Undercover Love - Jay Halstead

Trust.

"Hannah, same backwards as forwards."

I slap the case file down on the interrogation table, before sitting down myself.

The brunette stares at me, her gaze half bewildered and unfocused.

"What the hell does that mean?" She snaps at me.

I hum a small laugh, "Only smart people will understand, and of course, people with Hannah as their real name. How are you doing, Sasha?"

"How do you think I'm doing?" She mumbles, fidgeting with her hair. If we waited any longer for her high to subside, we would've lagged the case and we don't have time for waiting anymore.

The next target was already hit. Which means if we don't work fast enough, things might get very bad for Chicago.

"Must be going terrible, since your boyfriend died," I sympathize. "That is after he tried saving you."

"What do you mean?" She peeks up from under her lashes, her head hung forward and being supported by a limp hand.

"Isak," I say. "Tell me what he did the last time you saw him. Which was late last night, wasn't it?"

She stares at me, before sobs rack through her body, "Isak. Oh, Isak."

With an annoyed expression, I turn my attention towards the one-way window behind me. It's the drugs that are making her emotionally unstable.

"Sasha, I'm very sorry for your loss," I say with sympathy. "But I need you to tell me what exactly happened last night."

She sniffs, her mood suddenly changing, "I was staying in my room."

"That Isak payed for you?"

She nods.

"Why were you staying there in the first place?"

"To lay low for a while."

"Why?"

She nods numbly, even though I wasn't asking a yes or no question, "He came in with a sudden bang. He told me I should pack my things and leave."

"Did he tell you why?"

"Only that someone was going to kill me," she says, fidgeting with her jacket collar. "I-I took my things and left immediately, but when I got to the car. I heard the shot."

"Do you know who might wanted to kill you?" I ask.

She starts fidgeting again, her head falling from side to side as if she's about to pass out.

"Hey! I need you to focus," I reach over the table to snap my fingers in front of her face. "Do you, or do you not know who wanted to kill you?"

"I needed to lay low," she says, which takes me by confusion for a moment.

"Why did you have to lay low?" I urge again. "What did you do?"

"He would've killed me."

"Who would've killed you?"

"Torres!" She screams so suddenly, that I jolt in my seat.

"Torres would've killed you?" I ask again. "Why?"

"Isak said he was trouble," she grits out. "He told me I had to leave the gang, but I didn't."

"Why would Torres kill you?"

"And now he's dead," she cries. "He's dead, because of me."

"Sasha, why would-"

She sniffs, her face turning stoic, "I gave his dope to the wrong dealer and took some for myself."