How many people were inside? Had Bob come alone? Was Frank in there, too? Was Frank even alive?
Kayden was right behind me. That pissed me off, but I was also grateful, and that pissed me off, too. I didn’t have time for either feeling right now.
I eased back and angled my gaze up through the half-open screen door at the top of the stairs. I could just make out Bob’s broad back. He had one knee on the floor, latex gloves on as he crouched over a body.
Kayden pressed in tightly behind me. I palmed his chest without looking at him.
He stayed. For now.
Through the gap, I watched Bob shift the body, reach into the side pocket of the jeans, and pull out a mobile phone. He flicked the back open with his thumbnail, tipped out the SIM card, snapped it between his fingers, and dropped both halves into his uniform pocket.
Jesus.
Then he smashed the phone against the edge of the kitchen counter. Once. Twice. Again and again, until the casing split apart in his hand. He pulled a Ziplock bag from his back pocket, dropped the pieces in, sealed it, and tucked it into the front of his shirt.
Fucking hell. Kayden was right. Bob is a crooked cop.
I gripped my weapon until my knuckles ached.
For four years, I’d worked under this man. I’d trusted his judgment, followed his lead, defended his decisions, and he was destroying evidence with the kind of ease that told me this wasn’t the first time.
I needed to move on him. I had enough to arrest him right now. Tampering with a crime scene. Destroying evidence. And whatever the hell else was waiting on the other side of that door.
But Bob Ackerman was six-foot-two, solid muscle, and mean when he was cornered. Nearly a foot taller than me, even with my boots on. I’d seen him lose his temper before, and it had been terrifying.
He wasn’t going to come quietly. Not with what I’d just witnessed.
I needed to get up those stairs and get my weapon on him before he knew I was there. I needed the element of surprise, and I needed to be close enough that he had no doubt I was serious.
I just needed the right moment.
My heart hammered as I crouched there, weapon ready, trying to get my head around the fact that I was about to arrest my boss.
The shrill ring of a phone shattered the silence, and I flinched.
That’s not Bob’s work phone. I’d heard his ringtone a thousand times in four years. That wasn’t it.
Bob reached into his left pants pocket, not his right, where I’d watched him pocket his work phone, and pulled out a second handset. He looked at the screen and scowled as he jammed it to his ear. “What do you want?”
He turned and walked away from the kitchen.
I lost sight of him, but I heard his footsteps going deeper into the house.
Now.
I raced up the stairs fast, weight forward, stepping to the outer edge of each tread where the timber was less likely to creak. Kayden was right behind me, matching my moves in stealth mode. At the top, I pressed my back against the exterior wall beside the screen door, and Kayden flattened himself in behind me.
“We had a deal.” Bob’s voice drifted through the thin walls, low and controlled, the tone he used when he wanted to own a conversation.
I peered through the gap in the screen door.
Bruce Henderson was on his side in a pool of blood that had spread across the floor and gone under the fridge. A large knife was buried so deep in his side that the blade wasn’t visible.
“It’s a hundred grand. Take it, or I’ll find someone else.” Bob paused. “Don’t push me.”
Wayne was hog-tied beside Bruce. Rope was wrapped tightly around his ankles, and his wrists were behind his back. The loop of rope around his neck was drawn so tightly that it had embedded into his flesh. His eyes were wide and clouded, and a bloodied dishcloth was jammed into his mouth. The skin around his nose and lips was the color of an old bruise.
Two of the three Henderson brothers. Dead.
