The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) Read online

  Broken glass was scattered on the cement where the car had been parked.

  What the fuck happened?

  “Where, Aaron?” Mouthpiece asked. “Where’s the cop car?”

  “It was right there. I left Alex with the cruiser.” He jerked his head back to look at the officers. Then spun in a circle in search of the car. Worry for Alex rose in his throat. What could’ve happened to him? “Ansgar was in the backseat. He couldn’t have gotten out.”

  “Police car?” Mouthpiece asked. “Like an actual police cruiser?”

  His partner had stepped back into the shadows. Aaron was sure the man had his weapon out.

  “Hey, take it easy.” Aaron raised his hands chest high. “We have The Clock. We have the guy behind all this.”

  “Where, Aaron?” The cop moved closer. “I don’t see him. And maybe you could tell us. How did you happen to come across a police car?”

  “Look,” Aaron said. “Listen to me.” He turned left, then right. The parking lot was empty. No police car within an entire city block. “They were here.”

  “Aaron, turn around.”

  He faced the cop. “Don’t do this.”

  “Turn around.” This time the cop’s words were strained. His patience had snapped.

  Something clicked off the cop’s belt line. Handcuffs dangled from his fingers.

  “Put these on.” The cop tossed them to Aaron. He caught them with ease. “Don’t resist arrest,” he added. “I don’t want to have to use deadly force. I know how fast you are. I’m not coming close to you. So put those on yourself.”

  “Don’t do this. I’ll come peacefully.”

  “Aaron, we know you. We were willing to trust you. Until now.”

  The partner had his back to the building, covering them.

  Aaron was out of options. After one cuff was on, he reached around behind his back and locked the other wrist in. Then he spun around and lifted his hands in the air to show the cop that they were locked in place.

  He turned back around to face the cop.

  “What now?” Aaron asked.

  Mouthpiece’s cell phone dinged. He unclipped it and read the message. When he met Aaron’s eyes, a renewed fire brewed in them.

  “What?” Aaron asked.

  The cop stepped back and lifted the phone for his partner to read. Then the partner glared at Aaron.

  Mouthpiece deposited his phone in his pocket and started for Aaron.

  “You guys gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?” Aaron asked, a sudden urge to turn and run and take his chances flared in him.

  Mouthpiece grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward the hospital.

  “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to retain legal counsel. Anything you say—”

  “What are you arresting me for?” he asked. Did the cop at the hotel text him? Did the clerk mistakenly issue a statement that it was Aaron who shot the airport van driver?

  “Aaron Stevens, you are being arrested for the murder of Len Wallace, the driver of the Park ’N Fly van. We have a witness.”

  The other cop clamped onto Aaron’s other arm and together they half dragged, half forced him across the dark parking lot of the hospital.

  At their cruiser, Mouthpiece pushed him up against the car and patted him down.

  At the small of Aaron’s back, the cop’s hand stopped on Ansgar’s Glock.

  “What’s this?” He yanked it out and held it up for his partner to see. “Odds are, this was the weapon that killed the driver. What do you say, Aaron? This the weapon?”

  There was no point in debating with these men. There was nothing he could say that would convince them to take their cuffs off him and let him walk away. He also didn’t want to lie which would be found out later.

  “Good investigating there, dickweed. That’s the gun that shot the driver. I’ll put that in my statement. That gun is the murder weapon. But I didn’t do it.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You just happen to carry murder weapons around with you like the rest of us normal folk carry house keys.”

  They shoved Aaron in the backseat of the cruiser and slammed the door.

  “Fuck you, Aaron Stevens. Fuck you.”

  The cops disappeared inside the hospital.

  Chapter 44

  Aaron was driven to the police station, processed and placed in a holding cell until someone was supposed to come and take his statement.

  Mistakes had been made. Bad decisions fell through. He was supposed to take care of Clara and he screwed that up. At one point they were safe in a hotel room and now he had no idea where everyone was.

  The mouthpiece cop, Detective Shawn Bryant, read Aaron his rights. Once that was done and he was processed, Aaron understood the cops were bringing Daniel and Clara in. Benjamin would remain at the hospital under police guard until he could be moved to the police station.

  He leaned against the door and stared out into the corridor through a small square window.

  What had happened to Alex? Had Ansgar gotten the better of him? Maybe Ansgar had a hidden weapon of some kind. Could Alex be dead and they’d find his body in the coming days? If so, that was on Aaron. It was stupid to knock that cop out at the hotel, steal his uniform and his cruiser. The cop knew what Alex looked like. It would only be a matter of time before Alex would be up on charges as well.

  But they’d done it and at the time, it made sense because of how dangerous Ansgar was.

  So where was Ansgar? Was it all worth it?

