Five

Rumor had it, Dr. Isabella Swan liked to live her life on the edge.

Bella certainly verified such rumor with her latest stunt.

At face value, it shouldn't have been a big deal. Bella had always interacted with the "interesting" folk; usually, it was petty criminals and persistent attorneys. Or the devastated relatives who tended to break down the moment Bella revealed their loved ones. She claimed she was used to this, but last night? Last night had been different.

Bella, in typical fashion, said not to worry about it.

Said it wasn't that serious.

Leah didn't know if she should take the coroner's word for it. Since coming to the city three years about, Bella had been kidnapped (and thrown into a backseat of a car) and threatened with her life numerous times and had been the participant of a series of lawsuits.

Last night's incident at the Office of the Medical Examiner was concerning. Late night visits without an appointment were concerning. So was requesting the coroner to stop an autopsy of a subject featured in the most controversial murder of the year without a good reason. The man had even offered Bella a bribe—which she didn't take.

Thank goodness, Leah couldn't help but think.

In efforts to make sure Jacob did not have a major freak out about the possibility of Bella being her (or hiring a goddamn security detail for the doctor), Leah had offered to help her partner find the perpetrator via a background check. Her efforts only helped somewhat.

"Based on the name and description provided by Bella, I only found one match," Leah told Jacob the morning after as they strolled along the shores of Lake Michigan. They were near Lincoln Park, taking a break before heading back to the precinct. They had a highly anticipated meeting with their captain. "But I doubt it's him."

Jacob snorted as he walked around a sandy ice patch. "That's encouraging."

Leah pulled out a couple of sheets of folded paper out of her coat pocket, unraveled and handed them over. "Edward Anthony Masen. Born on June 20, 1901. Chicago native. Son of a prominent lawyer. Enlisted in the army for World War One but was hit with the Spanish Flu in 1918, right before shipping out to Europe. He was treated for his illness in this city, and… that's where the record ends."

Jacob stopped to skim the pages, particularly the man's photo. It was grainy, black and white, but the profile certainly fitted Bella's description. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Maybe not?"

"His record ends at age eighteen," Jacob pointed out. "Don't you find that odd? He contracted the flu and was treated, but nothing about his progress."

Leah shrugged. "It was 1918."

"And his father was a big-shot lawyer. Not some unfortunate soul on the streets—there had to have been a record on this Edward. Heck, even a death record."

"He got better and was released?"

"There still should have been a record," Jacob maintained, handing the pages back to his partner. "Unless..."

Leah didn't like Jacob's tone. "Unless what?"

"He escaped before anyone could notice—"

"He would be over a hundred years old now. Not in his mid-twenties like Bella described…" Leah's words trailed off as a theory popped into her head. A theory she would have never considered months ago. "Unless he was turned back in 1918 to offset his illness."

Jacob snapped his fingers. "Bingo."

"So, he's a vampire… Well, he must be working for the Volturi or their allies. Maybe he doesn't want the truth behind Jessica's death to come out because of incrimination."

Jacob shook his head. "No, they wouldn't go to Bella and ask for a favor. They would just take Jessica's body or force the court to do so. No, he must be working for the Cullen's or the Denali's—they also have an interest in this investigation."

"Mike Newton didn't mention anything about this Edward being a part of the Cullen family."

Jacob frowned. "No, he did not."

"A new affiliate, then?"

"Something tells me no."

Forty minutes later, Leah called Paul as she waited for her partner to pick up a quick breakfast— to give Jacob a peace of mind. As soon as the captain picked up, she said, "Edward Anthony Masen, heard of him?" She could hear Paul's men in the background barking out commands and shuffling things; they must be preparing for a raid. "Sorry, I—"

"Damn, I haven't heard that name since... rookie year?" Paul replied, nosily pushing back his chair. "Wait—Cameron, stop messing around and hurry the hell up! I swear that guy's gonna give me a fucking heart attack." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, we got an interesting arrest warrant to serve to an interesting gang in the next hour. Anyway, yeah that Edward-guy. Heard his name in passing, but never investigated or talked to him."

"Did he work for the Olympic?"

"We never confirmed his association. Captain didn't deem it necessary," Paul said. "Frankly, we all kinda thought he was some low-level thug who dressed nice. Why you ask?"

"You heard about Bella?"

