“There is a unit out of Chicago that has been working on this for some time. They traced a connection to the Aztec Corporation to Massachusetts. But that connection somehow ended here in Providence. Anyway, they’re a long way from home if they’re working up here.”
“With Ritchie Trumbella,” Russo said.
Martha shrugged. “That’s the way it looked. And that’s all I know. With their inside agent gone, they’re back to square one. They want to salvage whatever they can by leaning on Angel Fagnelio. They want him to roll.”
“Me, too. If we can find him,” Jake said.
“Which means they want to keep their witness safe,” Martha said with a sigh. “I feel sorry for the girl. Cassie Lang. I’ve read her books. She’s good. I’m not sure how they’re going to be able to keep her hidden until they bring Angel Fagnelio to trial. That is, if they find him.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Jake opened the door to the interrogation room. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Cassie sitting in the cold metal chair, looking lifelessly at the empty chair across from her until he, Kevin and the captain walked into the room.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Alvarez,” Captain Russo said. “Agent Tate will be here shortly to give you an update on what’s going to happen next.”
“Tate? As in Charlotte Tate?” Jake asked. “I thought she was in Virginia.”
“She transferred to the Chicago office a year ago,” Russo said. “She's in charge of the investigation. She's calling the shots.”
Jake cursed under his breath.
Cassie’s stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jake said.
Cassie gave Jake a hard look. “Don’t give me that.”
Both Kevin and Captain Russo exchanged a look. “Working with the feds can be…difficult at times,” Kevin said.
“But it’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s just logistics.” Russo reassured.
Jake noticed the bags under Russo’s eyes were more pronounced these days. Since he'd lost his eldest son to a drug overdose nearly a year ago, he'd let himself go, gaining a thick middle that made the buttons of his white shirt pucker, courtesy of too much take-out and maybe a few too many beers when the day grew long. The hours he kept at the station were taking their toll on him as well, and had less to do with his commitment to the force than his being unable to go home and face what he'd lost.
“I'll try to do some damage control,” Russo said. “Special Agent Tate wants Ms. Lang, ah, Alvarez turned over to FBI custody within the hour.”
After Russo left, an eerie silence filled the room until Cassie sat up straight in her chair.
“Everyone talks about me like I’m a piece of property they can just hand off from one person to another. I don’t like this.”
“It's in your best interest to be in protective custody right now,” Jake said delicately.
“But it's up to me, right? I don't have to go with them.”
Kevin stood up from the table, his chair grinding against the floor as it pushed back with his movement.
“You'd be foolish not to. In a perfect world, Fagnelio will be apprehended, cop a plea and then give up a wealth of information about the bond fraud ring. But this is Providence. Things don’t work out that easily.”
“What are you saying? When can I go home?”
“Probably not for a long time.” At Kevin’s frank comment, Cassie gasped.
“What do you mean?”
“It means that if you go out on your own, while Fagnelio is still at large, not only will you have his people tailing you, you'll have the FBI breathing down your neck. You won’t be able to walk to the coffee shop on the corner without having someone’s eyes on your back. The FBI has one star witness—you—and they’re not going to want to lose you under any circumstances.” Kevin’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh. “You're better off cooperating or it could be worse than if you went with them.”
Jake had trusted Kevin with his life from day one. Kevin was a good cop and there was no one Jake felt more comfortable working in the field with than his partner. But right now, Kevin was being a colossal ass.
“Back off,” Jake warned.
Kevin took in the hard look Jake gave him, then glanced at Cassie. His expression relaxed.
“I apologize, Ms. Alvarez. You’ll be fine as long as long as you’re at a safe house until this thing goes to trial,” Kevin said.
Cassie abruptly stood up. “Until trial? I don’t want to go to a safe house. I want to go home. I thought this was only going to be for a few days until Angel Fagnelio was put in jail.”
Jake felt the weight of fatigue dragging him down. The last thing he wanted to do was face Charlotte Tate again. Lord knew he had good reason. But if the plan was to take Cassie into protective custody, then he had to agree it was best.
“I'm afraid you don't have a choice.”
Her shoulders sagged. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a material witness. Whether you want to go or not…it’s not up to you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “But I'm not the criminal.”
“That’s why you have to be protected.”
“Yes, but…isn’t a witness banned from contact with anyone when they’re at a safe house?”
“Yes,” Kevin said. “It’s in your best interest.”
“My best interest. You mean, to keep me from my family…my friends? No. Don't treat me like I'm the one who…” Awareness illuminated her eyes like the bright lights of an interrogation lamp. Slowly, she unknotted her arms and brought them down stiffly to her side. “Wait. You think I'm the one who leaked my own name to the press, don't you?”
“No,” Jake said quickly. But the look on Kevin's face said it all.
No one had uttered the accusation yet, but Jake was sure it was on the minds of every cop in the precinct. No one knew who’d leaked Cassie’s name to the press and only one name kept coming up as a possibility.
