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Whatever had been left of their relationship was gone now.
No big loss. He’d been preparing her for this complete break for most of her adult life. She understood that now. Maybe he’d known all along he couldn’t do the father thing without his wife to keep him on the straight and narrow.
“Hey,” Falco said when he saw her coming. “How’d your meeting go?”
Devlin was pulling on her jacket. “You okay?”
Sadie still wasn’t sure how down she was with this friendship thing. Barton and Snipes and Heck—they didn’t ask her personal stuff like this. Very possibly they were afraid to do so.
She shrugged. “It went. There was a lot of spilling of guts. Mostly his.”
Devlin said, “The LT told us he confessed to the hits on both Asher and Leland Walsh as well as Kurtz.”
Sadie nodded. “Pauley Winters too.”
Falco made a face. “No shit?”
“No shit. Who knows if there were others. He’s giving a tell-all to the good guys and passing on any bargains.”
“I’m surprised his attorney hasn’t talked him out of that route,” Devlin said.
“Maybe he’s lost it. I don’t know. Whatever happens next, he and I are done.”
“Understandable.” Falco shrugged into his leather jacket. “There are some things that can’t be fixed.”
Enough about her and her bullshit. “How’d the raid on the warehouse go?”
“The DEA is seriously jealous,” Devlin said, a grin tugging at her lips. “This was a big one. Evidently, several huge shipments had just come in. The COO, Elizabeth Grant, is doing some spilling as well.”
“Word is after the deal Warren cut,” Falco said, “Carlos Osorio was taken into custody. The compound has been overrun by locals. A coupleof other cartels are running scared. Apparently, our esteemed mayor has the goods on a lot of folks south of the border.”
“Lana Walsh is taking her son’s ashes back to Boston,” Devlin tossed in. “Rumor is she requested her husband’s body be donated to science. And two major cases are closed.”
“And we are going to Devlin’s,” Falco said, “to celebrate with Tori. I’m making dinner.”
“You should join us,” Devlin offered.
Before Sadie could respond, Falco added, “We make a good team. The three of us.” He shrugged. “Just saying.”
“I guess we do,” Sadie admitted. She looked to Devlin. “I appreciate the invitation, but I have some loose ends to take care of at my place. We’ll grab lunch or something next week.”
Devlin gave her a nod. “For sure.”
Falco gave her a fist bump, and Sadie headed out. As weird as this was, it felt good. Maybe she should do some celebrating of her own sans the alcohol, even the beer.
Sadie’s Loft
Sixth Avenue, Twenty-Seventh Street
Birmingham, 6:40 p.m.
Sadie was fairly sure that beyond the morning she woke up under the overpass on Eighteenth, she had never felt so exhausted in her life. She could sleep forever.
As she neared the turn into her alley, she spotted a big black SUV parked at the curb. Her instincts went on alert, no matter that this could be a patron of the pub. Still, in her line of work and with her history, it was better to be cautious. She parked in her usual spot and got out of the piss-yellow Beetle. She hoped to hell she had her Saab backsoon. Before closing the door, she reached under the seat and grabbed her Beretta and tucked it into her jeans at the small of her back. She locked up the borrowed car and walked around it.
When she would have started up the fire escape, the driver’s-side door of the SUV opened, and a man climbed out. Big guy. Broad shouldered, dark jacket and trousers. Sunglasses even at night. Typical muscle guy.
Well hell. Maybe old man Osorio had managed one last order before his capture. She reached for the weapon at her back. The big guy held up a hand.
