Page 51 of Criminally Yours

“Have you got my memory box?” Millie asked. Her nails clawed at her cuticles, making them bleed.

“Of course.” He pulled it from under his seat and handed it to her. As soon as he turned away, she opened it and found the wristband he’d returned to the box, the one Casey and her friends stole. As soon as she slipped it on, a grain of tension disappeared.

“Use your fidget tool, too,” Strike said without turning. “You’re hurting yourself.” She curled her fingers around it, breathing slowly.

“Eyes in the back of your bloody head,” she whispered.

“Let’s do this,” Strike said as Cam parked at the end of the road.

She spied the police station. Two figures stood outside. One was dressed in a suit and the other, Casey, in a police officer uniform.

“Head down,” Strike said, tension obvious in the hunch of his shoulders. “I’ve got you, remember?”

Millie slunk in her seat, her body shaking, too scared to speak in case her voice cracked.

“It appears safe. What are you thinking?” Cam asked.

“The road’s empty, but someone could be waiting behind one of the parked cars. Eyes out, let’s go. Drop us off outside the station.” Strike’s dominating energy quelled danger.

His eyes swept the area with the confidence of a man who’d seen the worst and survived. The car rolled in front of the station. The only tell he was nervous was his fisting hands.

“You’ve got this,” Millie whispered. “I trust you more than anyone.”

His hands rested on his thighs. “My instincts are vibing, Doc. Something’s wrong.”

“I’ve always trusted your instincts, especially since you and Bear rescued me in Pickle Park.”

He chuckled, but it was hollow. “I’ll never forget that day. I vowed I wouldn’t let anything hurt you after that, but it did.” She wanted to soothe his concern. “I’d rather sacrifice myself than let anything happen to you.”

Millie held her breath. He couldn’t mean that.

Out of the window, a make-up–free Casey raised her thumb.

“What are we doing, then?” Cam asked, focusing on Strike, his eyes pinched.

“We go cautiously. I’ll get out first. You stay in the car and prepare to take Millie to our safe zone.”

“Combat ready. Let’s go.”

Strike jumped out and spoke briefly to Casey and the lawyer with slicked-back hair and a suit tailored to his slender frame. Millie eased the window open to listen. Her insides squirmed, and her breath snagged in her throat.

A shot reverberated around the small street.

Someone screamed. Fuck, it was her. She slapped a palmover her mouth as Casey ducked down and Strike pushed the lawyer behind a wall.

“Get her out of here,” Strike shouted.

“No,” Cam hollered. “We’re all safer with you in the car. Get in.”

Strike tracked the buildings opposite, his stare unwavering.

“Please get in the car,” Millie bleated. “I need you with me.”

He glanced at her blacked-out window, his jaw fixed and his eyes tight.

Another shot rang out.

Casey shouted something about a shotgun into her radio.