Page 38 of Cat and Mouse

Harris laughs, a dark, humorless sound. "Immunity? For a low-level peddler like you? You better give us something big. Real big."

Miguel swallows hard, looking down at the table. "I can give you something big."

I glance at Harris, who raises an eyebrow, then turns back to Miguel. "Alright. You've got one chance. If it's worth it, we'll talk. Now spill."

Miguel looks at me, then glances around the room nervously. "Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere safe?"

I sigh. "Captain's office, now. You talk there."

Harris nods at the officers standing outside. "Cuff him and take him up to my office."

They cuff him, and I follow them upstairs. Every step feels like a countdown to something I can't quite place. Something's wrong, I can feel it in my gut. But what?

Once we're in the office, Harris shuts the door behind us. Miguel shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his cuffs jangling against the wooden armrests.

"Alright. Talk," I say, sitting across from him.

Miguel licks his dry lips, stalling. "Water."

I roll my eyes. Harris crosses his arms, glaring.

"We don't have time for games, Miguel. Take him back to holding."

The guy panics, his face going paler. "No! No! I'll talk. I'll talk!"

Harris pauses, staring him down. "Then start talking."

Miguel sucks in a breath, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I was supposed to deliver a batch of product for Jose Herrera."

"Herrera?" I ask, confused.

Miguel nods. "He was in charge of the Mexican gang here. Ran deals between us and the Italians. But Jose, he fucked up. Got in over his head, made a deal with the wrong people."

"Who?" Harris snaps, stepping closer.

Miguel glances at me, eyes filled with fear. "The man he crossed? He killed everyone in the operation. Every single one."

My stomach twists. I lean forward, my voice low. "Name. Give me a name."

Miguel's eyes dart around the room, panic settling in. "You'll protect me?"

Harris answers for me. "Yeah. We'll protect you. Just give us something we can use."

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing. "Leo DeLuca. But everyone… everyone calls him the Phantom."

Everything inside me stops. My breath catches, my mind spinning. It's like hearing a ghost speak your name. The Phantom. Leo DeLuca.

No way. It's impossible. But something deep inside me tells me it's true.

"Why would Leo kill the Mexicans?" I ask, forcing the words past the knot in my throat.

Miguel's voice is shaky now. "They… they killed his father."

I feel something claw at my insides—pity? No, anger. Maybe both. The pieces are clicking together in my mind, and I don't like where they're leading.

"Why are you talking to me?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

Miguel shifts in his seat, glancing at the Captain nervously. "Jose said... said the NYPD is crawling with moles. But you—you're the only one trying to take the Phantom down. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

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