"Why do you think I'm running on two hours of sleep?" Paul grumbled, adding a yawn as an effect.

"Apparently, this Edward was the one who visited Bella."

"That was him?" Paul snorted. "Like I said: low-level. No one in their right mind would visit a damn coroner ten o'clock at night to stop an autopsy — especially not the Dahlia's. You're gonna need an act of God to pull that off. I wouldn't even worry about it."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Leah quickly replied, though she did have some doubts. Everything about this situation just seemed too fishy and… bizarre.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll look into it."

"Thank you," Leah said. "And for the record, it's not for me. It's for Jacob, you know how he gets. And the investigation."

"I'll let you know if I find anything. Cameron, if I have to tell you one last time— Hey, Leah, I gotta go."

Leah chuckled as she heard the commotion and then a crash in the background. "Please don't kill Jared. He hasn't even reached twenty-five yet. He's practically a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Bye, Paul, and have fun with your warrant."

"What did he say?"

"He'd check it out," Leah told Jacob as he got into the car. She thanked him for the coffee before carrying on, "Said he's heard of him, but as far as he knows, he's a nobody."

"A nobody wouldn't pull a stunt like that."

"Yeah," Leah had to admit while taking a sip of her coffee. It was steaming hot; just what she needed. "Yeah, I know, but he also said that there's no chance in Hell would anyone stop the Dahlia's autopsy. The case is too hot. The media will have a field day if they find out…"

"Unless it's done without them finding out," Jacob said.

"Someone's going to talk eventually," Leah insisted.

"You'd be surprised."

"Okay, Detective Black and Uley, what do you have for me?"

"We have reasons to believe that Jessica Stanley involved with a criminal organization known as the Olympic, controlled by the Cullens and the Denalis," Leah replied, grateful that this meeting finally commenced.

It had been six days since Jessica Stanley was found mutilated the suite of a luxury hotel. The cause of her death still hasn't been finalized. No suspects. No clear motive. Just one thing: the victim had some connection with the criminal underworld.

It was a step, albeit a small one, but it still something.

"Based on what?" the captain asked, expression dismayed by Leah's statement.

"We discovered the family's brand in the inside of Jessica's wrist. The one generally reserved for any prospective associates."

"We double-checked with Captain Lahote, and he verified this," Jacob added.

The captain looked down at the photo. He didn't seem too impressed. "Your only evidence is a brand?"

"And testimony from her roommate and friends," Jacob quickly added, glancing at Leah. She looked straight ahead. "According to them, she was only working as a part-time waitress, but when Uley and I checked her apartment—"

"Her roommate was fully cooperative and showed us Jessica's room without provocation," Leah interjected.

Just in case.

"Yes," Jacob said. "Jessica's closet was full of, rough estimate, over a million dollars' worth of items."

"Not including a priceless antique," Leah added. "If you look at the third picture in a pile, you will see a necklace like the one from the movie, Titanic, but with a ruby."

The captain checked the third photo and raised an eyebrow as he held it up. "Trust fund?"

"None."

"Parents? Close relatives?"

"She's an only child from a working-class background. Her family's originally from the backcountry of Oregon," Jacob stated. "Parents dead from a car accident. The closest relative we found is an uncle, and he's... let's just say, I doubt he's been funding Jessica's lifestyle."

"I see."

"We need a search warrant," Leah said.

"I suppose you do," the captain replied. "Also, run a check on his uncle and see if you can reach to him."

"Will do, captain," Jacob said, "And the warrant?"

"Give me half an hour."

"So, why the transfer?"

"Apparently, I'm a bitter bitch," Leah casually replied, flashing back to that eventful meeting with her former partner and captain. "His exact words."

They were having one of those heart-to-heart conversations. The daily ones. The hourly ones. The ones that usually happened on Lake Shore Drive because of traffic or an accident. The ones that Leah begrudgingly looked forward to because it was nice to vent to someone besides her dear friend, Aisha, and to a lesser extent, her mother.

Jacob winced. "Ouch."

"He caught me at the worst, possible time. Called me minutes after I found Sam in bed with her, complaining about something trivial. Something that could have probably waited until the morning…Now, did I have to lash at him like I had? No, of course not. But the captain thought it would be best for me to... work in a different climate."

"Away from Sam."

