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“What did he want the badge for?”
“I don’t know. It’s not my business. He probably wanted to rip off drug dealers, you know? Pull ’em over, take their shit.”
Ballard stood up and signaled the Lion back up to his knees. “Stay right there,” she said.
She backed up to the gun box and flipped off the top. She looked through the guns inside it until she saw a blue-steel Glock 17. She put her boot gun down on the table and lifted out the Glock. She checked the slide and found her initials there, etched at the academy gun shop the day she took possession of the weapon.
She used the gun to signal the Lion to turn around. “Face the wall, Lionel,” she said.
The Lion didn’t move. “Why?” he said. “You’re not going to do me. You’re a cop.”
“I said face the fucking wall,” Ballard said. “Now.”
“Okay, okay, okay.”
“Then do it.”
He turned on his knees and faced the wall. But she had been too loud. There was a sharp knock on the door and then the muffled voice of the Lion’s security man.
“Everything all right in there, boss?” he said.
“Tell him you’re fine,” Ballard whispered.
“Everything’s fine,” Lionel called. “We’re good.”
Ballard put his weapon in the box, then popped the cartridge on her Glock. It was a full clip, and she reloaded the weapon.
“You said you know how to get the badge back,” she asked. “How?”
“Easy,” the Lion said. “The guy who wanted the badge also told me he was looking for a SIG mini.”
“Which is what?”
“SIG Sauer MPX. A mini machine gun. Uses thirty-round clips and can do some heavy damage.”
“He needs that to rip off drug dealers?”
“That was just a guess. I don’t know what he wants it for. It’s not my business.”
Ballard instinctively knew that whoever had her badge was planning something bigger than carjacking drug dealers. Chasing down her stolen property had led her into the middle of something—something she couldn’t leave alone.
Ballard made a decision.
She walked over to the table with the designer handbags and chose an over-the-shoulder Prada bag. She checked Lionel’s position before touching it.
“Put your forehead against that wall, Lionel,” she said. “Right now.”
He complied. She unzipped the Prada bag and pulled out all the tissue stuffing. She slipped the strap over her shoulder, put her gun into the bag, and kept her hand on it.
“Okay, we’re going to go now,” she said.
“What?” Lionel said.
“You and me, we’re going to walk out of here and you’re going to tell your guy out there that everything’s cool and he needs to mind the store till you’re back. You say anything else and somebody’s going to get shot, Lionel, and it won’t be me.”
“Why don’t you just go? I’ll make sure he doesn’t try to stop you.”
“That would be nice but I’m going to need you once we get outside.”
