Page 49 of Safe
I nodded. “Yes, my name is Thomas. I’m here to see Detective Traser. I want to turn myself in. I know where Landon is.”
24. ALEX
I’d been combing through these files for weeks, following every lead until I wound up back at nothing. Even after Danielle gave me the name Thomas, every lead ran cold. The only Thomas I’d managed to track down was Thomas Jackson, a small-time lackey for Landon, according to the information I’d been able to dig up, who’d vanished too. Finding him might be the quickest way to get to Landon, and I doubt Thomas was half as clever as his boss. It shouldn’t be this difficult.
With Danielle and Cody both gone, I’d lost track of the last time I left the office. Entire days blended together as I pored over files, chased down dead ends, revisited Danielle’s apartment, and tried to cut deals for scraps of intel, but it all led nowhere. I ate takeout at my desk for most meals, and some nights, I crashed on my battered office couch. The thought of returning to an empty apartment, no calls from Danielle, no dinner dates in my calendar, felt heavier each night. I needed this nightmare to end.
I checked the clock: 10:45 AM. I had been here all god damn night, and, as much as I resented myself for it, decided it was time to take a much-needed break and go home. I felt guilty taking breaks, but I was useless if I wasn’t sharp. I turned off my lamp, slipped on my suit jacket, and was halfway to the door when I heard a knock.
Warren stepped in.
“Don’t leave. You’re going to want to see this.” He motioned for me to follow.
Exhausted, but curious, I set my jacket down and followed him down the hall to the interrogation room. Behindthe glass sat a short, stocky man. I didn’t recognize him. It definitely wasn’t Landon.
“What’s going on?” I asked, confused as to why Warren needed me for this.
He pointed at the man behind the glass. “That… is Thomas.”
My body locked up, and my heart pounded in my chest. Was this fucking happening? After months spent chasing these assholes, one of them was here, in the flesh, sitting under my roof. Voluntarily, no less.
For a split second, I battled with myself to not grab him, slam his head into the table, and demand Landon’s whereabouts. The very real possibility of losing my job was the driving force keeping me composed.
Instead, I entered the interrogation room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. Sitting across from Thomas, I reached into my pocket and slid a cigarette across the table. He took it without meeting my eyes. I lit my own and exhaled, letting him sweat a little in the silence while I just watched him, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I had him sitting here.
“You know I know who you are, right?” I said, studying everything about Thomas—his mannerisms, the way he was shifting his eyes, refusing to focus on me—still weighing how this was going to play out.
He lit the cigarette, took a long drag, and exhaled without looking at me. “Yeah. I’m sure you know everything I’ve done, too.”
“So, you understand that before you say anything, I have to place you under arrest, right?”
He didn’t answer, but his nod said enough. There was something in his eyes—sadness, maybe, but mostly relief. Like he was done running. Done with Landon.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you still want to speak with me without an attorney present?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I hope you’ve got something good to say,” I said, leaning forward so he couldn’t ignore me. “Because if anything happens to Danielle, if you had anything to do with it…” My chest tightened at the thought of what might happen to Danielle, but I couldn’t let it consume me. Not now. “Even if you didn’t lay a hand on her, I know damn well you know where Landon is.”
Thomas let out a long, shaky sigh before drawing on his cigarette. He paused. I could see he was nervous. “That’s why I’m here,” his voice trembled, like he was on the verge of crying. “I can’t do this anymore. I’ll tell you everything. But I want a deal.”
“Do I look like your defense attorney? Tell you what, you give me the information I want, and I’ll make sure my report says you came in here of your own free will, and that you were one hundred percent cooperative.”
My refusal to promise him anything got him to snap his eyes in my direction and lock in on mine. “I want amnesty for my part.”
“Jesus, it’s like talking to a brick wall. If you don’t tell me what I need to know to make sure Danielle is safe, I’ll make sure no one wants to make a deal for you. Got it?” My patience was wearing thin. The nerve of this guy to sit here, after helping that bastard, and try to set the terms. Not tonight.
He leaned forward, this time staring dead in my fucking eyes. “You need to call her. Tell her Landon’s coming. She doesn’t have much time.”
“That’s impossible. She’s in a different state, under a new name, new hair, new car, burner phone. No credit cards, nothing traceable.” I glared at him. Was this some kind of game?
He shook his head. “I’m telling you, I’ve been tracking her cards for Landon. She used one yesterday at a convenience store in Grand Junction, Colorado. How would I know that if she didn’t have a card?”
Shit. FUCK!
