Chapter Twenty-Seven

"I remember you two mentioning something about a vampire being found in that ditch. With everyone else—Well, you'll be happy to know that I may have a name."

Both Leah and Jacob raised an eyebrow and exchanged a curious glance. It seemed like the older man was quickly becoming a gift that kept on giving. In Leah's opinion, the man was approaching Jane-status when it came to delivering important information. And he wasn't even requesting some sort of immunity, not that the detectives or the Voldemort Unit, in that matter, had anything to arrest him for.

Sensing the detectives' pleasant surprise, Wilson smirked as he dug into the top drawer of a file cabinet, closest to his office window. Eventually, he pulled out a piece of paper, scanned it, and nodded before slamming the door closed. He handed the page to Leah and carried on, "Garrett. I don't know his last name, but I know he wasn't a newborn."

Leah skimmed the page with Jacob peeking over. Garrett—from what she could recall, he was a part of the Denali family. Shit. She looked at her partner expectantly before handing him the page. Before she could say anything, Wilson smirked, knowingly, and said, "You've heard of him."

"Of him," Jacob stressed, handing the page back to Leah. "What the hell was he doing with the Fangs? Was he some goddamn real estate agent?"

Leah waited for an answer.

"Like I told you," Wilson said, taking a seat at his desk. He gestured the detectives to do the same. "The Olympic and the Fangs must be banding together to fight a common enemy."

Leah retrieved a notepad and pen from inside her rain jacket. "Do you know that for sure?" she asked, flipping back a couple of pages.

"Wouldn't that make sense, Detective?"

"Really, old man, really?" Jacob rolled his eyes. "So, I take that as a yes."

Wilson shrugged, nonchalant. "You didn't hear that from me."

"What about a motive?" Leah asked after jotting down some information. "I'm not talking about the killings. These are gangs; that's what they do... but the resting place? Inside a ditch? Just bones? If you wanna get rid of someone, jump them in the water. Not let them in the open, where we would find them,"

"How about it, old man?"

"I suppose to prove that they ain't playing," Wilson said, noncommittal. "It's a very common war tactic. Show the enemy what you can do and wait for a response. Some may retreat. Some may not give a damn and press on."

"That must be some valuable land..." Jacob muttered, arms crossed.

Wilson raised both eyebrows.

"Of course, it is," Leah said. "It's near an airport—"

"I got something else. I'm sure your feds-friends would appreciate this," Wilson said. "Some fools tried to pull the second, much more pathetic coming of the 1978 Lufthansa Heist. Only came out with a hundred large. I'm sure the feds are already looking into it," "But the flight, that plane, was apparently a connector flight. Four legs—one plane from Seattle to here. Another from her to JFK. JFK to Milan. Milan to Chisinau Airport—the international airport of Moldova."

Leah cleared her throat— she heard about the heist. Anyone not living under the rock knew about the heist. But it had been a one-day news story, virtually brushed under the rug the following day. The feds probably wanted it that way, she concluded, and with the possible connection to the Fangs and the Volturi, she couldn't blame them.

"All that for a hundred grand?" Jacob asked, shaking his head in disappointment.

Wilson shrugged. "Like I said: fools."

"Yeah," Leah quietly agreed. She shared a look with Jacob. They were both thinking the same thing: That could have been some Volturi money, and there was a Volturi presence in the Pacific-Northwest. Great.

"You sure you don't wanna be an informant, old man?" Jacob asked with some amusement in his voice. "You've been giving us a lot more info than you should be."

Wilson scoffed at the thought. Leah had a feeling that he would never be an official informant. She couldn't blame him; it would mess with his street-cred, which, in turn, would harm the Voldemort Unit more than help. "I'm here to prevent another war, ain't I?" His mouth turned up a fraction of an inch. "Collin will be fine."

Leah raised an eyebrow at the comment. "So, you've heard from him."

"Hearsay," Wilson said. "I heard his word from another. I haven't seen the man in a very long time, and I intend to keep it that way.

"You and me both," Jacob mumbled under his breath.

"I don't think you and your friends have a choice," Wilson said, giving Jacob a knowing look. "I'm surprised he hasn't made an appearance yet."

"I hear he's making a concerted effort to stay out of Chicago," Leah said. "Worried that CPD is going to take him in."

