by Brenda Novak
Alex leaned forward. She hadn’t been expecting that.
“Please explain how you came to know about these murders.”
“I became aware of Hart’s proclivities five years ago when he hired a prostitute and screwed her in the alley, leaving her beaten and bruised. That was the case that Detective Selena Black picked up. Selena is like a dog with a bone, she wouldn’t let it go. I didn’t know about all this until the girl, Daphne Vasin, OD’d at her apartment. I do not have any knowledge as to whether her OD was intentional or accidental. But I knew if Selena dug around, she’d find other girls who could identify Hart. I’d learned this wasn’t the first time he’d roughed up his whores.”
“Do you have any evidence that he attacked Ms. Vasin?” Dean asked.
“I have a copy of all the books. It’s my freebie for you, Agent Hooper. It includes some very interesting names and their particular fetishes. But Hart is the only one who turned his fetish into murder.”
“Go on.”
“Three years ago he killed Elsa Babnin. He’d made arrangements to have her all night, and when he called her manager to pick her up, she was in a bad way. Barely conscious. Cut and bruised. He called me. Her manager understood that having a prosecutor on the payroll, so-to-speak, would greatly assist the expansion of the organization. He didn’t know that Hart had been part of the organization for years. We had him on tape with several prostitutes, and used that to leverage certain outcomes for certain trials. Not many—only key situations.”
Jim smiled as if he was in on a joke. Dean didn’t say anything, but waited.
“Elsa was as good as dead,” Jim continued. “Broken ribs, punctured lung, cracked skull. I told the manager that Hart needed to take care of this one. I gave him the gun. The manager ordered Hart to put a bullet in her head or he would take her to the hospital. Hart balked, saying just let her die. He was given a count of ten. He killed her at seven. The manager then dumped her, but kept the gun. I don’t think Hart realized that we had enough evidence to bury him. He wasn’t thinking like a prosecutor. I believe that this was the first time he killed a woman, but certainly not the first time he’d raped someone. I was a cop long enough to know that the level of violence wasn’t a first offense. I did a little research and learned that there were a series of rapes at Hart’s college campus that fit his basic M.O.—take the women from behind, pushing their face down. Three had been reported, but you know that many of these crimes don’t get reported.
Jim paused a minute, sipped his water.
“I always thought that Hart became more violent after suffering a set back in his personal or professional life. Three years ago was a turning point for him.”
Matt tensed behind Alex. “He’s just saying that because he knows we’re listening,” Alex said.
“He’s not lying,” Matt said.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Matt.”
“I’m not—I’m just angry that Hart got away with this for so long.”
Me, too.
Alex looked at Jim through the window. On the surface, he looked like a nice guy. A handsome guy. A good cop. She’d been deceived. So had many other people. But she’d been the one who’d lived with him. Cared about him. Slept with him.
It would be a long time before she would find peace with that time in her life.
Jim continued.
“Eighteen month ago, Hart killed Mariska Tshvich while having sex. He contacted Mariska’s manager, who called me. Just one more in a long line of dead and damaged whores by the hand of Travis Hart. But what happened to Mariska ... it was a sign to watch him closely. I knew his days were numbered.”
Jim didn’t say anything for a long minute, and Dean prompted him. “Mariska Tshvich was the murder victim found in the river, correct?”
“Yes,” Jim said. “I suspect that as Hart grew increasingly violent, he started using prostitutes who were less likely to report. When Mariska’s manager contacted me, I went to the scene. Hart had already left. She was dead. Strangled. However, he’d left behind his condom in the motel trash can. Idiot,” Jim added with a sneer. Then he put on his game face again, all professional and smooth. “I preserved it as evidence—it has both Mariska’s DNA and Hart’s DNA on it.”
“Where is this evidence?”
“I have a safe deposit box with everything on Hart. It was the best way to keep him under our thumb. He was well aware that we had incriminating evidence on him, but he didn’t know specifically what.”
“And did you dump her body in the Sacramento River?”
“No. I collected the evidence and her manager took care of the body, cleaned up the motel room, paid off the staff, took care of the situation.”
Jim drank more water, but he didn’t appear to be at all remorseful or nervous. “He’s a sociopath,” Alex said, then realized she’d spoken out loud.
“I’ve faced men like him before,” Matt said, “but not with his level of ... I don’t know. Professionalism? Arrogance?”
