My Past is My Present
Part Two

Even as she slammed her car door behind her, on the seemingly empty street, she knew that in the black van a few cars down sat members of the FBIs gang taskforce. Those very people were trying to bring down her brother and her family and though she sympathized with their cause she didn't like them going after her family. She took a deep breath and then walked across the street to the warehouse-turned-club. For a moment she paused in front of the building and stared up at the name: Abyss. A name that had a special meaning to her brother, but to her only the textbook dictionary definition was the meaning. She pulled open the door and stepped into the front entryway. To her left was a security booth and to her right sat a door labeled "Coatroom". Across from her were double doors that were propped open against the walls.

"We're closed," she heard from her right as she stepped through that open doorway.

"I'm looking for Kieran O'Grady," she commented as she walked towards him.

He leaned back against the bar and closed the book that was open on the stool beside him, "He's not here, Officer."

His tone showed his obvious distaste for cops and she could understand why. However, she was a federal agent, not a cop. The tips of the fingers on her left hand brushed against the shield clipped to her belt. Maybe she should have taken it off before she walked in. Another step forward and out of habit she moved her coat away from her underarm holster.

"I'm not a cop."

"Your badge and gun say otherwise."

She snickered, "This badge," she took if off her belt and held it out towards him, "makes me a federal agent and we really don't like being called 'cops'."

"Fancy," he seemed more wary then before.

She stared at him for a moment and then pulled her FBI identification from her back pocket and held the wallet out to him. Before he could read her name, however, she had the wallet closed and it was back in her pocket.

"I'm off duty and all I want is to talk to Kieran O'Grady. Will you tell him that I'm here?"

"I told you. He's not-"

She cut him off, "His black Porsche is outside and I've never known him to not drive it when he goes someplace. Try again."

"Leave the poor man alone Aeolyn," her brother said from somewhere above her. "Why are you here? Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but this isn't like you."

"It isn't?" She asked her voice slightly innocent.

He rolled his eyes, "You should know the FBI is watching the club, if they see you here-"

"Doesn't matter, the cat is out of the bag."

"You know her, boss?" the man had moved away from the bar.

She glared at him for the interruption, "Kieran is my older brother. I'm sorry about just now. I tend to be a bit strong."

"Aeolyn, there's a reason you're 'ere and it's not just because you want to see your older brother? You're engaged," Kieran uttered as he grabbed her left hand.

"How astute of you, but that's not why I'm 'ere." She took a deep breath before continuing, "You wouldn't 'appen to know a Michael Paxton would you?"

"Yea, I do. So what?"

She pressed the palm of her right hand against her forehead, "Great. He's dead and the FBI thinks you did it because of convenience."

"Convenience?"

"A man with an Irish accent was 'eard arguing with Paxton two hours before he was murdered along with his assistant."

Kieran snorted, "They think I murdered the man?"

"You were there weren't you?"

"Morgan," the only time he used her first name was when he was annoyed, "I have an apartment in that building. I just bought it two weeks ago and haven't had a chance to move in fully yet. But I've slowly been moving my things into the place."

She yanked her wrist out of Kieran's grasp, "That's not much of an alibi or even a reason for the fight. All they 'ave is circumstantial evidence, but it's enough to send you to jail."

"Dammit." He went over to the bar but spun around as soon as he got there, "Wait. About an hour after I fought with Paxton my girlfriend came over with a few friends. Is that enough to be an alibi?"

"As long as they were there and you were with them during the time of the murder. If not, then you're in big trouble and I don't know if I'll be able to 'elp you," she told him honestly. "Write down their names and phone numbers and I'll give them to my boss."

Morgan jerked awake to loud blaring music. For that moment she couldn't remember where she was. Then a door closed and the music was gone. Then a whispering shuffle of papers caught her attention and she glanced to her right. At the sight of her oldest brother, she relaxed. It was obvious now that she had fallen asleep on his couch.

"Are you alright?" his voice broke the haze.

She tried to smile, "I 'aven't been sleeping well."

"Why not?"

"My neighbors are getting a divorce. They think," she laughed, "that the perfect time to fight is in the middle of the night."

"You could always stay with me," he offered.

"Do you want me to lose my sanity? I don't think so, besides there's always my fiancé," in spite of it all she smiled at him.

"I thought-"

Her laughter rang throughout the small office, "I haven't moved in with him yet. His roommate hasn't been able to find a place to live."

"Do you love him?"

"Would he be my fiancé if I didn't love him?" She glanced over at the windows that looked down over the club. "What time is it?"

He looked peered down at his watch, "Almost seven, why?"

"I think I'll stay with Father tonight."

"Are you insane?"

"Maybe, but someone needs to tell 'im about your little murder charge and it should be from me. Besides, I think a soak in that amazing tub-"

"-that you obviously miss-"

"-would do me good," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Not to mention that wine cellar puts my collection to shame in an instant. Wine always 'elps me when it comes to solving a case."

"Exactly 'ow many guys 'ave been put behind bars that don't deserve it?"

She glared at him, "Do I really have to answer that stupid question?"

"You just did."

