“Get more people looking for Phillip. Track the money, the shell company—MMT.”
“And Rob?” Michael asked.
“I’ve got a bad feeling.” I reached for the top of my chair. My fingers blanched as I held onto the leather. “I remember…” What the fuck? The thought was there and gone.
Turning, my gaze met Michael’s. “I need to talk to Albert. It’s something I think Madison said to me.”
“I’ll text him and tell him to come see you.”
“Thank you.” As I spoke, my cell phone lying on top of my desk vibrated. The nameLenaappeared on the screen. “I need to take this. Get me that report, and I want to be up to date on both Phillip and Rob. Also, detail the new security. I want you to work with Leonard and Flora from Sherman and Madison. They’ve been concentrating on cybersecurity. Leonard recently sent me an email. I’ll include you on the thread if it’s pertinent.”
“Yes, sir.” Michael stood.
I lifted my phone. Hitting the green icon, I greeted Lena. “Can you hold a minute?”
“Sure, Van. Nothing happening here.”
I heard her sarcasm, loud and clear. Thankfully, being shot hadn’t taken away all my intuitiveness. Hitting mute, I looked up at Michael. “Is there something else?”
“I started my career as a cop in Chicago.”
With Lena waiting, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for Michael’s life story.
“Nine years in,” he continued, “I was involved in a shooting. I was shot and I shot someone. That person died.”
Remorse infiltrated his normal bravado, garnering my attention.
“The police force, CPD,” he went on, “they made me do counseling. Mostly it was bullshit, but one of the things I remember, what I just remembered—after nearly fifteen years—was they said the mind, sometimes it can’t handle too much shit. Sometimes it hides it. Sometimes it decides to show you shit when you least expect it.”
“Thank you, Michael.”
“What I’m saying is getting out of the city, being here…I could get used to it.”
“It’s working well.”
“Also, those things you can’t retain…that isn’t permanent. Even a man like you…shit is still shit whether you’re a beat cop in Chicago or you’re you. Don’t get mad at yourself. It will all come back.”
I let out a breath.
Donovan Sherman getting a pep talk from his security.
Welcome to my fucking upside-down world.
“This is working well, Michael. We’ll talk later.”
“Yeah…” He nodded as he opened the door to the office and slipped away, closing the door in his wake.
After staring at the door and wondering about Michael’s backstory, I remembered the phone in my hand. Walking to the window, I stared out at the snow-covered trees, hit the unmute icon, and brought the phone to my ear. “Lena, talk to me.”
“Did you know that Stephen McCook passed away two years ago?”
Stephen McCook.
“No,” I replied honestly, uncertain of who he was.
“Two years ago, just prior to Anastasia McGrath offering her home as collateral for Wade Pharmaceutical.”
I remembered. “The executor of Herman’s will.”