Page 13 of Trust

“I’ll take care of it. She’ll be gone before anyone notices she was ever here. One hundred percent she gave you a fake name. Go with it. Play dumb and keep your paperwork clean.”

He’s pacing again, fingers raking through what’s left of his hair. It’s all in vain. He already knows there’s no other option but to accept my offer. Just one more little push. “I’ll deal with the mayor,” I add. “Every minute she stays here is another chance the story leaks. Headlines about police incompetence or abuse of power. A scandal. That what you want?”

He mutters a curse, forehead buried in his hand. “This is gonna come back to bite me.”

“Let’s make sure it doesn’t.”

That shuts him up. He points me down the hall without another word. On my way out, I pause in the doorway. “You should clean up the mess she left at the convention center before the rally crew shows up. Thank me later.” Another debt tucked neatly into my pocket.

I stride to the interrogation room unhurried, knowing exactly who waits behind that door. She isn’t a shoplifting teen or some small-town delinquent, but the girl who’s been rewriting my expectations from the moment she slipped out of her house with a backpack full of chaos.

The hinges groan as I enter the windowless room, shutting the door behind me with a click. She doesn’t bother lifting her head. Just sits there, slouched in the metal chair, radiating rebellion with her wrists restrained in her lap and her fingers picking at the cuff of her sleeve.

Taking my time, I study her.

There she is. My target.

I reach up, switching off the camera hanging in the corner, and watch the red LED fade.

That gets her attention.

Her gaze is sharp, annoyance simmering beneath the surface. What could have possibly carved that edge into her? I push the thought away. It’s none of my business, not why I’m here.

I crouch beside her and unlock the cuffs. She rubs her wrists, not thanking me. Doesn’t even spare me a glance.

Sarcasm laces her voice. “You the bad cop? Or the good one?”

I let out a quiet laugh, the kind that never reaches my eyes. “No, Sara.”

Her head jerks up and her eyes narrow. “So you know who I am now. Took you long enough.”

She meets my stare longer than I’d counted on, but in the end, she’s the one who breaks it. The way her knee bounces tells me everything. Behind her defiance, realization is creeping in. She gives me a once-over. I instantly know what she’s searching for and won’t find: a badge, a gun, a name tag.

Her chin tilts, a half-smile carving its way across her face.

“Obviously not a cop. So what are you? The big scary guy they send to rough up little girls?”

What a lame attempt to hide the nerves working their way through her.

I don’t answer, letting the lack of response do the talking.

She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “What do you want?”

The cold in my tone makes it clear obedience is the only option.

“You’re going to stand up now. Then you’re going to leave with me calmly. Or not.” I shrug. “Your choice.”

She tilts her head, eyes locking on mine, defiance hardening.

“Make me.”

If my tone won’t make her listen, my hands surely will.

The metal chair topples behind her with a ringing crash. She gasps, the flicker of surprise breaking across her face right before it hits the steel surface as I push her onto the table and hold her there. This should teach her how quickly things can turn if she refuses to comply.

“Careful,” I murmur near her ear, leaning over her and pinning her down. “You don’t want to test me.”

She goes rigid. A soundless tremor runs through her. She’s not used to this kind of treatment, not supposed to be. However, she needs to learn. If I go easy on her now, it’ll only take her longer to understand her place.