“We’re about to find out,” I murmur, just loud enough for Brooke to hear.
We hit the sidewalk just as the unmarked’s door groans open and a crumpled Detective Crowley steps out.
He spots us immediately. Cop instincts firing on all cylinders. His expression is unreadable, stone-carved into skepticism. He doesn’t break stride as he approaches, dress shoes clicking against the concrete that’s soft from the heat.
“You’re showing up in the darndest places, Seventh,” he says.
I keep my hands easy at my sides, posture relaxed. “Just protecting my principal after the attempt on her life.”
Beside me, Brooke cuts in, sharp. “Caleb is just following orders I gave him. We’re here because I wanted to speak to the medical examiner about a story I’m working on.”
Crowley’s gaze flicks to her, unimpressed. Then back to me. He folds his arms across his chest, sleeves stretching tight across shoulders that say he still hits the gym five mornings a week and probably lectures the squat rack. He steps onto the curb, gaining the high ground. Classic move.
“What story and which examiner?” he asks.
Brooke crosses her arms. “I can’t tell you. I have to protect my source.”
Crowley just steps closer, until he’s well inside my space. Close enough that I can see the redness in his eyes and smell the stale coffee on his breath. I resist the urge to offer a Tic Tac.
“I hear you’re crossing lines you shouldn’t be, I’ll bring you both in for obstruction. Am I clear?”
The wordcrystalsits on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it. I give him a curt nod instead.
“Understood.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares. I can feel the weight of Brooke’s silence beside me. She’s not afraid, but she’s coiled tight. Ready to launch or swing, depending on what lands first.
Finally, Crowley shifts his focus to her. “If you’re in danger, Ms. Weston, Tucson PD will protect you.”
Brooke doesn’t flinch. “Thanks. But I’ll take my chances with my hired muscle.”
My mouth quirks just a hair.
With a frown, he turns on his heel with precision and signals to the uniform still lingering near the cruiser. The younger cop straightens like he just passed a pop quiz, and the two of them disappear into the building without another word.
As my heart rate returns to normal, one thing is becoming clear.
Protecting Brooke Weston is starting to look a lot like aiding and abetting.
SIXTEEN
Brooke
As if dealing with the close call with Crowley wasn't enough, my phone trills in my purse, demanding my attention.
When Caleb pulls out of the lot, I glance at the screen and my heart sinks at the text message.
Time’s up, Brooke. My office. Now.
Lawrence. Great. Out of patience and done pretending kindness is part of his brand.
I sigh and look over at Caleb. "I need to go into the office."
He starts to shake his head.
"I'm going to lose my job."
His hands tighten slightly on the wheel. He doesn't answer right away, jaw working. Then,reluctantly, "Fine. But make it quick. I don't like leaving Mateo alone."