"Livvy it is." It suited her, especially dressed as she was today. Livvy was softer than Olivia. Livvy had fewer hard edges, more fun.
Ten minutes later, they sat at a table on a stone patio, cups of coffee in front of them. Livvy opened a notebook, laid a pen on it, and said, "Did you find anything?"
This was the moment. The turning point. Even though Bates was an asshole, that blue wall of loyalty rose in front of him. Don't snitch on a fellow cop. Keep your mouth shut.
Don't betray a buddy.
But after going over the charges against Bates, reading the transcript and reviewing the files on his computer, he had no choice. Anson had already betrayed him and every one of his fellow officers.
Taking a deep breath, he said, "Yes. I did."
Chapter 3
Livvy picked up her coffee and took a gulp, waiting for the caffeine rush. She needed to be alert for this. Needed to be able to focus. She had to get past what had happened between Ward and her sister Cilla.
She'd talked to Cilla last night. Cilla had confirmed that Ward apologized to her. Cilla had been sure he meant it. She'd accepted his apology and put the whole ugly mess behind her.
It didn't hurt that Cilla was now engaged to Brendan Donovan, the 'best thing that had ever happened to her.' Her sister had other, happier things to focus on.
Now Livvy had to put the nastiness behind her, as well. She had to work with Ward. And if she saw only her sister's tormenter every time she looked at the guy, she wouldn't get anything done.
She glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them. Finally, satisfied that the other two occupied tables were paying no attention, she leaned forward. "What did you find?"
Ward stared at his coffee as if the plain white cup held all the answers. Finally, pulling something out of his pocket and curling his fingers around it, he lifted his eyes to her. "I found an error in the interrogation transcripts. Anson said we'd arrested a perp recently near a bar in the Morgan Park neighborhood. I know for a fact it wasn't anywhere near the Hole In The Wall. I remembered the case because the arrest was on the block where one of my informants lived.
"So I pulled out my copy of all our case reports from the last five years." He opened his palm to show her a black flash drive, then slid it back into his pocket.
"You kept a copy of all your case files?" she asked, frowning. Why would he have his own copy of official records?
"I have them now."
"Why?"
He looked away, and she followed his gaze to the tall, naked sunflower stalks that filled a field behind the conservatory in the summer. They looked like bones sticking out of the black earth.
Shoving away the morbid thought, she picked up her pen and watched the man across the table from her. Anger and grief warred in his slate gray eyes.
He took a deep breath, as if girding himself for battle. "I made the copies the night Anson was arrested. Why?" He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I guess, subconsciously, I must have realized something was off with Anson. The next day I listened to both the DEA and our guys interrogate Anson."
He grimaced. "First thing I thought of? Thank God I'd made the copies. It was clear he was guilty. If other cops besides Anson were involved, I was afraid they might try to shift the blame onto my shoulders.
"Second thing? Preserve the evidence. Make sure nothing from our case files went missing. Or got changed."
"That's why I copied the files." He rolled his shoulders and stared into his coffee. "This flash drive, and another one in a safe deposit box, are my insurance policy."
He drummed his fingers on the metal table, and the echo swirled in the crisp fall air. "Last night, after finding that discrepancy in the transcript, I loaded the files onto my computer and looked for anything that didn't line up with what he said in interrogation. I found that address difference. I caught a couple of other addresses that I was pretty sure weren't where we actually put the cuffs on the perp."
"Do you have names? Addresses?" A tingle of excitement rushed through Livvy.
"Yeah." He shoved a piece of paper toward her. She wanted to grab it, but she left it lying there. Let him finish his story.
"Found something else in the files. I didn't have time to review all of them, but there were three recent cases where a suspect we interrogated wasn't mentioned in the report. All in reports Anson wrote up." He shoved a hand through his hair, and clumps of the waves stood up.
Livvy sat up straight, anticipation building. She nodded at him to continue.
