Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I wanted to feel Gennadiy’s arms around me again. It made no sense. The man was a killer...but that moment in the graveyard was the first time I’d felt truly safe in years.
I closed my eyes for a second and forced the feeling down inside. Focus, Alison. Who’s the traitor?
I opened my eyes and sneaked a look across the room at Fitch. He was a sexist prick who didn’t like taking orders from me, but murder? I thought back to just after it happened, when I was standing outside my apartment building. He’d been nice, concerned. Did that rule him out, or was he just a good liar?
Or what about Hadderwell? I turned the other way and watched him through the open door of the break room as he poured coffee, swiping through stock graphs on his phone. He was always boasting about playing the market and picking winners. What if he’d been picking losers instead? Maybe he was in debt and had taken a bribe...
The air started to feel hot, the room shrinking, threatening to crush me. The traitor was right here in the building, probably in the same room, and every instinct wanted me to run, but I had to stay passively in my seat and wait for—
A hand thumped down on my shoulder. I yelped and spun around in my chair.
“Sorry.” Halifax scrunched up his brow in concern. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”
I sat there panting for a second. No, I most definitely wasn’t okay. But I couldn’t tell him why, even though I’d known him for years, even though I counted him as a friend, because…
Because it might be him. I hated the thought, but I couldn’t discount it. He’d been so quick to blame Gennadiy. “I’m fine,” I croaked. “Just...you know. It was a long night.”
Halifax nodded somberly. “You shouldn’t even be at work. Go home, get some rest. We’ll keep trying to find something to tie Gennadiy to your apartment. We’ll get the bastard.”
I nodded weakly and stood up. It was almost quitting time anyway, and I couldn’t stay in the office another second. Caroline gave me a worried look as I passed by her desk. Should I tell her? I could really use a sounding board. She could keep her eyes open, maybe help figure out who the traitor was…
But telling her would put her in danger, too, and she had kids. No, I had to figure this out on my own.
I rode home, stopping on the way to get Cantonese takeout, then clumped up the stairs to my apartment. It was weird, being home so early. What do normal people do all evening? Maybe I could find a movie to watch.
I put the takeout bag down on the coffee table and started unpacking cartons...then stopped.
The rug was out of place. One end was all rucked up, like someone had tripped on it. That wasn’t weird in itself: about a million people had been through here the previous night, dusting for prints. Except...I’d straightened the rug before I left. I was sure of it.
I pulled out my gun and moved slowly into the hallway, breathing quietly. I checked the bedroom: nothing. But the door to the bathroom was closed, and I never leave it fully closed. My heart started pounding. I edged towards the door, wishing my leathers didn’t creak so much.
I listened. Nothing. Were they waiting for me, on the other side?
I took three quick breaths, then turned the doorknob and threw the door wide—
The bathroom was empty.
I let out a long sigh, put my gun away, and leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. There was nobody here, but I was sure there had been. I could feel it. Why break into my apartment a second time and just..leave? Nothing seemed to be missing.
I huffed and sat down on the toilet to think. As I sat, something metallic caught the light and glinted under the sink. I got down on my hands and knees and found a small, silver screw lying on the tiles. Where did that come from?
I looked around. My bathtub is boxed in with a cheap, white plastic panel to hide the plumbing. And one of the screws was missing.
I started to get a bad feeling.
I ran and got a screwdriver, then unscrewed the remaining screw and lifted away the plastic panel. “Oh shit,” I said aloud.
I was staring at three plastic-wrapped bricks of what I guessed was cocaine.
And at that second, someone banged on my front door. Halifax’s voice, stressed and urgent. “Brooks? Open up!”
24
ALISON
I shoved the plastic panel back into place and screwed in both screws. Then I opened the front door. Brooks was there with a bunch of agents, none from our team. This wasn’t a social call. “What’s up?”
Halifax showed me a search warrant. “Some...items are missing from evidence.”