Chapter 31 · The 72-Hour Scar

"You're late." Kyle's voice came from everywhere at once, speakers hidden in the warehouse rafters. "Lyla usually gets you here four minutes earlier."

Mark kept his gun up, scanning the dark. Lyla moved left, her breathing tight. They hadn't spoken in the car. Hadn't needed to. The address Kyle sent was a trap. They both knew it. They came anyway.

"Seventeenth loop," Kyle said. Static crackled. "You want to know how many times I've watched you two walk through that door? Forty-three. Sometimes you split up. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you shoot each other. That was fun."

"Where are you?" Mark's voice stayed flat.

"Everywhere, detective. I've had seventy-two hours to wire this place, seventeen times over. You think you're hunting me?" A laugh, thin and wrong. "I'm just waiting for you to hit your marks."

Lyla's hand signal: two fingers, then down. Second floor, rear exit. Mark shook his head. Kyle would know. He'd seen them run that play.

"Lyla," Kyle's voice dropped, intimate. "Tell him. Tell him why you really called IA three years ago."

She froze. Mark saw it, the way her shoulders locked.

"Shut up," she said.

"You didn't have a choice, did you?