“Did you ever help plan a murder?” Angus Force apparently had no problem asking the question.

“Nope.” Sean took out a stack of black-and-white photographs also kept safe in plastic wrap. “These were taken by a friend of mine, and I am in some of them, but I’m just sitting around and talking. Or waiting. There are a couple of Eddie and Tyson that are interesting.”

“Incriminating?” Force asked.

“Not enough,” Sean acknowledged. “But the senator doesn’t know that. Yet.”

“Who took the pictures?” Raider asked.

“Bobby Janetz, who was just a photographer. Did families, some sports events, school dances. We met up at a gambling hall, and he thought it’d be fun to help me gather a little evidence to keep safe. I paid him well.” Sean handed over the pictures to Raider. “He died about a year after taking these pictures from some weird cancer. Right before I met your mother.” He looked at Brigid. “She would’ve liked him. Nice guy. Smoked cigars all the time, and they were the stinky kind.”

Raider set the pictures down and dropped the plastic from the journal to a chair. Then he started flipping through it. Dates, names, and specific crimes were all recorded in heavy, precise handwriting. “You started recording these crimes way before you met Brigid’s mom.”

“Yep,” Sean said.

Brigid leaned around Raider to look at her dad. “So you were planning to get out even before meeting Mom.”

Sean’s expression sobered. “Guys in my line of work didn’t last long, and I figured I’d need some security. I wasn’t loving the life, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. So yeah, I guess I was planning a way out, even if I didn’t know which direction to take.”

The relief that crossed Brigid’s classic face warmed Raider’s chest.

Brigid frowned. “We can just make copies of all of this before handing it over. I don’t see why they want it so badly.”

“They might believe Raider will keep their secrets,” Force murmured. “Worst case scenario for them? They’ll need to know what we have, in order to figure out a countermove, if necessary. Politicians deal with information, and right now, the senator doesn’t have it. It’s that simple.”

Raider cleared his throat. “I can convince them I’m on their side, and they’ll figure they can blackmail me after we do a little business together, so they won’t care if I have copies. It makes sense to work with me on this. So, let’s not waste any time.” He set his cell phone on the table and dialed a number.

“What?” a low voice snapped.

“Raider Times calling for Eddie Coonan. I’m not at the bottom of the ocean.” Raider slipped his New York accent into place.