"I think these might be important. Maybe more important than the address changes."
His jaw worked as he avoided her gaze. "I should have realized something was going on when Anson volunteered to write more than his share of reports." Shadows filled Ryan's eyes. "Every cop hates writing those things. When he offered, I was grateful. Didn't think twice about it."
"What reason did he give you for doing more than his share of the work?" Livvy asked, gripping her pen hard, ready to make notes.
Ryan lifted one shoulder. "It varied. Sometimes, if a couple of the guys were going for a beer, he'd tell me to take off. Go with them." He swallowed and stared out at the small pond. "Said he was an old fart. Hanging out in cop bars was for younger guys."
He slapped the table and stood up, pacing the small patio. An El train rumbled past the conservatory, the wheels clacking on the tracks. As the noise faded away, he slid back into his chair. Instead of looking at her, he pulled out the flash drive again, stared at it for a moment, then slid it back into his pocket. "Should have known that was bullshit. It's the older guys who spend the most time at the bars. At the time, I just thanked him and took off."
"What other reasons did he give?" She kept her voice steady. Tried to hide her excitement. This could be it. Ward might hold the key to keeping Bates locked up.
Ward closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He had a million of them. He'd ordered a pizza and it was being delivered to the station. He had plans with his wife and needed to kill some time before she was ready. He needed to check something with another detective and he wasn't back at the station yet. Blah blah blah."
"Those sound like reasonable reasons to stick around," Livvy said as Ward clenched his teeth, his expression tight with anger.
Not at her, she realized with sudden clarity. At Bates. Since Bates was beyond his reach, he was taking it out on her.
His partner had lied to him. Betrayed him. Of course Ward was angry.
Ward hadn't visited Bates since he talked to her yesterday. So that was something. But what had Ward said to Bates when he visited his former partner at Cook County Jail earlier? She wanted to know. Badly. Livvy was almost certain he wouldn't tell her. Since she didn't want to disrupt the flow of the conversation, she scribbled a note to herself to ask him later.
"So tell me about these suspects Bates left out of the report," she said briskly. Time to direct his anger into getting useful information for Bates' prosecution.
"All three of them were drug cases. Lower level guys. We were pressing them for the names of their suppliers. Looking for bigger fish."
"Any idea why he left their names out of the report?" she asked, scribbling notes in her notebook, trying to hide her eagerness for the information.
He raised one shoulder. "If I'd caught it at the time, I would have figured he just forgot the guys. They weren't helpful, claimed not to know much. But now?" He curled his fingers into a fist on the table. "Maybe the interrogation was all for show. Maybe Bates was the bigger fish. Maybe these guys worked for him and he was protecting them."
"If Bates was protecting them, why would he even go see them?"
Ward pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, opened it and stared at it. "On all three of them, I was the one who got their names from a CI. An informant," he added.
"You have names and addresses for the guys he left off the report?" Livvy asked. Her blood pounded in her ears and her chest tightened. Maybe they could get these guys to testify a
gainst Bates. Give the judge more reasons to keep him in jail.
"Right here," Ward said, shoving a piece of paper across the table at her. "Along with the arrest locations that were off."
Livvy scribbled their names and addresses. "One of these guys lives not far from here," she said, tapping Freddie Sampson's name with her pen. "I'd like to go and talk to him, as long as we're this close. You up for it?"
Ward tilted his head to study her. "You look like you just won the lottery," he said.
"I did. You gave me information we didn't have." She tapped her foot on the flagstones of the patio. She wanted to jump out of her chair. Question Freddie Sampson. "So let's go. Talk to this guy."
Ward shook his head. "He sees me, he's clamming up. He knows I was Bates' partner. He's not going to open his mouth when I'm around."
"Then I'll go by myself." She shoved her notebook into her bag and stood up. "Thanks, Ward. This is great. I'll let you know what Sampson has to say."
