| |
Long strides carried Detective David Solomon to the conference room. The door closed. Hand on knob, he knocked, opened it, and poked his head around the door.
Officer Siena Peters looked up with a start as if caught doing something wrong, snatched her hand away from the paper to let drop to her side. “Oh you scared me. I didn’t even hear you knock.”
“Sorry.” David walked the rest of the way in, sat, then held his breath when the chair wobbled and groaned.
Siena’s famous tinkle filled the room. “Don’t worry it’s pretty sturdy for all its complaining.”
“When did the witness leave?” David knew that Keira Cavanaugh had arrived at the station several hours earlier, but hadn’t been told how long she stayed.
“You’re witness was very exact. She wouldn’t leave until we got the eyes just right. She said if they weren’t right we might bring in the wrong fella.”
“Yes she was insistent when I interviewed her, that’s what stuck with her. Cold blue eyes.”
“Don’t I know it? Here, what do you think?” Siena picked up the pad David had seen lying on her lap when he walked in.
“I’d bet my bottom dollar it’s Battista Salinger. And this is the first look we’ve had of him.” David took the pad from her and looked at it closely. “Batt, here we come you son of a bitch.”
“I wouldn’t count my chickens, Detective.” Siena stood and gathered her things.
“This is the first time we’ve got a witness. No one but a handful of people know that.” David wasn’t sure he liked her tone. Didn’t she realize what a prize Batt was?
“Batt’s a slippery guy. From what Keira says, he knows there was a witness. After all he walked across the street toward her. My bet is he’s gone underground already.”
David stood to the accompaniment of the groaning chair, tucked the composite under his arm. Two steps to the door, opened it and turned. “Let’s hope that’s not true. This break’s been too long in coming. Maybe we can finally get DeLuca.”
“Why, Detective, are you looking for a promotion?”
“You have a kid, Peters?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well I’m sick of worrying about whether some slime bag from DeLuca’s gang, or Hancock, whatever he wants to call himself, is going to sell drugs to my kid at school.” David didn’t wait for an answer.
Was she defending the guy? He’d gotten halfway down the hall when he heard his name. He turned, Siena stood at the door watching him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of what you’re trying to do. It’s just that so many have tried.” She pulled the door shut and walked toward him. “I hope you have better luck. I really do.”
She smiled as she walked by him. Didn’t pause, just kept walking and didn’t look back. He didn’t know what to make of her. She was a good artist, one of the best in the department. Siena kept pretty much to herself, and took assignments only when needed. She seemed happy to do her artwork and leave.
Not his concern. Since this assignment was headed by the feds, he needed to get this sketch to the captain, Abe Rothschild, to see what their next move would be. He’d already put an officer out to watch Keira Cavanaugh. Until the word got around that there was an APB on Battista, she’d be relatively safe.
When he arrived at the captain’s office another agent was there. Gabe Despain. David had worked with him before and was glad Gabe was on the case.
“Detective, have you been to see Siena?” Rothschild asked before he’d even cleared the entry.
“Here’s the sketch, it’s got to be Batt.” The captain accepted the paper, Gabe leaned over to take a look at the same time.
A collective gasp from both men had not been what he’d expected. “Do you know him?”
Gabe pulled himself to a stand then walked behind his captain. “It’s uncanny.”
Abe didn’t comment just grunted.
“What?” David hated the left out feeling that swam over him. Especially when it was his case he was left out of.
Abe tapped the sketch over the eye. “Blue eyes.”
“Yeah, but God how can two men look so much alike?”
Now David was getting down right angry. “What the hell are you two talking about?” The captain glanced up at his tone. David muttered, “Sorry sir.”
Gabe pointed to the picture, then faced David. “It looks exactly like Tyler Beckett...” He stopped abruptly mid-sentence, a look of horror crossed the agent’s face.
Now what?
“Oh God. Cap, Ty told me last night that he thought there was a specific reason DeLuca or Hancock hired him. This is it. He looks like The Batt. He's the fall guy in case there was ever a witness."
“What are you talking about?” David didn’t have a clue. “Who is Tyler Beckett?”
“He’s an undercover agent we sent in to cozy up with DeLuca. He hired on with Hancock Industries a couple of years ago.” Captain Rothschild explained.
