Bloodlust

5 | Arctic

The devil works hard but Zoella De Rossi works harder.

I got to hand it to the girl, she sure knows how to make herself invaluable. Having a hacker at my disposal is highly beneficial but sometimes I think it's a waste of natural talent. She shouldn't have dropped out of MIT but I get why she did it. And honestly? I can't blame her.

Once a place is tainted with betrayal and pain, it's hard to go back. She couldn't walk those halls anymore. Be in that place. Too many memories. Too many whispers. Too many triggers.

Even though I took care of it, she couldn't go back. The damage was done. It's a shame though. She could've been somebody. She could've done something important. Something that she was passionate about. Maybe she still can. Her scars might fade completely and she'll forget. She could be one of the lucky ones.

Someone has to be.

I'm lucky in a different way... I get to reap the benefits of her suffering. I don't like it but it is what it is. That's what I tell myself.

That's what my father told me.

People are like rags, Camilla. Use them to keep your house clean, and when the rag becomes dirty and full of holes, throw it out.

My father threw out a lot of rags. Too many to count.

But his house was always clean.

At least on the surface.

Everyone has a junk drawer.

"Let's find yours," I hum to myself, taking a sip of straight vodka as I flip through the dossier Zoey compiled on Judge Keegan.

From the looks of it, Fred Keegan is a stand up citizen turned public servant. Grew up in the suburbs of Maine. Finished highschool with a clean record. Went to law school. Worked for an NGO before applying for a judgeship. Married a rather plain looking first grade teacher. Has a kid that's three years old and one still being cooked.

Bo-ring.

This is all shit I'd be able to find by doing a Google search. I purse my lips, frowning as I flip to my favorite section: financials.

Show me your junk, Fred.

I scan pages upon pages of financial records, hoping to find something I can use against him. Something that will give me leverage in case he decides to try and make a name for himself.

So far... nothing.

A hefty mortgage. Few lines of credit. Bank accounts look clean. Groceries, bills, random stores. Nothing special. He's clean. Too clean. I slam the rest of my drink. Something's not sitting right with me. I rummage through the papers, looking at monthly debit card transactions. Hmm. This might be something. I pull out my cell phone and call Zoey.

"Hi, Cami, what's up?"

"I'm going through Keegan's financials right now and on the last Wednesday of every month there's an ATM withdrawal of around six hundred dollars," I say, chewing my lip as I double-check each monthly statement. "What's he doing with all that cash?"

"Hmm... I don't know," Zoey says, the sound of a keyboard clacking in the background. "But—" She pauses for a moment. "All those withdrawals came from the same ATM."

"Really?" I ask, accidentally waking up Pinto as I shift my position on the couch. Shit. I pout, petting between his ears as I mouth 'sorry baby'. "Where's the ATM located?"

"One sec," she says as I play with Pinto's floppy ears, impatiently waiting for an answer. "Okay, so that particular ATM is on Grand, just off of Essex." She pauses. "Also, it seems that the withdrawals are usually done around the same time. Between 10 pm and 11 pm."