  Aaron pushed off the door and sat on the wooden bench that ran the length of the back wall in the small holding cell.

  He wasn’t worried about the murder charge. It was a waste of time and the charges would be dropped within days as soon as they took Clara’s statement. It would all work out. But until then, Alex was on his own. Of all the people he knew outside Sarah, if someone was on their own and had to survive without support for a few days, it would be Alex. He’d make it.

  Three hours later, the sun rising and filling the left side of the corridor with morning light, an officer knocked once, then opened the holding cell door. Despite the early hour and the fatigue that came along with it, Aaron shot up from the wooden bench and followed the officer without any drowsiness. He was eager to give his statement and get this over with.

  An hour later, after his statement was taken by a female officer named Liane Carmen, he was led to an interview room.

  “Would you like a coffee or water?” Carmen asked.

  “Coffee. Black.”

  Carmen nodded and eased the door shut.

  Ten minutes later, Officer Carmen returned with a cup of black coffee, then slipped out the door.

  The coffee was long gone and he needed a toilet. The door opened again and Detective Bryant entered, followed by his partner. Neither man appeared to have been given the benefit of sleep since he’d seen them last.

  Bryant sat in the chair opposite Aaron’s while his partner stayed by the door.

  “Rest well?” Bryant asked.

  Aaron fiddled with his empty coffee cup and spoke without looking up. “Come to release me?” he asked.

  “I’m confused about something,” Bryant said.

  Aaron waited. He released the coffee cup and sat back in his chair doing his best to ignore his raging bladder.

  “Why are you guys involved with someone like Ansgar Holm? Why would such a high-profile assassin be running around Toronto gunning for you?”

  Aaron shrugged. “Wish I knew.”

  “Are you saying you’re unaware of any provocation you initiated?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. Other than what’s in my statement, all I know is I was supposed to get Clara from him and protect her after that. What better way to keep her safe than to have her with you lot.”

  “Clara mentioned Sarah Roberts was the girl who originally attacked Ansgar in the hotel room. Then Sarah flew to Denmark. Any reason why?”

  “Sarah has her own reasons. I
often don’t learn them until after the fact.”

  It felt good to be forthcoming. It took a lot of energy to fight the authorities or to lie to them. Maintaining a fabricated story at this point was reckless. They had saved Clara and Benjamin was shot while leaving the hotel. An innocent man was killed. In their panic, they hurt a cop, stole his cruiser and got out of there. Any jury would understand. At least he hoped.

  “We looked into Anton Olafson and where Sarah Roberts might be at the moment. You would be surprised what we found.”

  That got his attention. He hadn’t had any updates since Sarah left for Denmark. They’d been so busy with Ansgar that he hadn’t even taken a moment to try to get a message out to her.

  Aaron leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table.

  “Tell me. What did you find out?”

  The officers exchanged a glance that appeared sour, demure.

  Bryant tapped his fingers on the table.

  “Something happened in a place called Skanderborg,” Bryant said.

  “Yeah, that’s where Sarah was headed.”

  “Well, we’re not getting a lot on what happened in Skanderborg, but we do know that Sarah and Clara’s father are in the hospital in a place called Silkeborg.”

  His stomach dropped. “Hospital?”

  “Clara’s father has stab wounds. A friend of Sarah’s did it and is to be formally charged within the hour.”

  “Sarah’s friend?” Aaron asked. “You mean Parkman?”

  “Yeah, that was the name.”

  Aaron blew air out of his mouth. This was bad. Very bad. Why attack Anton Olafson? Wasn’t he a good guy? If not, why were they protecting Clara? He shook his head as if to dislodge cobwebs. Did it ever make sense when dealing with Sarah? But that was what he loved about her. The mystery, the intrigue. It all worked out in the end, though. Didn’t it?

  “What about Sarah?” he asked. “Why is she in the hospital?”

  Bryant pushed off the table and got to his feet.

  “Hey,” Aaron said. “Where are you going? Tell me what happened to Sarah.”

  The partner opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. Bryant stopped in the doorframe.

  Aaron stared at him, gaping.

  “I’m sorry, Aaron. There’s no good news to tell you about Sarah.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked, sickness and rage brewing in his stomach.

  Bryant lowered his head and looked at the floor. All the mouthpiece talk from the hospital was gone. Behind the mask, the bravado, the tough smart-aleck cop, was a humble man. One with a heart and genuine feelings. Aaron saw all that in the expression on the detective’s face and didn’t like it because it meant what he had to say pained him.

  “Is she—” Aaron couldn’t say it. He couldn’t ask if Sarah was dead.

  “We talked to the officer at the hospital. He spoke good English.”

  Aaron slapped the table. “Please, Bryant, tell me what you know.”

