Chapter 17
“Where’s Lautaro Montoya?” Lumbergh asked in the most professional tone he could muster. His eye twitched from the agonizing restraint he was imposing on himself. “Where’s Sean?”
Alex Martinez was cuffed to a wooden chair in the secretarial area of the Winston Police Station, the largest room in the building. His left wrist was raw and red, not from the handcuffs, but from a rubber band he’d been wearing around it like a bracelet. It appeared that he’d been habitually snapping it against his skin, like a nervous tick. The band was removed at the station.
A uniformed county deputy stood behind Martinez with his arms crossed in front of his chest, ready to step in physically if the prisoner gave him a reason.
A dismissive chuckle dropped from Martinez’s lips as a large swollen
