The woman hangs up her phone, and I get the briefest of glances at her name badge as she slips her cell into her pocket. I’m nowhere near close enough to read the name printed on the front, but I’m sure as hell close enough to catch the big DEA badge. What the fuck? What the hell are the DEA doing here? I was not expecting that. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that this chick’s not with the feds, but I’m not hanging around to find out. I’m turning, about to go locate Sloane, when I hear something that stops me in my tracks.
“Denise, there you are. I’ve got the—man, what the hell are you doing? Here, get out of the way.” I chance another quick glimpse around the corner and a second agent has appeared—dark suit; shiny Italian leather shoes; greased-back hair. He looks like the government version of a motherfucking Ken doll. He fiddles with the vending machine, and then it chunks and starts vending the coffee. This Denise woman scratches her head, blowing out a deep breath.
Denise. Denise was the name of Rick’s DEA handler. Agent Denise Lowell. A coincidence? A mind-blowingly huge, no-fucking-way, off-the-charts level of a coincidence? Yeah, I don’t believe in those. This has to be the same woman. It feels like a pretty big fucking jigsaw puzzle piece has just fallen into place, but I still can’t figure out what the whole picture is. I shake my head, growling under my breath.
“Thanks,” the woman says.
“No problem.” The guy hands her the little plastic cup and then leans against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re letting this get to you, y’know?” he says.
“So would you if you’d been working on the case for this long. I’m so fucking close I can taste it, and this woman is the key to shutting this thing down for good.”
The male agent shakes his head, smiling softly. “Babe, it’s all good. You’ve done as much as you can. This is a done deal.” He shoves away from the wall and plants a kiss on the top of her head.
So Agent Denise Lowell is fucking her workmate. And she’s been working on this case for a long time? That pretty much confirms my suspicions—she has to be the same woman that bribed Rick into feeding information to the Wreckers. But what the hell does she want with Sloane?
I’m not gonna stick around to ask personally. I make my way as silently as I can back down the corridor. Three turns later and I figure it’s safe to run. I’m about to get moving when I turn another corner and walk straight into the man I’ve been trying to avoid since I broke into St. Peter’s.
The grey-haired devil breaks into a glorious smile. “Ah! Zeth Mayfair! As I live and fuckin’ breathe.”
Ten seconds after Agent Lowell leaves, the door to Chief Allison’s office cracks open, and a small, blonde woman inches her way inside.
“Lacey! What the—”
She holds up a hand, placing her index finger over her mouth. “Shhh. Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Leaving? Lacey, I’m pretty sure I’m being arrested.”
She frowns at this. “Have they read you your Miranda Rights?”
I have to think for a second. Did I get read my rights? Lowell just told me to sit my ass down and then left. “No. No, I wasn’t read my rights.”
“Then we’re leaving,” Lacey repeats, as though the whole thing is obvious and totally above board. “Charlie’s here, and we need to be gone before he sees any of us. Zeth’s coming in a second. We have to get downstairs without heading back through the west wing of this floor; that’s where the cops are. Is there a way?”
There is a way. An elevator down the eastern corridor, out past accounting. I nod, getting to my feet. If Charlie’s here, then I definitely want to hightail it. A small part of me resists, though. I was told to wait here by a member of the police force. And not just the police force—by a member of the DEA. If I go against what I’ve been told, I’m crossing a line. A line I’ve never crossed before. I won’t be able to come back to work, that’s for sure.
“I’m not so sure about this,” I say. “How did you even get in here?”
“It’s probably better if you don’t ask,” Lacey says, her mouth pulling up to one side in some semblance of a rueful smile. “It wasn’t the easy way, that’s for sure.” She spins around, suddenly startled by a noise out in the corridor. Her shoulders visibly relax, and then I see Michael and Cade arrive behind her.
“Hey, precious,” Cade says, smiling at me. Whereas Michael’s always been a little too formal with his greetings, it appears Cade is going to be exactly the opposite. Michael huffs and hurries into the room.
“No time for details. Let’s move.” He doesn’t give me an option. It’s kind of a relief. Taking the choice out of my hands makes running out on Agent Lowell seem a little more acceptable. I’m ushered out into the corridor, and there’s only one question on my lips:
“Where the hell is Zeth?”
*******