It made Alex sick. Matt rubbed her shoulders. “Alex,” he whispered. He didn’t have to say anything else. Just having him here, with her, while they listened to Jim Perry’s interview, calmed her. Comforted her. Matt was solid. Her rock when she needed someone to lean on.
Dean prompted Jim. “And the other victims?”
“As it is with sexual predators, Hart couldn’t stop his perversion from controlling him. I saw the pattern—when he had a set-back professionally, he took it out on whores. The first time, five years ago with Daphne, I don’t know specifically what happened to him, but it must have been serious. But three years ago—he’d just lost the race for D.A. Elsa paid the price. Even though he was panicked that he would be caught, he couldn’t help himself. Two prostitutes disappeared the next year after being sent to meet with him. It took me awhile, but I discovered he took them to a cabin in Camino, above Placerville. I have documentation of his trips, evidence that the girls were in the cabin, but I never found their bodies.
“The organization cut him off after Mariska because I determined he was unreliable and unpredictable.”
“And you can provide proof for everything that you’re saying,” the AUSA interjected.
Jim gave her a blank stare. “That’s the agreement.”
Dean said, “Continue, please.”
“The last girl he killed was six weeks ago. He strangled her to death during sex.”
“You just said you’d cut him off. What changed?” Dean asked.
“It wasn’t my decision. Some people felt he was too valuable to the operation, and he’d promised to behave. For awhile, he did. A few bruises, but nothing serious. But I was tracking him closely. I wanted to cut him off permanently. Hell, I wanted to put a bullet in his head for being a dick. But truly, he was instrumental in some legal matters over the years, and he helped legitimize many of the businesses. Unfortunately, one of his staff members had seen him with the girl the day before she disappeared. I didn’t think anything would come to it—it’s not like the whore would be reported missing, and the staffer didn’t really know what he saw. But Hart panicked.” Jim rolled his eyes. “It was suggested that he take care of his staff himself if he was concerned.”
“By whom?” the AUSA asked.
“According to our agreement, I do not have to provide that information,” Jim said. He continued. “Hart wanted someone else to clean up his mess, like always. He came up with this insane plan to stage an assassination attempt. He told Vlad Genkin—the kid we found dead in Discovery Park—where Eric Huang would be and when. I wanted to quash the plan, but Hart was adamant.”
“And Hart didn’t know about your involvement,” Dean confirmed. “Nothing.”
Jim shook his head. “No one knew about me. The whore’s manager knew—only because of Hart’s screw ups. Which pissed me off, but the guy is old school, very trustworthy. So Hart set Mr. Huang up. Vlad was given the same gun that Hart use to kill Elsa, which of course Hart didn’t know anything about. I wanted to
make sure he understood exactly what his role was in the organization, and how easy it would be for us to destroy him. I knew that when ballistics came out, he would panic. Which he did, by demanding that the organization kill Alexandra Morgan.”
Matt’s hands tightened on her shoulders. This was the first that they’d heard that Alex had been a target. Why would Hart have suspected her? What was his reason for wanting her dead if no one knew she was working undercover? She’d had dinner with him, had never even gotten the vibe that he wanted to kill her.
“Did Hart know that Ms. Morgan had been working undercover for the FBI while she was a Sac PD detective?”
“No, but he was suspicious about what happened between Detective Cordell and Alex. So was I—I couldn’t prove she was working undercover. I even wondered if I was wrong, because I could find nothing. She was a good liar.” He paused and stared at the one-way glass. He couldn’t see her, Alex knew, but it seemed he was looking right at her.
Jim continued.
“Through the network, Tommy Cordell was ordered to beat up a drug dealer as a test. The Alex I knew wouldn’t have let that stand—she would have gone to her lieutenant and reported it. I had bought into her turning her back on skimming, because privately, she’d indicated that it bothered her but she knew the score. It happened, it wasn’t going to stop, and she didn’t want to be a snitch. But I also knew that Alex would never let Cordell get away with abuse under the color of authority. When she didn’t report, I had her followed. Saw that she was meeting with the District Attorney. Then, I didn’t know she was covered by the FBI, but suspected she was working with the D.A.’s investigative unit—assuming that her father had hooked her up with Elliott. But once I learned that the D.A. had a sister who was a fed, I wondered if there was something more going on. But by that time, she’d moved out, and then she and Cordell had the shoot-out.”
Dean pressed. “What really happened with the shooting that left Detectives Morgan and Cordell injured.”
