"I'll make sure you get a partner with experience."
"I'd rather work alone." Breaking in a new partner, even for the short-term, sent fucking nails down his mental chalkboard.
"Tough." His father tossed the comment over before he lifted his coffee to his lips. “I have just the person. Comes highly recommended from people I trust.”
He narrowed his eyes at his old man and chose to ignore the fact he’d have a new partner before long. Instead he zoned in on his dad drinking coffee. "I thought you were supposed to be giving up caffeine?” He watched his father as the man took a long drink. His dad had a health scare last year. High blood pressure, which was now under control, but his mother hovered like a fucking Blackhawk helicopter. She'd topple the best of them with her machine guns of guilt, motherly-wifely love, and yes, intimidation. He’d seen her lock and load those sons of bitches and then fire with relentless precision if she thought anyone in her family wasn't toeing the line. She should've been an investigator, not a legal aid worker.
“As far as your mother knows, I have.” He shrugged, spun, and leaned against the counter. “The Treyson Empire is breathing down everyone's neck. Samuel Treyson was the anointed one. The old man has three more sons, but they're still kids. Samuel was being groomed to take over for Sebastian Treyson. According to one of his lawyers, the old man is flying back from Switzerland as we speak. Samuel's wife has arranged a time to identify his body.”
He nodded. “I stopped by the Treyson residence prior to coming here. I was met at the door by no less than four attorneys and a pack of reporters shouting questions so damn loud I could hardly hold a conversation. They ‘scheduled’ a time for Mrs. Treyson to speak to me.” He shook his head and took another sip of coffee. “So, until three-thirty this afternoon, Jordan and I will be working Samuel Treyson’s last hours.” He smiled into his coffee cup.
“Oh, son, I’ve seen that look before. What do you have that Treyson’s lawyers don’t know you have?”
“The less you know the better. Plausible deniability would be a good thing.” He waggled his eyebrows at his father. He was screwing with his old man. He'd never put him in a bad light.
“Answer one question for me.” His father turned to face him.
“Sure.”
“What you have, it’s legal and admissible, right?” His father poured the remainder of his coffee into the small break room sink.
Although that question hurt, Brock kept his expression blank as he stared at his father. "That stung."
His old man scrubbed his face and then sighed, “Fuck. I'm sorry. The pressure on this one is mighty heavy. I trust you with my life and, incidentally it would seem, my livelihood.”
“Believe me, I understand. I'm doing this by the book. I don't want to be the stumbling block in this case." It wasn't like he'd be violating Treyson's fourth amendment rights. The man was dead after all. He'd call his contact Cliff, at the District Attorney's office, to validate his actions before he pressed forward with his investigation, but he was on solid ground. He frowned as he thought about the phone he'd just dropped off at evidence. Damn it. That meant he had to go back downstairs and get it after Cliff gave his official blessing. The GPS hits off cell phone towers when the phone was active would be the easiest way to trace the man's last twenty-four, and those were always critical when investigating a homicide.
There wasn't a security code, and after the crime scene technicians had dusted it for prints, he’d been able to access everything on the man’s cell. He would use the man’s apps to his advantage. After he called Cliff and made it legal, he’d direct the techies in cybercrimes to download all the information they could from the phone. There were volumes of emails and texts. From past cases, he knew he could access them, but he could never use anything he found in court. They'd have to get a warrant to keep it admissible. Cliff should be able to find a judge not intimidated by the Treyson name. He hoped.
His father’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Make sure it’s airtight. If you get anything from those leads, we need to ensure the evidence and procedure is rock solid.” Apparently, his father had been thinking the same thing.