The angry gnawing in his gut made Detective Darren Whalley realize just how long he’d been watching the third-floor window. He passed the binoculars to his partner, Isabelle Bennet, and leaned over to root through the glove box, hoping desperately that Bennet had been smarter than he was and brought snacks.
“Looking for this?” Bennet asked, producing a bag of beef jerky.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Whalley.
Bennet held the bag back. “What did I tell you after the mall stakeout? No more freebies.”
“Last time?” said Darren, trying for Bambi-eyes.
Bennet was having none of it. She’d worked with Whalley too long to fall for his tricks. “You owe me forty bucks. I can’t keep up as your dealer.”
Whalley scrounged through his wallet and pockets. “I’ve got $3.76.”
Bennet looked at the offered money. She picked up each coin and bill individually, then tossed the meat into Whalley’s lap.
I didn’t take him long to finish.
“Remind me why I keep you around,” she said with a grin.
Movement in the target apartment drew her attention. She raised the binoculars and steadied her arms on the dash. “I think there’s more than one person inside,” she said, whispering even though there was no chance the perps could overhear. “Somebody just peeked through the curtains.”
“I’m calling it in,” said Whalley. Static burst from the radio as he pressed the talk button.
Bennet never heard the bullet. She watched in horror as a perfect spider web expanded across the windshield.
Whalley died instantly.
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