Cassie’s book sales were sure to skyrocket from the publicity now that her name was attached to the gruesome crime. She was adamant that Maureen couldn't possibly be the one who talked to the press. Jake had his doubts about Maureen, but he'd swear on his last breath it wasn't Cassie.
Something deep in his gut told him Cassie was telling the truth. He could put his faith on instinct. But Kevin was another story. The dark shadows crossing his partner's features echoed the thoughts of every single other officer in the department. And Cassie knew it.
“You don't believe him,” she was saying to Kevin. “You think I did this?”
“It doesn't matter now how it happened or what I think,” Kevin said, callously brushing her hurt feelings aside. “The point is the damage is done. Someone wanted this to be front-page news. Now it is. And now Angel Fagnelio has a nice picture of the FBI’s star witness.”
“We need to concentrate on finding Angel Fagnelio and making our case against him.”
Cassie flashed her wide sable eyes at Jake. She seemed to shrink in fear right before his eyes. “You mean you don’t even know where he is?”
“He's gone into hiding.”
She stood up straight and drew in a deep breath as if the room had sucked out all the oxygen. “I don't care what the FBI wants. I want to go with you.”
Jake shouldn't have been so taken aback, but he was. “You heard Captain Russo. It's in the hands of the FBI.”
Kevin shook his head. “The FBI is equipped to protect you in ways we’re not. You’ll be safe with them.”
“I’ll be alone.”
Jake shook his head, but kept his voice firm. It would do no good to give Cassie false hope when he knew that in a matter of minutes, Charlotte Tate would be wiping the floor with his face because of his involvement with Fagnelio.
“I'm in the middle of a case.”
“A case I’m a part of now. All the more reason why you should be sticking with me.”
Did she know what she wa
s asking of him? “You have that much faith in me?”
“Yes.”
Kevin's wry chuckle had Jake turning his attention away from Cassie. “Before you two go working something cozy out together, let me see what Tate has up her sleeve, okay? She's due here any minute and if my memory serves me right, she just hates anyone else running her show.”
Jake waited until Kevin closed the door behind him before speaking again. In the dead silence of the room, the walls began to close in on them. Cassie nearly jumped out of her chair when the heater kicked on in the room, humming as a hot gust of wind blew out of the blower. Thrust with it was the scent of lemon and ammonia, as if the room had been recently cleaned with industrial cleaning liquid.
Cassie hugged herself as if she were cold despite the sudden blast of heat filling the room. “You don't seem like you have a whole lot of faith in this Agent Tate.”
“I have my reasons, but they have nothing to do with you or this case. She has an excellent reputation with the Bureau. She'll see to it you're comfortable wherever they take you.”
“And that's it?”
Jake took in her accusing expression. “What?”
“You just pass me off now?”
“That's not the way this works. You should know… Haven’t you researched the FBI for one of your books? A federal agent was killed last night during an ongoing federal investigation. They’re in charge.”
“I can refuse protective custody.”
Jake shook his head, not even wanting to think of the possibility of Cassie out there on her own with Fagnelio still loose. “You'd be foolish not to cooperate. They’ll be reasonable, but if you’re not, they can make your life hell. And they will. I’ve seen them do it.”
“Someone leaked my name to the press last night. The only people who knew I was involved were officers working here in this building and the FBI. I didn’t do it. And you’re the only one I believe didn’t do it. That leaves everyone else outside that door or who was involved with this case.”
“Cassie—”
“This is my life, Jake. Mine. I want to decide. You’re the only one I trust.”
Jake gave her a half grin. “That’s funny.”
“What is?”
“Last night you accused me of knowing nothing about you except your aliases. And yet you know nothing about me.”
Her small chin protruded slightly, her sable eyes were infinitely deep and round with resolute trust. In him.
“I know you protected me last night. That's good enough for me.”
Jake nodded, his head swimming. It wasn't uncommon for victims of crime to look up to the officers who protect and serve the community. But Cassie Alvarez was forgetting one important detail about last night. One he didn't think he'd ever forget. She was the one who saved his life, not the other way around.
“I appreciate your faith in me, but I’m not what you need right now.”
Cassie shook her head, her dark chocolate curls moving to and fro over her shoulders. “You couldn't be more wrong, Detective Santos.”
He watched her gracefully step closer to him, stopping by the side of the table. There was just enough distance to keep him from touching her if he reached out.
Cassie's lips tipped up to one side. “You're exactly what I need.”
#
Chapter Four
Jake rubbed the tight spot in the center of his chest where his air constricted. Bertie was right. He had a soft spot for lost women.
Of course, his sister wasn't one of them, as she so frequently reminded her younger brother. Nosiree. In fact, every single Santos woman had a strong mind of her own and knew how to use it. And Jake had plenty of experience dealing with strong-willed women, having grown up surrounded by five older sisters.
Cassie looked up at him, her eyes holding a determined fire and a vulnerable innocence that closed around him like a vise. He had a feeling, despite the delicate position she'd been thrust into, she wasn't going to back down without a fight. He’d seen that determined fire before, knew when the battle was lost and when to back down to it.