"I'm sure CPD has bigger fish to fry," Wilson said. "Fangs are a pain in the ass, but they ain't the Volturi."

"That's for damn sure," Jacob grumbled, then asked, "Heard any news about them?"

"Honestly, no," Wilson replied, shaking his head. "I know some of their people are still around. You can't just pick up and leave without a trace like that—"

"Collin still thinks the Volturi had something to do with bodies found near Midway?" Leah asked.

"He still insists that they were the culprits," Wilson said. "I can't say I blame him."

"Are you trying to take all the glory from me?" Martinez whined the following morning, clutching his chest dramatic after receiving an investigation update from Jacob and Leah. He tried to look hurt, but his eyes obviously didn't get the memo. "Fangs are supposed to be mine, Black."

Leah rolled eyes.

Jacob snorted. "You want the info or not?"

"Of course, I fucking do—Clearwater, partner swap option is still on the table."

Leah leered down at Martinez. "No."

"Okay, fine," Martinez said, putting up two hands, trying to keep the peace. "Who are you getting this from?" he asked Jacob.

"Confidential source."

Martinez cocked his head and frowned. He glanced at Leah, hoping to get an answer from her. He did not. "Seriously?"

"I gotta promise to uphold," Jacob said, sounding apologetic, but everyone knew he wasn't. "It's someone from way back."

Martinez snorted. "In your case, that doesn't help."

Jacob smirked. "I know."

"Fuck you," Martinez spat, and then at Leah, "Clearwater, I take back my request."

"It wasn't like I was going to agree to it anyway," Leah returned with a smirk, and then as if she was chastising a child, "Jacob, play nice. We need Martinez."

"Thank you," Martinez said, but then dropped the amusing act. "So, it sounds like the Fangs stole from the wrong plane. I'll talk to a couple of buddies at the Bureau. See if there's anything they can add to it. Sure, it could've only been about the money, but all of that for a hundred large? The Volturi are the richest coven in the world. A hundred grand is literally nothing to them."

Leah did wonder that as well. The Volturi were big earners and even bigger spenders—they made Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel look middle class.

"Thanks, man," Jacob said, bumping fists with the detective.

"I think those pendejos have been watching Goodfellas too many times. All while conveniently not paying attention to what happened at the end." Martinez leaned back in his seat with his hands folded behind his head. "Tell me: who's Henry Hill?"

The snitch.

"We don't know," Jacob said.

Martinez nodded, then, "Who's Jimmy the Gent?"

The mastermind.

"We don't know that either."

Martinez raised an eyebrow. "What do you know?"

Jacob gave Martinez the finger before they both burst into laughter.

Leah rolled her eyes at the exchange, then added when the snickers died down, "But if we're sticking to this theory. Then we can assume that the man found in that ditch had something to with it." She looked at Jacob. "You think Collin's cousin, Eric, was Jimmy Burke? He could've pitched the idea and got it approved because he's the boss' blood?"

"It's possible," Jacob said with a shrug. "But unless things have drastically changed, Eric was around because he was a cousin. Collin has a thing for a family— Eric had enthusiasm, but not enough moxy to roll with the big guys. Stealing from a plane seems like a plan for the big guys."

"I got nothing on much him," Martinez admitted. "According to my people on the West Side, they've never heard about him roaming around Chicago. He worked primarily out west in Tacoma, Washington—"

"That's where the airport is, right?" Leah looked her partner's way. "You really don't think Eric was the brains behind the operation?"

"I'm not saying no," Jacob said. "I just find that hard to believe."

"Maybe that's why the heist was a dud, relatively speaking," Martinez suggested. "I mean, a hundred large is a lot, but if I'm trying to pull off the 2019 version of the Lufthansa heist, then I'm aiming higher. I'm talking in the millions."

"You know how much I hate dealing with the Bureau. And now, you're making me deal with them?"

Everyone knew that Paul despised the FBI just as much, if not more, than Jacob. But the captain was just going to have to swallow his emotions and pride. The needed information from the feds regarding the Midway heist; information not publicly disseminated.

"After all this time, you don't have a hookup in that agency?" Jacob asked, incredulous.

"I do have a few agents that I don't mind, but they're all in San Fran," Paul said. "Chicago is outside their jurisdiction."

"I'm sorry."

"That's fine. I guess that's what I get for taking this job," Paul said with a dismissive wave, and then, "So, you think the heist was motive for the killings?"