"Away from Sam during the work day," Leah clarified. "It is what it is. And I like working with you more."

Jacob fought a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're not a dumb ass. You tend to think before you act." Leah softly chuckled. "It's refreshing to be around someone who's competent."

Though Leah's attention was outside, she could practically picture Jacob's grin.

"I like working with you, too."

"Yeah?"

Their eyes met, but Jacob broke it off. "Yeah."

Sasha and Vasili Denali found dead. Two to the head. Stakes to the chest.

Thirty hours of absolute radio silence and this was the text message Sam sent to Leah— A double homicide. Supposedly a double homicide.

There was something about the circumstance that bothered Leah until no end. A conversation about their relationship; that was all they needed to have to go forward, and Sam wouldn't even consider it. She was going to have to force it out of him.

She had received the text roughly two minutes after successfully executing the search warrant at Lauren's apartment. She had been in a relatively good mood, even considered taking up Jacob's offer for some stuffed-pizza at Giordano's (diet, be damned). When she read the text for the first time, she thought Sam was pulling her long.

But then she reread it.

And again.

"What is it?" Jacob asked.

"Sasha and Vasili Denali were both found dead with two bullets in the head and stakes in their chest..." Leah slowly read.

Jacob froze. "Come again?"

Sasha and Vasili Denali, two important members of the Denali family—she knew about them. Every single employee at the Chicago Police Department knew about them. Heck, even those at the academy did as well. The family ran a criminal enterprise, just like the Cullens and the Volturi, but was much more open about it.

Their leader was Tanya Denali. A gorgeous woman who created and ran a secret society in downtown Chicago (think Free Masons, but with a lot more money, even more secrecy and a lot of vices—supposedly). No one knew who was on the member list. No one knew exactly where the society held its meetings or if the cocaine den (or the supernatural) rumors were true. But the police knew it existed and had been spending the last twenty years trying to infiltrate.

They didn't want to involve the FBI.

The Denalis were also an integral aspect of what was referred to as the "blood trade." Similar to the illegal organ trade, the blood trade involved the distribution and selling of human blood (and at times, synthetic and animal "vegetarian" blood). This was a huge problem (and the ATF was all over that), because of the rumors concerning where this blood came from. No one really knew, but even a rookie could hypothesize that it came from some "unlucky" humans.

Before learning about the supernatural, Leah had investigated a few cases involving the blood trade and its apparent omnipresence in some underground "vampire goth clubs." These clubs were just what Leah had thought them to be—dingy bars full of misguided teenagers and twenty-something years old, obsessed with the supernatural, completely turned on by the concept of drinking blood and had aspirations of doing whatever it took to become immortal. It' a subculture; Leah's old captain had told her. More like a cult, in Leah's opinion.

Also, the Denalis had been in cahoots with the Cullen's for years, even agreeing to form a joint enterprise commonly referred to as the "Olympic." But rumor had it was that the families intended to strengthen their bond via marriage between Tanya and the Cullens' number two man. Now according to everyone, including Mike, that person was Jasper Whitlock, an enforcer, and a constant presence at court, serving as a family representative right beside the notorious Rosalie Hale. But Leah, for some reason she couldn't fathom, didn't think Jasper was the number two guy. She had witnessed interactions with Jasper and Carlisle, even before she had known about their vampirism, and they were strictly about business. No warm feelings at all—an oddity for a "family."

She could be wrong.

But identifying the number two guy was outside of her jurisdiction. That was Paul's problem.

However, with the Denalis… they were going to be everyone's problem because the family was a close-knit one. Much more than the Cullen's seemed to be. To them, family was everything; nothing came before the family, and if the family was attacked…

"Sasha and Vasili are both dead. Sam's on the case," Leah said. "We gotta tell Paul."

"I have a feeling he already knows—Fuck."

"This is what's going to happen. We'll give him the evidence the moment we enter his office. Let him make the decision."

Leah listened to Jacob as they both walked into their precinct. It was eleven in the morning, and the place was bustling with everyone running around and the phone ringing off the hook. Leah tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone while Jacob greeted everyone with a wave or a fist bump— he was a personable guy, Leah wasn't, and she accepted that.

When she had entered the station for the first time, around a month ago, she had been concerned about the lukewarm reception she had received from everyone who hadn't been her captain or the secretary. It had been days since she had found about Sam and the involuntary transfer; she had admittedly been in a terrible mood, but only if everyone who wasn't Jacob had given her a chance...

