The Whole Truth by James Scott Bell

Author:James Scott Bell
Format: epub
Tags: Array
Publisher: Zondervan

FORTY

It was almost nine thirty when Steve got back to Canoga Park. He decided to stop at the office to get his CEB handbook on criminal procedure. He could work at the apartment tomorrow and needed to bone up on a few matters.

He parked in back and saw a couple of lighted windows in the building. One of them belonged to a CPA who seemed to live here, or else lived to work. Steve wasn’t sure of the other one. But there were three cars in the lot, including his. He knew the CPA drove a blue Chevy. The other car was a sleek silver Porsche. Whoever it belonged to should know you don’t park a car like that here, at night.

Whoever it was would probably find that out soon enough.

Steve was almost to the back door when someone materialized out of the darkness, spiking Steve’s heart into overdrive.

The man was Latino, thickset. In the dim light Steve saw vida loca eyes. Steve had seen those more than enough defending juvi gangbangers.

“Let’s go inside,” he said to Steve, jerking his head toward the building.

“What?”

“Inside. Now.”

“Look, I’ll give you a card and you can call and — ”

Catlike, the guy whipped out a switchblade and clicked it open.

“Whoa.” Steve instinctively put his hands up in the universal gesture of no problem.

“Let’s go,” the man said.

“You got it,” Steve punched in the after-hours code and the door clicked open. “I usually prefer prospective clients offer a retainer.”

“Just go.”

Steve took the stairs to the second floor, wondering the whole way if he was going to get a blade in his back. But none came. Yet.

Steve unlocked his office door, reminding himself to talk to Slbodnik about installing security cameras. The guy actually put the point in Steve’s back.

“Easy, man,” the guy said.

Steve did not intend to be anything but easy. He flicked on the lights. And gasped.

The office was a disaster area. Papers and files and plants and phones all over the floor. The credenza under the window was turned over on its back, like a dead animal with four legs in the air and guts spilled out. The metal filing cabinet was a shell, all the drawers out of it.

“Man, you got to take better care of this place,” the guy said.

Steve turned around. The knife caught his shirt. He heard it tear. “Did you do this?”

The guy held the knife up. “Don’t make any moves, man. Sit down.”

“I want to know — ”

The intruder put the knife under Steve’s chin. “Sit.”

“Sure.” Steve threw his keys on the reception desk, which was now completely bare. All the contents, including the little plant that was dying anyway, were on the floor in front of it. Even the glass top was off. Steve saw one half of the broken glass on the floor.

Why the glass? That was just mean.

“Sit!”

Steve sat in the swivel chair.

The guy gave a quick look around. “You got security in here?”

“Of course.”

“Where?” He pointed the knife toward Steve.

“My landlord,” Steve said.

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