Page 56 of Sleeping with the Dark (The Righteous 3)
He watched the exchange, and what was once annoyance had turned into amusement. It was his daily dose of soap opera. They gave him a laugh at least once a day with their grumpy old men re-enactment.
“The guy couldn’t be trusted. He was going to try something shady. I saw him eyeing up the merch. Trust me. He was up to no good.” Arek crossed his arms, puffing out his chest.
“And your answer is to put a gun in his mouth and make everyone else watch as you blow his head off?”
“It was for dramatic effect. Dead is dead.” Arek looked at his nails, picking something out. “Now, no one is going to try anything unless they want the same fate or worse.”
“For fuck’s sake. Your brother is impossible,” Cody fumed.
“Oh, I know,” Trev said quietly. Arek opened his mouth to say something and instead fixed him with a glare as the words registered.
“Don’t you start too,” Arek pouted.
“I’m just speaking the truth, and…” Trev held up his finger as his cell began to ring, showing a scrambled number that spelled Righteous out in a code. Figuring it was a standard recorded message, he grabbed a notepad and pen before he picked up. “Crosshairs - Alpha, Zulu, Charlie, Kilo, Foxtrot, six, six, six,” he relayed his signature authentication.
A machine distorted voice came from the other end. “There is someone you should represent at the LAPD nearest to you.”
“Who is this?” Trev asked as he pressed speaker on his phone and then hit the call trace.
“Who I am is of no consequence. Her name is Maeve. She is innocent, and that is all you need to know.”
The phone showed that the trace was bouncing all over the place. “I don’t do random, charity cases. Are you paying for this client?”
There was a deep chuckle. “No, but you will find what she has to say to be very interesting.”
Trev flicked his gaze to Arek, who shrugged in response to the silent question. “How do you know where I am?”
“I know everything. Just like I know you’re trying to triangulate this call, but it will do no good. Go see the girl.”
“Does this person have anything to do with…” Before he finished the question, the line went dead. The trace beeped, showing it couldn’t locate the caller.
“What do you think that is about?” Arek asked, his face a mirror of concern.
“I don’t know, but to know my number and have it call in the same way as our mission calls, means it has to be someone from The Righteous. The question becomes, why don’t they want us to know who they are?”
“Only one way to find out,” Arek said as he shrugged.
“I guess a road trip is in order.”
Trev pulled the Bentley into a newly vacated spot outside the station. This was the second Department he’d visited, annoyed that he had to search for this mystery person. Arek was not far away in case this was some sort of trap.
Slipping out of the vehicle, he grabbed his briefcase and made sure his suit jacket was smooth before heading for the front door. An officer on his way out held the door open, and Trev nodded to the man before marching forward.
The front counter was directly in front of him, and the girl, Kim, working the front desk, who’d seen him arrive at least a hundred times, waved and fixed her pencil skirt as she headed over.
“Mr. Anderson, I didn’t know we’d be seeing you today. Isn’t it a little late for a client meeting,” she asked as she gave him a flirty smile.
“Good evening, Kim. It was a last-minute case, or I would’ve called ahead,” he lied and offered a small smile in return. “I’m here to see Maeve,” he said, and the girl’s face fell.
“I don’t know how you defend people like her.” She looked around and leaned forward. “She’s a cop killer. I don’t know if this is one you want to get involved in.”
“I am fair to all those that need my assistance. Now, if you could have one of the officers set up the interview room?”
Kim straightened. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”
He stared at the poster on the far wall. The drab eighties image was faded and badly needed to be changed out. Then again, he didn’t think that they’d painted since then either—the bland grey paint was chipping and peeling while large rectangles of unfaded squares from posters and items that had been hanging and removed created an abstract patchwork.
The metal door off to his left clicked, and an officer stepped out.
