And again, Sullivan caught him. “Tobias, so help me, if you don’t slow down and—”
He jerked away hard enough this time to make his shoulder twinge. “God, Sullivan, we’ve been sitting still for so long and we finally have something and you want to stand here some more?”
“That’s not what I’m trying to—” He broke off, the muscle in his jaw working. “You know what? Go sit in the car.”
Tobias could only sputter for a second as betrayal, hot and choking, rose inside him. “Excuse me? Are you joking? No. No. I’m not—I am not getting sent to the car like a damn—”
“Yes, you are. I don’t have the time or inclination to argue with you about this. Just do as you’re told and wait—”
“The hell I am.” Tobias didn’t sound like himself. He sounded angry, maybe mean, and he liked it. He liked it a lot, and Sullivan was out of luck if he thought he could muzzle Tobias now. Sure, they played at the submission game when it was convenient, but this wasn’t sex, and Tobias wasn’t waiting anymore. Sullivan had said he wanted Tobias to be honest. Now he could reap what he’d sown.
Tobias said it again. “No.”
He took off across the path, ignoring the way Sullivan cursed and said his name, walking quickly enough to shake off the hand that Sullivan almost managed to catch him with, and then he was on the grass, losing himself in the group of attendees. He didn’t slow down, wedging his way through the crowd well enough that when he glanced back, he didn’t see Sullivan anywhere.
Good. He’d catch up eventually, of course, because he wasn’t incompetent, but Tobias was deep in the thick of the picnic now, and Sullivan wouldn’t make a scene, wouldn’t want to risk attracting attention.
The speakers gave a cry of feedback, and a woman at the podium began talking about the state of justice in Denver. Tobias tuned her out for the most part, concentrating on winding his way through the attentive crowd and looking for the balding man.
As he got closer to the stage, he saw more people in suits and dresses, their jewelry and watches more expensive, the average age increasing sharply. There were more cops, many in patrol uniforms, a bunch in business casual with badges pinned to their waistbands. There weren’t as many kids, either, which was part of the reason that the four children making a minor ruckus and drawing annoyed glances from the adults nearby stuck out. Tobias surveyed the nearest faces, and found the balding man talking with a strikingly red-haired man in his fifties, sour-faced with small brown eyes and ruddy cheeks.
Neither of them spared the children or the annoyed attendees a second’s attention.
The woman wrapped up her speech with a loud and enthusiastic, “So let’s give a warm welcome to the man who will be taking over the job, Benjamin Spratt!”
There was loud applause, and she stood back, clapping as the man who must be Spratt walked on stage. He was tall and slim, elegant in his charcoal-gray suit, his salt-and-pepper hair handsomely styled, his thin face a pleasant mixture of noble decency and stern, hard-eyed strength. He looked like a cop should look, Tobias decided.
He listened to enough of Spratt’s speech to catch on that he was talking about updating the police department and helping the community. Tobias went back to watching the balding man hiss something into the ear of the redheaded man.
When the speech ended, Tobias circled around, trying to edge closer to the foot of the stage, where the balding man and redheaded man were still talking in low voices. By the time he got within hearing range, they’d been joined by Spratt himself, smiling and nodding as people passed. He’d been given a flute of champagne at some point, and one long finger tapped at the glass as the balding man muttered at him.
Tobias eased around a clutch of attendees, coming at Spratt and the two unnamed men from behind. There were fewer people standing on this side, fewer voices to try to hear past.
“—the bitch knew we were coming...had the middle one there already...and the big fucker...by surprise...”
Tobias grimaced. He wasn’t close enough to get all of it. He took a couple of steps closer. He was exposed now; if one of them turned, they’d see him head-on, but it was easier to hear from this spot, at least.
Spratt said, “Was the mysterious Kellen there?”
Tobias frowned. Kellen. He knew that name. From...he couldn’t remember, but he knew it.
The balding man replied, “No, we only saw the others.”
“Pity.” Spratt shifted, nodding to one attendee, then extending a hand to another for a brief shake.
The balding man said something else, more softly now that others were closer, and Tobias eased another step closer. He wanted to hear more about Kellen, wanted something to jog his memory of how he’d heard—
“And the boy? Any progress there?” the balding man asked.
“It’s a matter of time,” Spratt said.
“Assuming he doesn’t act up anymore.” The balding man squinted at the sun as if its glare was purposely designed to afflict him. “Assuming he can trust a guy doing what you’re doing.”
“A caged animal is a safe animal,” Spratt said, and Tobias thought Ghost.
A hand clenched on Tobias’s elbow all of a sudden, and then Sullivan was edging in front of him, planting himself between Tobias and Spratt’s circle, his back to them.
Tobias tried to shrug him off. He needed to hear.
Sullivan leaned in and hissed, “If you don’t come with me right now and without a fuss, we are fucking done. Deal off, case over.”
Tobias jolted, stung. Sullivan’s expression matched his words, and Tobias swallowed his own anger, allowing himself to be prodded back toward the car after one last, lingering glance at Spratt.
“Not a word,” Sullivan said when they were in. “Not one
