Page 87 of The Liar

When I shook my head, he reached beneath the driver’s seat and carefully slid out a box. He unlatched the box and offered me a large hunting knife inside a sheath, handle first. I connected it to my holster, and he tucked a second, smaller knife into his jacket pocket.

“Do you have bulletproof gear?” I murmured.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Damn.” A bulletproof vest and a helmet wouldn’t go astray right now. I should have packed mine before I left home but I’d been preoccupied by the missing escort and hadn’t considered that we might end up in a firefight before dawn.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Not really.” I doubted either of us was truly prepared for whatever we were about to face.

We snuck around the side of the warehouse nearest us and picked our way around the buildings, approaching thewarehouse Zeke had indicated, moving toward the rear rather than the front. If it had guards, they were more likely to be keeping an eye on the street than the surrounding properties.

I scanned the area as we approached our target. Perhaps we’d been wrong to suspect we were walking into a bad situation. No one moved on the perimeter. Not even a shadow flickered. Something about that gave me the creeps, but I didn’t pause to wonder about it, instead darting across the open space to the side entrance.

I tried the handle. “It’s locked.”

“Here. Let me.” West moved alongside me, holding a set of lock picks and a small electronic box.

“Drop it,” a voice barked behind us. “Get on your knees and put your hands up.”

I spun. A uniformed officer stood behind us, his gun leveled at my chest.

“I’m a homicide detective,” I explained. “My badge is in my pocket.”

I started to reach for it, but the officer just laughed. “I know you are.”

Figures moved out of the darkness to join him, and within seconds, we were surrounded on all sides—only our backs protected by the warehouse.

The officer’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Get on your knees, put down your weapons, and push them over here.”

My heart sank. This man—whoever he was—wasn’t the only uniformed policeman here. I recognized several around the precinct. Narcotics. Major Crimes. And there, front and center, was Detective Sewell.

Sewell put his hands on his hips and laughed. “Did you really think I’d be dumb enough to let you track me?”

His mouth was twisted in a cocky smirk, his back straight, and his attitude was all insolence. He no longerlooked weary or beaten down by life. Despite his small stature, he was obviously in charge.

“I could tell you were suspicious of me,” he continued, not waiting for us to reply. “I don’t know what Denny said to you, but it was clear he’d been spilling his guts about something. I couldn’t risk word getting out. One of our buddies who isn’t on the force is on his way to visit Denny now. He won’t be talking to anyone else.”

A bolt of fear ran through me.

“No,” I whispered.

We’d been wrong to suspect Hanson. He was just an innocent bystander caught up in this horrible mess.

I was tempted to ask what Sewell wanted with us, and why he’d allow us to see the faces of so many people involved, but I knew the answer to that last part: He didn’t expect us to have a chance to tell anyone what we knew.

“Where’s Portia?” I asked, trying to remain as calm as possible.

He scoffed. “That whore? She’s long gone.”

West stiffened, and I grabbed his arm before he could make a dangerous mistake. Attacking Sewell wouldn’t get us anywhere when we were so outgunned and outnumbered. We didn’t have a hope of escaping with brute strength. If we wanted to get out of here, we’d have to be smart about it.

“Cuff them,” Sewell barked to the men nearest to us.

We allowed ourselves to be restrained and led around the warehouse and in through the main entrance. Only a few of our captors joined us. One frisked us both and removed our weapons.

Someone shoved me, and I dropped to my knees, wincing as the impact jarred my kneecaps. West stumbled beside me, landing on his ass. Sewell marched around and stood in front of us.

---