"It's a theory." Paul leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "A hundred grand, no matter how you slice it, is a lot of money. If I were the Volturi, I'd be a little pissed off, too."

Leah and Jacob snorted lightly. They were glad their captain could see the other side.

"Have we been able to ID any of the victims, save for Eric of the Fangs and possibly Garrett of the Denali's?" Paul asked.

"No," Leah replied, shaking her head. "Also, Forensics is having an issue trying to find a match. Can't do any dental traces due to the lack of teeth. The piece of skin found still doesn't have a match, but it truly belongs to Garrett that may explain it. The Denali is an old coven. None of its permanent members are less than two hundred years."

"Source tells us that Garrett isn't a newborn," Jacob added.

Paul's expression turned to one of amusement. "I still know how your source is, Black," he confessed with a smirk. He chuckled at Leah's slightly surprised, and Jacob's slightly annoyed faces. "How's the old man doing anyway? Still running that second-hand bookstore?"

"Trying to stop an armed conflict."

"Good for him," Paul said with a nod. "Did you manage to make him official?"

"Doesn't want to be. The idea of testifying in grand jury and a trial doesn't appeal to him."

Personally, Leah preferred Wilson not to be an official informant.

Paul didn't seem too surprised by Jacob's answer. "Smart man—Good work, by the way. The both of you. Now, we got a motive and a damn good one. The problem is we don't have an official suspect. The man could've hopped on a plane to Moldova for all we know."

"What do you want us to do?" Leah asked. "This case isn't technically ours. It involves the Fangs—that's Martinez's territory."

Jacob waited for an answer.

"You two are going to work with him. Martinez will deal with the usual gang matters, and you two, being homicide detectives will look into the actual killings," the captain explained, at then, directed at Jacob. "You're good with this?"

Jacob shrugged. "It's my job."

Paul let out a growl of frustration. "That's not an answer," he said. "If this is going to be a big problem, I'll take you off the case. The last thing I need is for you to be in the middle of a family throwdown."

"It is what it is, Captain," Jacob said. He tried to play it cool, but both Leah and Paul could sense apprehension. "Anyway, we're not getting involved in gang politics, right? That's Martinez's job. We're only trying to solve a murder. That's it."

"Look after him, will ya?"

The comment was made out of the blue. It had been hours since Leah had last spoken to her captain. He had been caught up with the usual management grind, including meeting up with superiors. Leah wondered why Paul wanted to bring something up like this right now, right as she was about to leave the station for the night.

It didn't take a genius to know what person Paul meant by "him".

Leah gave her captain an assuring smile. "I'm offended you even had to tell me that," she joked, shaking her head. But then she stopped upon realizing that this wasn't a joking matter— so, Paul was concerned. Something she hadn't expected from the least "concerned" man she had ever known—she cleared her throat, then promised with a nod, "I will."

She wondered what had brought this on. Although she hadn't seen him since lunch (thanks to a trial Jacob had to make an appearance at), Jacob hadn't indicated through his calls and texts that anything was going on.

Paul nodded, stiff, but he did seem more at peace. "A part of me wants to take him off the case," he said. "But if there's anyone who can get inside info on the Fangs, even better than Martinez, it's him."

"Then he can do some gang work," Leah suggested flippantly. Martinez would love that. And she would just have to stick it up and do her job (all while somehow convincing Paul to let her pick out a temporary partner).

Paul shook his head. "No. I don't want to put him in that position," he explained, serious. "Family drama is always messy. I don't want him to get caught in it. Just solve the murders and move on."

Leah sighed. That was all wishful thinking. "You know it's not going to happen that way."

"Well, I gotta try my best, don't I?" Paul said, frustration evident in his voice. His hands balled up into fists. "I gotta look out for my people."

"No, I understand—And thank you. We all at the Voldemort Unit appreciate that."

"Yeah, no problem," Paul said, shrugging off the compliment, but Leah knew he liked it. He then laughed, "Voldemort Unit. I can't believe they let us keep that."

"I don't know," Leah said with a light chuckle. "I think it fits."

"Yeah…" Paul agreed, then more serious, "And Leah, take care of yourself. Please."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna pull that tunnel-stunt again. Those days are over," Leah promised, trying to make a joke of it. She quickly realized that her captain wasn't too amused. She cleared her throat and quickly added with a wave, "Plus, I have Jacob at my side."

