The Evasion by Adrienne Giordano

psych ward.
    She turned to Gabe. “Sergeant? Shall we go?”
    “Oh, we shall,” he said.
    —:—
    Jo stood behind Gabe in the hallway of Thelma’s-slash-Hillary’s office building while the big man banged on her door. No answer. She checked her watch. Three-thirty. Apparently Thelma kept banker’s hours.
    After trying the handle and finding it locked, Gabe backed up a step, staring at the door. “Damn.”
    “Plan B. Lawyers always have a plan B.”
    “Let’s hear it, Counselor.”
    She swirled her index finger and held it up. “We visit Ellie. Maybe the sheriff too and show them the photo. In a town this size, someone will know where she lives.
    “Yeah, and then the sheriff will be all kinds of jacked-off that we’re running rogue. If we don’t find Martinson, we’ll both get our asses handed to us for investigating on our own.”
    “We’re not running rogue . We’re assisting his investigation.”
    Gabe made a strangled sound. “Sure, the sheriff and my boss’ll buy that. No sweat.” He grabbed her elbow and ushered her to the front porch, where a second door led to the insurance office next door.
    “Should we check in there? See if they know where she lives?”
    “I thought about it. But if she has a friend in there, the second we leave the office, she makes a call and Thelma is in the wind.”
    “Good point.”
    He scratched the back of his head, scrunching his face. “Our best bet is to figure out where she lives and ambush her at her house.”
    Working with Gabe for the past year had seasoned her for his moods, his ability to make a plan and attack a situation. Regardless of where he stood on an issue, he never—ever—appeared apprehensive. Regardless of his emotional state, what he showed the world was a warrior, unafraid and ready for battle. What she hadn’t been seasoned for was this Gabe, who, for the first time on a work-related assignment appeared…anxious.
    She touched his arm. “Hey, if we have issues with the sheriff, I’ll take the bullet, so to speak. Everyone on the task force knows I’m a wild card. I also don’t work for the NYPD. They can’t fire me and I promise you, they won’t fire you. I won’t let that happen.”
    “I’m not worried about getting fired.”
    “What then?”
    He waved his hand. “This. All of it. We’re in a strange place. I know nothing about how things are done here. In New York, if I need something I know where to go and when. Everything about this place feels…wrong.”
    “You’re overthinking.”
    “Hell, yeah, I’m overthinking. What else is there to do? We’re completely on our own here.”
    Jo’s phone rang. Why did it ring every damn time Mr. August decided to open up to her? Ignore it .
    Gabe waggled his hand. “You need to get that. It might be the Port Authority guy.”
    Point taken there. Third ring. She fumbled in her pocket and managed to hit the talk button before the call dropped. “Jo Pomeroy.”
    “Ms. Pomeroy, this is Chuck Davis.”
    She glanced at Gabe. Nodded. “Hi, Chuck.”
    “You might be the luckiest woman alive.”
    Not likely . She latched onto Gabe’s wrist and squeezed. “Why is that?”
    “Because Martinson’s container—at least we think it’s his—is here. Scheduled to be picked up tomorrow. It was x-rayed, then subsequently searched, and it’s loaded with counterfeit items. Shoes, purses, watches, you name it. We’ve seized it.”
    Got him. The rat bastard. They got him. Jo slapped a hand on top of her head and blew out a long breath. “That’s great news.”
    “What?” Gabe asked.
    Jo held the phone away from her. “The container is there. Scheduled to be picked up tomorrow. They searched it and it’s stuffed with knockoffs.”
    “Well, holy shee -it,” he said, doing his best imitation of Little Timmy. “Put him on speaker.”
    She brought the phone back to her ear. “Chuck, Gabe is here. I’m putting you on speaker. Hang on.” She pressed the speaker button. “You