Page 97 of Deadly Force
I blink. Juliette? The woman I heard upstairs?
My thoughts scramble to catch up. Lawrence? He’s a bureaucrat. A paper-pusher. How do you go from editorial memos to murder?
Lord, please,I whisper inwardly, barely breathing.I don’t even know what to pray. Just… help. Look after Caleb. Please!
“What about the shooting?” I rasp. “Was that you, too?”
His jaw tightens. “That wasn’t?—”
He stops. Looks away. “I don’t even own a gun.”
That tells me more than he meant it to. My spine straightens. “Who are you working with?”
His smile spreads slow, oily. “You’re about to find out.”
TWENTY-TWO
Caleb
I roll up to the Tucson Times, gut knotted, tension spreading like wildfire through my chest. I unbuckle, step out of the car, and glance toward the lobby, praying Brooke’s going to pick now to call me back with a reasonable excuse.
I cross to the glass doors and rap my knuckles on the pane. “I’m here for Brooke.”
Inside, the security guard gets to his feet, slow and deliberate, like he’s got all the time in the world. Every step he takes cranks my nerves a little higher.
He doesn’t unlock the door. Doesn’t wave me in. Just stops in front of the glass and folds his arms. “You can’t come in here.”
I frown. “By whose authority?”
He points upstairs. “New policy. Cracking down on unauthorized visitors.”
“Come on, pal, you saw me with Brooke an hour ago. She even told you I was her bodyguard.”
“I was also told to keep the building secure. No one gets in unless they have a pass.”
Great. I’m up against a guard dog with something to prove. Maybe someone gave him an order, maybe he just wants a fight.
“You’re paid to keep reporters safe,” I remind him. “Not barricade them in.”
“Go wait in your car or I’ll call the cops,” he says, chin jutting like he thinks that’ll scare me.
I take a breath, shove my frustration down deep. “Call her phone. Tell her to come down here then.”
He waves his hand in the air, dismissing me.
I back off, return to the SUV, and jam my earpiece in. “Delilah, I’ve got a problem. Rent-a-cop won’t let me in the building. Says he’s locking things down. And Brooke’s not answering her phone.”
Delilah mutters to someone, then squeaks in my ear. “Yippee! You’ll have to breach! But don’t worry. Zack can contact the TPD in case you have trouble.”
I glance back at the lobby, then reach under the back seat and grab my breaching tool—a compact Halligan bar I requested just in case. “Copy that.”
I walk straight back to the door. No more conversation.
The guard’s eyes go wide.
I slam the Halligan into the doorframe. Metalshrieks. Glass cracks. One solid shove and the lock gives way.
“I’ll pay for the damages,” I tell him flatly. “But if Brooke is hurt, you’ll wish you hadn’t tried to stop me.”
