Page 30 of Jason Bourne (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #7)

Lane

B ack at the station, Harris sat cuffed to the metal chair, smirking like he was in on a joke only he knew. I’d seen men like him before—too sure, too slippery, too connected.

“Want me to play bad cop?” Jason asked from the corner.

I shook my head. “He’d like that too much. Let me try my way.”

I leaned across the table. “Where’s Marcie Turner?”

“Don’t know any Marcie.” His eyes glittered. “But I do know your sister.”

That hit me sideways. “Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah. Zoe Brewer. Detective down in the city. Heard she’s been sniffing around my business for months. Guess it runs in the family—sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

My pulse kicked. Zoe hadn’t said a word to me about Harris. That meant two things—one, she was onto something big, and two, Harris wasn’t bluffing. But then why would she say anything to me about him?

Jason shifted closer, his voice low and dangerous. “If you’ve tangled with Zoe, then you’ve already lost. Sooner or later, she’ll find you.”

Harris just laughed, leaning back in the chair until the cuffs rattled. “Maybe. But you should be asking yourselves if the girl’s even still alive.”

My stomach knotted, but I didn’t let him see it. “I’ll find Marcie. And when I do, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

His smirk faltered just a fraction. Enough to tell me I’d hit the nerve I needed.

When I stepped out of the room, Jason was right behind me. “Lane, if Zoe’s chasing Harris from her end, we need to know everything she’s got.”

“She’s not exactly the sharing type,” I admitted. “But she’s my sister. I’ll get her talking.”

Jason nodded slowly. “Then we’re in deeper than I thought.”

And just like that, Zoe’s name was carved into this case. I had no doubt she’d be walking onto our mountain before long—whether I wanted her here or not.