Gabe took up where he left off. “Except DeLuca hasn’t let him in all the way, just enough so that the local authorities saw him hanging around with DeLuca’s goons. Cap I need to warn Tyler he’s walking into a trap.”
“Wait a damn minute, how do you know this guy isn’t working with DeLuca?” David said. This was his case, and he’d be damned if they’d take it over, just because one of their guys might be in the limelight.
Both Captain Rothschild and Gabe turned on him in an instant.
“Tyler is not a bad cop. Dane the vic was his cousin,” Gabe replied.
“Tyler is one of the best agents I have,” Abe replied at the exact same time.
David felt their anger radiating toward him so much he took a step back and held up his hands. “Okay. I don’t know your agent. If this sketch looks like him, unless they’re identical twins, there has to be similarities. I’ve already put an APB out on this sketch on the way here. I need facts to give my superior in order to change anything.”
David heard Gabe suck in his breath as he returned his attention to the image. “Tyler’s eyes are green. His hair though curly, isn’t long enough to pull back as it is in the sketch.”
“That’s it?” He needed something substantial. Not something the witness could have missed, first because of the distance, and second because of her terror. “Ms. Cavanaugh swears up and down the killer had blue eyes. Cold blue eyes. Just because your agent has green eyes, won’t hold up in court. He could have been wearing contacts and a wig. Siena left, do either of you have her contact number?”
“No. Why?” Gabe wanted to know.
David knew he wanted to argue more, but procedure was just that, and all three of them knew it would take more than the color of eyes and length of hair to clear the agent.
“Maybe the witness told her something else she couldn’t use in the sketch.”
Abe thumbed through his file, picked up the phone and dialed. After a few moments, he left a message to call in, and that it was important.
Gabe paced restlessly. David knew if Agent Beckett was innocent, they needed to find something to clear him soon, or he’d been in a world of trouble.
“Look, why don’t I call the witness and ask her?”
Both men regarded him for a moment, then nodded the consent. He pulled the file toward him and found her work number.
The receptionist put him on hold and after a moment Keira came on the line. “Hello Detective.”
“Ms. Cavanaugh, I wanted to thank you for coming in to help us. I’m afraid I missed Agent Peters. The sketch will be very helpful. Was there anything else you told the agent that I should know, we’re about to put out an APB, and we want to be sure we are looking for the right person.” David recalled Siena saying Keira had been worried the wrong guy would be caught.
“Other than the tattoo, nothing.”
David looked up at the others. “What tattoo?”
Their questioning looks affirmed neither knew of a tattoo, and most likely Beckett didn’t have one.
Bingo.
“Ms. Peters told me she’d put it in her report, didn’t she?”
David raised his brow. “She hasn’t had a chance to turn it in. All I have is the sketch.”
“Well that makes sense. The tattoo was lower than her sketch would have revealed. The image was on the left side on his chest. It was a knife done in shades of black. The hilt at the top, blade pointed toward the ground. As I told Ms. Peters, blood covered most of the tattoo. I couldn’t really give any more detail.”
“Thank you, you’ve helped more than you know.” He broke the connection and briefly described what the conversation had been.
“Ty does not have a tattoo.”
Captain Rothschild scooted his chair back. “Solomon, see if you can add the tattoo to the APB, tell all officers to check for positive ID, on eye color, length of hair, and the tattoo before making an arrest. Gabe find Tyler before he returns to the pool hall.”
David thought a moment. “Sir, officers can be very aggressive when arresting a cop killer.”
“Make sure your superiors know why. Hopefully, we’ll pull in Beckett before DeLuca throws him in as bait.”
*****
Keira pulled her briefcase out of the way a second before the subway door slammed with a clang. God, what a day, first, she was late to work because of traffic, and she’d had to return the blasted car keys to her friend on a different floor. She’d been at the police station until almost three in the afternoon, consequently, late back from lunch. Then had worried she wouldn’t have a job to return too. Now here she was traipsing home in the dark, almost ten o’clock.
She hated the Metro this late. In fact, she could swear she was being followed, but every time she’d turned to look no one paid her any attention. Her mind was playing tricks on her.
Even this late all the seats were taken, not that she’d want to sit by any of the motley crew riding at this hour. Middle, by the doors, would suit her fine. She grabbed a leather handgrip hanging from the bar and braced her feet apart to wait for the train to start.
