Hit and Run Read Free Page B

block.”
    SWAT?
    A movement in the front, outside the blinds, caught Scarlet’s eye. She didn’t know what it was, but she made a judgment call.
    “Call Leah and tell her I’m house sitting.” She handed Jason her cell phone.
    “Why?”
    “Do not answer the phone unless caller ID reads Krista. Go. Now.”
    Jason didn’t hesitate. He ran out the back, into the dark.
    Damn, damn, damn.
    She hoped her trust in Jason wasn’t misplaced.
    Scarlet ran down the short hall to the guest room—twin bed, dresser, desk, and lots of books and boxes stacked in the corner. She pulled down the spread, hit the pillow a couple times, looked through the dresser. Old clothes? Okay, she could work with that. Lea was taller than her, but otherwise they were the same basic shape and build.
    She stripped naked and pulled on a T-shirt. Emblazoned across the front in script: High Flyers Do It Better with an airline logo underneath. It barely covered her ass, but she had to make this work.
    Krista said into her radio, “Scarlet, SWAT and six Long Beach and LAPD patrol cars are here.”
    “Stay hidden. I have a plan.”
    “What plan?”
    “No time. I’m signing off.” She turned off the radio and put it with her gun on the dresser.
    She would have lain in the bed to solidify her cover, but she was too jumpy. She heard boots outside the window coming from the front into the back. Standard protocol. SWAT was surrounding the house. Had Jason got away okay?
    And why the hell was she helping anyone escape? If he’d told her the truth, why was SWAT here? Had she just been duped?
    Trust your friends.
    Jason had been a friend practically her entire life. He’d stood by her three years ago. Even more than her fiancé.
    Ex-fiancé.
    She didn’t have a lot of friends left on the force, but Jason was one of them. She had to believe him, because if you couldn’t stand by your friends in the face of danger, you didn’t deserve to survive.
    Krista had taught her that.
    A pounding on the front door. She jumped, instinctively reaching for her gun, but this was SWAT. They’d shoot if she were armed. She reached up and messed up her short, choppy brown hair. Truthfully, she always looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.
    More loud knocking. “This is the Long Beach Police Department! Open up or we’re coming in!”
    Scarlet flipped on the light in the bedroom. Her heart was thudded in her chest. She felt along for more lights and found one in the hallway.
    “I’m coming,” she called, trying to sound intimidated, when she was more angry and confused than anything.
    More pounding and she involuntarily jumped. “LBPD!”
    “Coming!” she screamed. She unbolted the front door and opened it.
    SWAT lined the small staircase. The lead cop said, “We have a warrant.” They entered. One officer took her by the arm and pulled her outside to the driveway where he pushed her to her knees.
    “Hands behind your back.”
    “Hey, you don’t need—”
    He patted her down, then cuffed her. It was standard protocol, but that didn’t make her any more comfortable.
    “Name,” he said.
    “Scarlet Moreno. No need to be rough, I’m complying, okay? What’s going on?”
    “Are you alone in the house?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you live here?”
    “No. I’m house sitting.” Oh, God, she had just lied to SWAT. Maybe she should have run out back with Jason.
    “Who owns this house?”
    “Leah. Jones. She’s a friend. A flight attendant. Look, I used to be on the job, tell me what’s happening.”
    “What department?”
    “LAPD. Van Nuys. Detective, until three years ago.”
    “ID?”
    “Does it look like I have ID? I was sleeping!”
    SWAT had finished clearing the house and started coming out. A detective approached her.
    “Kyle Richardson, LAPD. What’s your name?”
    “Uncuff me.”
    “Answer my questions.”
    She tilted her chin up. “Scarlet Moreno. Private investigator. Former detective with LAPD. If you need my creds, contact my