Page 106 of The Hidden Heir

We’re on the pavement, mere feet away, analyzing the situation before we walk up to the front door. I look around. There’s no movement. Some of the neighbors are still up at this hour—flashing TV lights glimmer through their windows.

“Let’s split up,” I say. “You take the front. I’ll take the back.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “We’re not partners on this. I’m just trying to help you get your wife and nephew back in one piece.”

“I agree. But we still have to split up. What if whoever is in there decides to make a run for it as soon as they hear you knocking on the door?”

He sighs. “Fair enough. I suppose you’re carrying a weapon.”

I lift my jacket for him to see the holstered Glock. It’s identical to his police-issued pistol. The frown he responds with almost brings a smile to my face.

“I’m also assuming that’s legally registered.”

“I won’t use it unless I have to,” I assure him.

He takes the front door, and I rush around the house and make my way to the back door. The garden is unkempt and in desperate need of a trim, but at least it hides me from any prying neighbor’s eyes. Upon reaching the back door, I pick the lock.

I stand in the dark kitchen as Reece’s knocks echo through the house. I smell the musty air, and I run my fingers over the counter, picking up dust and grime. There hasn’t been a soul living here for a long time, so I head through the hallway and turn the lights on.

The knocking stops. I open the front door from the inside, welcoming the detective into a completely empty home. He glances around with understandable confusion.

“What the…”

“No one’s been here for a while,” I say, then turn away from him as I check the bedroom and the bathroom just in case, and he takes the living room.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Reece says when he finds me.

There’s an empty bed—just the frame and an old, yellowed mattress. The nightstands are barely standing, and the dresser looks no better. Reece is right. It doesn’t make any sense.

“I completely agree, but you said this was our best option,” I reply.

There’s movement outside, a shadow rushing past the window. Immediately, my predatory instincts are activated, and I run out of the bedroom, darting straight for the back door. My hope is to intercept the fucker before he does something stupid.

I whiz past the emerging Reece and burst out onto the back porch. I hear twigs crackling nearby, and I’m about to take out my gun.

Another presses into the back of my head.

“Don’t even think about it,” Reece’s tone has changed. It’s low and cold. The deceit has finally emerged.

“It took you a while,” I mutter. “What’s your angle?”

“If they wanted you dead, they would’ve killed you by now,” Reece replies.

Yet another dirty cop. It’s not a shock. It’s merely disappointing. It’s always the righteous ones who are the filthiest on the inside, which is what I was banking on to begin with.

“Mancuso’s paying you well, isn’t he?” I mutter and slowly raise my hands in the air.

He removes my weapon and tucks it into the back of his jeans. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

I scoff lightly. “I came to you for help.”

“I am helping you, Mr. Petrucci. You were advised patience, yet you continued your pursuit. You’re lucky I’m the one taking you to them and not one of my colleagues. Many of them don’t like you very much.”

“Oh, you mean other dirty cops.”

“Good men who understand that, sometimes, you have to dance with the devil in order to get the scum off the streets.”

I can’t help but chuckle, and I shake my head slowly. “Ah, so that’s the lie you tell yourselves? The ends justify the means and all that bullshit. You’re keeping the city safe.”