Judge, Jury, & Executioner

Chapter 10

"Everything is going according to plan," Patrick said, before wiping the whiskey glass with his rag.

He'd always do that. Just stand there and wipe the glasses. Even if they'd been clean the whole time. Ian nodded along, while taking a long gulp of the whiskey in his glass.

"And Fetzer?" He asked.

Patrick nodded before adding. "Doing everything we asked."

Ian ran his hand through his red hair and then finished his glass. Patrick offered more and he declined with a gesture.

"You don't look happy?" Patrick asked, in his Boston-Irish accent.

While Patrick may have been born and raised in the states, his parents were immigrants from Ireland. They spoke such thick accents, even Ian would get confused. A few times he wondered if he himself was Irish. One way or another that developed in Patrick. While he gave it his own flair at times, you could always here if.

"I don't like leaving things to chance," Ian answered, almost regretting not asking for a pint.

Patrick refilled his glass, almost as if he could read Ian's mind. Ian was ten when he met Patrick. He had only been in America for four years, and in that time Ian had managed to not make a single friend. Then, Patrick came along. And what seemed to be the most unlikely of friendships happened.

Patrick, with his balding black hair, (which he nearly lost by the age of twenty), and his six foot ten height made him seem to be the last person Ian would've chosen to be friends. Especially considering Ian's height maxed out at five foot eight. In the years that followed, Patrick became the heavy weight, while Ian barely managed to gain a pound.

Yet through it all, they had become good friends.

"You talk to the boss yet?" Patrick asked, wiping his glasses again.

Ian shook his head no and took a gulp of the pint.

"How big is the blowout gonna be?" Patrick questioned.

"Big. We've taken hits before. But this gonna be catastrophic. Your talking about almost a million dollars in income about to go down the drain because they double crossed us," Ian explained, before taking another gulp.

"Maybe you can find another willing investor."

Ian scoffed and looked around the empty bar. Granted, It was only the afternoon, but He expected more people than just them two.

His phone rang and vibrated in his pocket. Ian stepped away and answered the call from the blocked number.

"McGregor?" He said answering the phone.

"Target two contacted. Awaiting confirmation," they  replied.

Ian paused. He didn't know why. He just had.

"Confirmed," Ian ordered before hanging up.

***

Maddox cleared her throat and continued to watch Reaves from the break room. This was the only room she could see him, but he hadn't seemed to be able to see her. She had made the blinds partially closed so you'd have to be on the inside to see anyway.

He acted like everything was fine. Just sat in at his chair in the conference room, with his feet up on the table reading interviews. Or at least pretending to. She saw him hide his phone inside one of the files and then he'd occasionally laugh at something. A few times Cooke looked at him and he shrugged and pointed at the interview file.

Maddox wasn't sure how long she had actually been in the break room. There was nothing she could do anyway. Until Cooke got done with the computer they had no other leads. Drake had been talking to the family in the lobby. Maddox had opted out of having to console them. She had too much on her mind.

One of those things being Reaves. She hadn't stopped thinking about him the whole time. It had been driving her nuts. Everything made her think about the fact he was back. Why do I care? She kept asking herself. He had been an inconsiderate jerk. And she almost found herself . . . happy? That he was back. The sheer thought made her shiver.

"Maddox!" Cooke yelled from the conference room.

Maddox jumped and smacked her head on a cabinet. She paused and placed her hand on her head for a moment. After regaining her composure, she slowly walked out. Reaves and Cooke were huddled around the computer. Drake joined them and then Maddox entered the room.

"Okay, so the phone that texted Doctor Carson, was a prepaid burner and they paid with cash. So there was virtually no trace on it. But, the bank transfer was a little more enlightening. In fact, I know which bank the account is in. Unfortunately, you'll have to get a warrant to find the name. Which is what you will have to do. But I was wanting to ask if I could go and ask Mr. Whitty's wife recognized the partial phone number. And I can make a list of all the phone numbers with the partial number in it," Cooke said, before grabbing her coat.

Maddox looked at Drake who was staring at Cooke. After glancing back and forth she realized Drake was infatuated. Maddox nodded and then folded her arms.

"You'll need to take one of us with-"

"I can go," Drake interrupted.

Maddox looked at him quizzically and then waved him out. He followed Cooke out and instantly they started talking. Oh yeah, you think she's cute.

"I texted you the bank account number," Cooke said, before they go into the elevator.

Maddox waved and then she turned to see Reaves beside her.

"Dang it. Your still here," Maddox said, before walking to her desk.

Reaves followed her and then sat down in chair next to her desk.

"Oh come on. I'm like that cute irresistible puppy you can't turn away," Reaves said.

Maddox stopped and looked at him. "If I throw a stick, will you leave?"

Reaves smiled at her and then she grabbed her coat. As she walked to the elevator she noticed he was still in the chair. She stopped and turned on her heels.

"Coming boy?" She remarked.

Reaves jumped out of the chair and ran up to beside her. As they walked to the elevator, Maddox put her coat on.

"Really? A puppy?" She asked.

"What? You can't see the resemblance?"