"Lieutenant Fields."
"Mark."
I heard the hesitation in his voice. "Lorenzo. Good to hear from you. How have you been?" The tremor in his voice was evident.
"Let's cut the crap, Mark. You're obviously aware that my family is being persecuted for a murder we had nothing to do with. All I need from you is some information and nothing more."
"O-kay. Sure. What do you need?"
"What kind of evidence was found on the scene? Murder weapon? DNA?"
"Let me close my door."
I was only a few blocks from the set of corporate buildings housing the FBI field office. For some reason, I was anxious about talking with David.
"Lorenzo? Look, this stuff is real preliminary."
"But enough that my family was already accused in the press."
He snorted. "You know how they are. They take everything out of context."
"Uh-huh. What do you have?"
"Um, there was no murder weapon at the scene but there was some blood found. They had the DNA tested. Let me see if it came back."
Another hold.
Another hesitation.
"Wow. You're not going to believe this. They had the results rushed. The DNA is for the daughter of an FBI agent. Sierra Fox? She's a reporter, I think."
"Interesting. Are they going to arrest her?"
"Not enough evidence," he muttered. "Just listed as a person of interest. A friend of yours?"
"Don't know her. Just trying to clear my family name. Any chance the agent knows yet?"
"Yeah, he has to. He was the lead in charge, taking the case right out of our hands. Looks like that happened thirty minutes after the tests came back. If anything else is known, the Feds haven't shared it with us yet. You're going to have to ask them."
Which I intended on doing personally. My guess was that David was notified and made certain he got the case before anyone found out.
"There's something else. A note attached to the file. The information is supposed to stay locked down." He sighed. "I guess because I was one of the officers on the scene, I was given access."
I had a distinct feeling he'd be locked out soon enough. David certainly wouldn't want this kind of information getting out to the public. He had enough influence with the police commissioner to cut everyone out he didn't want involved.
Exhaling, I knew my discussion with Mr. Fox could prove to be interesting and very helpful. "I appreciate your information, Mark. Keep in mind that we never talked. Is that clear?"
"Yes," he half whispered. "Yes, sir."
"I hope your daughter is doing well," I added.
"Absolutely, thanks to you. I'll never forget what you did."
I ended the call as I pulled into the parking lot. Mark would never forget. That's why I could trust him. He knew the consequences if he broke that trust. I'd taken the time to learn everything about Agent Fox including what he drove, where he enjoyed eating and his address. The crappy little house was a rental, likely a byproduct of his difficult divorce.
As I drove to the quiet yet rundown neighborhood, my thoughts continued to swirl around what had been discussed at the meeting with the alliance. With Michael remaining behind and my proposal accepted by the alliance, I could at least run some ideas past him without my father's knowledge.
I noticed a car in the driveway and several lights on inside the tiny house. If I'd been him, I would have taken the caseload out of the office, trying to keep the findings confidential for as long as possible. Then again, my tactics were entirely different.
I parked on the street almost a block away from his house. The element of surprise would certainly work in my favor.
As I walked toward the small rancher, I searched for any sign of police cars. David seemed to be entirely alone. The man was fractured because of the information. I unbuttoned my jacket and knocked on the front door.
"Yeah?" he called from behind the thick wooden panel.
"I need to speak with you." I knew he'd recognize my voice. Why not be pleasant at this point? I almost snickered at the thought.
"Fuck. Goddamn it," he exclaimed.
When he threw open the door, I was surprised at his disheveled appearance. Even from where I stood, I could see the kitchen table was covered in files and papers, a laptop positioned in the middle. "Agent Fox."
"What the fuck do you want, Francesco? You have a lot of balls coming to my house unless you're ready to turn yourself in," he stated in a demanding tone.
"And you damn well know that no one in my organization had anything to do with the death of that kid. Not our style."
He hesitated, glaring at my open jacket. "As if you have a style. Christ. Did you come here to kill me? That's ballsy even for a monster like you."
I took a deep breath, thinking about how to respond. "I suggest you allow me inside, David, unless you want your neighbors to hear our conversation, especially since I think you're a dirty agent." When he hesitated, I laughed.