"I am aware," I reply, my voice completely flat. I don't look at the warrant. I look at the detective. "My legal counsel will meet us at the precinct."
"Turn around and place your hands behind your back, Mr. Vance."
I don't argue. I turn around, crossing my wrists behind my back. The cold, heavy metal of the handcuffs snaps around my wrists, biting into my skin.
"Clear the apartment," the second detective orders the uniformed officers.
"You do not have a search warrant," I say, my voice dropping to a lethal, warning register. "You have an arrest warrant. If your officers touch a single item in this penthouse, my lawyers will have your badges by morning."
The first detective hesitates. He knows I am right. He gestures for the officers to stand down.
"Let's go," the detective says, grabbing my bicep to lead me toward the elevator.
I don't look back at the closed door of the office. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead.
The ride down the elevator is silent. The lobby is empty, save for the night concierge, who looks completely terrified. The police lead me out the front doors and into the freezing Chicago night.
A squad car is waiting at the curb. The red and blue lights flash against the glass facade of the building.
As the detective pushes my head down to guide me into the back seat of the cruiser, I see a black SUV pull up to the opposite side of the street.
Grant steps out. He doesn't look at the police. He looks directly at me.
I give him a single, microscopic nod.
Protect her.
Grant nods back. He turns and walks into the building.
The door of the squad car slams shut, sealing me in the dark, cramped space. The car pulls away from the curb, the siren wailing as we merge onto the empty streets.
Preston thinks he won. He thinks he locked the monster in a cage.
He doesn't realize that the monster isn't the one he needs to worry about anymore.
I left the weapon in the penthouse. And she knows exactly where to aim.
CHAPTER 25
AUDREY
The heavy oak door of the office clicks shut.
I stand perfectly still, staring at the brass handle. The sound of the lock sliding into place echoes in the quiet room. A few seconds later, I hear the distinct, metallic chime of the private elevator opening in the foyer, followed by the heavy tread of boots on the hardwood floor.
They took him.
My chest tightens so violently I have to press the heel of my hand against my sternum just to draw a breath.
I am going to let him think he won.
Malcolm’s words ring in my head, cold and absolute. He didn't fight the arrest. He didn't call his lawyers to block the warrant. He walked into that elevator in handcuffs because he needed Preston to believe the threat was neutralized.
I turn around, my eyes scanning the office. The mahogany desk. The leather chair. The massive bookshelf covering the far wall.
I walk over to the shelf, my bare feet silent against the rug. I reach up, my fingers trembling slightly, and pull the thick volume on architectural history from the third row. I open the back cover. The small, black USB drive is sitting exactly where I left it.
I take it out, closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf.
