“Evelson and Kaufman are attempting to geo-target Petrov’s cellphone to get a beat on where he’s headed.” She gestures toward the men on the sofa. “We’re also actively monitoring traffic cameras and deploying drones all over the city, trying to figure out where he went when he left the airport.”
Conor’s jaw tightens. “Is a team in place at 29 Merriweather?”
I jolt at the mention of my home address.
“Yes. We’ve got snipers on a neighbor’s roof and SWAT on standby.”
He nods tersely. “Where do we stand on the Evanoffs?”
“They’ve been off the grid since last night. I assume they’re lying low, waiting for Petrov to arrive. Now that he’s in the country, they’ll likely rendezvous with him to deal with—” Sykes’ eyes flicker to me. She shifts nervously on her shiny black shoes.
“Paul,” I finish for her, filling in the blank. My heart clenches with guilt when I think about him in Righty and Lefty’s not-so-gentle hands. “Do you think… is there a chance he’s still alive, then?”
“They won’t kill him. Not yet, anyway.” Conor’s lips are a flat line. I notice all the warmth has fled his eyes. “His uncle will want a chance to deliver his own brand of justice to your husband.”
A shiver moves through me.
Conor sees it. His frown grows more pronounced. “Don’t worry. We’ll do our best to get him back to you before any permanent harm comes to him.”
Back to me?
“What—” I start, but he’s already turned to look at Lucy.
“Any leads on their location?”
She sighs. “Nothing solid yet.”
“Sir, if I could interject,” one of the agents on the couch chimes in. Kaufman, I think. “We’ve got a B.O.L.O. out with all local BPD units for the vehicle they used to flee the scene. Think we may have a hit on the license plate. A sedan matching the description was just spotted parked outside an apartment building in Eastie.”
“What’s the address, Evelson?”
Oops. Not Kaufman.
The agent rattles off a street in Orient Heights.
Conor glances at Sykes with raised brows. “That’s the Petrov apartment where Paul Hunt’s been staying.”
She nods. “Can’t be a coincidence.”
“We swept that area yesterday. There were no signs of their car,” he mutters. “Why go back now? They have to know we’re monitoring all known Petrov properties…”
“Maybe they thought it would be safe since we’d already done our sweep?” Sykes shrugs. “No one ever accused the Evanoffs of being particularly bright.”
A muscle is ticking in his jaw. “Something feels off about this.”
Her blonde brows are by her hairline. “Be that as it may, boss… we’re obligated to at least check it out.”
“It’s too easy.”
“Or maybe we just got lucky for once,” Sykes retorts. “Either way…”
Conor runs a hand through his hair, then gives a shallow nod. “Do we have vests here?”
“Hallway closet. I’ll get them.” She walks out of the room without another word.
He turns to me. “Hunt—”
“You’re leaving,” I say softly.