Chapter 17: Greta's Run

Burke's POV

Macy called me at 9:41, and her voice was too level.

"Greta's not answering," she said. "A gray sedan pulled out behind her. It's Peyton's."

I was already moving.

I took the stairs two at a time.

I told the desk sergeant to put out the plate.

"Where's she?" I asked.

"Greta shared her location with me at the wedding. I never turned it off." Macy's breath shook. "She's in a parking garage on Vine. Level three."

"Stay at the office."

"Burke."

"Stay where there are people. I mean it."

"I'm staying," she said. "Go."

I drove with the lights on and the siren off, because sirens make runners run.

My hands were wet on the wheel.

I had stood on a doormat in April and turned around, and four miles away a woman had been under a floor.

I was not going to be four miles from anyone again.

The garage was a concrete box over a grocery store, and level three held about thirty cars.

I found Greta's car in the far corner, with its engine running and its horn going in long blasts.

A gray sedan was parked nose to nose against its bumper.

Peyton stood at the driver's window in a green cardigan I knew, and Greta sat behind the glass with the doors locked.

Greta saw me in the mirror.

She laid on the horn.

"Peyton," I said, and I came across the concrete with my hand on my weapon. "Step away from the car."

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