Page 95 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

That got everyone’s attention.

Rochelle glared at the detectives. Who, to their credit, looked ashamed. “You’ve lost the head of the Demon Brothers? How’s that even possible? I thought you were monitoring his every move?”

Johnson pinched the bridge of his nose. His suit wasn’t as pristinely pressed as usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes. “We’re still trying to figure out what happened. There was a mix-up over whose shift it was, and during the surveillance gap, he disappeared.”

“Your mole,” Noah said. “That’s what happened. Somebody was behind the shift mix-up, and it bought Eddie just enough time to take off. Do you have any idea who the mole is yet?”

McMillan shifted in his seat, his crinkled shirt straining over his ample belly. Unlike his partner’s, McMillan’s shirt had probably never been pressed. “You know, we do have more than one case to deal with at a time. Oh yeah, and our area of responsibility doesn’t end at the warehouse door. We have a whole city to police. So, no, we haven’t found the mole yet.”

Noah held up his hands, palms out. “No criticism. Just wondering. Sounds like your mole’s been disrupting things again. Got any ideas where Eddie might be?”

“All we know is that he’s still in Texas.” Johnson swallowed a mouthful of the coffee and grimaced. “What the hell is this?”

“Thatis what you get when you let Scottish people make coffee.” Rochelle frowned. “It’s an abomination to your taste buds.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes fixed on his coffee mug as though something might emerge from it any second and bite her.

Johnson apparently shared her sentiment, as he set the mug on the desk in front of him as if it were an unexploded bomb.

McMillan happily continued to drink his. “Are you sure you didn’t get fed up waiting for Hanson to strike and decide to get rid of the problem? I mean, we wouldn’t blame you if you did. It would just be good to know so we don’t spend a whole day chasing a fictional gunman all over Houston.”

Nobody bought his “we’re all friends here together” act. McMillan couldn’t pull off understanding if his life depended on it.

“If we wanted to eliminate Hanson,” Abasi drawled, “you’d have found his body. But we don’t do that sort of thing. We’re the good guys now. Ain’t that right, Boss?”

“I think that’s stretching it a tad,” Rochelle said drolly.

As Abasi flashed her a grin, Johnson’s phone rang, followed quickly by McMillan’s. The detectives answered, listened for a few seconds, and then got to their feet. The door opened while they were ending their calls, and the ADA poked her head in.

“My boss just rang,” she said. “What’s this about Eddie Hanson going missing? He wants me back at the office ASAP to devise a crisis plan in case the trial doesn’t go ahead. My technician’s packing everything up with Annabelle’s help, and then we’re leaving straight away.”

“We have bigger problems than Eddie’s absence,” McMillan said, tugging his waistband back up onto his belly. “Somebody’s attacking the Demon Brothers, and the boss wants everyone on the streets.”

“Attacking?” Rochelle asked, her gaze laser focused on the cops.

McMillan looked weary. “We’ve got two gangbangers down and fights breaking out all over the city. Don’t know what the hell’s going on, but if we don’t get it stopped, we’re looking at full-blown gang warfare.”

Violet’s angry voice drifted in through the open door. “Carry your own damn equipment down the stairs. Do I look like a bloody porter?”

Margaret Grant glanced over her shoulder and winced. “I’d better go before Violet shoots my technician. Keep me posted,” she ordered the detectives.

“We live to serve,” McMillan muttered.

“We need to get a move on, Mac.” Johnson followed her out the door.

“That’s my cue to go,” the older detective said.

Outside in the corridor, Johnson could be heard saying, “Here, I’ll help with that. I’m heading down anyway.”

“Looks like the tech found a porter after all.” Rodrigo grinned at them.

“There goes my chance at hacking a state-of-the-art secure communications setup.” Evan looked close to tears.

“I’m sure you’ll get another chance.” Harris patted his brother on the head like a dog.

“Not today, though,” the depressed little puppy said.

“You got any more information you can share?” Noah asked McMillan as he lumbered toward the door.