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The two men rose as though connected by string. “You don’t leave the area,” warned Shoemaker.
“I have no intention of doing that. I have a job to do.”
Shoemaker looked around. “Yeah, making dough at this place.”
“That’s not the job I’m referring to.”
And it wasn’t. He was thinking about Emerson Campbell and the mission. He was also thinking about dead Sara Ewes.
Shoemaker and Ekman exchanged curious glances and then left.
Devine sat there for a few minutes digesting everything that had just happened and trying to place it neatly into certain boxes in his mind that would make the most sense. Some of it did, much of it didn’t.
Sara was pregnant and then had an abortion?This news was staggering to him.
He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process all this: Was I the father? We slept together once. I didn’t use protection because she said she was on the pill, but maybe she wasn’t. They didn’t say when she had the abortion. Did I lose a child and not even know about it?
He rose and looked out the small window. Staring back at him was another building of equal height. He felt boxed in, trapped, blindsided beyond all reason.
And they’re going to look at the entry log and they’re going to see my name as the only one. And then they’re going to be back. With an arrest warrant. And who the hell is Karl Hancock?
But now it made sense why the guy had approached Devine away from the office both times. If he wasn’t a real cop, it was much safer that way.
He lifted his lanyard from around his neck and looked at his security badge. He had not been in the building when Ewes had been murdered. So maybe someone had stolen his badge and then returned it before he woke up at his home in the suburbs, which he did not think was likely at all because the timing was just too tight. Or maybe someone hacked into the system and set me up as the fall guy. That was also not easy to do. But for the person who had sent an email that could not be traced by the best in the business, it might be a piece of cake.
He shuffled back to work, with what felt like a knife sticking right in his gut.
