Chapter Thirty-Six #2
Verity scooped up the sheets and turned to Theo’s briefcase, which she’d pulled with her under the desk. Turning the dials, she popped the latches and shoved the documents inside.
“You know the code?” Sienna asked.
The briefcase was always sitting open around the apartment, Verity couldn’t help but notice the code. Not that Sienna needed to know that.
“Can you see the rest of the building on camera?” she asked, aware that the window between security checks had closed and she was now running on luck.
“Only the corridor outside,” Sienna said. “Harris doesn’t trust the cleaners. I don’t think else knows he’d got them.”
“Thanks,” Verity said, the word unable to convey her gratitude. “I’ll call you later.”
Verity hung up, snatched the keys from the door and crept back into the corridor, listening once more. Still silent.
Briefcase in hand, she took the stairs down to the ground floor.
She was surprised not to bump into a single person, no security, no cleaners.
Nobody. Walking out of the building, blinking in the harsh daylight she so rarely saw, she thanked Phoenar for her luck until she found herself face to face with four police officers.
Her hand tightened on the briefcase handle. She nodded to them as if she had every right to be there and kept walking, but they didn’t let her get far.
“Excuse me,” one of them said. “What do you think you’re doing? There’s a curfew in place. You should be home.”
“I’m sorry,” Verity said. “I’m a cleaner here. I left my pass at home, I just need to go grab it.”
One of the others stepped forward and Verity’s stomach dropped. She’d seen this one before, the one who’d left Theo’s office red-faced and tearful. His face wasn’t teary now. Just red. And angry.
“You’re not a cleaner,” he said. “I know exactly who you are.” His eyes dropped to the briefcase. “There’s an active investigation. If that’s evidence, you need to hand it over.”
“It isn’t evidence. It’s Theo’s.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what is evidence and what is not,” he said, stepping closer.
“Then call Lord Chapel,” she snapped, trying to move around the men. “He’ll tell you.”
“You stay where you are,” the policeman said, taking a step forwards as the other three moved with him.
Verity’s mind raced. Scanning the short lane that led back to the city hall service entrance.
She couldn’t find an exit. Red and sweaty didn’t look to be in the best shape, but she had no hope of outrunning the other three officers.
Going back would be pointless, she'd be trapped. She wouldn't hand over the briefcase. If they opened it and found the documents she’d just retrieved, she’d be arrested for smuggling evidence.
One glance at those papers and she knew how incriminating they were.
Caught smuggling them out of City Hall, with or without curfew, she couldn’t imagine the trouble she’d be in.
She opened her mouth to say something, she had no idea what, perhaps just to scream, when a car sped down the lane and stopped behind the police officers. A figure jumped out. He wore a long trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, red hair, and a vicious smile.
“There’s my sweet Verity,” Abe said.
She stared at him, dumbfounded. He held a gloved hand out as if she would simply run to him, and her eyes darted between him and the police. The people meant to protect her, and the man she’d been told to fear.
She moved toward him.
“You can’t do that,” the red-faced officer cut in. “This is a crime scene.”
“Oh, I don’t see any crimes being committed,” Abe said.
“My sweet Verity here just wandered off. I’m so glad you found her for me.
” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she reached his side, leather gloves brushing her cheek.
She tried not to flinch, though the discomfort only helped the image he was selling. She ran off. He caught her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Not to worry, sweetheart,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
“No,” the policeman said. “You can’t just...”
“I can’t just what?” Abe said. “She’s mine, and I’ve come to collect her. I don’t see what the issue is. Should I call Vivienne? I’m sure she’d be happy to explain.”
The man stiffened. He watched as Abe took the briefcase from Verity’s hand and opened the passenger door for her.
Whether it was the mention of Vivienne’s name, his strange vampiric fashion sense, or the uncanny wrongness that had crept under Verity’s skin the first time they met, no one argued.
He simply watched, face like thunder, as Abe closed the door, tossed the briefcase onto the back seat, and got in beside her.
“Making friends?” Abe asked, reversing out of the lane.
The police officers watched them go. Red-face said something to the others, and they turned, walking into City Hall. She wondered if they already knew she had stolen the planted documents that they had no doubt been sent to find.
“How in the hells did you know I needed help?” she asked as Abe pulled onto the main road and, to her relief, steered towards Horsham House.