.38 Caliber Cover-Up

washed-up undercover with no handler and no police academy babysitter.” He looked at Cop Number Two on his left. “Get rid of him.”

The cop took Erren’s arm, giving a tug to begin walking.

“Did I mention that I have to check my drop-box account once an hour or it forwards to the Feds?”

Erren allowed himself to grin at Knighton’s volatile reaction. At this point, any emotion the man showed gave Erren information.

“Do you really expect me to believe that TV babble? This isn’t playacting, but I am curious. Where did you find O’Malley’s phone? It wasn’t on him at the hospital.”

“You missed it at his sister’s place.”

“That’s what I get for sending idiots.” Knighton looked at Cop Number Two. Erren shrugged.

“Why are you here? What did you hope to gain besides getting killed?” Knighton finally asked.

Erren yanked his arm free from Cop Number Two. “Now that you mention it, I’m here to deal. I want a cut of the action.”

“There’s nothing you have that I want.”

“Just a bigger distribution area. I’ve got San Antonio and south Texas connections that will increase your profits.” Erren crossed his arms, trying to remain confident in spite of the growing suspicion he was in over his head.

“Not if you’re taking a piece of the pie.” Knighton stepped closer and threw a right punch into Erren’s gut.

It took several seconds to catch his breath. “You’re really not playing nice.”

“We’re not playin’ at all. I want to know where the pictures are stored and where you stashed O’Malley’s files.”

Son of a bitch… One person knew he had the files. That little weasel Thrumburt. He’d sent Darby straight to the U.S. Marshals. Darby was safe and away from this scum.

“The files are safe,” he forced out. He’d hated to use his favor at the FBI, but he’d called as soon as he’d pulled away from the VA hospital. The files were extremely safe.

Knighton took the opportunity to punch him in the gut again, dropping him to his knees.

“Put him in the van,” Knighton ordered the cops. “This place is too public for what we need to do.”

Each cop took him under an arm and dragged him across the broken asphalt to the end of the alley. They tossed him in the back of an empty panel van. Cop Number Two zip-tied his wrists, riding in the back with him. Knighton drove and hit every pothole possible.

This was definitely not the plan.

The ride was too noisy to hear anything said up front but the glow of a cell phone reflected on the windshield. At least the ride was short and he didn’t have to roll around too long. When the van slowed to a stop, he pushed himself to a sitting position and waited for the door to open.

Staying was risky, but it was too early to escape. He would always find a way out. This time he wouldn’t leave until he discovered who pulled the trigger of that .38 caliber.

The two cops started to drag him again and he shrugged them off. “I got this, guys.”

They moved inside an abandoned warehouse. Dust floated in the low-lit corner where they were headed. The smell of dirt and gas was strong, making it harder to breathe. He tried to focus on the far dark region and thought he saw a car. Lots of doors and hiding places. Looking up, he caught the bottom view of multiple catwalks running the length of the building.

Eyes front. Just thinking about being that high off the ground made his knees turn to Jell-O and knots form in his stomach.

“Want to explain again why you’re so valuable to us?” Knighton asked.

“You want the files. Right now, I’m thinking they’re the only things keeping me standing upright instead of in a shallow grave somewhere.”

“You think we need you, Rhodes? We’ve been dishing this up in major cities for three years. We don’t need nothin’ from you.”

“Except the files.” He lifted his head, catching Knighton’s look of frustration. Erren stood as straight as he could manage with his abdomen cramping. “If I join you, O’Malley’s copies of the evidence sheets never surface.”

“Come on in,” Knighton called into the dark, then faced Erren. “So you think you have us in a hard spot?”

What the hell was going on?

“What are you talking about? All I want is a slice of the action.”

“That’s not what you’re gonna get,” Limpy Cop said.

Thrumburt stepped into the circle of light, a little worse for wear. His forehead was bleeding and there was a layer of dust on his suit. Erren could imagine getting the turncoat in a headlock and snapping his skinny neck. But he wouldn’t.

Who pulled the trigger? Just tell me who pulled the trigger?

One answer and this whole thing would be over.

“So the little man turns out to be the big boss man,” Erren said.

Thrumburt kept the smug look and didn’t react to being called the boss man. Knighton didn’t react either. Each had a triumphant stare, declaring himself the winner. How? Erren had the evidence that would put them all away for years.

What did they have?

“Bring her in,” Knighton said. “Now we’ll see if you’re still so cocky.”

Darby? She was the only person in his life they could use as leverage.

The Medic should have called the U.S. Marshals’ office to protect the O’Malleys. How had she gotten away from the hospital?

She came into the circle of light, her face and neck smeared with blood, her hands bound in front of her. Erren’s moment of panic must have shown in his eyes. She immediately shook her head. “I’m okay. It’s not mine.”

God, then who? Had Thrumburt killed her family?

“They’re going to kill us no matter what you do, Erren.” She looked at her feet, reminding him about the gun in her boot.

Nice job!

“That’s enough!” Thrumburt yelled. Then he turned to Cop Number Two. “Shut her up.”

“He shot and killed a U.S. Marsh—”

The cop slapped her then cupped his hand over her mouth. At least he hadn’t knocked her unconscious. Darby’s presence changed everything.

Time to take control.

“Anyone know what time it is?” he asked. Four pairs of eyes indicated he’d totally lost his mind. “I’m just asking, ’cause the Feds are expecting a phone call and I wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“What? You said you had to contact the drop box to keep the Feds from getting the evidence,” Knighton yelled.

Erren shrugged and took great pleasure in saying, “I lied.”

Chapter Seventeen

Was Erren lying about having called the Feds? Did he really expect someone to burst through the doors?

Standing in a condemned warehouse, hands bound, covered in blood spatter, she wasn’t going to stop and think about it too much. She watched for any sign—an indication that Erren was going to break away or if he really expected some branch of the federal government to save their hides.

More than once she looked at her right boot, hoping that he remembered she’d dropped her Glock inside.

“Do it, Knighton. Have some fun,” Thrumburt told the tall man. “See how much he’ll spout off watching us