It wasn’t that crowded, so why in the hell had the person behind her chosen to invade her space?
“Don’t move.” Hot breath tickled her ear to chase dread down her spine.
Her instinct to spin around was blocked by something jabbing her in the side. “I said don’t move.”
Thinning her lips in an attempt to control any quiver that might accompany her words she asked, “What do you want?”
There was no doubt in her mind as to who her would-be attacker was.
Blue Eyes.
Beyond fear, terror ping-ponged off her ribs to grab at her heart. Her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe. Keira had lived long enough in the big city to know everyone would clear the train car before helping her.
She was on her own and she had to think fast.
Her stop was next, should she make a break for it?
Doing as asked, she did her best to glance around without moving her head. The same guy she’d almost ran into that morning, and then again who she’d seen in the parking lot, stood in the corner watching intently.
Barely noticeable, in fact if she hadn’t been staring at him she’d have missed it, he nodded toward the exit.
She could hardly believe it. He was going to help her. Was she jumping from one bad situation to another? He’d seemed to be following her.
Think Keira, you’ve witnessed a murder, wouldn’t the police put a tail on you? Real life, not C.S.I., still the police were pretty serious. Okay, best to go with the lesser of two evils.
She didn’t dare nod her head, not with the creep literally breathing down her neck. She blinked twice. Again, the guy indicated the door as if they’d just made a plan.
The engine shifted lower and the speed of the train slowed. Sucking in her breath to make her move, the guy holding her nudged the object a little harder.
“Don’t try anything stupid, princess.”
Like hell, she wasn’t going to do nothing. She may be from a small town, but she had guts. He’d find out.
Brakes squealed to a stop, the doors slammed open. Her elbow gunned for his ribs letting the momentum of her bag pack the punch. When his grip loosened, she scrambled out the door, ran up the stairs, down the street, and never looked back.
She slid her security card down the slot at her apartment. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, she paused to look around. She didn’t see anyone, but knew there was someone there.
When the buzzer sounded, she quickly pushed the door open. Slamming it closed, she leaned against the glass as her heart galloped. Her breath came in short gasps and her ears rang. She bowed at the waist to hang her head, elbows on her bent knees.
She needed to calm down before she burst.
Her stomach gave a loud rumble reminding her she’d had no dinner. Funny how she had an appetite. She’d have thought the experience on the subway would have cleared her stomach of any desire for food.
She hadn’t moved from the entry, there wasn’t anyone there so why was she so afraid? Because she’d been jumping at her shadow all day. Why did she have to take that damn table to her office anyway? It was ridiculous, it took up all her space and it looked plain dumb. She did it because everyone thought she was such a geek and she had to prove something.
Well, she proved something all right. She was a geek.
“Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself.” She picked up her briefcase from where she’d dropped it. Then went to the elevator.
It was the last straw. The “out of service” sign mocked her. She tightened her lips and stomped the floor. The jolt up her leg reminded her she was adult and not ten. Sighing heavily she turned to the stairs.
Six flights.
By the time she unlocked her door, her stomach was protesting so loud she feared it would wake the neighbors. Dropping her purse and case by the door, she locked up and went to the kitchen. She threw a TV dinner in the microwave and went to change into her jammies.
What was she going to do if the lunatic figured out where she lived? Had that guy stopped him from following her? She didn’t think murderers liked to leave loose ends, and she figured that’s what she was.
One that could identify him.
She’d had such hopes six months ago, seeing the city, meeting new people. But it was all crumbling around her now. She didn’t fit in.
Maybe it was time for a change. It may even be safer. They had good jobs in the West. She’d always wanted to see LA.
The ding indicating her gourmet meal was ready interrupted her thoughts.
Setting the tray on the coffee table she flipped the television on to watch the news. She almost dropped her fork when the sketch Siena had done earlier filled the screen. Butterflies swarmed her stomach. Blue Eyes would know now.
The move to the west coast was looking better and better.
*****
Smoke hung in the air outside the pool hall. Tyler knew it would be worse inside. He wasn’t sure if he should make an appearance tonight at the local gathering spot for DeLuca’s men. He’d had a strange day. Everything on the surface had been normal, but the buzzing undercurrent had him looking over his shoulder.
