Page 92 of Intolerable Bishop

“He purchased my gambling debt from the bookie that I owed. That was how I ended up under his thumb, and it only got deeper. Well, until I was fired for drinking on the job and was no longer useful.”

“What happened?”

Morrison was quiet as he stared at his hands. “This is hard for me to admit, but I…I showed up to a call drunk. The worst part was that it was a collision involving a drunk driver. There were casualties, and I’m sure you can imagine the shitstorm that caused. Pressure came from above to quit, but Lawrence threatened me to stay on. Ultimately, I was fired. I thought Lawrence would kill me, but he acted totally fine about it. Which, I’ll be honest, worried me more.”

“Again, I completely understand that,” I said, wondering who the new lackey was because if it wasn’t Morrison, then Lawrence had someone else on his payroll.

“While I was working for him, he called me into his office just before you arrived and introduced me to your father, Neil. I was told that I needed to keep an eye on you and make sure that if you left Wayward property to collect you and bring you back. He also made it clear that he didn’t want you hanging around any of the Kings.” Morrison leaned a little closer, his voice dropping. “Look, I don’t know why Lawrence was acting like he wanted to protect you, but he doesn’t do anything without a reason. Maybe he owes your father a favor, or he wants to isolate you to make you more vulnerable. I wish I knew, but whatever it is, it can’t be good. Also, just after Nash approached me and got me enrolled in the rehab place, Mr. McCoy came to see me.”

“Myles?”

“No, his father.”

“Owen came to see you?” He nodded.

“Okay…why?”

“This is where things get weird because I thought Owen was Lawrence’s right hand. He was asking questions about your father. More specifically, he wanted to know if I could run his name and if I knew where he could find him. When I asked why he wanted to know, all he did was smirk at me and say it was family business. I trust Owen less than Lawrence.”

Sitting back in my chair, I stared at Morrison. It didn’t feel like he was lying, and yet it was so hard to know what to believe. This did make me wonder if Lawrence was keeping everyone in the dark about his plans. But if that was the case, why?

“What did you tell him?”

Morrison shrugged. “Not much to tell. It wasn’t like Lawrence ever told me specifics like that. I told him that I didn’t know where he was. The only other thing was that he wanted to know if I’d ever heard the name Mikhailov before. Does that sound familiar to you?”

A cold shiver raced down my spine as I stared into Morrison’s eyes. “Does Lawrence know about Owen coming to see you?”

Morrison shook his head. “No, I figured that it was something best kept to myself. Use it as you will.”

“What did I miss? Nothing important, I hope,” Nash asked, his hands gripping my chair. I leaped up and spun around. He lifted an eyebrow at me in question as I silently swore at him for sneaking up on me again. It was like a favorite game for Nash.

“You just scared the crap out of me,” I said, and he rolled his eyes.

“You scare too easily,” Nash said, and I rolled my eyes. He dismissed me by looking at Morrison. “Anything I should know about?”

Morrison shook his head. “I only mentioned what we have already talked about. I’ve had no new visitors, but I did manage to find this out.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Nash. Curiosity got the better of me, and I started reading over his arm.

“Do you mind?” Nash’s voice was thick with sarcasm, but I didn’t care. I plucked the paper from his fingers and stared at the scribbled note.

Walt

I did what you asked, so we are even now. The new guy requested this detachment, and he took a demotion to come here. Says he has family in the area, but I can’t find any on file, and once you go back fifteen years, I can’t find him at all.

Be careful he looks like he might be a ghost.

LM

“A ghost?” Looking up at Nash and then Morrison, I glanced between the two men for an explanation.

“Could be a couple of reasons, but most likely, he’s an undercover agent,” Morrison said. Nash swore.

“I fucking knew something was off about him. He was way too interested in us and didn’t care who we were. It was like he was hoping we would threaten him. Fuck, just what we need a Fed sniffing around.”

“This could be a good thing,” I said. Nash crossed his arms and leaned against the open doorway. “Think about it. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know that you know. You can purposely set him up to make him look stupid. Have bags of powdered sugar for a baking fundraiser, and call in an anonymous tip. He seizes it and looks dumb. What better way to get someone thrown off a case?”

“Jesus…and you all call me the asshole,” Morrison said but smiled. “Could work. Could end up getting him yanked back to whatever office he’s working from, and if nothing else, he’ll be less eager to keep pulling you over because you could sue for harassment.”

The corner of Nash’s mouth turned up, his eyes locking with mine, and like every other time, I had to look away as my body heated.