice, "How many are you saying?"

"In this past month, maybe twenty? Twenty-five?" Gennaro replied quietly, reaching out for the sugar container once again. "And some people only wanna talk about the South Side." He snorted. "If I were you, Detective, I'd look out West. Check out near Midway, too. It's a goddamn warzone out there."