He couldn’t decide if it would be worse for him to show or not to show. He chanced a glance in the window, a man he’d never seen before sat on a barstool, nursing a beer. That was interesting, in the year he’d been playing pool there he’d only seen anyone new a handful of times.
He spotted Jake and Gil at the corner pool table. He’d been able to get in with them from the first. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been a fount of information. Over time he’d realized why. They’d been hired for their brawn not their brains.
The best way to find out what was happening was to go in. Lurking outside would get him nowhere. Besides, if someone saw him out here, they’d get suspicious.
“Gil, since when did you become a banger,” Tyler called out. He referred to the way Gil blasted the cue ball.
“Yeah, I’ve learned to stay away from you and your Sneaky Pete.”
“It fooled you.” Tyler sat his case on the wall bar and flipped it open to remove his pool stick.
It looked like a house cue. It was anything but. It cost him an arm and a leg, but most thought he was a rookie when he used it. Made it worth the money.
“Come on, let’s see if you’re up to a game tonight,” Jake said chalking up.
“Let me get a beer.”
Tyler walked to the bar and purposely brushed up next to the guy on the block. “Hey Louie, Bud Light please.”
“Sissy beer.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow at the testy remark. Was the person actually trying to pick a fight? He kept his mouth firm, threw a couple of bills on the bar for his beer, and turned.
The firm grasp on his arm wasn’t what made him pause, it was curiosity. Maybe he was finally about to get lucky. He turned, glared until the man fully faced him.
The air left his lungs in a whoosh, his gut clenched. His throat so tight he couldn’t swallow.
Was he looking in a goddamn mirror?
The man stared back. Apparently unsurprised they could have been twins. Except for the eyes. Where Tyler’s were forest green, this man’s were cold blue.
There was no soul behind them.
“Better watch your back.”
“Is that a threat?” Tyler’s stomach tightened.
“No. Just a bit of friendly advice.” The man returned to nursing his amber liquid that could be anything from whiskey to apple juice.
Who was this guy? Could he be the infamous Battista The Batt Salinger?
Tyler waited, but nothing more was said. He rejoined the pool game waiting on him. He’d play one game, then make an excuse to head out. No use sticking around and asking for trouble. He’d had a bad feeling ever since his conversation with Gabe. He hadn’t heard from his contact since.
Before he had time to pick up his cue the door burst open and several police officers rushed in. He took a quick glance over his shoulder, with a sinking feeling he saw that the newcomer had flown. The first officer grabbed his wrist hard and twisted it behind his back.
“You’re under arrest you son of bitch, Battista,” the officer said, securely snapping the handcuffs on as tight as he could manage.
What? They thought he was the hit man?
Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. When DeLuca had seen his face as a new employee two years ago, the mobster had kept him on as a sacrificial lamb.
A dead-ringer for Battista.
Emphasis on dead.
He didn’t have time to ponder further.
Tyler knew he couldn’t say he was an agent, not until he was officially pulled from the case. “You got the wrong guy. I’m Tyler Beckett.” He twisted the best he could to look at Gil and Jake. “Tell ‘em.”
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Jake mumbled. Tyler could barely make out what he said. He looked to Gil, but he was walking out the back. No help. This had probably been what the boss had wanted. He’d walked right into their plan.
“Come on cop killer, we’ve got a little treat for you.”
Tyler struggled in earnest. As soon as they cleared the door, he felt a boot in the middle of his back. The pain sliced through him as he landed face down on the pavement.
“Hey, my wallet’s in my back pocket.” Tyler gasped when a hard toe to the rib knocked the wind out. Barely managing the rest in a whisper. “ID... I’m Tyler Beckett.”
“Yeah right, like you’d have your real identification, you bastard.” The words punctuated with another blow to the back.
Tyler did the only thing he could; he rolled into a ball and hoped to weather the storm. He’d heard some officers did this when one of their own were killed. These guys must have been in Bren’s precinct.
*****
The pounding woke him. At first, Tyler didn’t know where it come from. There must be a marching band inside his head. God, what had he done, tied one on the night before? Then realization struck and he forced his eyelids to crack open, just enough not to let on he was awake.
