by L. A. Witt
“Fuck you, Ruffner,” he growled.
“My, my.” I spun the combo on my lock. “Someone’s testy.”
“Cut the crap. You want to tell me why you’re harassing my family?”
“Harassing? Is that what you call it when a detective follows leads and—”
“What leads?” he hissed. “You’re harassing my family, asshole.”
I glared at him. “If you think it’s genuine harassment, take it up with IA.”
“Didn’t I just say to cut the crap?” Trent’s lip curled with what I could only guess was barely contained fury. He stepped closer, almost into a normal person’s comfort zone, which put him well inside mine. “If you want something from me, come and get it from me. Not my parents. Not my brother. And not my aunt.”
“Who says I want anything from you?” I just kept myself from adding besides what I already have. Whatever had gone on between him and Darren was obviously over, and whatever was going on between me and Darren wasn’t something I was going to dangle in front of his ex. No matter how priceless it would be to see the fucker get pissed off about it.
Trent set his jaw. “I don’t know what you and Corliss are up to, but you’ve questioned three of my family members in the last twenty-four hours, and a little bird told me you’re on your way to meet with my aunt. How is that not harassment?”
“Seeing as it’s part of an active investigation, how is it any of your business?”
His lips thinned, and he stabbed a finger at me, very nearly hitting my chest. “I would suggest you watch your step, Ruffner,” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “Because I wouldn’t want anyone to start fucking with your family.”
Ice water trickled through my veins. “My family has nothing to do with anything here—”
“And mine does?” Trent narrowed his eyes. “Leave. My family. Alone.”
Without waiting for a response, he stormed past me and disappeared around the last locker. His dress shoes cracked against the floor until the door banged shut behind him, and I slowly released my breath.
This was what we wanted. The whole point of questioning his family was to shake him up and get him to make a mistake. Hostility was to be expected.
But God help him if he fucked with my family.
Carmilla Harrison had a private office only a block from where the DA worked. It felt kind of odd, being so close and not stopping by to check in on Asher. Just a few years ago, I’d come here all the time. We’d get together for a beer after work, or I’d run him a slice of leftover pizza when he was working late on a case. The pace of his life had been frenetic, but Asher had loved it.
“Problem?” Andreas asked after I hesitated a little too long getting out of the car. He managed to make it sound concerned instead of chiding, though. It was amazing the kind of leeway a few excellent orgasms could get you.
“No, I’m good. Just.” I shook my head. “It’s a little weird being here to see someone other than my brother.”
“I get that.” There was a touch of sympathy in his voice, but mostly he sounded impatient. “Is your head in the right place for this today? Because I can always go in by myself.”
I laughed. “Oh, she would throw you out so fast.”
“She might try.”
“No, she would, because she’s a judge and she’s got security officers to help her out, and the last thing you need is the captain finding out you were in a brawl with a bunch of rent-a-cops. I’m fine.” There was no way I wasn’t going to see this through.
“Good.” He turned and led the way into the building. It was pretty fancy, with marble floors and brass fittings and dark, gleaming wood walls. It practically screamed Lawyers work here. Flee, puny mortals! Andreas marched right past the doorman like Van Helsing on a mission, leaving me to deal with his spluttering attempts to refuse us entry.
“We have an appointment with Judge Harrison, we’re good!” I called, giving the guy a little wave as I hustled to keep up. “Jesus, you can slow down a little, it’s not a death march,” I said under my breath.
“Not yet it’s not.” He stopped in front of Judge Harrison’s door and knocked loudly. “And it won’t be if she can give us what we need.”
I narrowed my eyes at him while we waited for a response. “Be honest. You wanted to grow up to be the Punisher, didn’t you?”
“The who?”
“The Punisher?” Andreas looked blank. “You know, with the skull T-shirt and the—”
“Enter.”
Enter? Who even said that anymore? The office we stepped into was just as archaic as the greeting: walls lined with thick books that could more accurately be called tomes, a huge wooden desk with a green leather writing surface, and a sconce—an actual fucking sconce—on the wall. Behind the desk was a woman of indeterminate middle age, her hair cut in a careful brown bob, her expression cool. She pointed at the single chair in front of the desk.
“Sit.”
I held back and let Andreas have the seat. I was following his lead here, after all, but it was an asshole move on Judge Harrison’s part to expect people and not let all of them sit down. Note to self: passive-aggressive behaviors.
“Say what you came here to say.”
That was all the opening Andreas needed. “I know you’re throwing some of your cases.”
She scoffed. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Data. Statistics. Correlations between the people who’ve gotten off with a slap on the wrist at your bench compared to the records of those who haven’t, and their criminal actions following their appearance in your court.” And God, those stats had been a bitch to crank out. The office computers ran the numbers slower than a toddler ran a marathon.
“I don’t need to tell you that correlations by themselves aren’t indicative of any wrongdoing on my part.”
“No, but they’re another piece of the puzzle. I know you aren’t doing it alone, that’s for sure.”
Judge Harrison sighed. “If all you’ve come here to do is throw around baseless accusations, Detective Ruffner, then you can—”
“I know the fact that you survived that shooting in April was no accident.”
