“This isn’t the deal!” the informant whines. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Listen to me,” I say evenly. “There’s a colleague of yours locked in a broom closet. You head there now under the pretext of retrievingsome work you’ve forgotten, wipe down the tool—donottake it with you—then free the man and call the police. You’ll be a hero.”
“I don’t know,” he says in a dubious tone. “It sounds risky.”
“Welcome to the game. You play it right, you’ll be fine.”
It takes another minute of wrangling before the informant reluctantly agrees to the plan. Disconnecting, I say to Sue, “Let’s hope he gets there before his colleague frees himself.”
“Once your informant calls the police, we’ve lost our window of opportunity,” Sue points out.
I rub my temples. “Yeah, I know. The price to pay.”
Sue whispers reassuringly to the beagles as the van coasts to a stop. It’s our first drop-off point.
The moment the doors open, I fill Joel and Michael in on everything that happened.
Michael cracks his knuckles. “Ah, it’s one thing after another on this mission.”
“You think your guy will follow through?” Joel asks.
“He knows his own neck is on the line,” I reply.
We’re parked in a back alley behind a closed Thai restaurant, out of sight from the road.
“We need to move quickly,” Joel says. “We probably have half an hour before the van has to be off the street.”
We discard our overalls into trash bags and drop them into the restaurant’s dumpster. Using a citrus-smelling solvent, we strip the vehicle of its cleaning service logos and then pile back into the van.
Michael’s townhouse is our first stop. Two of the dogs are being relocated to areas close to his place. “Good luck,” I say, handing him two carriers. “Send Joel a text when they’re safe.”
“Will do.”
Settling into the passenger seat, I check the police scanner while Joel navigates the roads, keeping to the speed limit. We come across no mention of the break-in at the university.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re at Sue house. She takes two of the dogs, loading the carriers directly into her car.
“Drive safe,” I caution. “Don’t get stopped. Same drill with the text.”
Sue nods, biting her lip. “Justin, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s not that, it’s just... I can’t do this anymore,” she says in a rush. “I want out of the field.”
My jaw tightens. “Just get the dogs to their new homes. You think you can do that?”
She looks offended. “Of course.”
“Good. I’ll speak to you next week. Not now.” Not when the urge to shake a sense of commitment into her is so strong. I stalk to the van and yank open the passenger door.
Joel raises his eyebrows but says nothing as he motors away from Sue’s house. After a minute, he asks, “Lover’s tiff?”
I snort. “Give me more credit.”
“What happened?”
“She’s pulling out.”
