Page 65 of The Writer

And it is working.

One hundred million dollars.

They’ll be in Belize long before anyone figures it out. If anyone ever figures it out, and Declan doubts anyone will. Hell, when the truth comes out in that book of hers,the real truth, there’s a good chance he’ll be able to file a lawsuit of his own. Double down and come back like some fallen hero.

When the kiss ends, Declan brushes the tip of Denise’s nose with his. “I would have done it for you. You know that, right?”

She slips onto a chair at the counter, crosses her slender legs, and nibbles on a piece of bacon. “Cook breakfast?”

“Hoffman.”

Denise shrugs. “Too many eyes on you. This was better.”

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. A building like Hoffman’s probably had more cameras than an episode ofSurvivor. No way Declan could have gone in and out unseen. Denise, though—she was Hoffman’s friend, a client. Anyone questions her, and it will be easy enough to explain why she stopped by. They’ll deal with that when they need to. There’s a more pressing issue now. “If he’s dead, what happens with the lawsuit?”

“They’ll settle. They always settle. One of Geller’s associates will take over and work out the details. I’m not worried.” She grabs a towel from the counter and dabs the corner of her mouth. The wordsI fell asleep beside the kitchen sink. I feel completely drained noware printed on the fabric. Denise loves her puns.

Declan can’t exactly walk into Hoffman’s offices and demand an update; he’ll have to take her word on that. He trusts her. Besides, he can fuck her six ways to Sunday if she tries todouble-cross him. No reason to believe she would. Like she said, she doesn’t need the money.

Declan picks up his fork and spears some eggs. They’re delicious. “Cordova drove up to Dannemora yesterday to see Lucero.”

She takes a sip of his coffee. “I know. Lucero called me after. Can’t beat the timing. I bet your partner’s head is about to explode. Do you think he confronted your lieutenant yet?”

Declan isn’t sure, and with his phone in pieces, Cordova can’t call and tell him. Before he can respond, there is a loud knock on Denise’s door, followed by a voice they both recognize.

“NYPD!”

It’s Cordova.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

DENISE’S WIDE EYES lock with Declan’s for the briefest of seconds, then she grabs his breakfast, dumps his food on top of her own, and stashes his plate and fork in the dishwasher. “Get in the bedroom. Go out on the terrace if you have to.”

“NYPD, Mrs. Morrow! We know you’re home. Open the door!”

Declan scrambles through the apartment to the bedroom, closes the door, then opens it again. Cordova’s sharp; he’ll expect Denise to be here alone. If Declan closes that door, his partner will pick up on it, because why close the door if you’re alone? He’s about to open the terrace door when he sees the alarm sensor in the upper left corner. He knows the alarm isn’ton, but if he opens that door, it will chirp. Cordova might pick up on that too. Looking around, he realizes there’s no place to go. If they’re executing some kind of search warrant, he’s screwed. He and Denise both are.

At the opposite end of the apartment, the alarm chirps as Denise opens the front door. Did it do that when he came in last night? He can’t remember. Declan presses his back against the wall and doesn’t make a sound.

“Detective,” Denise says in a voice so calm, Declan wonders if she’s on some medication he doesn’t know about, because who can do that? His heart is pounding so loud, it feels like it’s rattling the pictures on the walls. How the hell can she stay calm? He loves it, though. Every second.

“You remember Carmen Saffi from the ADA’s office,” Cordova says. “May we come in?”

Denise hesitates, but only for a moment. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she tells them. “Maybe I should call Geller.”

Oh, that’s good, Declan thinks.She’s good. Make them say it. As far as you know, Hoffman is still alive.

“That’s why we’re here,” Saffi says. “Geller Hoffman is dead.”

Bingo.

Declan hears a soft gasp and can picture the look on Denise’s face, a mix of surprise and horror. Maybe her hand is over her mouth. Maybe she’ll work in a swoon. Nah, she won’t oversell it. She’ll give them just enough.

“Oh my God,” she finally says with a hitch in her voice. “Yes, come in. Come in.” Then: “Do you mind if I put on some clothes?”

“Please, by all means,” Saffi tells her.

Declan hears the front door close, then Denise’s fast-approaching footsteps. In the bedroom, she partially closes the door and calls out to them, “What happened?”

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