If I hadn’t been watching her so closely, I might have missed the way she paled a little, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening as she bit back her initial response. I caught it, though, and if I could see it, then Andreas had as well.
“You escaped unscathed, so lucky, while Judge Warner and Judge Young were gunned down in the street. But it wasn’t luck. You knew there was going to be a shooting.”
“More baseless accu—”
“You went to lunch with those two men, your colleagues, people you worked with for over a decade, and you ate with them and joked with them and looked them in the eyes, and then you let them walk into their own assassinations.” Andreas whistled lowly. “Damn, I know I’ve got a reputation for being a son of a bitch, but I can’t even imagine how cold you’d have to be to send your friends to their deaths like that. And now your clerk is dead. Who’ll it be next, your stenographer?”
“You have no proof.” She sounded certain.
“Are you sure of that? Because I know you got a call that day. Someone telling you you’d left your wallet behind, ostensibly, but it wasn’t that, was it? It was someone telling you to get out of the way. Who called you, Judge Harrison?”
Her lips were bloodless now, pressed together so tight I could almost see the outline of her teeth beneath them. She didn’t say anything, and Andreas pushed forward. “You think we can get a subpoena for your phone records? There has to be a judge left in city hall who isn’t dirty or dead yet.”
“You know nothing. You have no evidence, and no way to compel it. If you had a case, we wouldn’t be here.”
Andreas leaned forward, both hands pressing into the rich, dark leather of the desk. “I’m trying to save lives. Maybe your life, the way things are going lately. Maybe even your nephew’s life. Do you give a damn about Trent? Because
if you do, you’re gonna need to speak up, Judge Harrison. People are going to die, and soon, and the only way to stop it is to stop the person who’s got you in a choke chain.”
I watched her the whole time Andreas spoke, mostly because I had nothing else to do. The look that flitted across her face when Andreas mentioned Trent—that was weird. It wasn’t worry or affection. It was something else entirely.
“I won’t listen to your ridiculous allegations any longer.” Oh shit, she was getting ready to kick us out. “The two of you can—”
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” My mouth moved before my brain really told it to. I was aware of Andreas’s stare, of Judge Harrison’s venomous look, but they didn’t really register. I had to follow my hunch before my momentum died. “Having someone you love change. I get it. It happened with me too. You remember my brother, Asher Corliss?”
Judge Harrison took a deep breath. “I do, yes. He was an excellent lawyer before he got . . . sick.” She seemed uneasy. “I’m sorry about what’s happened to him, but—”
“It’s hard in a way because it’s so gradual,” I barreled on. I couldn’t give her a chance to grab the reins again. “Some days it’s like he’s barely changed at all. He remembers cases and court dates and the names of all his coworkers. Other days he doesn’t even remember who I am. He gets angry and defensive and downright mean. It feels like I’m talking to a different person altogether. And it’s hard, because I remember him the way he used to be. That isn’t who he is now, though. I love my brother, but we don’t really know each other anymore.” I paused, then added, “At least he’s not a murderer. Not like Trent.”
She flinched. I kept going. “How long has it been since you went from protecting him to being afraid of him? Maybe since that thing with Mayor Kramer? Or a little further down the road, after Kramer’s former intern killed herself. Except she didn’t kill herself, did she?” We all know that isn’t what happened.
Judge Harrison closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. “I can’t give you anything.” Andreas started to object, but she held up a hand. “I can’t. I have no concrete evidence of wrongdoing on the part of anyone, not myself and certainly not the person behind this situation. One of the reasons I was encouraged to be a part of this is because I have a special talent, Detectives: I have a photographic memory. I don’t need hardcopies or memos to remember what I need to do.”
“But your testimony—”
“Just because I don’t have any evidence against myself doesn’t mean other people don’t, Detective Ruffner. My own nephew has vowed to speak out against me if it comes to that.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
Her lips thinned again. “Because he can. He was so . . . I had so much hope for him, early on.” She shrugged helplessly. “He got into a little trouble here and there, but he had such a bright future ahead of him! I couldn’t let him throw it all away thanks to a few mistakes, and so I helped him.”
“You covered for him.”
“I facilitated his continued career as a police officer.”
“You covered for a criminal and gave him the means and opportunity to abuse his position.” There was no forgiveness in Andreas’s voice. “You helped him get away with murder, literally.”
“I don’t know for sure—”
“But you suspect!” He slammed the palm of his hand down on the desk. “You could know if you wanted to, but you buried your head in the sand instead, went on brushing off the cases you were told to and hoping, what, that Trent would get better? See the error of his fucking ways? Why would he, when he has you for an example? All the power of your office, and you acting like God up on your throne. Sounds like the sort of thing a fucking sociopath like Trent would want to emulate.”
“No, it isn’t like that!” The last of Judge Harrison’s cool had finally slipped away, revealing her desperate worry. “They told me they’d kill me!”
“Who? When?”
“In April, at the café. I don’t know who called me, but they told me—they said I needed to watch myself, or bad things would happen to me. I didn’t know about the shooting until afterward. I would never have led them into that, they were my colleagues.” Probably the closest thing she had to friends.
