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“Hanging out with Millbrook in his office. Hell, he was running questions by me himself.”
My buddy grits his teeth. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“Gee, you think?” I mutter back. My mind goes back to the video Cora showed us—Millbrook assassinating a man with a known cartel ally. And there he was sitting at his chief of police desk, like it never happened.
I put some feelers out last night, but nothing direct. It’s not like I’m going to walk around my station asking if anyone else has a thought that our chief of police might be a cartel-bought, drug-trafficking killer.
“You find anything out when you were there?”
“I talked to a few people. Nothing concrete, just sort of feeling it out.”
“Got it,” Tanner grunts. He glares at me.
“What?” I snap.
“I have to go.”
“I know,” I mutter. “I was just making sure you had your story straight.”
“Right now.”
I scowl. “So go—”
“That means you can leave my fucking house now,” he grunts.
My frown deepens. Cora raises a hand.
“Um…” she frowns and looks down.
“What is it?” Tanner says gently.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Hour or two, probably? Could be three, knowing the clowns that work down at the station,” he adds, giving me a look.
Cora worries her lip. “Oh.”
“I really won’t be that long. I do also want to give a copy of the recording you made to a friend.”
Cora turns white as a sheet, and she gasps a choked breath.
“No!”
I glare at Tanner. But when he looks at me, I know who and what he means.”
“Rowan?”
Rowan is another Marine we know in the area. None of us served together—I mean Rowan’s in his fifties. But we linked up through a local vets group. Most people around here write him off as a loner who just likes to surf. But he’s also parlayed his service skills into a job. I’ve used him for a ton of PI type work doing surveillance. So has Tanner with his security business.
Tanner nods. “Yeah, Rowan. For insurance. This recording is dangerous as hell to be sitting on, especially if it’s the only copy. If anything…”
He doesn’t say “if anything happens to us” for her sake. But I know what he means. I also know that Rowan Tramble’s place is by far the safest place for an insurance copy of this evidence. I know Tanner would trust him with his life, and so would I.
“Rowan is a good idea,” I growl.
“No, we can’t—”
“Cora,” I say gently. “You gotta trust us on this. He’s a steel box. That tape won’t go anywhere or even be spoken of unless we give him the go-ahead. I promise you that.”
