the end of my connection to advise he heard my reply before tugging my earpiece out of my ear. The less I look on the job, the easier my conversation with the officer arresting Crombie will go. I hope.
After quietly bridging the gap between us, I ask, “What are you arresting him for?”
The dark-haired officer wearing designer jeans and a buttoned-up shirt stands Crombie to his feet before mashing his face with the brickwork outside of the club. I take a step back when he swings his government-issued pistol my way. “Stand down. This is no business of yours.”
“I’m a federal agent.” When he glares at me like he isn’t stupid, I roll my eyes. This is another reason I hate having a baby face. “I’m just moving for my credentials,” I assure him when my hunt for my wallet has his index finger creeping toward the trigger of his gun.
After flashing him my photo ID and badge like a real-life movie star, I retake the step I took back when he drew his gun on me. “Let me guess, suspected of arson?”
The dark-haired officer cocks his brow. “Old case?”
I shake my head. “No. He was before I joined the Bureau.” A grin tugs on my lips when Crombie’s throat works hard to swallow at my confession that I work for the FBI. I’m not surprised he didn’t miss my revelation. I increased the volume of my voice to ensure he couldn’t miss it. “He was given twelve years a little over six years ago.” I drop my eyes to Crombie’s face squished against a wall of bricks. “So how’d you get out so early?”
“Good behavior.” As unbelieving of his reply as I am, the unnamed officer yanks Crombie back before ramming him forward. The crack his face makes with the brickwork curls my lips into a smile. “All right, all right,” he garbles through the blood pooling in the corner of his mouth. “I pleaded out.”
He’s either trained to deceive, or he is telling the truth. His eyes didn’t shift to seek his imagination, and he’s only sweating because of my pursuit. Still, I’m shocked. He would have had to give something good to get his sentence reduced so dramatically.
“What information could you have possibly offered to have your sentence sliced in half?”
Crombie looks set to squeal like a nark but loses the chance when we’re surrounded by four black Lincoln Navigators. If the words shouted by the agents piling out of the vehicles hadn’t swallowed up his words, I’m sure the helicopter hovering above our heads would have taken care of the injustice.
“We’ll take things from here.” A female agent with raven hair and pretty eyes thrusts an arrest warrant into the unnamed officer’s chest before she attempts to secure the target.
I say attempt as the plain-clothed officer isn’t having any of it. “This isn’t an arrest warrant. I have conclusive evidence the suspect is responsible for a warehouse fire on the outskirts of town. That means he’s mine.”
“Stand down, Detective Carter,” the female agent grumbles on a groan over the turf war that always occurs when the Bureau is involved in local cases. “Federal agents can make arrests for any offense committed in their presence or when they have reasonable grounds that the person they’re arresting committed or is committing a felony in violation of US laws.”
“The warehouse fire was a week ago. You didn’t witness anything.”
The detective’s attitude takes a step back when the female agent snickers. “That’s not what that dumpster says.”
I almost fist bump the air when my neck cranks to the side in sync with Detective Carter to take in a burning dumpster. The evidence Crombie was attempting to discard was most likely ignited by a cigarette butt, but since Detective Carter can’t conclusively say that, he has no choice but to hand Crombie over to the Bureau.
“This is strike three for Crombie. Felony arson. Felony.” The female agent repeats her last word extra slow to ensure Detective Carter doesn’t miss the words she didn’t speak.
With his sneer hidden by a half-hearted grin, Detective Carter hands Crombie off to the female agent. He’s pissed, but he’s aware even in his hometown, he has no jurisdiction when it comes to federal cases.
I wait for Detective Carter to slide into the driver’s seat of his unmarked cruiser to call in his movements before shifting on my feet to face the lead agent on Crombie’s case. “Where are you taking him? We have a field office