Her words didn't seem to comfort the captain. "Yeah, I know. That's what I'm worried about. I don't want Internal Affairs up my ass because one of my subordinates thinks he's Rambo."

"Paul, this is Jacob we're talking about," Leah reminded the captain. "That's not his thing."

"Maybe, but I have a feeling all bets are off when you're involved."

Leah swallowed. "What—"

"Hey, Captain!" Jared called out, peeking from around the corner, waving around a note. "Bureau's on the phone. I think they're interested in ditch murders."

"About damn time they're calling," Paul grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. "Gimme a sec!" he told Jared, and then, looking down at Leah, almost pleading. "Please, pay attention to what I just said. Please."

She frowned. She knew how to listen, damn it. She had only been called out for insubordination a handful of times (which compared so other members of the force, was practically perfect)— but instead of stewing over Paul's comment, she had to remember that the captain was only looking out for her.

Leah eventually nodded, but it took her a moment to find her voice, "Yeah, of course."'

Goodness, Leah hated hospitals.

Unfortunately, she couldn't turn back now. She had promised that she would visit after her shift ended. She wouldn't hear the end of it (especially from herself) if she didn't keep up with her vow.

But damn, the smell of medicine, mixed with bodily fluids and… death. Somehow it was worse than walking through a crime scene.

She bumped the back of her head against the metal elevator interior wall. She watched on as the machine stopped on each floor, allowing people to leave and enter. Family members, doctors, nurses, a couple of cops that Leah could've sworn before but wasn't sure enough to spark small talk. Not that she would be in the mood for a chat this moment. Her mind was elsewhere.

The sound of her personal cell ringtone broke Leah out of her trance. She pulled out the device and slightly smiled. It was a text from Tina. She was visiting Chicago for a few days to attend a teaching conference downtown.

I know last minute but Happy Hour, tonight? Half off drinks.

That did sound enticing, especially after the week she had, but Leah had to decline the offer. A couple of hours ago, she had received a text from her mother, requesting to stop by the hospital tonight. It wasn't like she could say no. It wasn't like she would say no.

No, can do. Family business.

Is everything okay?

Hope so.

"How is he?"

Sue looked up at her daughter and gave her a small smile before pulling her into a tight hug. Eventually, she let her go and directed to the hospital room where Abel was currently residing. He had been there since the early morning, Sue told her daughter, and would remain there for the rest of the week, probably even the next.

"They said he has RSV," she quietly told Leah as they stared into the room through the partially obscured room window. "Respiratory syncytial virus. It's an infection that behaves like a cold with irritability in the lungs. Breathing problems." She scratched the side of her neck, an indication that she was stressed, and sighed. "I'm not a doctor, though."

Leah bit her lip as she continued to stare inside the room. There was a nurse present, seemingly checking out the baby's vitals. Emily was there was well, and as expected, was completely beside herself—Eventually, Leah had to look away. It pained to see her baby cousin in the hospital bed strapped to an IV and oxygen.

"You just missed your aunt," Sue said, breaking a few minutes of tense silence. "She's picking up some dinner. Sam was here earlier. He'll return in an hour or so." She glanced at her daughter, wary. "Did you see him at work?"

"We don't work together anymore, mom."

Sue slowly nodded. "He's staying overnight, I believe." She took a step forward, expression distraught. "The doctors are convinced that Abel will be fine. Apparently, it's one of the most common illnesses for babies…" She trailed off she watched the nurse mutter some words to Emily and headed towards the exit.

At least, the nurse didn't look too grave, Leah thought. But then again, the woman was a nurse. She had probably seen a lot and, therefore, became desensitized whether she wanted to or not. Leah knew the feeling all too well.

Leah returned her attention to the glass barrier between herself and the room. Emily stood up and kneeled next to her son, running the back of her hand against the baby's soft but slightly discolored cheeks. When she noticed Leah, her eyes widened astronomically, and Leah could hear her gasp. Emily quickly stood up, brushed off invisible dirt off her capris, glanced at her son one last time, and walked towards the exit. She was nervous, Leah noted.

"Good news?" Sue asked as soon as her niece entered the hallway, softly closing the door behind her.

