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Chapter Eight
New Orleans
District Police Station
Monday
Late Morning
O h, there was one surefire way to irritate the hell out of her, and that was to waste her time. What was going on there was exactly that, and these cops were just fortunate that she wasn’t really working this case.
Or she would be losing her damn mind.
She and Tommy had been there for at least an hour, and still, they had yet to see the police captain.
There was no doubt in her mind that she was being stalled. Someone was likely calling Axelle in DC to make sure this was on the up and up.
While she appreciated paranoia, being a big fan of it and self-preservation, who was going to put on this mug, play dress up, and willingly try to pull off being her?
NO.
ONE.
You’d have to be batshit insane to want to be her.
As for the stalling by the cops, Elizabeth had played this game plenty of times. What had caught them off guard wasn’t necessarily her, but who was with her.
The second the cops saw her, and Thomas Bernard with her, the gossip spread.
Like.
Wild.
Fire.
Not only was the Deputy Director of the FBI in their house, but she had an ex-captain with her. The tongues were wagging.
And she knew why.
He’d gone MIA, and the good cops in the city assumed that he’d been a bad guy—like The Hunters.
Changing their minds was going to be a challenge for her. Yeah, this was going to be a fun one.
She.
Could.
Tell.
Along with them being there, and the shock of Tommy coming back in, there was no doubt that they also made her wait because they were getting their ducks in a row on this one.
The last thing they wanted was a Fed taking away jurisdiction on the dead police commissioner.
Well, too bad.
That was her plan to keep this under wraps. The last thing she needed was a bunch of good cops getting shot by some mercenaries for digging where they shouldn’t be digging.
Been there.
