“Yeah,” I grunted into my cell after picking up on the second ring.

“Homicide at the abandoned warehouse off Holt Boulevard. Be ready in five.”

Austin hung up, and I went into autopilot mode.

I switched on the lamp, threw back the comforter, climbed out of bed and walked into my closet, After dressing in a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, I pulled on my boots, jammed my phone in my back pocket, clipped on my badge, and secured my gun on my hip.

I’d done this same routine thousands of times, but it never felt old.

I switched off the lamp, and headed down the hall and toward the kitchen as an unsettling feeling secured itself low in my gut.

Austin arrived in five minutes.

* * *

First responders stood at the doors and spotlights beamed light into the abandoned warehouse. As soon as we stepped out of the car, a grim looking Officer Carey made his way toward us.

"One body and witnesses report hearing at least four gunshots. We have men on all exits, so you’re good to go in.”

We entered the warehouse with guns drawn and torches on. As we proceeded, the rain fell harder through the broken tiles and smashed above, and affected our visibility. I advanced, cautiously, with Austin on my heel. Scanning left to right, I squinted through the rain and could barely see a thing from the light of my torch. Then to my left, movement caught my eye and I halted.

“Get on the ground,” I roared to the figure slowly coming toward Austin and me. They were either dumb as bat shit or hard of hearing, because they didn't stop. “Get on the fucking ground. Now!”

“I’ve done nothing. I’m just delivering a package,” the assailant stuttered as he stepped into the light from Austin’s torch and raised both hands in surrender.

“Blood’s thick in the air, body lying dead on the ground, and you’re the only one still standing. How do you explain that?” I took a menacing step toward him, head tilted in question, my eyes locked on his, and my finger resting on the trigger. “For the last time, get on the fucking ground.”

He moved quickly in the opposite direction and I took off in pursuit. Boots pounding behind me told me Austin was following. There was no chance he was getting out of here. I moved left. Austin went right. The assailant’s head bobbed between us, and fear stretched over his face when he realized there was no chance of escaping.

“It's bad enough being out in the rain in the middle of the night, so I sure as fuck don’t need to be running,” Austin said sharply. “Now, if you don’t want to be shot by my partner, and believe me, he will shoot, I suggest you get on the fucking ground.”

His eyes went wide and darted to me, and as I went to take a step toward him, he quickly dropped to his knees in surrender. Austin remained stationary, with his gun locked and loaded, while I secured mine to my hip and moved in. I pushed him to the ground and cuffed him, before reading him his rights and dragging him to his feet. In the dim light, I got a good look at him. The trembling man standing before me was barely twenty years old.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I nudged him to walk.

“Scott Jones. I have no clue what’s happening. I got paid to deliver a package to this address, and that’s what I’m doing. I didn’t ask questions. I just did the job.”

“At midnight?” I pressed.

“I need money. I don’t say no to jobs.” He stuttered.

Being a cop for so long allowed me time to develop the skill of reading people. This guy was trembling, and the chill in the air wasn't the cause. His breathing was labored. He wasn’t avoiding my gaze. He answered everything I asked without thinking of his response; therefore, not giving himself time to come up with a lie.

“How much did you get paid?” I asked as we stepped through the door and out into the pouring rain.

“Man, I was paid twenty dollars. I don’t know anything.”

Twenty fucking dollars.

We stopped moving when we got to Officer Carey.

“Take him in and lock him up. Hart and I will be in to have a chat with him. The crew can go in there and start working, and put a priority on identifying the body.”

Jones looked between Carey and me before trying to pull away in protest. “Why am I getting locked up? I only delivered a package,” Jones cried out in disbelief.

Austin grunted and took a step toward him. “There’s a dead body, you’re the only here, and you ran the moment we turned up. That means we are having a chat.”

“Why can’t we chat here?” Jones asked as if he didn’t hear the mention of a dead body.

Now it was my turn to step in his space. “It’s raining. I’m cold as a motherfucker, and it’s past midnight. Standing in the rain is not where I want to deal with the excuses or stories festering in your head, which I know you’re going to try feeding us. I’m going to get a coffee, I’m going home to get changed, and then, and only then, will we chat.”

I stepped away, not bothering to hear what he said next. I knew he had nothing to do with that body, but I also knew there was a chance he might know who did. Austin fell into step beside me, and before we headed to the car, we went back into the building, which was now lit up by spotlights. I crouched down and took in the victim. A single gunshot wound to the head, eyes opened and looking to the sky, and dressed in an expensive looking suit. No sign of struggle, no blood splatter, little to no mess. That sounded the alarms. The witness reported hearing four gunshots, which meant someone wanted the victim to be found. I recognised him immediately. Stefan Stanley. A drug dealer from the next town over, who’d served time for possession and intent to sell, and as far as I knew hadn’t brought his shit to Monroe.

