ac‧com‧plice [uh-kom-plis] –noun
a person who knowingly helps another in a crime or wrongdoing, often as a subordinate
Life is full of choices, she mused to herself. I could be hanging out with OC, but no, I’m hanging upside down five stories up for
He’d explained, in great detail, of course, why he needed them and what bad guy was going down and how evil he was, but Max hadn’t paid attention to the details. All she cared about was getting information on her brothers and sisters.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when the guy’s phone rang.
“Yes?” His voice sounded a bit desperate. “Finally! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?” I know how long I’ve been waiting, thought Max.
“Here? But- alright. Alright. Yeah. How long -? What! No, it’s just-“ The guy sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.” The guy hung up the phone and glared at it for a full minute before he pulled two files out of his desk drawer.
“Calazone better appreciate what I’m doing for him,” the guy muttered to himself. Calazone? But that’s what
“Detective,” he greeted. Max’s eyes widened as she recognized one of
“Prachett,” he responded. “Do you have it?” Prachett nodded and handed Matt the thin file.
“That’s all I could find. I think someone must’ve pulled stuff from the file before I got to it.” Matt flipped through the file, frowning.
“There’s nothing useful in here. I thought you said you had stuff that would help break Calazone’s organization.”
“I thought I did, Detective. As I said, someone must’ve come in and taken everything else.” Matt stared at Prachett for a long time before looking back down at the file in his hands.
“Fine. I’ll go ahead and take this, but you’ll let me know if you find anything else.” It was not a question, but Prachett nodded anyway.
“Of course, I will. Calazone’s evil, and he should be taken down.” Matt shook his head slightly, then turned and left.
Prachett slumped back in his chair, clearly relieved. He started to reach for the drawer with the rest of the file, but stood up instead.
“I’ll deal with the rest of it tomorrow.” Max grinned, and went to work.
* * *
She dropped the file on
“Thanks,” he said. She just shook her head and turned to leave. She stopped at the doorway and glanced back; he was already rifling through the papers.
“Oh,” she called, then continued when he looked up at her, “you might let Matt Sung know I got that file after he had his little chat with Prachett.” He opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but she just smiled her cat’s smile and left.