Chapter 6. Mistakes

Present Day

As I pace the floor, my anger rises.

"How do you manage to lose a fucking gun?" I step towards him. My fist clenched.

"I erm, I placed it on the desk." His body quivers.

"You placed it on the fucking desk and turned your back on it?" Stepping closer, he nods.

"I didn't think. I always do it. I don't understand. One second, it was there, then it was gone. I searched and saw no one." His words burn me.

Pushing him back, I stand over him.

"Not seconds. Seconds meant you would have fucking seen who walked in and took it!"

Someone was there, or he is lying. Lying so he can keep the gun concealed, to use later, maybe? I watch him cower on the floor.

"Someone sort him out." Turning, I walk out, Mac follows, and I enter the SUV. "Take me to Al Prato." I hope he knows who it was or saw something.

Sucking in a breath, I count.

Bury the emotions

Hide the