Page 56 of Swerve
“Chief Parker,” Emory says, her voice suddenly a hard line of steel. “Has anyone you loved ever gone missing?”
The captain meets her questioning gaze, and it is clear she’s surprised by her boldness. “No.”
“But you have no doubt witnessed many families struggling with this reality?”
“I have,” she says carefully.
“Then you must have some idea how unbearable it is to sit and wait for a phone call that might give you the smallest piece of information about the person you love? For three days, I have heard nothing. My seventeen-year-old sister, whom I have raised since she was eight years old, vanished. And while I know this police department will do everything within its power to find her, I also know it might not be enough. I can’t stand by and do nothing. Detective Helmer agreed to help me because I all but begged him to. If anyone is going to get reprimanded for this, it should be me.”
“You’re not an officer of this department, Miss Benson.”
“It’s Dr. Benson,” Emory says. “And no, I’m not. But tonight is the first lead I’ve been made aware of. The first piece of hope I have that my baby sister might be found. Only, I don’t even know if I have that because the man who killed Madison Willard is a monster. And how do I know that he hasn’t already killed Mia and Grace?”
Emory swallows once, as if trying to push back the emotion welling up inside her. “Can you find him, Captain?”
“We’ll do our best,” she says. “I can assure you of that.”
“I believe you,” Emory says. “But what if that’s not enough? My sister is the only family I have left. I will never be able to live with myself if I don’t do anything and everything I possibly can to help find her.”
The captain glances from Emory to Knox. He holds her gaze, aware that, like his superiors in the Special Forces, to look away is to show weakness and lose her respect.
When she finally speaks, it is on the exhalation of a long sigh. “Detective Helmer, you will not in any way interfere with the ongoing investigation of this department. And if you develop the smallest of leads, you will notify Detective Carmichael, who is now the lead on this case. Am I understood?”
“Perfectly,” Knox says, keeping his expression neutral.
“That will be all then. Maybe we could go home and try to get some sleep now.”
“Goodnight, Captain,” he says, opening the office door.
They’re in the hallway when the captain calls out, “I’m really sorry about your sister and her friend, Dr. Benson. It is my fervent hope that they’ll be found.”
Sergio
“The power of the sin is in its secrecy.”
?TemitOpe Ibrahim
HE’S HAD SECOND thoughts about keeping the Range Rover. He’ll need to change the license plate again.
And he’ll get a detail first thing in the morning to lose any traces of Madison having been in the Range Rover.
He lets his mind scan his own personal checklist for cleaning up potentially messy situations.
What had gone down tonight was more than potentially messy. It could end life as he knew it.
Inside the quiet walls of his Georgetown townhouse, Sergio pours himself a shot glass of tequila, downs it, and then pours another, waiting for the first to hit his bloodstream. He glances at the label on the bottle, Patrón en Lalique, and remembers the morning it had arrived by special courier on his doorstep. He remembers too the evening before that had prompted Senator Hagan to send it to him as a thank you.
At six thousand dollars a bottle, it was a gift not only meant to compensate for the favor Sergio had bestowed on the senator the night before, but also an implication of future expectations. Sergio wasn’t stupid. He would concede to greed, but he knew that stupid and greedy would not allow for a lengthy lifespan.
Not where his employer was concerned.
He downs the second shot of tequila, aware of its nearly instantaneous ability to smooth the edges of his insecurity.
He’d taken care of the problem tonight. As soon as he realized there was one, he’d taken care of it. And wasn’t that his job anyway? His employer had hired him to be a problem solver of the highest caliber. This was one problem she didn’t need to know about, because it wasn’t one any longer.
The proprietor did not suffer fools. And she would without doubt find him at fault for the fact that a cop was asking questions of a girl he was currently banging.
Growing up on the streets of Cartagena had taught him many things, but one of the most important lessons of all had been the fact that survivors never left loose ends. Above all, Sergio was a survivor. He had a second sense for knowing when it was time to cut losses.