She shook the thought out of her head. This wasn't the time; not when she was expected to discuss with her captain about the new evidence that was about to go into police custody.

"The quicker this is done, the quicker we can get lunch," Leah said, painfully forming a smile. She ignored some of the looks from her coworkers; Paul had been right. Gossip spread like wildfire in this place.

Leah didn't expect to found Paul standing inside her captain's office with his hands in his pockets, sporting a deep scowl. Her supervisor was sitting behind his desk with his hands folded on top it, frowning. Not out of irritation or anger, but out of frustration; the lines on forming his forehead proved it.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Leah and Jacob took their seats and waited for either captain to speak.

Their captain did, tightening his hands and clearing his throat multiple times. He reached out for his coffee and said in a forlorn voice, "I'm sure you've heard about the Denali murders."

The captain looked at Leah. "Sam told you?"

Leah shoved her hands in her pockets. She didn't know what to say—she liked the captain; he had never given her many issues, so she had no reason to lie to him. She didn't think it was a big deal about Sam name-dropping the subjects of his newest investigation to someone from another precinct; there might have been a provision against it in the code of conduct, but no one paid attention to it.

"Yes," she quietly admitted. "He told me this morning. But—"

Leah was cut off by the captain's hand. He didn't appear upset with her, much to her chagrin. He didn't seem surprised at all. "I thought so," he said.

"Are you sure it's murder?" Jacob asked. "Not murder-suicide?"

"Oh, it's murder," Paul confirmed. "People don't shove stakes into themselves. Not even them."

"Not even them," the other captain repeated, loosening his hands. "Well, I suppose you have some information to provide. Starting with the results from the warrant."

Jacob nodded and placed the plastic bag containing a box onto his boss' desk. "Yeah, this is something you need to see in person."

As Paul approached the desk, the captain gave the detectives a look before putting on gloves and carefully pulling the box out of the evidence bag. The moment he opened it, he immediately closed it.

Paul cursed.

"There was no problem retrieving it?" the captain asked carefully.

The detectives shook their heads.

"This doesn't get out to the press," Paul told the captain in a voice he generally used with unruly rookies.

The captain groaned, frustrated, as he reopened the box, revealing the most expensive thing he had ever seen in his life. A priceless diamond and ruby necklace. He then looked up at the other captain and said, annoyed, "They're going to find out—"

"I don't care how you do it, but suppress it. If this gets out, we're fucked."

"Why?" The captain challenged. "Because this is worth than all of the salaries and pensions put together? We've handled much more expensive merchandise."

Leah's eyebrows drew together as Jacob rose his. Their captain—he must not have known about the necklace's owners. They both rose from their seats, sensing that the captains were moments away from engaging in a conversation that was beyond the detectives' pay grade.

"I'll leave you two—" Jacob started but was cut off by his captain.

"Both of you stay," the captain ordered, and then turned his attention back to Paul. "Captain?"

Paul didn't want to reply. The look on his face clearly showed he wanted to squash the entire conversation. But the captain looked determined; he wasn't to just let Paul leave without a proper explanation. "Because it belongs to Sulpicia Volturi."

Leah found it amazing how much her captain's expression changed when the realization dawned on him. "Excuse me?"

"She had reported it missing some time back. Even hired a couple of goons to—"

The captain looked beyond Paul and asked his detectives, "How the hell did this necklace end up in the Dahlia's possession?"

"That's what we're in the process of trying figure out, captain," Jacob quickly replied.

Leah nodded in agreement.

"Well, figure it out fast."

"So, I have a suggestion, and I'm pretty sure you're not going like this," Paul started. He had that expression on his face that was usually used for asking the chief for more resources. "But it would be in everyone's best interest if the necklace is put under my unit's custody."

Paul was right, but the detectives' captain wasn't having it. "That necklace is prime evidence for the Dahlia case," he said, shaking his head. "Like Hell am I going to release it to you."

"Hear me out: they're going to find out about the necklace. About the fact that we have it, and they're going to try to take it back." Paul looked at Jacob and Leah, and explained. "It's important to Sulpicia because it was like some wedding gift." He turned his attention back to the skeptical captain. "You can still use the evidence, but you know, and I know that they wouldn't dare step foot in my station to retrieve it."

