How much did Rain tell them?
“They also seem to think that someone did this to Rust because they wanted him out of the way.” The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.
Fred gives a half-shrug, half-nod. “There’s a lot of money involved here. I’ve heard of a lot worse happening for a lot less. Listen, you give me the word and you’ll be walking out of here. I just can’t say how long before you’re back. You need to decide if you want to risk that.” He pauses. “You’re a twenty-four-year-old guy who may or may not have gotten mixed up in the wrong stuff. If you did, you’ve still got a long life ahead. You can start over and lead a clean life. This deal they’re offering guarantees that you can do that.”
A clean life. I had never focused on it, but the life I’ve been living up until now has been dirty. It’s come from dirty money that I’ve accepted greedily. But Rust’s dead and none of it looks very appealing anymore. Jesse’s words that day fill my head. Maybe this is my wake-up call. I’m definitely scared shitless.
“What exactly does this voluntary cooperation involve?”
“Is that everything?” Briggs rubs at his eyes as he scribbles down his final notes. I feel like I haven’t seen the outside of these walls for weeks, though it’s been more like twenty hours. Still, a painfully long time to be sitting in this suffocating room, on a hard plastic chair, having him and Rain—I can’t think of her as anything else—squeeze every last bit of information out of me. Things I remember Rust saying, things I remember seeing. Anything and everything, damning and seemingly inconsequential. From the secret warehouse in the woods to the port security guard who’s paid to look the other way.
I ratted out my own garage manager, who has three kids—one in a wheelchair. I named Aref as both the shipper and a new business partner.
I knew a lot more than I thought I did.
The only thing I don’t know is the one thing they need most: the exact date, time, and location of the coming shipment for Vlad. Rust kept that close to his chest. Part of me wonders if it’s because of the exact situation I’m in right now.
“I think so.” The glass of water they gave me isn’t helping soothe my throat anymore, which is raw from talking. I can’t keep my eyes from flickering to Rain, who looks as tired as I feel. She meets my gaze for a moment before shifting away to focus on the floor.
We haven’t said two words to each other.
“Okay. Let Officer Bertelli know if you remember anything else.”
Officer Bertelli.
“And it’ll be added to this document, formally, right?” Fred insists.
“Yes,” Briggs confirms. “You’ve done the right thing today, Luke. So thank you.” He actually sounds sincere. He glances over at Rain, his jaw tightening, like he’s not happy about what he’s about to say. “She’ll take custody of you now.”
When Fred told me that part of this deal is that I’ll be released into “my girlfriend’s” custody, to keep up pretenses of the loving couple for the next few days, just until they can track down and bust the shipment for Vlad—which they believe is still happening—I refused.
But I apparently don’t have a choice.
“Your phone is being monitored, the condo is under full surveillance. If you disappear for so much as a second, this deal is dead and you’ll never get a chance at another one.” Dark, sharp eyes bore into me.
“Come on, Luke.” Rain stands, her eyes tired and pleading. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 60
CLARA
Luke kicks off his shoes and unsnaps Licks’ leash, who bolts straight for Stanley, their tails wagging frantically. “Where am I sleeping?” The same vacantness in his voice that I’ve listened to for hours in the interrogation room still exists. He hasn’t said a word to me since he demanded to see me. The car ride home was painfully silent.
“In the spare room, next to mine.”
He begins heading toward it, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
“I need you to leave your phones with me. I’ll let you know if someone’s calling.”
I’m expecting some form of resistance, but he simply slides his hand into his pocket and tosses both phones onto a side table before continuing on.
“Just so you know, they’ve installed several cameras in here, as well as at the front door. They’re being monitored at all times. We also have twenty-four-hour surveillance around the building.” He’s been nothing but cooperative—much more so than most people when their backs are against the wall. Most would have said “fuck you” and strolled out that door. “There aren’t any in your bedroom, though.” Or mine. “And I’m not wearing a wire anymore.”
His feet slow for just a second, enough that I think he may stop, may turn, may say something to me. I’d take anything right now. Yelling, accusing, swearing. He can call me a bitch; I don’t care.
But then he disappears behind a closed door.
I toss my keys onto the counter and answer my ringing phone.
“We have twenty-four-hour detail on 48, 60, and 72. 36 has already left the country.”
Miller, Andrei, Vlad, and Aref. Ugh . . . Too many targets. The code names are getting confusing.
And Aref is gone. “Fuck . . . he’s going to get off, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. He probably will. We won’t even be able to seize his ship. He’ll just say that he has no knowledge of what ended up on there and the customs papers will all be falsified anyway.”