Gunning for Secrets (A Jo Gunning Thriller Book 7) by Renee Pawlish

Author:Renee Pawlish [Pawlish, Renee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creative Cat Press
Published: 2024-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jo froze in place.

“Hands where I can see them.”

She kept her hands out, but she glanced over her shoulder to the house. Blinds blocked the sliding glass doors, and Atchison was nowhere in sight.

“Do you have any weapons?”

Jo recognized the voice. Detective Holton. She sensed others in the vicinity as well. She shook her head. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The detective appeared from the shadows, gun drawn. She couldn’t tell what model, but she saw the look on his face. He was angry.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Someone’s going to search you.”

Two more uniformed officers stepped up, flanking her. A woman holstered her weapon, approached Jo, and performed a quick pat-down. She took the knife out of Jo’s pocket and held it up.

“Just this, sir,” the woman said, bagging the weapon.

Holton lowered his gun and stared at Jo. “Are you trying to make a mess of things?”

Jo dodged that question with one of her own. “You talked to Sabrina Padilla?”

He looked past her to the sliding doors, then nodded at the female officer.

“Go with the others,” he told her.

She moved carefully by Jo, then cut through the yard and up to Atchison’s back door. A radio squawked as she stood there. Then the blinds parted, the door slid open, and she disappeared inside. Holton looked back at Jo.

“You’ve been following me?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes flickered, and she knew she was right.

“You’re coming down to the station for questioning,” he said.

Jo thought about her options. There weren’t many. She could refuse to talk to him, but she didn’t know if he’d drum up some charges to take her in. And if she rebuffed him, she would look guilty of . . . something, and there’d be more eyes on her, more attention. If she talked her way out of this, he might continue to follow her, and she’d be left trying to dodge him.

“All right,” she said, knowing she sounded irritated but not bothering to hide it. “I’ll talk to you. May I put my arms down?”

“Get her in your vehicle and take her to the station,” Holton told the other officer, a burly man with a flat face and a thin mustache.

“What do you want me to do with her then?” the officer said.

“Hold her until I get there,” he snapped.

The officer nodded sheepishly, then holstered his gun. Under Holton’s watch, he cuffed Jo and led her to a squad car waiting outside the alley. He put her in the back seat, where Plexiglass separated them.

The only sound on the drive to the station was his radio chirping now and again. When they reached the station, he uncuffed her, then put her into an interrogation room. Jo waited there, staring at the blank walls and the camera that hung in the upper corner. Nothing to distract her.

Her internal clock ticked, and by her estimation, she waited an hour before Holton came in by himself. He plopped a file folder on the table and sat down across from her.

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