He hadn’t even been put on one of the benches in the cell, he was lying on the cold cement. He could hear a fight brewing behind him and hoped they didn’t stumble over him. He didn’t think his ribs could take it. He wasn’t ready to get up yet. He shut his eyes again and rested.
He heard someone striding toward the cell, twisting his head a fraction of an inch, he tried to get a view. He knew those battered up Nikes. Had been running several times with the owner. He sighed with relief.
Tyler tried to push himself up, but quickly gave up the effort when pain shot to every nerve ending in his body. No way could he stifle the groan that slipped out. Then he heard Gabe’s voice angrily tell the guard to open the door.
“What happened?”
“Can you...” Tyler croaked out, but it seemed his mouth was full of cotton that absorbed the words. He swallowed, moistened his lips. “Can you get me out first?”
“Here let me help you up.”
Gabe reached for his arm, as he pulled, Tyler felt as if his arm was about to rip off. He wrenched it away and wrapped his other arm protectively around it. He closed his eyes and concentrated on focusing on something other than the pain that pounded through his body.
“Sorry man, your shoulder must be dislocated. We need to get you out of here.”
Tyler didn’t move. He watched as Gabe straightened and walked to the guard. Blackness struggled to overcome him, but he resisted.
Concentrating on the raised voices helped to keep him from slipping under again.
“Dammit you saw my badge. What more do you need?” Gabe’s tone revealed his frustration.
The answer came in anger. “I’m not going to release that cop killer to you. I don’t give a fuck if you’re the president.”
“Did you get the follow up on the APB?”
“Yeah, some shit about eyes or some goddamn thing. Who cares, we have our hands on Battista and I’m not going to be the one to let him slip through our fingers.”
“I’m a federal agent and I’m telling you, you do not have the right person,” Gabe replied.
Tyler tried to wiggle around to see, until the pain shot through his head. Vaguely he heard Gabe’s steps fade away. He didn’t care, everything that had been done to him was coming back to haunt. He must have several broken ribs to go along with his arm injury.
Heavier footsteps pounded toward him, the floor vibrated under his head. Tiny shocks rattled around his brain. God someone needed to make it stop.
“So your buddy thinks you’re not Battista. We know different, don’t we?” A hard heel came down above his ear and the darkness won the battle.
*****
“Tyler?” He could swear that was his mother’s voice. What the hell would she be doing at the jail?
Tyler tightened his eyelids to block out the sudden light. He didn’t remember the cell being so bright. Carefully he turned his head to the side then let one lid lift. A monitor sat by the side of the bed. Then other things registered, he was no longer sleeping on a hard slab of cement, but a hospital bed. He must have passed out.
“Tyler?” This time a bit more insistent.
He swiveled his head on the pillow, cringing at the sudden pain. There was his mother. The light from the window caused a halo effect around her face. Appropriate because Martha Beckett was an angel.
“Mom,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re my son. Of course, I’m coming when you are hurt. They won’t tell me what happened.” A tear slid down her cheek. She made an angry swipe with her hand and totally missed. “This is all my fault.”
He tried to raise a brow at that, but the sting that shot across his forehead stopped him mid-motion. Closing his eyes a moment, he concentrated on easing the pain. Then he focused on his mother again.
“Believe me, you had nothing to do with this.”
She swished the air and raised her eyes to the ceiling, then gave him a direct stare. “Maybe not physically caused it, but it is my fault. I lost your charm.”
His father stepped into Tyler’s line of vision. “That’s got to hurt.” He punctuated his words with a cringe of his shoulders. “I’ve tried to tell her, it had nothing to do with the bracelet.”
“What charm? What Bracelet?” His parents were talking in riddles.
His mother raised an eyebrow this time. “How can you forget that beautiful charm bracelet you and the rest of the kids gave me for Mother’s Day?”
Well hell it had been how many years? Then dawning hit. “Oh, your antique charm bracelet.”
His father nodded. “That’s the one. This morning I found her tearing the house apart searching. Then we get the call about you.”
“I remember, each of you told me you scoured the stores until each of you found a charm that fit.” She sniffed, closed her eyes and said, “Yours represented protection, and I lost yours. You were almost killed. It’s my fault.” Another sniff accompanied her declaration.
Tyler opened his mouth to reply, but the squeak of the door stopped him. “Hey buddy, how you feeling?”