"You said that she was most likely connected to the Olympic," the captain asked his detectives, staring at the piece of jewelry, astonished and forlorn. "Did you not?"

"Yes," Jacob said.

"Fine," the captain reluctantly said, slamming a fist on the desk. "Paul, the necklace is yours," he decided, rolling his eyes at Paul's sigh of relief. "You guys are going to need this more than I do."

"But it's prime evidence, like you said," Leah contested, ignoring Jacob's pointed gaze. "We need it for the case."

"Oh, we're going to use it," the captain assured. "When there's a trial. For the meantime, Paul's unit is going to safeguard. None of those gangs would get their hands on it, am I right, Captain Lahote?"

"Absolutely," Paul said, smirking as he picked up the evidence. And then, "I think it's about time to talk about the joint initiative."

"Captain La—"

"A gang war is brewing, you know that."

"My people handle violent crime cases," the captain reminded Paul. "Major homicides, not gang wars."

"The Dahlia case is connected to this upcoming gang war," Paul argues. "Look, I'm not asking for your entire squad to work with me..." he trailed off and stole a glimpse at the detectives. "Just them two."

Leah caught Jacob peeking at her out of the corner of her eye; he was waiting for her reaction. She didn't have one; she was caught in the middle.

"No."

"They're on the Dahlia case," Paul said. "We need them to work with us. They can still work on the case, but—"

"Why don't you ask the other Uley?" the captain interjected. "Isn't he on the Denali case?"

"I already did."

"And?"

"He's on board."

The captain sighed. "I'll give you an answer on Friday."

Once the meeting was over, Paul pulled both Leah and Jacob aside. He checked around their surroundings to make sure they were out of sight of any onlookers and eavesdroppers. When the coast was confirmed as cleared, he said one name in a hushed voice, "Edward Masen."

The detectives exchanged a puzzled look.

"Your guy," the captain clarified. "The one you asked about a couple of days back? Yeah, he works for the Cullens."

Leah brought a hand to her mouth. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Paul said, "And he's not just a scrub."

Jacob frowned. "But you said—"

"I know what I said, Jacob," Paul snapped. He took a deep breath before adding, "He's been working underground up until last month. I know a guy; said he knew this Edward and his description fit to a T."

"Can we arrest him?" Leah asked. "At least, for attempting to obstruct?"

"No can do, Detective," Paul said. "He's off-limits."

Leah couldn't believe her ears. "And why is that?"

"Because of the fucking Deal," Jacob grumbled, slamming a fist into his palm. "Well, that's just terrific. First major lead and we can't even bring him in."

"Not in our unofficial jurisdiction," Paul added, shaking his head. "But this information should prove helpful for your case even if you can't technically, well, legally, do anything with it."

"So," Leah started, rubbing her chin and staring off to the distance, musing. "I don't think he or the Cullen's did it." She explained when the men gave her curious looks. "Why would he incriminate himself and his employer by visiting Bella and he wasn't even sneaky about it? I mean, that would be just stupid."

"Are you saying that the Cullens are covering for someone else's work?" Jacob asked.

"Maybe they don't want anyone to find out. At all," Leah offered. "I mean, the Cullen's, they're, you know. If the autopsy goes through and it's made public, it may lead to assumptions…"

"It may out us all," Jacob said.

"Especially since the coroner's already decided that the bite killed Jessica on her neck," Leah added. "So, maybe the Cullen's didn't kill her, but they know her killer, and they don't want us to get involved in bringing those involved to justice."

"They want to do things their way—"

"Okay, but if you're going on the retaliation tangent, why retaliate by killing her?" Paul asked. "No offense, but she was a waitress, a college student. A human, they shouldn't give a rat's ass about her. She's nothing in their eyes."

"Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with her, per se," Leah said. "Maybe it was something she was involved in. Or possessed?"

"They did that over a necklace?" Paul asked. "Then why is it now in our possession? They could have just taken it from Jessica's place... I don't think they knew she had it."

Jacob shook his head. "No, if they did, Lauren would've been dead as well."

"Exactly," Paul said. "So, using this theory, they or their friends were after something else."

