Eleven
Detective Carver waited in suspense, pacing back and forth past the water cooler, his patience wearing thin, fully aware of what Agent Blade was planning. He didn’t want to agree with the stupid plan, but Blade was adamant that Detective Martins’ life had come under fire—in more ways than one. Whoever framed her for the bombing, needed her out of the way in order for it to stick. And Blade had assured him that more evidence against her would more than likely show up soon.
Carver glared over the rim of his paper cup at the inspector from Internal Affairs. A good detective should never judge until he had all the facts. But agreat detective followed his gut. And the only thing that made sense was how things had profoundly become more interesting the day IA came to their offices, accu
