Which left Lisbeth.
She was a contracts lawyer, not a prosecutor or public defender, but he figured that was as close as they were likely to get.
So after they dumped their stuff in the living room, Sullivan sent her a text.
I think I ran into trouble in the police department. U know someone local with impeccable ethics and a good rep?
“My friend’s an attorney,” he explained to Tobias as he typed. “Not criminal, unfortunately, or she’d have a much better idea of who to contact, but maybe she’ll have a name she can recommend.”
The response only took a couple of minutes—Lisbeth was nothing if not prompt—and it sent his heart into his shoes.
I have a contact I would trust with my life, but he retired about three months ago. He’s somewhere en route to Yellowstone in an RV. He refuses to use cell phones these days, but I’ll call his daughter.
Five minutes later, another text came through.
Daughter expects to hear from him in about a week. She’ll tell him to call me and that it’s urgent. I can tell him to call or come home then. Will that do?
“Damn,” Sullivan muttered, turning the phone over so Tobias could read it.
“We can’t leave Ghost in there for another week.” Tobias caught Sullivan’s wrist.
“I know.” Sullivan eased himself free so he could send a text to Lisbeth thanking her. And, if he was honest, also because he didn’t want Tobias touching him right now.
“So what do we do? Can we break him out? Is that...can we do that?”
And there it was. He’d phrased it as a we, but Sullivan knew what he was really asking. Save him for me. Put yourself and your career at risk for a guy you’ve never met and for me, a guy who screwed you over and apparently isn’t averse to doing it again.
It hurt. A guy who could barely stir a finger to be Tobias’s friend was more important than the risk to Sullivan’s life and career. And yeah, Sullivan would do it anyway because it was the right thing to do—and if he was honest, because he didn’t doubt Tobias would go in alone if he refused—but it would’ve been really nice for Tobias to at least seem conflicted about risking him for Ghost.
He took a deep breath and told himself to get his shit together. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known where he stood. “The alarm is probably only off when either Tidwell or Spratt is in there. So we either have to deal with the alarm or a cop.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not attacking a cop,” Sullivan said flatly. “Dirty or not.”
Tobias shook his head, a little taken aback. “No. I wouldn’t ask you to. I don’t want to either.”
“Then we need to go in when they’re gone during the day.”
“I don’t suppose you know how to disarm an alarm without anyone knowing?”
“Nope. We’ll have to be quick enough that the security system doesn’t bite us in the ass.”
“How long would it take someone to respond?”
“No idea. Minutes, though. I’d be shocked if it took more than ten.”
“How’s that work? Security guards?” Tobias lifted his eyebrows. “Actually—maybe that would be good. We could throw a football through a window, and when they come we’ll say we heard someone yelling for help. They could go in and get Ghost.”
“Not all security companies use guards. Some of them try to contact you and then, if they can’t, they call the cops.”
Tobias deflated. “We can’t count on the cops to be reliable.”
“Probably not.” Sullivan paused. “But on the other hand, neither can Spratt. They aren’t all dirty, not even the majority of them. He wouldn’t be able to control who got sent to the scene, cop or security guard, so I’m not sure Spratt would go either route—you wouldn’t want anyone in your home if you can’t ensure they won’t talk about the guy you’ve got tied up in your basement.”
“Then what’s the point of an alarm?”
Sullivan did a quick search for home security, and only a couple minutes later, he had a consumer review article about the different types and benefits and drawbacks. “Some systems are set up so you can get alerts on your smart phone. If I were Spratt, that’s what I’d do. I bet the alarm isn’t meant to keep people out so much as to keep people in. When we breach the alarm, he might come right home expecting to find Ghost trying to run.”
“If we’re in his house, can he just shoot us?”
“If he thinks we’re there to commit a crime by force, yeah.”
“What’s force? In these circumstances, I mean?”
“Pretty much whatever he wants it to be. It’s called the ‘Make My Day’ law for a reason. If you give him a shove on the arm, that’s force. You don’t even have to be armed.”
Tobias blinked. “That’s terrifying. Are we going to take one with us in case—”
“No. I don’t like guns.”
“But you’re a PI.”
“So?”
“So you carry one, don’t you?”
“Have you seen me carry a gun? Why would I carry a gun? Someone could get shot.”
“I just thought—”
“No.” Despite what movies and television claimed, Sullivan didn’t know a single private detective who carried; if there was a job that proved that guns started more trouble than they ended, it was his. Guns made people feel invincible, which was another way of saying that they did stupid shit because they thought being armed would protect them from the consequences. They picked fights they wouldn’t otherwise pick, they stuck around when they’d be safer running, they tried to teach assholes lessons when they would normally call the cops. And almost all of it was avoidable if you did your job without getting your dick in a bunch. He cleared his throat. “Look, the second a
