PART 12
I didn't wait another second,
I threw Noah’s jacket on him,
not caring that his shoes were mismatched.
We ran through the kitchen,
out to the garage.
I buckled him into his car seat,
my hands shaking so badly the metal clicked three times before latching.
I got into the driver’s seat,
started the engine,
and hit the garage door opener.
The heavy wooden door rolled up,
revealing the gray,
pouring rain.
And there,
parked right at the end of my driveway,
blocking the exit,
was a black SUV.
The windows were dark,
completely tinted.
The engine was idling,
exhaust pouring from the pipe in pale white clouds.
I slammed the car into reverse,
thinking of backing out through the yard,
but the grass was mud,
we would get stuck.
The SUV door opened.
A man stepped out,
holding a large black umbrella.
He wore a tailored suit,
looking immaculate despite the storm.
As he walked toward my car,
the wind caught his coat,
and I saw a badge hanging from his belt.
A police detective badge.
But Sarah’s warning screamed in my mind.
Do not trust them.
Do not let them in.
He tapped on my driver’s side window,
a polite,
steady rhythm.
I rolled it down just an inch.
"Mrs. Lawson,"
he smiled,
a warm,
practiced expression.
"I’m Detective Vance, Financial Crimes."
"I took over Sarah Mitchell’s caseload."
"We received an alert that your property was compromised today."
"I need you to come with me to the station."
I looked at his eyes,
they were cold,
dead,
unblinking.
"Where is Sarah?"
I asked,
my voice steady,
surprising even myself.
"Detective Mitchell was reassigned due to a conflict of interest,"
he replied smoothly.
"Now, please, unlock the doors."
"It’s not safe out here."
He reached for the door handle.
I didn't unlock it.
Instead,
I looked in his breast pocket.
Peeking out from the fabric was a silver pen,
engraved with a small,
stylized stone.
The logo of River Stone Property Holdings.
May you like
He wasn't a cop saving me.
He was the Architect’s man.
