Her chin dipped and she sucked in her lower lip.
Perfect.
He got out, slammed his door, and scanned the level as he rounded the front of the SUV—concrete pillars, parked cars, elevator bank thirty feet left, stairwell fifteen feet beyond Lynn’s Lexus. Open side of the garage to the right.
Too many angles. Too many shadows. Too many places a man like Dekker could already be settled in, waiting.
“Anything?” he asked under his breath.
“No movement,” Elissa said.
Colin opened Maren’s door. Her face was pale but her gaze was steady. He leaned in as if to yank her out, letting his body block sight lines for one second.
“You with me?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Package under your jacket?”
“Yes.”
“If I move, move with me.”
“I will.”
Then he grabbed her arm and hauled her out.
She stumbled deliberately.Good. Good enough that he almost steadied her even though he knew she was acting.
He hated every second of this.
“Don’t make this harder,” he said harshly.
Maren kept her head down. “I’m not,” she whined perfectly.
They crossed toward Lynn’s Lexus. Lynn got out before they reached her—slowly, carefully, both hands visible. Her gaze went to Colin first, then Maren.
And for half a second, she looked horrified.
She sees a dead woman’s face, Colin realized.
Lynn Carr had helped bury Mira Walsh, and now she was looking at Mira all over again, alive and holding Carr’s fate in her hands.
Good. Let it hurt.
“Ms. Walsh,” Lynn said.
Maren’s head came up. The look she gave Lynn was so sharp it should have left a slash across her face.
“Don’t,” Maren said.
Lynn swallowed. “All right.”
Colin kept his hand on Maren’s arm. “She got it. You have somewhere to take it?”
“Yes.” Lynn’s voice was controlled, but barely. “There’s a clean channel. A deputy director out of the western field office. Not Voss’s people. Not mine.”
“Name,” Colin said.