  “Sarah was brought into the hospital, D.O.A. I’m sorry, Aaron. I really am.”

  Aaron slumped down on the chair hard as Bryant shut the door.

  Then his world collapsed and he slipped off the chair and curled into a ball on the cold cement floor.

  He stayed like that until the interview room door opened again two hours later.

  Chapter 45

  The Danish authorities were professional and polite. They were prepared to do their jobs and let the courts figure things out. But Sarah didn’t have time to hang around in Denmark to let courts discover she was the victim. Parkman had simply protected her when she was out, or lying dead as the officers kept calling it.

  “I’m not understanding what the problem is,” Sarah said.

  “Then explain how you came to be at Mr. Olafson’s house.”

  They were in a small room the hospital provided. Two police officers remained with Sarah and Parkman while two others had arrived and were guarding the door. As far as Sarah had heard, they were to remain in the hospital until Sarah’s test results came back. The doctor’s wanted to make sure she was okay to discharge. Especially after originally declaring her dead.

  The young cop in front of her seemed motivated to do his job by the book. His older partner gave Sarah the impression that this was a training session.

  “We already told you that,” Sarah said, trying to keep exasperation out of her voice but failing. “I am here on behalf of Anton’s daughter, Clara. She’s staying with my friends in Toronto when I flew here.”

  “Anton claims you’re wearing his daughter’s clothing. He has claimed information in his statement that someone has threatened to kill his daughter and that if information of your whereabouts leak out, his daughter will be murdered.” The young cop—Sarah forgot his name—held his hands out to his side. “Do you understand how this must look to us?”

  “However it looks, Anton attacked me. In fact, he killed me. When Parkman attempted to revive me back at the house in Skanderborg, Anton attacked him. Why are we still here? Tell me, why isn’t Anton being arrested for murder, or attempted murder as it stands now?”

  The young cop seemed out of questions. He referred to a pad of paper he’d made notes on, scanned something, then looked up.

  “What’s your name again?” Sarah asked.

  “Officer Martin.”

  “Okay, Officer Martin. Are you aware of the high-profile case in Aarhus involving a man named Damien?”

  The young cop started at the mention of Damien’s name. He glanced at his partner who pushed off the wall and stepped closer to Sarah. She felt Parkman’s eyes on her.

  “What do you know of Damien?” the older cop asked.

  “Suicide. While in custody.” She watched their reactions. “It happened just over two hours ago. Virtually impossible for me to know that having been dead and all.”

  “Who told you?” Martin said.

  Ignoring him, she pushed on. “Damien ran a little underage ring in Aarhus. An embarrassment to the people of Denmark. Correct?”

  She suddenly felt ravenous. When was the last time she’d eaten? She licked her lips. Mouth dry, too. Before leaving and finding their way to an airport, she would have to eat a cow. Maybe two. When her stomach growled in hunger, she wondered if they heard it. No one seemed to take note. They were too engrossed in what she had to say.

  “Anton Olafson was one of Damien’s top clients. And I can prove it.”

  The older cop stepped back again and crossed his arms.

  “Really now? And how can you back up such a claim?”

  She frowned and looked at Officer Martin. “Is he always like this? Or is the stupid act just for show.”

  “Excuse me?” the older cop said, louder now.

  “I said I can prove it. That is how I back up the claim. By fucking proving it. How else?”

  “Please forgive my English,” the cop said, sarcasm coating every word. “What I mean is, how are you to go about proving that? By what means will you provide us with proof?”

  “Pictures. Kept on Anton’s computer. Since erased. I can get them. I know where they are.”

  As soon as she said that, she knew it was a mistake.

  “How would you know where they are? Or are you trying to establish motive for Anton wanting to kill you?”

  “They are on a computer in Toronto.”

  “Of course they are, Miss Roberts.” The older cop threw up his hands. “And you think we’re just going to let you walk out of here to fly home and get us this evidence?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. Unless you have charges against us, you will let us leave or our one phone call will be to our embassy.” She turned to Parkman. “Unless there’s a pizza delivery place close by. I’ll call the embassy, you order ten large pizzas. I’m famished.”

  Parkman nodded and blinked. “I’ll get the food.”

  The older cop paced back and forth. He did this several times, then stopped.

  “Why you a
re in Denmark in the first place is a mystery. What has happened since your arrival is a mystery to me. Your story doesn’t make sense. What Anton did doesn’t make sense. But I can tell you he’s not a murderer. Not Anton Olafson, the director of the NC3. I fail to understand how he would be involved with the man who killed himself in his holding cell tonight as well.” The cop turned to face Sarah. “You have to understand, this all looks like some kind of smear campaign against Mr. Olafson.”