“I can do what I can to make sure you're treated right—”
“Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that?”
“The FBI is equipped to handle this type of situation and are ready to do—”
“Well, I'm not,” she interjected again. “And I don't like being treated like a piece of steak tossed out and torn apart by a junk yard dog.”
Jake wanted to agree with her. He wanted to say that he had no confidence Charley Tate would care one way or the other if the FBI treated Cassie right. She wanted her witness to finger Angel Fagnelio and force him to unload a lot of intimate details of Ritchie Trumbella's operation.
Cassie was the ticket to that. Agent Tate was interested in one thing, and one thing only, and that was furthering her career. Cassie was the ticket to that as well. And it didn't matter whose toes she stepped on to keep her pretty patent leather boots clean.
But it wasn't right for him to inject his personal feelings about Agent Charlotte Tate on Cassie. Not with so much at stake. Cassie was the one who had to live with the consequences of what happened last night and what decisions were made on her behalf now.
He was just about to say that when the faraway look in her eyes gave him pause.
“What is it?”
“Concurrent jurisdiction,” Cassie said quietly.
Jake quirked an eyebrow. He’d forgotten momentarily that Cassie wasn’t just an ordinary citizen. As a crime novelist, she had done her homework. He hadn't read any of her books. He hadn't even heard of her until last night, but he had no doubt she knew what she was talking about. Hell, even a powerhouse like Martha Landers had read her books.
“What about it?”
“Having a deadly shooting in a local bar—to which I was witness—along with having an FBI agent killed sounds like it would fall within the guidelines of concurrent jurisdiction, wouldn't it?”
“It could.”
“That makes me your witness as well as the FBI's.” Her face suddenly brightened, as if she'd found the secret piece of a puzzle no one could solve but her.
“Technically, yes,” he said.
Being involved in a barroom shooting would tilt anyone’s world on its axis. But Cassie wasn't sitting back and playing the wounded victim. She was taking the bull by the horns and wrestling it to the ground.
Lost woman, my foot, Jake thought with admiration. Bertie would love her.
Cassie leaned forward and placed her palms on the table. An air of triumph filled her otherwise clouded expression. For the first time that morning, she looked confident, as if she'd been struggling for air and finally filled her lungs.
“Then that settles it.”
Jake gave a wry chuckle. “It doesn’t work that way. It may look nice and neat on a piece of paper, Cassie, but reality works a little different than your crime novels.”
“How so?”
“Well, there's the little matter of the FBI wanting you in their custody.”
She straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Neither the FBI or the District Attorney has a hostile witness. They don't need to arrest me and lock me up to get me to testify because I'll agree to do that in both cases. The only question now is my protection until Angel Fagnelio is put behind bars.”
“Which the FBI seems to want full control over.”
“So do I,” she said determinedly. “And I'm choosing what I know and what I trust.”
“Bond fraud and the murder of an FBI agent are a mite bit heavier than a local bar shooting.”
Abruptly, Cassie dropped into the metal chair and pulled one leg up to her chest, hugging it with her arms. Her expression suddenly collapsed. “I just remembered something.”
“About the case?”
“No, something from one of the first books I wrote.”
Baffled, Jake stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“One of th
e main characters in the book was a low ranking member of the mob who turned state’s evidence after his wife was killed. He wanted to change his identity, live off Uncle Sam's dime while planning his own operation on some tropical island. Grieve for his wife in high style.”
Jake shook his head. “We're talking about your safety. Real life, Cassie. Not some make-believe character in a book.”
Haunted eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, lifted to meet his gaze. He didn't need to have her soft body trembling against his, like it had last night, to feel her fear. It was all there in her eyes, like a line of mirrors reflecting a thousand images back at him.
Cassie forced in a deep breath of air, opening up the stored information held neatly in her mind after years of research. She'd sworn after her cousin's murder she wouldn't allow herself to feel this helpless again. All the research, all the books she'd written about crime with CJ emerging victoriously, suddenly fell flat on dry ground. She was no stronger than she was eight years ago, she realized. She was still the same powerless witness in a violent crime she had no control over.
In her years researching crime, Cassie had prided herself on her meticulous attention to detail. She wanted all her books to reflect the true nature of the crimes they depicted. How could she have forgotten this one important detail?
“I'm talking about my choices, Jake. The FBI arrested the character in my book and locked him up in jail for his own protection when he didn't get what he wanted. I'm their material witness. This Agent Tate could do the same to me whether or not I cooperate. Sure, there is concurrent jurisdiction, but the FBI could leave me with no choice at all until they’re done with me. And that could take years. I hate that. I’ll never get my life back.”
Jake moved behind her where she sat defeated in the cold metal chair. Placing his strong hands on her shoulders, he gently kneaded her tightly knotted muscles, bringing forth conflicting sensations. Part of her welcomed his warmth and strength.
What was it about this man that made her whole body come alive with a single look, or a brush of his hand? With his fingers burning the flesh beneath her shirt, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering into dangerous territory.
Material Witness Page 5