Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(60)
The elevator doors opened, and a flush-faced Reggie got off. He went for the nearest huddle of cops, but Brynn intercepted him. Liam stepped away from the marshals to approach him.
“I want someone’s head on a platter!” Reggie jabbed his finger at Liam’s chest. “I want to know how this happened! What the hell am I paying for?”
Liam towered over the angry lawyer, absorbing the jabs. When Reggie finished his attack, Liam calmly started talking.
“Heads up,” Jeremy said, and Erik turned around to see a man approaching him. Tall. Thin. He had a Glock on his hip and a U.S. marshal’s badge on a lanyard around his neck.
“Erik Morgan? I’m Art Caldwell.”
They shook hands, and Erik glanced past him to see Skyler coming out of what looked to be a private office or a staff room. She’d changed into a Dallas County EMT shirt but still wore her bloodstained jeans.
“I know you filled out a report,” Caldwell said, “but I wanted to talk to you in person, get your impressions.”
Erik gave Jeremy a questioning look.
“I got her,” Jeremy assured him, meaning Brynn.
Erik walked with Caldwell to the room Skyler had just come from, catching her eye in the hallway. She looked stressed. Having a protectee injured on your watch was hell.
It was a small conference room with a sofa along one wall, probably so interns could collapse between shifts. Erik took a chair and checked his watch. Ross had been in surgery for nearly three hours.
“I put everything in my report,” Erik told the marshal.
He opened a file and pulled out a mug shot of Corby. As he slid it across the table, Erik realized it wasn’t a photo but a computer-generated sketch. Erik hadn’t seen this version, and it looked like it had been created based on the description he had given.
“Our artist came up with that after talking to you and Vera Gomez.”
“Who’s that?” Erik looked up.
“The waitress at Mulligan’s Pub. She got a pretty good look at him when he smacked into her.”
Erik studied the picture, noting the blue eyes and the neck tattoo of an eagle. He’d altered his appearance since his escape by shaving his head, growing the goatee, and getting a tattoo, but he wasn’t wearing colored contacts.
“That could be a fake tat,” Erik said. “Prison doesn’t have a record of it.”
“Could be.” Caldwell nodded. “Or maybe it’s recent. We didn’t see it in the surveillance footage from the prison. Then again, stopping to get inked up when you’ve got every badge in the state after you is a pretty bold move.”
“So is stabbing a man in broad daylight. And taking potshots at a woman’s car.”
Caldwell frowned. “You’re sure it was a gunshot the other day?”
“Yes.”
“You seem confident in that assessment.”
“I am.”
Caldwell held his stare. Erik had no doubt the guy had checked his background and knew he’d served two tours in Afghanistan before joining the Secret Service.
“He’s got a Remington seven hundred,” Erik said.
“From McGowan’s gun cabinet.”
Erik nodded. “That’s consistent with the weapon I heard. We believe he took the shot from the parking garage beside the Ames Theater. This evening, I was on my way over there to interview a possible eyewitness.”
“Eyewitness?”
“A janitor who might have seen him there Tuesday morning in a black Honda with a dented bumper, which is the same make I saw today. But then all this shit went down, so I had to cancel the interview. I rescheduled him for tomorrow.”
“We’ll talk to him.”
“Good. So will I.”
Caldwell gave him a long, assessing look. “Listen, I won’t bullshit you. I don’t like you guys mucking around my case.”
“Mucking?”
“You guys want to take money to protect these people? Fine, take their money. Makes the locals’ job easier, so have at it. But as for investigating Corby? Don’t. He’s ours.”
“Does he know that?”
Caldwell’s expression hardened. “We’re bringing him in. And if any of you hired guns gets in the way, you’re going to find yourself in jail and facing federal obstruction charges.”
Erik checked his watch. “Anything else you want to ask me about your fugitive?”
“Don’t fuck with us, Morgan. Trust me, you do not want to be in the way when we take this guy down.”
“When, not if?”
“That’s right.”
Erik nodded and stood up. “Looking forward to seeing that.”
It was after eleven when Brynn finally left the hospital. Hayes drove her back to her apartment, and they rode the elevator up in silence. Brynn watched the digital numbers blearily, and the events of the past few hours tumbled through her mind.
The door dinged open at the same moment her phone chimed with a text. It was Liz, wanting another update. She’d called her after Ross got out of surgery, but that was nearly an hour ago. Trailing behind Hayes, she scrolled through her other messages and saw that she’d missed one from her mom, one from Faith, and three from Emilio’s Café. The dinner order she’d placed earlier had completely vanished from her head.