The shooter screamed again when the agent’s fist pushed the shooter’s hand deeper into the bullet wound. Darby rushed forward. This couldn’t be happening. Cops were the good guys.
“Get back.” The agent flipped a badge toward her. “He’s a cop. A cop who just tried to kill you.”
“All right, all right,” the shooter yelled. “We’re cleaning up loose ends.” He hissed through the pain.
The agent didn’t stop.
“I swear,” the shooter cried. “I was supposed to make it look like a break-in, find the stuff Pike had given her and get rid of the girl.”
“We can sort through this train wreck with the correct authorities.” Darby should stop him. But she was unwilling to drag the agent from the only person in the room with answers. “There’s got to be a logical reason—”
The decision was made for her when the shooter passed out.
“He’s a cop. They’ll haul us to jail. We won’t find our answers while stuck in a holding cell until someone clears this mess up. They might finish what this guy started.” He stood and tossed the badge on top of the shooter’s chest. “You coming, O’Malley?”
The lights from the ambulance arriving outside flashed through the curtains. Her insides stopped shaking. “We have to call this in.”
“Lucky thing that ambulance is out front.” He gently turned her around by the shoulders and nudged her toward the kitchen. “We have to go. Now. I’ll drive.”
He slid past her and swiped her keys from the counter before she could object to anything.
“We can’t leave the scene of a shooting.”
“We don’t have time for a discussion. The EMTs are here.” He yanked on her right arm, keeping her from returning to the front of the house. “That dirtbag tried to kill us. He admitted they’re after Pike’s package.”
“I’ve got this man,” the first EMT shouted, coming through the doorway. “This is a badge. Call dispatch, officer down.”
It took a second to register the vise grip around her upper arm. And yet another second for her to accept how much trouble she’d be in once she left her house.
Oh yeah, she was leaving.
Following her brother’s instructions to stick with the agent might possibly clear Michael from suspicion and find Pike’s real murderer. She’d keep her word to her dead partner and save her brother.
“O’Malley, we have to go. Now.”
“Right after you hand over the shooter’s weapon.”
Secret Agent Man released her arm, pulled the .38 from the middle of his back and handed it to her. No argument, but he slammed through the door. She scooped up her gun belt, running close behind. He punched the opener button and ran to the driver’s side.
With their doors barely closed, he revved the engine and tore out of the alley. He zigzagged through the streets until he reached Central Expressway.
She squirmed enough in her seat to watch in case someone followed. She’d halfway expected to be in cuffs by this point, not in the clear. She stowed the shooter’s weapon in the compartment between the seats and holstered her gun, keeping it in her lap in case her companion did something crazy.
“North or south?”
“South.” Toward her office. Toward the familiar. Toward safety.
“South it is,” he said casually, driving like a law-abiding citizen, turning onto the highway as if nothing were wrong. “You should remove the battery from your phone.”
He was right again. She had a data phone with GPS capability that the police could track. The lights from Central Expressway illuminated the dismantling process that left her disconnected from anyone familiar.
“Why did that man follow you to my house and try to kill you?” she asked five minutes down the road.
“Didn’t he say he was after you, Officer O’Malley?”
“Let’s cut the cutesy crap, shall we? Pull over at an all-night gas station. I need a minute to process what happened.” Maybe she should wave her gun to emphasize she was in charge. “And it’s Detective.”
Or it used to be before she’d been transferred to the academy.
“So we’ll need gas?” he asked, avoiding yet another question and darting his eyes to the rearview mirror.
“Look. I still don’t know who you are and Pike wasn’t all that clear about who the package was for. He didn’t mention anyone by name.”
“And you didn’t open it?” He smiled a toothy grin in her direction. “You strike me as the curious type.”
He was confident and arrogant about his decisions. He’d done this before. Run. Evade the police. Shoot suspects or worse. Some of his experience was beginning to piss her off. Most she was beginning to admire.
“Don’t pretend to know me. We’re only twenty minutes from where I report for duty. So cool it.”
He lifted his fingers off the steering wheel in mock surrender. The next exit approached and he crossed three lanes of traffic to come to a screeching halt on the shoulder.
“What the heck are you doing?” she yelled.
“Keep your eyes open, O’Malley. Good surveillance requires more than one person. I’m looking for a second car.”
Automatically turning in her seat, she watched as four cars sped past.
“You don’t seriously believe that man was a cop?”
“Don’t you? His badge looked authentic to me.” He swiveled in his seat to face her instead of the mirror he’d been staring at. “Pike sent for me. In my book, that means he couldn’t trust anyone near him. Bad guys. Bad cops.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t make any difference to me. Somebody killed Pike and I’ll return the favor.”
“Pike meant a lot to me, too.” But so did Michael. She wouldn’t let this mystery agent find anything without her. Not when the most obvious path to Pike’s killer might lead him to her brother. She needed to be certain he avoided that particular road. “What could be so important that Pike would be killed before anyone even knows what it is? Why would cops want to make this mysterious thing disappear along with anyone who knows about it?”
“I promised to deliver it to the DEA. I’ll let them sort out all the whys. Don’t worry about my end. Just take me to it.”
“I prefer to drive.” She removed the keys and shot out the door, walking around the tail of the car while he circled the hood.
What was she doing? Was this DEA bad boy truly Pike’s friend or someone wanting the package to destroy it? She’d find whatever Pike had hidden and the truth. Cops trying to kill her didn’t make sense, but neither did this agent. Quick on the draw, saving her life—she understood that was part of the job. But even her own father had never held her hair while she’d thrown up.
Was she totally out of her mind? Shoot, she already knew the answer. She’d fled the scene of a crime. A man—a cop—had been shot with her duty weapon. And her job was history. Her only ray of hope was if this guy was legitimate. They could explain what happened to his supervisor, retrace Pike’s steps and find the missing pieces. It was her best, perhaps her only, chance of helping her brother, getting justice for her old mentor and hanging on to whatever shred of what might be her career.
If the agent could connect the dots to prove Michael’s innocence, she’d lend him the pencil.
“Let’s start with something simple…your name.” She shoved her weapon into the door pocket, unsnapping the security strap of the holster. Easy access if something went wrong.
“Now that we’ll be working together I guess you should know. Erren Rhodes to your rescue.”
“I’m not working with you.”
“Isn’t it a little too late for that decision?” He turned in the seat, leaning back toward the door window. “Look. All we need to do is retrieve Pike’s package and you’re done. Back to whatever boring job you do.”