Until now.

* * *

“Hunt, get your ass in here,” Captain Santora called out from his office when I walked past. I turned and stepped in, closing the door behind me. “Jones is in holding room one. You planning on making him squirm?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Christ, Hunt. Just do it clean,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hart told me you identified the victim as Stefan Stanley?”

“I’m 99% sure it’s him. The scene didn’t match the witness reports though. Single gunshot wound, yet numerous gunshots were heard. It looked like a clean shot. The team is working the scene now, so morning will bring more answers. But I don’t have a good feeling about this. Just by looking at him, it didn’t look like it was done there. No struggle, no blood splatter, no disturbance of any form.”

“We’ll see what the team brings back. I’ll call Eriksville PD and see if they’ve heard anything of Stanley being back in the business. Go and talk to Jones. See what he says. Just don’t frighten the kid too much. He about shit his pants when he was brought in here.”

“I’ll try my best.”

I left Captain shaking his head and mumbling under his breath, then made my way down the hall and stepped into the interrogation room. Austin sat on one side of the desk, and Jones sat on the other side. He watched every step I took and sucked in a deep, unsteady breath as I pulled out the metal chair and took a seat. I made sure I took my time grabbing a pen and tearing off a bit of paper. It was while they squirmed and waited that all of their deepest secrets came to the surface.

“So, tell me again, what were you doing there?”

He responded immediately, “I was picking up a package.”

“At midnight. In the rain. To an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town,” Austin added, arrogance drenching every word.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I don’t know what was in the package. I just had to pick it up.”

“We need an address of where you were going to deliver the package. That’s step one. Step two is telling us why you didn’t call 911 when you supposedly stumbled on a dead body with a hole in his head.” I pushed, and narrowed my gaze. “Picking up a package should have been the last thing on your fucking mind the moment you saw a man dying in front of you.”

“I don’t know anything.” He cried, his desperate gaze darting between Austin and I.

“You need to start fucking talking.” I warned.

I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs at the ankles, linked my hands behind my head, and stared at him. I wouldn’t break. I would stay in this exact position long enough for him to become visibly jittery. The silence would become too much. Silence was the greatest weapon in getting the truth out of someone if they had something to hide. Silence was a beautiful, tranquil thing, but if your head was pounding with lies, the pounding would eventually become too much, and the silence would become a scream.

He took a deep breath and his eyes dropped to the table.

Broken.

My eyes sliced to Austin, and with a subtle chin lift he confirmed he knew what was coming.

“Just after ten, I got a call from the guy my sister is seeing. He wanted a package picked up. He gave me an address, and I went. I don’t know what I was picking up. I just know he is the kind of guy you don’t say no to,” he admitted in a flurry of short breaths. “I turned up, and then the cops turned up. I didn’t see or hear anything. No gunshots. Nothing.”

My jaw clenched as his words penetrated. “I’ll need the names of your sister and her boyfriend.”

“Darla Jones and Aaron Den—”

He stopped and looked toward the closed door, as the voice of a clearly pissed off woman infiltrated into the interrogation room. As I listened, I recognized the voice, and it belonged to none other than Sasha Hamilton.

“I’m going to see what’s going on out there,” I informed Austin before pushing back from the desk and standing.

Placing my knuckles on the top of the metal table, I leaned over and stole Scott John’s personal space. “Best thing for you to do is to answer every question asked of you. You’re going to get prints taken, and you’re going to get tested for residue. "If what you’re saying is true, then this is the shittiest example of wrong place at the wrong time, and you have nothing to worry about.”

I straightened and left Austin to wrap it up. I walked up front and continued listening as Sasha unleashed in the waiting room. Tonight, David, our newest recruit, was working the front desk. On occasion, I’d enjoyed a beer with him, and I knew he was as timid as a mouse. He had no fucking hope of dealing with a woman who could hold her own like Sasha.

“Its two in the freaking morning," Sasha said with a loud, aggravated sigh. "It’s pouring down with rain, my hoodie is saturated, and yes, the water has gone through to my bra. This is not how I anticipated I'd be spending my night. I should be sleeping, David, not dealing with soaking wet clothes and cold boobs.”

“Sasha, if you could—” David stammered, and I started to feel sorry for the guy.

“My hundred dollar bra, David,” she replied, exasperated.

“Give me a second,” David mumbled, before moving away from the counter in the direction of Captain Santora’s office.

With David gone, I was granted full view of the waiting room. Sasha paced the room, and as my intrigued gaze ran over her body, I enjoyed every curve she offered. I was a hot-blooded man who thoroughly enjoyed the curves of a woman, and Sasha Hamilton had the perfect combination of curves and tightness.

Suddenly, it was two a.m. and dealing with a dead body wasn’t my main concern.

Finding out why Sasha Hamilton was here, and looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, was.