“Not much…about a quarter, Boss. We just didn’t have enough time. The feds were able to get it from the other houses.”
I said nothing, staring out the window at the glow. I was amazed they were able to get as much as they had. There was no possible way for them to be able to clear out the whole school. Nor should there have ever been a reason for it. What the fuck was the point of paying moles if they only saved me a quarter of my investments? A ten-minute heads up meant they had either just found out about it themselves, or they were made.
I tried to close my eyes when I heard the sirens behind my car.
“What the hell?” Monk mumbled, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror. There were certain license plates the Chicago PD knew to simply ignore. So, either this cop was new and didn’t get the memo, or he was a moron looking for a fight he would not win.
“Pull over,” I commanded.
When he did, the car followed, parking right behind us. Switching off my phone and tablet, I placed them onto the seat beside me. The officer walked annoyingly slow but finally managed to get to the driver’s side window.
“How can I help you, officer?” Monk asked him.
“This car was identified leaving the scene of a crime,” he answered and then glanced back to me, his shades so dark I could see my own reflection in the glass. “I’m going to need to see identification from you both.”
“Officer, I can give you mine, but my boss—”
“It’s fine, Monk,” I said, taking out my wallet I tossed it up front.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to both of us before walking back to his car.
“Did you get his badge number?” I questioned Monk, leaning back into the leather seat.
“I did. You want me to dial it in, sir?” I looked through the side mirrors back at the cop. There was no possible way this car would have not only been identified, but used at a crime scene.
“Sir.”
“Do it,” I said just as the cop started to make his way back, but this time he didn’t go toward the driver’s side. He came toward the passenger side. Monk immediately reached into his coat.
“Calm down,” I said to him, if this cop wanted to kill me, he would have done it earlier. Even if he were a fake cop, if he’d gone through this much effort to look this real, he should have been smart enough to know when and where was the best chance to kill someone.
He tapped on the window, and I slid it down.
“Mr.…Calla…Callahan.” He still managed to butcher it through that thick accent of his. “I’ma need you to step out the car for a moment.”
“For what reason?”
“My reason,” he shot back.
I hope it was a good enough reason to die, I thought, opening the door and stepping out. The man was almost my height, a bit shorter, and he was fit, another odd thing for a cop, especially one with grays in his hair and chin. He looked me up and down, the sun’s glare reflecting off his shades.
“And what is the reason for this officer?” I pressed again.
Randomly a smile broke across his face as he pushed the sunglass down the bridge of his nose, allowing me to see his green eyes.
“That would be rule number one.”
Dad?
LIAM
He stood there like time had frozen. In a way, it felt like a movie, like I’d stepped back in time and got to look back at myself, only slighter taller, grimmer faced, and no sense of humor.
“Why don’t we step inside my office?” I nodded to the car I’d borrowed; he didn’t even bother looking.
“Better yet, you step into mine, because the only way I will ever end up in a cop car is dead,” he said coldly, and it kinda reminded me of Mel—how sweet.
“No need to be such a drama queen about it. You might want to let your man know, though.” I nodded to the driver, who was still very obviously holding a weapon inside his coat as he tried to size up this conversation.