Page 11 of Tango
“I will.”
“Then give me a second. I need to get something from my room to show you.”
An inkling of unease trails up my spine. She’s going to run. I can feel it in my bones. “And what makes you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?”
She doesn’t even try to deny it. “I don’t think you’re stupid. You’ll find me again. If you’re as good as they say you are. But if you don’t let me go, they’re going to toss me in a cell where Web Safe will send more people like this to take me out. The truth will never come out unless you trust me now.”
I stare at her, trying to discern whether she’s telling the truth or not.
She’s beaten. Bloody. And the two bruisers here certainly helped her case by coming after her parents.
“Alice, you can’t run. You’re injured,” her mom says. Jemma’s lip is split, her eye blackening, but otherwise, she looks okay.
Her husband, Fred, took a few hits but still stands with his arm around his wife. “Ali, let the police help.”
“Dad, they can’t help. Not until I have proof.”
“Proof of what?” Jemma presses.
Alice shakes her head but steps forward. “I love you both so much. I thank God every day that He blessed me with the two of you.” She smiles at them, and they hold on to her for a moment before releasing her.
“I will find you,” I tell her. “I give it forty-eight hours max.”
Alice smiles softly, though it doesn’t quite reach her pale eyes. “I guess I’ll see you then, Mr. Hunt.”
“This is quite a mess you’ve got here,” Detective Simmons comments as he watches Olean and Marsh get hauled out to cruisers in front of the Sterlings’ house. Both Jemma and Fred are currently talking to the police now, giving their statements, including how their daughter showed up and then took off again.
“You’re telling me.” The two of us stand in silence for a moment. “What do you know about Web Safe?”
“The cyber company? The LAPD contracts with them, but that’s about all I’ve got. Why?”
“Alice Sterling—the daughter? She works for them. She and her friend Ramiro Caine fell off the grid two days ago; then this happens.”
Alaric arches a brow. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that it seems fishy. Olean said something too, he asked if Ramiro was self-defense too.”
“Self-defense? You think she killed him?”
I shake my head. “I know she didn’t. But she did say that she killed someone else in self-defense. Someone they referred to as Josh?—”
“Aah, well, that answers that one. Joshua Pollinger. We’ve collared him a few times on theft and assault. Found him impaled on a piece of rebar in an alleyway after a woman called 9-1-1 to report it. She refused to give a name, but I’d bet my paycheck it was Alice Sterling.” He runs his hands over his face.
“Then that definitely fits with self-defense. Cold-blooded murderers don’t tend to call 9-1-1.”
“You’d be surprised,” he replies. “But I listened to the recording, and she was frantic when she called. Terrified.”
And if Web Safe is somehow involved, they have their hands in the LAPD cookie jar. Which is likely why Alice didn’t want me to call the police.
“She had bruises around her throat and was pretty banged up.”
“Which also fits the self-defense angle.”
I nod.
“Man, I have no idea what you walked into here, but it’s a mess.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
