The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ hungry again. Nick and Jenks were in the corner, both trying to stay out of the way.

      The heavy door to the break room opened, and I turned as an FIB officer and a young woman in a provocative red dress slipped in. An FIB badge hung around her neck, and the yellow FIB hat perched on her overstyled hair looked like a cheap prop. I guessed they were Gerry and Briston from the mall. The woman’s face scrunched up and she whispered a derisive, “Perfume.” My breath puffed out. I’d love to explain, but it would probably do more harm than good.

      The whispers of the FIB officers had lessoned dramatically after I’d ditched the old lady disguise and turned into a battered twenty-something with frizzy red hair and curves where they ought to be. I felt like a bean in a maraca, and with my sling, my black eye, and the blanket draped around me, I probably looked like a disaster refugee.

      “Rachel!” Francis cried urgently, drawing my attention back to him. His triangular face was pale, and his dark hair had gone stringy. “I need protection. I’m not like you. Kalamack is going to kill me. I’ll do anything! You want Kalamack; I want protection. I was only supposed to do Brimstone. It’s not my fault. Rachel, you’ve got to believe me.”

      “Yeah.” Tired beyond belief, I took a deep breath and looked at the clock. It was just after midnight, but it felt like nearly sunrise.

      Edden smiled. His chair scraped as he got to his feet. “Let’s open ’em up, people.”

      Two FIB officers eagerly stepped forward. I clutched the amulet in my lap and anxiously leaned to see. My continued existence was in those boxes. The sound of ripping tape was loud. Francis wiped his mouth, watching in what looked like a morbid fascination and fear.

      “Sweet mother of God,” one of the officers swore, backing away from the table as the box opened. “They’re tomatoes.”

      Tomatoes? I lurched to my feet, grunting in pain. Edden was a breath ahead of me.

      “It’s inside them!” Francis babbled. “The drugs are inside. He hides the drugs in tomatoes so the custom dogs can’t smell them.” White-faced behind his stubble, he pushed his sleeves up again. “They’re in there. Look!”

      “Tomatoes?” Edden said, disgust crossing him. “He ships them out in tomatoes?”

      Perfect red tomatoes with green stems stared back at me from their cardboard packing tray. Impressed, my lips parted. Trent must have wedged the vials into the developing fruit, and by the time it was ripe, the drug was safely hidden inside a faultless fruit no human would touch.

      “Get over there, Nick,” Jenks demanded, but Nick didn’t move, his long face ashen. At the sink, two officers who had opened the boxes were violently scrubbing their hands.

      Looking like he was going to be sick, Edden stretched to pick a tomato up, examining the red fruit. There was not a blemish or cut on the perfect skin. “I suppose we probably ought to open one up,” he said reluctantly, setting it on the table and wiping his hand on his pants.

      “I’ll do it,” I volunteered when no one spoke up, and someone slid a tarnished table knife across the table at me. I picked it up with my left hand, then remembering my other hand was in a sling, I looked for some help. Not one FIB officer would meet my gaze. Not one was willing to touch the fruit. Frowning, I set the knife aside. “Oh well,” I breathed, raising my hand and bringing it down on top of the fruit.

      It hit with a sodden splat. Red goo splattered over Edden’s white shirt. His face went as gray as his mustache. There was a cry of disgust from the watching FIB officers. Someone gagged. Heart pounding, I took the tomato in one hand and squeezed. Pulp and seeds squirted from between my fingers. My breath caught as a cylinder the size of my pinky pressed against my palm. I dropped the mass of pulp and shook my hand. Shouts of dismay rose as the red flesh splattered against the table. It was only a tomato, but one would think I was pulping a decaying heart by the noise the big, strong FIB officers were making.

      “Here it is!” I said triumphantly, picking out an institutional-looking vial gooped in tomato slime and holding it aloft. I’d never seen biodrugs before. I had thought there’d be more.

      “Well, I’ll be,” Edden said softly, taking the ampule in a napkin. The satisfaction of discovery had overwhelmed his abhorrence.

      A wisp of fear tightened Francis’s eyes as his gaze darted from me to the boxes. “Rachel?” he whimpered. “You’ll get me protection from Mr. Kalamack, right?”

      Anger stiffened my back. He had betrayed me and everything I believed in—for money. I turned to him, the gray edging my sight as leaned over the table and I put myself in his face. “I saw you at Kalamack’s,” I said, and his lips went bloodless. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I left a red smear across the colorful fabric. “You’re a black runner, and you’re gonna burn.” I pushed him back into his chair and sat down, my heart pounding from the effort—satisfied.

      “Whoa!” Edden said softly. “Someone arrest him and read him his rights.”

      Francis’s mouth opened and closed in alarm as Briston pulled her cuffs from her hip and snapped them around his wrists. I reached into my sling and awkwardly unhooked my charm bracelet. I tossed it to land next to her—just in case Francis had something nasty in his rolled-up sleeves—and at Edden’s nod, she laced it on Francis’s wrist as well.

      The soft and certain pattern of the Miranda flowed out in a reassuring cadence. Francis’s eyes were wide and fixed to the vial. I don’t think he even heard the man at his elbow.

      “Rachel!” he cried as he found his voice. “Don’t let him kill me. He’s going to kill me. I gave you Kalamack. I want a deal. I want protection! That’s the way it works, right?”

      My eyes met Edden’s and I wiped my hand free of the last of the tomato on a scratchy napkin. “Do we have to listen to this right now?”

      A wicked, not so nice smile came over Edden. “Briston, get this bucket of crap into the van. Put his confession on tape and paper. And read him his rights again. No mistakes.”

      Francis stood, his chair scraping the dirty tile. His narrow face was drawn and his hair had fallen into his eyes. “Rachel, tell them Kalamack is going to kill me!”

      I looked at Edden, my lips pressed tight. “He’s right.”

      At my words, Francis whimpered. His dark eyes looked haunted, as if unsure whether he should be happy or upset that someone was taking his worries seriously.

      “Get him an ACG blanket,” Edden said in a bothered tone. “Keep him secure.”

      My shoulders eased. If they got Francis tucked out of sight quick enough, he’d be safe.

      Briston’s gaze flicked to the boxes. “And the—uh—tomatoes, Captain?”

      His grin widened as he leaned over the table, careful to keep his arms out of the splattered mess. “Let’s leave that for the evidence crew.”

      Clearly relieved, Briston gestured for Clayton. “Rachel!” Francis babbled as they pulled him to the door. “You’re going to help me, right? I’ll tell them everything!”

      All four of the FIB officers roughly escorted him out, Briston’s heels clicking smartly. The door snicked shut, and I closed my eyes at the blessed silence. “What a night,” I whispered.

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