“This is creepy. And disrespectful,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder at the casket on the other side of the room, an elderly man lying peacefully within.
“Why? He doesn’t care. His visitation doesn’t start until tonight.” Warner holds a finger to his lip, checking for blood. I was halfway down the hall, passing a row of viewing rooms, when an arm shot out and grabbed me. I threw a fist out and connected with flesh before I realized it was my handler who was abducting me.
“You’re insane. Have you been waiting here all this time? I was just about to call you. Way safer than this.”
“Relax. I can explain my way out of anything,” he mutters. “And I honestly don’t know what’s safe anymore. I feel like there are more eyes on us than we know about.”
“Why do you say that?”
Warner reaches up, his hand grazing my chest as he grasps my necklace, switching the wire off. “Our decoy Porsche got dropped off on the side of the road last night. Wiped clean and abandoned.”
Last night. Only hours after my phone call with Elmira. A mix of satisfaction and guilt stir inside me with the proof that my hunch paid off. Aref set that car theft up and staged it to look like Vlad was behind it, should the thief get busted and questioned. I have my guesses as to why.
Maybe I’ll still have my chance to ask him myself.
But for now, I have to look disappointed for Warner’s sake. “Do you think someone tipped them off? Or did they find the bugs?”
Warner shrugs. “Hard to say. We knew it was risky to begin with. But it means we’ve lost that lead. At least we got a few names and locations out of it, though.” He clamps up as low voices pass by in the hall. “There’s more.” Turning, he levels me with a hard stare.
It makes me uncomfortable. Like I’ve done something wrong and am about to get called on it. “What?”
“A G-Class Benz and a Lexus LX were hijacked last night.”
“Hijacked?”
“Yeah. One of the drivers has a few scrapes. The other one’s in the hospital for gunshot wounds. Both SUVs are black.”
Black SUVs. Exactly what Aref’s African buyer wants.
“Rix’s guy called him this morning, asking him to help out with a couple of rush orders that just came down the pipes. They need the SUVs within the next forty-eight hours. We’re thinking that someone’s pushing up the date for a shipment and bringing in guys from around the street to fill the order fast. 24’s usual crew isn’t normally sloppy, but someone is definitely still running the show. Too coincidental to be anything else.”
“It’s not Luke. I mean 12. He’s too preoccupied. His phone hasn’t even left his nightstand in the last two days.”
“Well, it’s sure someone.”
“Vlad.” I say it with certainty, though I can’t be 100 percent sure that it’s not Aref. “I’m betting one of those two cut Rust out of the mix and took over.”
“Maybe. All I know is that we’re about to lose whatever edge we had on this investigation.”
I hold my breath as I ask my next question. “Is Sinclair about to haul Luke in?” I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
“Not yet. He’s still hoping for a break.”
“Was there anything coming out of the investigation on 24?”
“Some grainy video from a business that we’re analyzing, and a ton of fingerprints on the SUV that are probably the registered owners’.” Warner peers at me through hard eyes. “Stay on him. Don’t let him out of your sight, and . . .” He heaves a sigh. “. . . do whatever you have to do to get him talking. Sinclair’s orders.”
Suddenly Warner’s risky in-person visit and shutting off the wire makes sense. This is off the record. I don’t back down as he looms over me. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means keep doing what you’ve been doing.” His jaw clenches. “Like that night after you met 24 at the club . . .” He leans in farther, until he’s so close his spearmint-scented breath tickles my nostrils. “. . . when I watched 12 show up at your building and not leave until the next morning.”
Warner was spying on me? “You said you—” I bite back the accusation because I have no right, after everything I’ve done. Swallowing against the bubble of hysteria rising, all I dare ask is, “Does Sinclair know?”
A wicked smirk answers me. “Sinclair doesn’t give a shit as long as he gets what he wants and our hands stay clean in the courts. And you’ve worked hard to make sure everything on the wire keeps us looking good, haven’t you?” His eyes drift to my mouth. “You even had me fooled for a while there.”
“Warner, I . . .” I can’t seem to find the right words. There are no right words for this kind of betrayal.
“Just keep the case conversations on the wire and everything else . . . off.” His iciness melts slightly. “And promise me you won’t blow your cover.”
I swallow. “I promise.”
He looks about ready to say something else but then presses his lips firmly shut. Cracking the door open, he checks the hall, and then disappears.
Leaving me shaking with guilt.