“You have to help us bring down Crawford.” She was already shaking her head, but Andreas persisted. “You have to, or everything you’re telling yourself that going along with his plan is going to prevent? It’ll happen. It’s going to happen anyway, do you get that? There are people out there who are tired of being played with, tired of being targeted. A lot of people are going to die if we can’t bring Crawford to justice.”
“He’s too careful. And that’s not an excuse, it’s the truth! I know he’s monitoring my computer and my phone. He’ll know if I’m turning on him, and he’ll kill me before I can accomplish anything. If you want to catch Mayor Crawford, then you’re going to have to do it in the act. That or break into his home and search for his own records, which,” she frowned, “apart from casting the legality of everything found into doubt, would probably just result in your death. That place is a fortress.
“Catch him in the act. Get independent, incontrovertible proof of wrongdoing, and you’ll have the makings of a case. If you can get that . . .” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she pressed on. “If you can get that, then I’ll help you to the best of my ability. Until then, though, my hands are well and truly tied.”
“You’re a coward.” Andreas’s voice was quiet, but it still cut like a scalpel.
Judge Harrison squared her shoulders. “I’ll be brave when the gain outweighs the loss, Detective Ruffner. Now.” It was her turn to command. “Both of you get the hell out of my office.”
Darren slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. “So what’s our game plan?”
“Exactly what she said—we need to catch Crawford in the act. And soon.”
“But how do we do that?” Darren tapped his nails on the console. “And make sure we take down the whole organization?”
I started the engine but didn’t put the car in gear yet. “I’m not sure we have time for that anymore. Crawford is the man in charge, but Trent is the other key player.” Pieces were falling together in my head. Yeah, it was Trent. Of course it was Trent. And wouldn’t a cop have been thorough and smart enough to disable my cameras in the warehouse before dumping the body? Add a little anti-cop graffiti to throw off the scent? Yeah, it was all making sense now. “If we take down the two big dogs that are left, the organization won’t collapse, but it’ll fall into chaos. At least temporarily.”
“So, drop Crawford and Newberry, then round up as many as we can before they have a chance to regroup?”
“Exactly.” I stared out the windshield for a moment. “Things are about to go down. Whether we initiate it or those assholes do, shit’s about to get real.” I turned to him. “You ready for this?”
He gulped. “This is what we trained for, right?”
“Yeah. But they usually let you throw a few grenades before they saddle you with a nuke.” I patted his thigh and laughed dryly. “Hang on tight.”
Darren chuckled. “I will. So, if we’re going to initiate it, what do we do? We can’t just send in SWAT and hope for the best.”
“No, but we might need to have them on standby.”
“I was joking.”
“I’m not.” I broke eye contact and shifted into reverse. “We’re going to have to set up something big.” I paused to pull out of the parking space, and as I drove down the street away from the courthouse, I continued. “Crawford isn’t going to want to get involved in a few people swapping powder in a back alley. If he’s there, it’s got to be important.”
“Like when you busted him at the airport.”
I nodded. “He’s more cautious now. He doesn’t even come to high-dollar transactions anymore.”
“So how do we flush him out?”
“My best guess is we make him believe someone’s stealing from him.�
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“Someone like Trent?”
I flashed him a grin. “You’re getting good at this.”
“What? Reading your mind?”
“No, because I hadn’t even thought of that yet.” We exchanged glances before I focused on the road again. “But it’s perfect. Might take a few days to arrange, but it can be done.” I paused. “We should get Blake involved. Nobody knows this organization like he does.”
“Okay. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Good. I’ll get in touch with him. He’s not easy to reach, but I’m pretty sure he’ll want to meet if we’re talking about an endgame.”
“I would hope so.” Darren was quiet for a long moment. Then, “I think we should put Judge Harrison in witness protection.”
I chewed my lip. “Probably not a bad idea. Even if she convinces Trent she didn’t say anything, he might not be willing to take chances.”
“And we need her.”
“Yes, we do.” I tapped my thumbs on the wheel. “All right. I’ll pull some strings and get her somewhere safe. Then we start putting together our plan to flush out Trent and the mayor.”
“Awesome. Let’s do this.”
By the time we made it back to Darren’s place, it was almost ten thirty and we were both absolutely spent. As much as I’d been looking forward to spending some time between the sheets, the only thing we’d be doing in that bed tonight was sleeping.
My body was exhausted, but apparently my brain wasn’t done yet. While Darren snored softly beside me—lucky bastard—I stared up at the ceiling.
Things had changed now that we had a judge on our side. Though she hadn’t been thrilled about going into witness protection, she’d eventually agreed to it. As far as anyone in the courthouse knew, she’d flown to New Mexico to comfort a friend whose husband had suddenly passed. My friends at the US Marshals office made sure the story was airtight, complete with an obituary that would appear in two Albuquerque newspapers. If Trent were to call and check up on his aunt, he’d have no way of knowing, even if he traced the call, that she was speaking to him from a small, secure apartment wherever they’d put her up. Even I didn’t get the details.