Page 186 of The Darkest Chase

And it comes when I catch the growl of a distant engine and faint glowing headlights on their lowest setting.

I know what I’m about to see even before the front fender breaches that break in the trees.

That town car with the valet Talia identified as Joseph Peters in the driver’s seat.

I shift my weight, pointing both the camera and the listening device toward the car.

There’s no doubt it’s picking up audio clear as day when I can hear the engine in my earpiece, growling just like I’m standing on top of the hood.

I make sure to get a clear shot of Joseph Peters’ tight face.

I don’t want to pressure a man under duress, but he could be a valuable witness in exchange for immunity. I’ll play any angle to end this.

My attention shifts as the back door of the town car opens.

But it’s not just Xavier Arrendell who steps out.

Chief Bowden is with him.

He’s looking worse for wear, probably from sleeping in his office. Unshaven, wearing dark cargo pants and a flannel shirt that both look like they’ve seen better days. There’s a sour look on his face, something dark and cold and heavy.

If I hadn’t seen his face every week for years, I wouldn’t even recognize him. It’s like there’s someone else pushing through his skin. Something creepy and animalistic wearing the face of the happy-go-lucky aging police chief as a mask.

I make sure the listener is recording.

“…have time for this,” Xavier says irritably. “Thanks to the container delay, we have trouble.”

Bowden hitches his belt up with a grunt. “Window’s closing, that’s for sure. But with a little extra security and a few more hands on deck, we might pull off a miracle. Push the timeline up.”

“We have a two-hour window. Two,” Xavier hisses. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to arrange a complete blackout on Customs and Border Protection for an entire day? A day. And thanks to these bloody idiots, we have two hours left to load up and make an entire ship disappear. A few hired mercenaries won’t fix that.”

Ship?

Wait.

Didn’t Talia say she heard Xavier throwing a tantrum over something to do with a ship?

“So hire more than a few.” That coldness is there in the chief’s voice, too.

It’s unnerving how much it reminds me of myself, whenever I shut down and focus on my obsession.

“Look,” Bowden says. “Shit happens, man. We can’t control the weather. Storm at sea means the boat’s gonna be late. Load up as many of the hillfolk as you can, and I’ll call in a few dozen guys. We’ll make it work.”

Xavier pins Bowden with a frosty look that’s no doubt intimidated many—and if Bowden were the man he seems, he’d be wincing and wringing his hands. But he only meets Xavier’s eyes, flat and unaffected.

For the first time, I think I’m seeing the real Chief Bowden.

“Be there by two a.m.,” Xavier bites off, and turns back to the town car. “Take care of all of… all of this.” He flicks a hand at the Jacobins.

“Uh-huh. Sure thing, Your Highness,” Bowden sneers.

The only answer is the town car’s door slamming shut.

Snarling, I check my watch.

Nine p.m.

That gives me five hours to figure out where the hell they’re going and call in the cavalry. I don’t have time to wait for the DEA to get off their asses and do something like, you know, enforcing drug protection laws.

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