Page 45 of Parting Shot

“All right. Thank you so much for coming in.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve done anything.”

“You gave me a name to run down, and you gave me the how with the plane. You’ve been a great help.”

His eyes searched mine. “He’s so angry with me.”

I was not about to get into anything else with him. “Mr. Sutter⁠—”

“I thought he’d appreciate what I tried to do, but he didn’t, and now he’s just so mad.”

“That’s all the time we⁠—”

“Please, could you go out to his house and talk to⁠—”

“I can’t.” I shut him down. “I have no time at all.”

Funny that he almost seemed hurt, but I went into hyperefficient mode and got up, walked out the door, and barked for Cohen and Benoit.

Max came out of the room and started down the hall after me, but there was suddenly a swarm of uniforms behind him, and a heavy jacket was thrown over his head before he could even react.

“What the hell is⁠—”

“We have you, Mr. Sutter!”

He was grabbed by two officers and rushed down the corridor in a crowd of patrolmen, lost to the eye, which was the whole point. He was carried along by the sea of men toward the back stairs that led to the transport bay. Mr. Holtz shook my hand, thanking me for keeping him out of sight.

An hour later, after I was done adding information to the file, as well as to the board that Jimmy, Cohen, Benoit, and I worked off of, I put both my minions on tracking down the plane and ran a record search on Clay Wells. My phone rang when I was waiting for information to pop up on my screen.

“Stiel,” I answered on the second ring.

“Tell me why you’re doing a record search on Mr. Wells, Detective.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“This is Special Agent Carlene Summers with the FBI, Detective Stiel, and I need to know why you are looking into Clay Wells.”

“We—”

“Now.”

I cleared my throat. “We believe he either killed or ordered a hit on a drug mule of his last Saturday night.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I think you need to come see me, Detective. Do you know where the field office is?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” I groaned.

“Oh, look here. Five months ago, you were with us on the Delgado task force in New York.”

I grunted.

“Well, now, Detective, have you ever considered a career with the Bureau?”

I made a noise in the back of my throat. “When do you want me there?”