Emily forced a smile and nodded. "The nurse gave him his medicine and checked his vitals," she quietly said, gaze on the floor. "She didn't seem too alarmed, which is good… I guess." She bit her lip and tried to blink away her tears. "I just want him to feel better."

Sue pulled her niece into a hug. "It'll be fine."

Emily nodded and took a step back after her aunt released her from her grasp. She looked beyond Sue, where Leah stood.

"Hello, Leah," she greeted, tone stiff.

Leah didn't fare any better. "Hello."

Sue looked between the two women, picked up her purse from the chair next to the room entrance, and announced, "I have to go to the ladies' room. I'll be back."

Emily barely masked her panic.

Leah found her mother's departure extremely convenient but didn't speak on it. Her mother generally had good intentions.

Silence fell between the cousins. Emily was trying her darnedest to at anything except at her cousin, and Leah, she couldn't take the silence. "How is he?"

Emily finally looked her way and swallowed. "Stable," she glanced at her son's bed through the window. "But he's going to be here for some time." She shook her head. "It's been crazy. First, Sam being in a coma, and now, this.
"

"Sam ended up being fine," Leah said, trying to express her sympathy. It was admittedly hard to do so in the presence of her cousin, but she truly wanted nothing more than for Abel to be released from the hospital, healthy. "I'm sure he will as well…"

Emily's smile was genuine. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I just can't—" She cleared her throat. "I didn't expect you to be here."

Leah sharply turned to herself, taken aback. "Why not? He's family," she said, slightly offended that Emily thought that she was some heartless bitch. "I have no reason not to be here."

Emily brushed her palms together. "I know you resent Sam and me—"

Leah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "This isn't about you," she maintained, stern. "It's about that little boy in there. My cousin." At one time, also her step-son. "That's all."

Emily gulped. "Leah, I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Leah demanded, putting up a hand. She wasn't here for apologies. "Is there anything you'd like me to get? For you? For Abel?"

"No. I'm good. Thank you."

Leah was never the type to eavesdrop into meetings taking place inside Paul's office. If a conversation wasn't her business (or essential to the investigation), then it wasn't her business. But this time, she couldn't resist.

Today's early morning meeting didn't have anyone from the Voldemort Unit in attendance, save for Paul, of course. Given those in attendance, the snub was expected. Barba was in there. The feds were in there. So was the commander, Paul's immediate supervisor. So was Jenks—and it was 7:30 in the morning. Nothing was scheduled at that time unless something serious was on the horizon.

So, that was the reason why, as she typed up her daily report while waiting for Jacob to return from an early-morning coffee run, Leah decided to keep an ear out for the conversation. That she was not supposed to be privy to, but given her enhanced hearing, she could hear everything. Including Carolina Barba asking Paul and the commander about their "star informant", also known as Jane.

Paul was being coy about it, for obvious reasons. "It's a Volturi turncoat," he said, tone walking the line between bitterness and frustration. "That's all I'm providing right now. You're the federal government, I'm sure you can find out just whom I'm talking about."

Yes, this was definitely about Jane.

"Do you purposely want to make our lives difficult, Captain?"

Now, that question came from the agent. Based on the condescending tone used with "captain", it didn't appear that he and Paul were the best of friends.

"I should ask you the same question," the commander, not Paul, sharply replied. "And I'd thought you all would be grateful, for once. You've been taking all of our perps—"

"They violated federal law," Carolina interjected. "Plus, this county does not have the proper facilities to store your kind."

Leah's nose crinkled at the prosecutor's poor word usage. As expected, she heard Paul slide back in his chair, most likely rising from his seat to give his piece of mind.

"My kind?"

Oh, goodness. This wouldn't end well.

"Paul, Carolina, let's not go there, alright?" Jenks said, trying to play peace-keeper. "We're on the same team. We all want to get to the bottom of this mess."

"I apologize, Captain, for my choice of words. I didn't mean to offend you," Carolina said. She didn't sound too sorry, Leah noticed. But then again, the prosecutor was known for being a bull, too stubborn to back again. A double-edged sword. "Cook County does not have the capacity to incarcerate non-humans. I don't believe in unleashing vampires and such to the general prison population."

"I assume, you're referring to Jane?" the agent asked. The question was more rhetorical, which only proved Paul's point that the federal agencies were well-aware of the former Volturi guard potential cooperation with CPD.

