Page 156 of Black Bird

“What about Northwood?” Brent added as they started down the walkway towards the front doors.

“She’ll be here soon.” The detective hadn’t looked at him once throughout his stride. He was still very much the hard, quiet asshole Brent had argued with before … but something was clearly different about him. He couldn’t deny that there was something different about his ex, as well. They entered the building and not a single uniform spoke to them, giving them a wide berth as they stepped into the elevator. When the doors closed, Brent looked over at Sarah.

“You alright?”

She seemed more pale than usual, and an unfamiliar shadowing dusted over her eyes when she looked back at him. “A little nervous, but yeah … I’m fine.”

“They really don’t have anything to hold you with, Sarah. Don’t be nervous. There’s a real good chance we can have you both out of here without charges by lunch.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous about that part. I’m nervous about catching more charges.” Sarah’s smile was like something out of a horror movie. It unsettled him. It was like speaking to a stranger—one you almost couldn’t convince him he’d spent the last two years with. Even her voice was somehow different.

“Down, kitty …” Kane smiled, not looking at either of them. The elevator stopped and they all straightened, preparing themselves. “Showtime.”

Brent tugged at his suit and adjusted his tie. Sarah stiffened at Kane’s side, and he saw them exchange looks. He’d seen it before … when Sarah was in the hospital. This time, he couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t bother him as much. Actually, it didn’t bother him at all. The doors slowly opened, and every head turned in their direction as Brent followed them out of the elevator.

He was more exhausted than he had been in a while. Coffee hadn’t been enough to prepare him for whatever was about to happen. Foley’s forehead beaded with sweat as he swiveled in his chair, glancing at the gathering agents that talked amongst themselves at Kane and Northwood’s spot. One, in particular, had caught his attention. Foster hadn’t heeded a word he’d said about making herself too comfortable. Her legs were crossed along the top of Kane’s desk, and all her personal shit was scattered beyond where her feet rested, taking up the space where Rhaena Northwood, no doubt, would have had piles of paperwork littered with whatever takeout she’d scrounged up. They were about to be a lot busier … and a lot less cheerful. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye as the rest of his precinct directed their attention towards the elevator. Foley nearly leapt from his chair.

Detective Kane had St. James by the arm, a firm expression on his face. He didn’t once acknowledge the rest of his comrades as he quietly made his way towards the captain’s office, Brent Stratford following confidently behind them. “Morning, Cap.” Kane nodded toward him. Foley dipped his chin and tried earnestly to keep the smile from his face.

“Detective,” Foley replied, “made anarrest?” His eyes flickered toward the Feds, who had started scrambling … all but Foster, who narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her as she leaned back in Kane’s chair.

“Actually, I’d like to file a complaint about him.” St. James smirked. “Has he always been known to manhandle his suspects?” Foley glanced at Kane, who was eagerly trying to hide his amusement.

“He hurt you?” Foley asked, the corner of his mouth slightly curling upward.

“Oh, yes. Several times.” Their vic-turned-fugitive had absolutely no shame when she grinned. Stratford huffed through his nose at her side.

“If that’s true, I’m sure the detective had his reasons, Miss St. James.” He returned his attention to Kane, who nodded.

“She was a bithostile.” Kane didn’t acknowledge the proud look she’d given him before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. The elevator dinged from behind them. Northwood and Jenkins stepped through the doors, ignoring them altogether as Rhaena stormed toward her desk, stopping behind it and staring down Agent Foster with pure malice.

“Get … yourfuckingfeet … off my desk.”

Kane snorted, and Foley found it hard not to do the same as Foster made no moves to comply and simply smiled at Northwood.

“Well … what an interesting turn of events,” Foster crooned, shaking one ankle over the other. “How was your vacation, detective?”

“About to be a bit more divine, if you don’t take those ten-dollar heels down and prance your flighty ass down the hall.”

St. James cackled, Stratford nudging her while he covered his mouth respectfully.

“Calm down, detective. My feet aren’t on your desk. It’d be an awful shame to scuff the ply board,” Foster bit back, her fellow agents crowding around her. She snapped her head towards Kane and lowered her legs before raising from his chair. “Turning yourselves in? How noble of you.”

Stratford stepped in front of St. James, interrupting her hard stare. “Actually … Detective Kane is the arresting officer. He’s brought her in for questioning.”

“Ah … the boyfriend. And why, exactly, am I speaking with you? Not that I mind …” She raked her eyes over every inch of the young lawyer. “You’re a lot more attractive in person.”

Stratford didn’t miss a beat, dismissing her compliment. “I’m her representation.”

Foster clicked her tongue. “Aww … isn’t that sweet of you.” The precinct was dead silent as she marched around Northwood and went straight for St. James. “Let’s not waste any time then.” Her hand reached toward Sarah, and Foley swore a predatory growl rumbled in Kane’s throat as he reached around his suspect’s back and pulled her away. Foster stilled, slowly turning her face towards him and smiling. “Interesting,” she whispered.

“She’smine,” Kane snarled, nearly baring his teeth. “You can tell me where you want me to take her, but you won’t be touching her.” Stratford’s eyes popped, while St. James only seemed to be reveling in the notion, caressing his wrist behind her back from her restraints. Foley didn’t fail to notice it.

“Yours … I see. Wouldn’t want to take that arrest off your quota.” Foster flashed her eyes to Foley, never losing her smile. “You can take her to interrogation room three, detective. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” She raised her palms and mockingly took a step back. Kane started moving toward the hall, Stratford following behind St. James as she and Foster exchanged combative looks. Northwood winked at Sarah when she passed and Foster scoffed, waving a finger toward her band of uniforms. “Pack our shit and move it to the other room.”

Room three was the smallest interrogation space in the precinct. Foley decided that the agent must have picked it to make St. James uncomfortable. Sometimes, the more confined the suspect felt, the easier it was to make them sweat. He had to give it to the young girl … if she was fazed by it, she sure as hell wasn’t letting it show. Kane sat her down, releasing her from the cuffs, and pulled a chair for Stratford to join her while Foster took her place across from them. The red light from the camera blinked in the corner. Foley stepped into the observation room, sinking his hands into his pockets, and watching them through the two-way mirror.

“Detective, as nice as you are to look at, this room is small enough without you brooding in the corner. You can watch from the other room.”

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