She turned to leave, but Ward clamped his fingers around her wrist. His hand was warm, his skin a little rough. As if he worked with his hands. The calluses on his fingertips rasped against her skin. "Are you crazy, Marini? You can't walk into Freddie Sampson's place by yourself and ask him to rat out Bates. Not the other two, either. These aren't nice guys. You need to take a cop with you." His gaze bored into hers. "Someone from your sister's boyfriend's family."
The message was clear – someone you trust.
His finger tightened around her wrist like a cuff. "Better yet, have one of them bring Sampson into their station. Talk to him there."
She looked over her shoulder, her skin sparking where he held her. Trying to ignore the fizzing in her veins, she tugged her hand away from him. She wanted to press her fingers to the spot where he'd held her. Instead, she curled her fingers more tightly around the handle of her bag.
There was no anger in his eyes now. No grief. He actually looked concerned. For her. Not what she expected from Ryan Ward. She blew out a breath. "You're right. I need to show up with some muscle. I'll call Cilla. See who's available."
"Good. Do that."
"Maybe Cilla can go with me."
At the mention of her sister's name, his eyes went cool. "Take one of the men."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she arrested you, Ward. Deal with it. You were roughing up a woman. You deserved it."
"That's not the reason I don't want you to go with your sister. Guys like Freddie Sampson? They don't respect women. You'll get farther if you have a man with you."
Her hackles rose. "This is the twenty-first century, Ward. Women can take care of themselves." She looked him up and down. "But I guess I should have expected you to have that attitude."
"You think I'm a Neanderthal? A knuckle-dragger?" Antagonism rolled off him in waves as he leaned close. His breath wafted over her, carrying the scent of the coffee he'd been drinking, underlain by a hint of peppermint. "You know nothing about my attitude toward women. Maybe we need to discuss that."
She was angry with Ward. Completely pissed off at his orders to bring a guy with her. So why was she shivering at the way his eyes darkened? Why did his low-voiced, velvety promise make her mouth go dry and her heart thunder against her chest?
"I'd rather talk about the case against Bates." God! Her voice was all breathy. Lower than normal. What the hell was wrong with her?
He straightened, his eyes glittering with something she didn't want to name. "We can do that, too."
"I'll call you after I talk to Sampson," she managed to say. "We'll meet again. Go over what he said."
"You do that."
She nodded once and stepped away from him. "I will. Thank you for these names." She hesitated. They were supposed to be working together. But tension swirled between them, making her reluctant to ask for anything else.
She had to, though. It was her job. "Are you going to keep looking at those cases? See if you can find anything else?"
"What do you think?" He didn't want for her to answer, which was a good thing, because she had no idea what to say. "It's my job right now. I'm on administrative leave while your office works on this bail issue."
"Good. I'll talk to you soon."
"Right." He began walking away, then turned and narrowed his eyes at her. "If you're planning on going to Sampson's place right now, forget it. I'm following you home."
She bristled, irritated he'd read her so well. "If you want to know where I live, why don't you just ask?"
"Don't have to. Already looked you up." He gestured toward the parking lot. "After you, Marini."
Gritting her teeth, she marched to her car. When she looked in her rear view mirror, he was right behind her in a black SUV. He stayed there all the way to her apartment.
Ward pulled into a parking spot and sat there, his car idling. Waiting for her to go into her building.
Fuming, she slid out of her car and hip-checked the door shut. Unlocked the outer door to her two–flat, walked in and slammed it behind her. When she glanced through the glass, the smug bastard gave her a mocking smile before he drove away.
* * *
The Englewood neighborhood was eerily quiet as Livvy stepped out of Quinn's unmarked cruiser. The steady hum of cars on the busy cross street a few blocks away was background noise, but that was all she heard. No kids played in the front yards. No one walked down the sidewalk. Far down the street, a curtain twitched in an upstairs window. That was the only sign of life.
"This isn't a great neighborhood," Quinn said quietly, standing close to her. "You sure you don't want me to bring Sampson into the station?"