"I cannot confirm or—"

"Yes, she is," the commander jumped in. Leah could imagine him giving Paul a sharp look, silently informing him that he knew what he was doing so back down. "She's been working with CPD way before you guys got a hold of her. She has relatively good report with the Voldemort Unit. Has been very helpful, but due to complications, all of her information is leads-only. We can't submit anything into evidence."

Leah smiled to herself as she finished typing up her last paragraph. Paul was sticking to his word regarding Jane's off-the-table testimony.

"You want us to give an okay?" Carolina asked.

"We want you not to tie our hands," Paul said. "We've agreed to work with the feds new initiative to bring combat the Volturi. This is the least you can do for us. After all, as the commander said, we got to her first."

Leah stopped typing and raised an eyebrow. New initiative? What the hell was that about? The Voldemort Unit had always worked with agencies on bringing down the covens.

"What will her testimony be used for?" Carolina wondered. "Who are you trying to convict?"

"Everyone," Jenks replied before anyone else. "If possible. With all due respect, Barba, these covens have been raising hell in Chicago. And therefore, they should be persecuted in Chicago."

"I understand that, but this leads to my previous point: your prison can't hold the supernatural."

"Doesn't have to," Jenks argued. "Didn't New York just ship someone to Alcatraz? The man was convicted and sentenced in state court for murder."

"Well, then, prosecuting those imbeciles in Cook Country shouldn't be a problem," the commander remarked; this comment was directed at Barba. "Right?"

Leah held her breath, waiting for the federal prosecutor's response.

"I will have my team look into the matter," Carolina replied. She was trapped, Leah could feel the frustration from yards away, but like always, she wasn't going to back down. Wasn't going to admit that she was forced into a corner.

"That meeting inside Paul's seemed intense," Aisha remarked sometime later during a bathroom break. "Heard anything?"

"Really, Aisha?" Leah chided. Thankfully, no one was else in the women's restroom. "Just because I can, you know, doesn't mean I overstep my boundaries."

Aisha turned off the water and reached for the paper towels. "Oh, come on, no need to be moralistic. Did you see who was in attendance?"

"Yes, I did," Leah mumbled, rubbing her hands under the lukewarm water. She looked at her friend through the mirror. "They're doing something about Jane. Making sure we can use her statements in court."

"So, you did hear something."

Leah shot her a warning look. "Aisha."

"Sorry," Aisha whispered, glancing at the room exit to make sure no one was coming in. "Well, that's good, right? All of your late-night meetings can finally count towards something."

"One would hope," Leah said, shutting off the water. She wiped her hands and checked herself out in the mirror, just in case something on her face was out of place. "Hey, I'm going to a spa next week. I need to relax like you wouldn't believe. Wanna tag along?"

"No can do," Aisha said, apologetic, and then put on a blinding smile, "Tiffany's back next week."

Leah leaned against the sink's edge and clapped her hands. She was happy for her friend. "That's great!"

Aisha's grin widened. "Yeah, it is, but it's only for a week, and then back across the ocean." She shrugged. "But it's better than nothing."

"How much longer does she have on her contract?"

"Maybe a couple of years."

Leah shook her head. "Damn."

"But's not ten," Aisha pointed out, forcing a smile.

"It's not ten," Leah agreed with a nod.

"I'll let you know when we're both free. We should go out sometime, lunch maybe?" Aisha offered, and then with a snicker, "She'll definitely get a kick out of seeing you eating meat again."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Leah brought up the meeting to Jacob during lunch at their favorite burger place. Jacob didn't seem too concerned with the rumors that brass was getting more involved in the investigation. Actually, he seemed a little relieved. "Maybe it's a blessing in disguise," he said as he drenched his fries with ketchup.

"Paul didn't look very happy about it," Leah pointed out before taking a bite of her burger.

"Everyone likes to keep things in-house until they can't," Jacob explained. Things changed after that trafficking case and when the Volturi decided to jump ship. And then, you get the Fangs drama that I'm sure Saint Louis is interested in. All of this … stuff involves more people, more jurisdictions." He shrugged. "Can't say I'm too surprised, though…"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Though?"

"The feds seemed to gung-ho about us not relying on you-know-who on an official basis," Jacob said, crinkling his nose. "What made them change their minds? And this new initiative? What the hell are we getting ourselves into?"

That was what concerned Leah.