The twenty yards to the gold car gleaming under the industrial overheads felt like a gallows walk during which time had stilled. Even the reverberation of their footfalls in the cavernous hall seemed to be dampened, and all Nikki could hear was the liquid whoosh of her own blood rhythmically marking the cadence of her fear.
She tried to not let it freeze her thinking. Every second between then and launch needed to be a focused, primal hunt for opportunity. Worrying about Rook, wondering if it would hurt, or envisioning Lobbrecht’s brain spatter would only distract her. Heat willed herself to be an animal. To be ruthless and survive.
“In,” said Maloney. When Nikki stiffened her body to resist, making herself more difficult to move, Maloney swept a leg against the back of her knees and tripped her. She hit the deck hard, landing on her shoulder with the air knocked out of her. He holstered and yanked her up by the handcuffs, then manhandled her into the driver’s seat, grunting a string of curses.
He shoved the door, and the slam thundered to the rafters. She massaged the skin where the metal edges of the handcuffs had cut at her wrists. The pain gave birth to a new tactic. Flailing, for sure, but she’d try anything. Her side window was down, and she said, “You are an idiot. No wonder you washed out.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who’s gonna be a bug on a windshield.”
Heat had one last desperate idea and worked it. She licked away a clot of blood on her upper lip and said, “It’s like I was telling you, he’s setting you up. Jeez, Tim, you were a grade-three detective, and you can’t see what he’s done?”
“Tim, let it go,” said Backhouse. “Load him, and let’s do this.”
It’s in the job description of a paranoid person to be oversuspicious that someone is gaming him. Nikki exploited that—by gaming him. “Yeah, let it go.”
Her dismissal troubled him.
“OK, what.”
“Never mind.” She gave him a wink. “You’ll find out.”
Heat had gotten into Maloney’s head. His gaze darted to Backhouse, then to her.
“Want me to paint it for you?” she said.
Backhouse cleared his throat. “Now would be good.”
Nikki inclined her head toward her arms secured behind her. “Were you wearing those gloves when you cuffed us? No. So when CSU works this scene, whose fingerprints and DNA are going to be on these? Yours. I told you he was setting you up.”
“She’s right,” said Rook. “You don’t think they’re going to go all out for a dead captain?”
“We’ll fish them out after,” said Backhouse. “Let’s move.”
Nikki smelled an opening and continued to press. “There’s a fun job. And what if you can’t find them?”
“Or find all the pieces,” added Rook for good measure. “All it’s going to take is a partial, and they’ve got you.”
Maloney turned to Backhouse. “I’m taking their cuffs off.”
“Are you nuts? We should be out of here by now.”
“See?” said Heat. “They’re not his fingerprints.”
“I’m not asking, I’m telling.” Maloney handed Nikki’s Sig Sauer to Backhouse. “Just keep it on her.” Then he fished out his cuff key and opened Heat’s door. She didn’t wait for an invitation. Nikki twisted her back toward him, and he unlocked one cuff, then the other, and took them off. He stepped back quickly and slammed the door again. “Chill, Wilton. Under control.”
He yanked Rook around to the other side. When Rook started to resist, Maloney jerked his wounded arm to bring him under control and stuffed him in the passenger seat. Rook presented his handcuffs, but Maloney’s gloves were clumsy and he dropped the key on the floor. While he bent to retrieve it, Rook whispered to Nikki, “Smart move. What’s your plan?”
“Hands free. Beyond that…?” She shrugged.
Rook’s eyes worked back and forth in urgent thought. Then he said, “Stand by.”