He was my first love. My ride or die. The person who’d held me when Mom had passed. The one who’d stayed by my side when my dad and sister had decided it was easier to move overseas than live in the memory of Mom’s pain. He’d been my everything. And when Kieran had died, all my hopes and dreams for the future had gone with him.
I might’ve survived the shooting, but I wasn’t truly alive. Not in any way that mattered.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Agent Williams said with sympathy in her eyes.
That was the other reason I hated having this conversation. It was a real mood killer. People never knew what to say, so it usually resulted in an uncomfortable silence. Or, even worse, an outpouring of pity. It was wasted on me. I didn’t even deserve it.
But I wasn’t catching an awkward vibe from Agent Williams. I figured she was used to dealing with disturbing situations.
“I remember the Romano’s store drive-by.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “There was a lot of Mafia activity at the time. The case was never solved, was it?”
The gangs had failed miserably in their attempt to reclaim turf from the Wolf Street Mafia. Many lives had been lost. Most victims were criminals tangled up with organized crime. But others, like Kieran and me, were innocent bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Except that wasn’t completely true. We’d been there because of me, even though the news had warned that the turf war’s escalation made it a dangerous part of the city. I’d insisted on going to the secondhand bookstore to buy a rare hardcover before someone else snapped it up, and Kieran had reluctantly come along despite trying to talk me out of it.
He was dead because of me.
So much had happened since that day three years ago. I could barely reconcile the hardened woman I was today with the carefree girl I used to be. I was on a different path now. One of my own choosing. I didn’t care how hard I had to work or how long it took. I’d get the thing I wanted most in this world: to find Kieran’s murderer and make him pay.
“No suspects were ever identified,” I said. “The investigation was either completely botched or a total sham.”
Agent Williams’s lips thinned at my accusation, but she said nothing about it.
“I was wondering if you could help with something?” I asked.
“I’m listening, but you’ll have to walk with me. I’m late for a meeting.”
We continued along the red-brick path. Oak trees stood like sentinels on either side, their golden leaves swirling around us on a gust of wind.
“No one was charged with the drive-by because the gunman wore a clown mask.” I shivered at the memory. That hideous image featured front and center in my recurring nightmares. “But I was able to identify a distinguishing tattoo on his forearm. It looked like this.” I opened my backpack and handed Agent Williams a sketch of an eagle, wings outstretched, razor-sharp beak open, and powerful talons flexed, ready to attack. “I think it might be military. Army, perhaps.”
“I’m assuming you gave this to the detectives who were working the case?” she asked as her eyes scanned the picture.
“I did. They said they ran it through a database but didn’t find a match.”
“Then what do you want me to do with this?” She tried to hand the sketch back. I didn’t take it.
“I don’t believe them,” I said.
“You think they didn’t check the database?”
“Or they found a match and covered it up.”
She halted her steps and faced me with a hand on her hip. “That’s a very serious allegation, Ms. Allen.”
“And you’re well aware of how dirty the Philly PD is.”
“It can be difficult to distinguish between incompetence and corruption, but that’s for Internal Affairs to investigate.” She sighed. “A word of advice? You have potential for a promising future with the Justice Department, but if you run around making inflammatory accusations with no hard evidence, you’re going to get a reputation as a troublemaker.”
I nodded because she was right. I needed to be careful not to end my career before it started.
“And another thing.” She stepped closer. “I worked in organized crime long enough to know that putting pressure on the Mafia can lead to unfortunate consequences. I’m not saying to stop pursuing your boyfriend’s case. I’m warning you to do so with care. If the wrong person were to realize what you’re up to, you might end up in more trouble than you can handle.” Agent Williams sent me a meaningful look.
A tingle crept up the back of my neck. The Mob’s influence in Philly was vast. People who spoke out against them were never heard from again. When I thought of what those assholes got away with, I felt sick with rage. Best not to tell Agent Williams what I did in my spare time.
My dad had once told me Philadelphia hadn’t always been so broken. It wasn’t until 9/11, when the FBI changed their focus to international terrorism threats, that the Italian Mafia took hold again. Only this time, they were smarter, more sophisticated, and more powerful than ever. The Wolf Street Mob was like nothing this country had ever known.
“I understand.” I adjusted my backpack on my shoulders. “Do you think you could run the tattoo through the FBI’s database? See if something comes up?”