"What we have to do is find out what she was doing that night," Jacob said. "What's up with all of these trips and things that she obviously couldn't afford to buy on her wages, and how she got that necklace…"

"The Cullens gave it to her?" Paul suggested.

"Why would they do that?" Jacob asked. "Unless they were trying to frame her, but no one would ever think a human would be able to pull that off. That necklace belongs to the Sulpicia of the Volturi."

"Or maybe someone from the Volturi did?" Leah suggested. "Who else could have gotten possession of it without worrying about being hunted down?"

"She could have been messing with both sides," Paul said. "As fucking crazy as that sounds. And there's another problem: the Denali's murders. Tanya Denali is in charge of that family and is no Carlisle Cullen. I know she's out for blood."

"Looks like you have your plate full."

"Yeah, what else is new?" Paul said, rolling his eyes. "Look, I have a bad feeling about all of this, which is why I asked your captain about you two working with my people and others about this case… And I'm warning you; the feds are going to get involved."

"They don't have to," Leah insisted. "We do have this under control."

"Yeah, the last thing this department said that we had a goddamn month-long supernatural gang war. Why do you think my special unit was created?"

"Good morning, Mr. Newton."

"Oh, if only you two weren't goddamn cops…"

The detectives' chuckles died down as soon as Mike Newton swiveled his chair to face the newcomers. The usually well-put-together businessman looked anything but. He was sitting behind his desk, trying to sit up straight in his seat without wincing. His hands were wrapped with bandages, and his face, though clean, had seen better times.

Jacob cleared this throat as he pulled up a chair with Leah sitting down next to him.

"Are you okay?" Leah carefully asked.

Mike looked up at Leah and swallowed. "I rather not talk about it," he mumbled, reaching out for his water bottle. He winced as he unscrewed the cap. "I'm fine," he added with a forced smirk.

He wasn't fine.

Jacob shared another look with his partner and sat up further in his seat, straightening his jacket. He studied the man who was struggling to take a sip of his water, and sighed. "They paid you a visit," he said.

Mike scowled at the bottle in his hand. "I rather not talk about it."

"You're a Swiss player," Jacob carried on. "Everyone knows that. What could the Volturi possibly be mad at you about?"

Mike shot the detective a dirty look. "Are you trying to get me killed?" he accused through gritted teeth. He let out a small but pained groan as he lifted the bottle to his mouth.

"If they wanted you killed, you'd be dead already," Leah pointed out. She might not know exactly everything that Jacob did, but she knew how the Volturi operated. Everyone did.

"Look—"

Jacob put up his hands. "Okay fine, we won't talk about it…We have a question for you. Just one: hypothetically speaking, if you were a human, itching to work for the Olympic, what job would you do?"

Mike Newton carefully put down the bottle and dropped his gaze. "I—I thought I told you that I didn't know anything about the Dahlia's murder… or what happened to the Denalis."

"We're being hypothetical," Leah reassured him. Thank goodness for Mike's sake that he wasn't on the witness stand. Jenks would have eaten him alive and enjoy every moment of it.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't pull that bullshit with me," he grumbled and then apologized. He must have remembered that he was dealing with detectives who could and would personally deliver him to the assistant state attorney's office. "Sorry."

"Rough night?"

Mike let out a dejected sigh. "Rough night.," he confirmed. He cleared his throat and knocked a couple of times on the desk. "So, hypothetically speaking: if I somehow managed to get into the Olympic, as a human, I would be nothing but a low-level associate. Nothing fancy."

"They're not a fan of humans," Leah concluded.

"It's not that… well, not exactly. According to them, humans make things complicated," Mike said. "They serve as a liability more than anything. So, any human working for them has a job not worth bragging about."

"A like a busboy?" Leah offered.

"Yeah, like a busboy."

"How about a mistress?" Jacob suggested. "A plaything?"

"A plaything," Mike said. "Not a mistress. Esme would've never allowed that."

"But she would allow a plaything?" Leah asked.

"Of course," Mike said nonchalantly with a shrug. "Hey, in their world, there's a big difference between the two. For one, most mistresses are vampires."

"Ah," Jacob said, nodding. "So, going along with this plaything-theory, besides the obvious, what does that entail?"

"It depends."

"On?"

"How much the boss trusts you."

"And what if he does?"

"He may let you go on a run or two," Mike's usual, conniving smirk finally appeared. "As an incentive."