Slowly, she stood up from the couch and grabbed her bag from the floor. As she walked over to the door she looked back at him.

"I'm out of 'ere. Father should be there by now. I'd rather not 'ave to use my key."

"Why?"

"Feeling pretty lazy."

Jessica stood up from her desk after casting a look at Morgan's desk, "Has anyone found anything that could clear Kieran?"

"I swear he's our guy," Owen replied without even a glance in her direction.

"Are you basing that on your hatred of the mob or because he's Morgan's brother?" Jay questioned. "Is Kieran really as bad as you think he is?"

"That whole family is bad," came the quick response.

"Even Morgan?" Jessica wasn't buying any of it.

Owen jumped to his feet, "Of course not. I would never-"

"You just said the whole family was bad so I just assumed," She retorted just as fast.

Everyone could see she was only joking but Owen was always one with a quick temper. Jay grabbed the file of pictures from earlier and, with a sideways look at the situation, shoved them at Owen. They fell to the ground and Owen didn't even look down.

"Pryor," Jay snapped. "Look at the photographs and stop being a jerk about the whole situation. Sometimes I wonder how you can get along with Morgan. You're like a child."

Nick choose that moment to bolt into the room, as if there was a lion at his heels. "I found something," he exclaimed once he had caught his breath.

"What?" Owen asked his temper slowly fading away.

"Michael Paxton's wife, Anne, is Victor D'Salvatore's godchild."

Owen smirked, "See? There's the motive."

"Give it a rest Owen and let me finish," Nick hissed. "Paxton apparently has been sleeping around quite frequently. In Uncle Victor's eyes, cheating is punishable by death. Not to mention, Victor and Anne are wicked close. If something happens to Anne then Victor will get involved."

"Are you saying that Victor ordered a hit on Paxton?" Parker asked from the doorway to his office.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. It's plausible and far better than Owen's idea of Kieran being the murderer," Nick responded.

Parker tapped his right index finger against his nose, "Jay, talk to your friends in the gang task force. See if they've heard anything on the streets about a hit. Jessica, call that cousin of yours at the Attorney General's office and see what our options are and if there are any open cases we need to be aware of. Nick talk to forensics and find out if Kieran is connected to the scene. Have them test the stuff from the scene against Morgan's in the database; it'll be a close enough match since we don't have his DNA. Owen go home, you obviously need a break."

By the time he got to Owen in his list of orders, everyone was already doing what he had requested of them. Owen, however didn't move an inch when he finished. Parker lowered his head and rubbed his forehead.

"It's going to be a long night," everyone heard him say as he went back into his office.

Slowly, Morgan raised her right hand and pressed her index finger to the doorbell. In her left hand was the overnight bag she always had in the trunk of her car. The sound of the bell reached her from inside the house, but there was no sound of anyone moving around inside. She pulled her keys from her pocket. From amongst the ten some-odd keys and ornaments she found the correct key. However, before she could place the key in the lock a hand clamped down on her shoulder and she dropped them. A split second later she was spun around.

"Father," she greeted, her voice quieter then what was normal for her.

He appraised her for a second and then turned to his men, "Get a couple of pizzas: cheese, mushroom, and one with peppers and onions."

"Yes-sir," the man replied and she watched him leave.

"Well, are you going to open the door or what?" she was asked and jerked back to look at her father.

"Right," she murmured and knelt down to grab her keys.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to fit the key into the lock. There was a bit of quiet laughter behind her until her father's hand closed over hers and he took over. The look in his eyes told her he knew something was up. Well, of course he did. Why else would she be at his house?

A few minutes later she was sitting at the island in the kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hands. She felt like a little child who was going to be scolded for taking a cookie from the cookie jar. Breyden, her father, was leaning against the stove with a cigarette between two fingers. His eyes were on her and she couldn't meet them.

"I keep telling myself not to ask until the pizza gets here, but I find myself loosing."

For the first time in years, she was struck with how different her father was from the rest of them. He had been completely raised in New York City with no trips outside the country. Her brothers and her had spent whole summers in Ireland and the rest of the year in Maine or Vermont in boarding schools. They also had slight accents whereas he father had only the Brooklyn accent. He also hated Irish beer and preferred wine which she couldn't fully understand.

"I don't feel like going home tonight. My roommate and I aren't really getting along." She made a small noise, "there was a murder of a politician and Kieran was involved…is involved somehow. I was taken off the case and well-"

"Back up," her father interrupted, "you're engaged?"

Of course he had to zero in on that and not the fact that Kieran was possibly involved in a murder. She took a deep breath and a sip of the wine.

"Yes, but that's not the point-"

"How can you be engaged? I never met-"

"Father," she hissed angrily, "Kieran is being framed for murder and you want to talk about my love life?"

"Or your lack thereof?"

"Shut up Aidan," They both shouted at the same time.

Aidan chuckled but grew seriously almost immediately, "We can talk about lack of a love later. Right now I want to 'ere about this murder Kieran is being framed for."

"At least someone cares," she muttered and grabbed the wine bottle. "Wine?" They were going to need it.