The Evasion by Adrienne Giordano Page B

into his front pocket, slid the leather case out and flashed his badge.
    The woman’s eyebrows shot high. Yeah, thought so.
    Jo cleared her throat and gave Gabe the stink-eye. “Mrs. Jenkins, would you please get us Timmy’s phone number? We have a quick question.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together. “Teensy question.”
    After eyeballing that badge, the woman checked the phone book she kept behind the desk. “If you’re sure it can’t wait—”
    “It can’t ,” Gabe half hollered.
    The woman dialed the number, spent a good two minutes on the hello-how-are-you routine—apparently with Little Timmy’s wife—before turning the phone over to Gabe.
    “Calm,” Jo said.
    Sure. Right. On it. “Timmy, this is Sergeant Gabe Townsend from the New York City police department. You delivered a gift bag to the hotel this afternoon. I need to know who paid you to deliver that item.”
    “Yes, sir. I understand. But I’m sorry, I can’t share that with you. It’s confidential.”
    Oh, Timmy . Gabe cracked his neck. Organized his thoughts. “Do you have a lawyer?”
    “Sir?”
    “Preferably a criminal lawyer, because by the time I get through with you, you’ll be walking into a prison shower. Alone. Are you getting my drift? You feel me, dog?”
    Beside him, Jo threw up her hands. Sorry, babe .
    “Sir?” Timmy said again.
    What was with this kid? “You want to stay out of jail, right?”
    “Uh.”
    “That bag contained an illegal item. Are you an accessory to this crime?”
    “Oh, shee-it,” the guy said, his voice high enough to crack glass.
    “All I need is a name. Give me that name and I don’t call the sheriff. Or a prosecutor.” The threat couldn’t hurt.
    “Okay, okay. No need for that. I was hired to deliver it by Thelma.”
    “Thelma who?”
    “I don’t know. She has an office on the edge of town. I do deliveries for her every now and again. Just local stuff. She called me tonight, maybe six-thirty, paid me double to deliver the bag ASAP.”
    “What’s Thelma’s address?”
    “I don’t know the exact. It’s at the corner of Chamberlain and Hedge. The Canary building.”
    “The Canary building?” Gabe shot a look at Mrs. Jenkins, who nodded. “Thank you, Timmy. That’s all for now.”
    “Am I in trouble?”
    “If this turns out to help apprehend a fugitive, probably not. I may need to talk to you again.” Gabe handed Mrs. Jenkins the phone and started for the stairs. “Chamberlain and Hedge,” he said to Jo. “The Canary building. I need car keys.”
    Her heels clacked against the wood as she ran up the stairs behind him. “You didn’t need to scare the crap out of the poor guy.”
    “Yeah. I did. Chamberlain and Hedge, babe. You stay here.”
    “Wait. Chamberlain. The address Sherry gave me is on Chamberlain.”
    “There you go. How convenient.”
    She tugged on the back of his shirt. “I’m coming with you.”
    “No. I’m not screwing with you on this. I don’t know what’s in that building.”
    “Yeah, but then you have to leave me alone here. After someone left that threatening package.”
    He reached the hotel room, shoved the key into the door—he sure as hell wasn’t gonna leave that door unlocked after their delivery—and pushed.
    She’s got a point there .
    “Fine. Let’s go. But you do exactly as I say.” The minute the words left him, he held his hand up. “Scratch that. You won’t agree to it anyway. I know this. Why do I bother?”
    He grabbed his sidearm and holster out of his duffle and shoved them both under his T-shirt.
    “We should call the sheriff,” Jo said.
    “Sure. From the car. I want to get there before he does. If he even decides this is worthy of him rolling out of bed.” Gabe stopped, heaved a breath and looked down at her. “I don’t trust that guy.”

 
    Chapter Five
     
    The cruise around the Canary building—aptly named for its neon yellow color, turned out to be a bust. And not the kind of bust Gabe