Tyler turned toward the captain’s voice. “Hi sir, I’ve seen better days.”
“I’m sorry this happened.” Captain Abe Rothschild ran a hand through his already unruly gray hair. “Gabe tried to reach you and Solomon put out a follow-up on the APB. None of the officers followed through to check.”
Tyler attempted to raise an eyebrow again and the sting of pain zipped over his forehead. “I couldn’t say anything when we were still in the pool hall.” He shifted to find a more comfortable position, but failed. “Then when they pushed me outside I didn’t really get the chance. I tried to tell them to look at my identification.”
“Hold on just a damn minute. Are you saying that New York police officers are responsible for what happened to my son?” Tyler had never heard that tone come out of his mother’s mouth before.
“Martha, it’s a very long...”
Fred Beckett interrupted Captain Rothschild.
“My son has a respectable job with Hancock Industries. He’s not a trouble maker.”
“Mom, Dad, it’s okay. I was working.”
His parents looked at him, then at the captain. The confusion on his father’s face cleared.
“You’re undercover? How did I miss that? I should have known you wouldn’t drop out of the force immediately after the academy.”
“Dad, I also trained at Quantico, and I wanted you to think exactly that. I wouldn’t be much of an agent if I couldn’t even fool my own parents.” A chuckle rumbled around his broken ribs for only a second before he squelched it. Not worth the pain.
His mother narrowed her eyes to pin him with a stern look. “Agent, as in F.B.I.? All the more reason to tell me, I would have kept the charm in the safe instead of wearing it.”
“Mom, this has nothing to do with the charm.” He tossed a commiserating glance at his dad, then returned his attention to his mother. “You’re the most savvy person I know, up-to-date on all the new technology, you’ve even got a blog. But you’re also the most superstitious person I know.”
“What charm?” the Cap asked.
Tyler turned his attention to his boss. “Believe me, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it another time. I have something important to tell you.”
Tyler wanted to talk to the captain alone, but his mother had just pulled up a chair for the duration. “Mom, Dad, I’m going to be fine. Honest. There are a few details I need to tell the captain in private.”
“I’m not leaving.” And by the stubborn look on Martha’s face, there would be no room for persuasion.
Just great. Now what?
“Martha, I know you’re worried, but if this is official business it must be important. We know Ty’s going to be all right, why don’t we go home.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Tyler’s father shrugged at him, as if to say what can I do. “If you are determined to stay, why don’t you and Dad go to the cafeteria and grab something to eat. In fact, you could maybe smuggle something in to me.” He looked pointedly at the green Jell-O someone had left on the tray for him.
Obviously not happy about the request, his mom shoved herself out of the chair and followed Fred out of the room, with a warning from the door she’d be back soon.
“It doesn’t sound like we’ll have much time, what did you have to tell me?”
“Cap, right before the officers arrived at the pool hall, I saw a guy at the bar. Under the excuse of ordering a beer, I went to check him out.” The memory caused Tyler’s gut to clench. “It was like looking in a mirror.”
“We know. After the witness met with the sketch artist Gabe figured out the reason DeLuca kept you on,” Captain Rothschild informed him.
“What were the officers supposed to check?”
“Batt’s eyes are blue, and he has longer hair. But the most important identification is a tattoo on the left side of his chest.”
“None of the officers checked any of those.”
“They’ll be reprimanded for this,” the captain said.
“No, it was payback for their fellow officer. They didn’t know who I was.”
“You wouldn’t have done the same.”
“No, I wouldn’t have. But everyone’s frustrated. No one has ever witnessed Battista in action. And to finally have a sketch... They went a little overboard.”
“Gabe will be back to take your statement. Unfortunately, this can’t go overlooked. Internal Affairs will get a full report. The officers will be reprimanded. If you want to request leniency in your statement, that’s up to you.” Abe stood to leave. “You take care.”
“Captain?”
Abe turned around at the door and lifted a brow in question.
“DeLuca planned for me to be a scapegoat for when we finally had something on Battista. I bet he’s gone so far underground we’ll never find him.”
“I think you’re right. But this time we have a witness, who foiled DeLuca’s plan because she saw the tattoo.” Abe left without another word.
Tyler watched the door for a solid minute after he left. What were they doing about the witness?