"No. He'll be more comfortable here. More willing to talk, I hope."
Quinn studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Your call."
Livvy pressed the doorbell button with more force that necessary to hide the fact that she was a little jittery. When the buzzer sounded, unlocking the door, she jumped back in surprise.
Quinn steadied her with a hand on her arm. "You sure about this?"
"Yes." Livvy straightened her shoulders and took a breath, then opened the door. The staircase up to the first floor was clean, but the wood bore the scars of years of abuse. Innumerable pieces of furniture, trunks, boxes and God knows what else had been hauled up these stairs.
The door on the landing above them opened, and a man stepped into the hall. He frowned when he saw them. "Who are you?"
He'd been expecting someone else. Livvy wondered who it was.
She reached the top of the stairs and held out her hand. "I'm Olivia Marini. This is Detective Quinn. I'm with the state's attorney's office. Would you mind if I asked you some questions about a case I'm working on?"
Sampson narrowed his eyes at her, studying her until she wanted to squirm. Finally he shrugged. "Guess not." A snarling Rottweiler pushed his head through the partially open door behind him. Sampson shoved the animal back with his foot, then pulled the door partially closed. He held onto the doorknob, though. So he could throw the door open any time? Let the dog loose?
Quinn shifted beside her, stationing himself between her and the dog. He rested his hand on the gun at his hip and fixed his gaze on Sampson.
The other man's eyes flicked to Quinn, then back to her. He pulled the door closed. "What do you need?"
"I have a few questions about a case eight months ago." She'd memorized all the details. "Two police officers came to talk to you. Ryan Ward and Anson Bates. Do you remember them?"
When Livvy said 'Bates', Sampson froze for a moment. Then he edged closer to his door. "Hard to remember what happened last month. Eight months ago? Nope."
"Anson Bates was arrested last month for drug offenses, attempted murder and assault. It was a big case," Livvy pressed. "You don't remember that?"
"Radio's broken. Missed the news lately." Sampson tightened his hand on the doorknob.
"So there's nothing you can tell me about what you told Bates that day?"
"Don't know any Bates. Sorry." He fu
mbled the door open, stepped inside and shut it behind him. The metallic thunk of the locks engaging echoed in the hall.
"Let's go, Livvy," Quinn muttered. He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and urged her down the stairs.
She stumbled down the stairs too fast, with Quinn at her back. The air outside was heavy, as if it was about to storm. Livvy sucked in a deep breath. The narrow hall and steep stairs had carried an old, musty smell.
She stood in front of Sampson's place, scanning the street in front of her. It was still deserted. Almost as if the neighborhood was holding its breath. Waiting for…something.
Movement in a car down the street caught her eye. A man sat behind the wheel, studying the buildings along the block. His gaze passed over her and Quinn, then jerked back.
"Damn it, Livvy." Quinn tugged her toward his car. "Not the time or place to act all touristy."
As Livvy opened the passenger door, she saw a shadow in Sampson's window. He was watching them.
No. Her stomach jumped, then tightened into a hard knot. He wasn't looking at her and Quinn. His attention was focused down the street. On the occupied car.
Chapter 4
"Quinn." Livvy stared in the side mirror as the car accelerated away from the curb. "Sampson was looking out the window when we left." She watched as the black car followed them onto the street, hating the way her voice quivered. "Not at us. I think he was looking at the guy in the black car behind us."
Quinn turned his head sharply to stare into the rearview mirror. "I can't make him out. Did you get a good look at him?"
"Male. That's all."
"Don't turn around," Quinn ordered. "Let's see if he follows us."
Livvy's grip tightened on the seat. She stared into the side mirror, leaning forward to keep the black car in view.
"Can you tell what kind of car it is?" Quinn asked.
"Nope." Black was as much as she could give him. "It has a matte finish on the hood. Other than that, if you need more car information, you've got the wrong sister."
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