“That wasn’t me. Cordell was told to cool off for awhile. He wasn’t told about Alex’s possible investigation. I was working behind the scenes to get her transferred to another division. Truthfully, I didn’t want her killed. But Cordell, like most sex addicts, couldn’t stop. I wanted to castrate him myself. I don’t think he expected Alex to walk into the motel. I’m not even sure why she did it, or if her official report—that she thought her partner was in trouble—was accurate. Cordell panicked, and I think suddenly put two and two together and was expecting a sting operation. He shot her, and the only thing I regret about that day was that Alex didn’t kill him.”
Jim leaned forward. “For the record, I care about Alex Morgan. I did everything in my power to keep her out of the line of fire. When she stopped the assassination that Hart set up—to kill Eric Huang—Hart was convinced that she’d somehow known about it. He remembered her connection to Cordell, that Cordell was in prison and she was still out. He knew everything about her, her father, and resented that her father supported Matt Elliott for D.A.—and got other judges to support Elliott as well. Hart not only had a God complex—that he thought he was better than everyone else and above the law—but a persecution complex, that everyone was out to get him, particularly the D.A. Matt Elliott.
“I bugged Alex’s apartment the night Hart took her to dinner. Hart’s driver was one of my men, and was told that if Hart attempted to hurt her, he was to be stopped. I didn’t want to believe that Alex was still working for the feds, but she’d lied to me when I showed her the picture of Vlad. I knew she’d seen him, because I knew Tommy Cordell had taken her to the boat house where Vlad lived, in the apartment above the repair shop. Yet she denied it. I needed to know what she knew and who else knew it.
“I was too late.” Jim hesitated and for a split second seemed to consider something else. “Not only did Alex know too much about our operation, but she’d been talking to Selena Black, who had confided to her brother Detective John Black, and it was only a matter of time before they connected the dots. I had to cut our losses and disband the organization.”
“He’s lying,” Alex said as the truth washed over her. She was shaking.
“About what?” Matt asked.
“I didn’t talk to Selena until the morning after he bugged my apartment. I think--”
He hadn’t come over that night to kill her. Had he?
“You’re safe now,” Matt whispered in her ear.
Maybe Jim did care about her in his own twisted way. Or maybe he knew that if he killed her, it would fall back on Rykov. Either way, he had gone out of his way to keep her safe.
She didn’t know how to feel about that. She would have to think on it for a long time.
Dean Hooper said, “Where is the evidence of Hart’s involvement in those murders?”
Jim nodded to his attorney, who slid over a small envelop. “The key and location of my safe deposit box. As an added bonus, the box includes all the payments made between the organization and Tommy Cordell, and an accounting of all the money Hart laundered through his properties. You know about the boat house on River Road. There were more. High priced rents that were paid by organization operatives to the management company, which was cleaned through the holding companies. Hart’s hand-written notes on how to set it up. Oh, and a video of him strangling Mariska. After the incident with Elsa, I had the manager record Hart’s liaison’s, when possible.”
Jim leaned back. “I think we’re through, aren’t we?”
“For now. We may have follow-up questions, and I will remind you that you will need to testify against Travis Hart.”
“My pleasure,” he said. He looked again at the one-way glass. “You did good, Alex. I always suspected that you would be the one to put it all together. If you hadn’t ruined my operation, I might even be proud.”
Alex had no idea what to think of that.
She was extremely relieved that it was over.
***
Dean Hooper let Alex and Matt join him when he went to arrest Travis Hart at his office in the Capitol later that afternoon. “You’ve both earned it,” Dean said.
The U.S. Marshals were with them, as well as a group of FBI agents who had a search warrant for Hart’s legislative offices, home, and campaign. Jim Perry hadn’t given up Sergei Rykov, but in giving up Travis Hart he must have known that Travis had information on Rykov that he might attempt to use for a deal.
Except, Dean already told Alex there would be no deal. “When it was bribery and political corruption, I would consider it. Not for murder.”
Dean led the way into Hart’s office. Hart was on the phone and first looked surprised, then angry, at being interrupted.
The anger quickly turned to fear.
“Travis Hart, you are under arrest for one count of murder in the first degree, two counts of murder in the second degree, one count of attempted murder, multiple counts of racketeering and abuse of power.” Dean slapped the arrest warrant on his desk. “All charges are listed in this warrant.”
“Murder? Murder? I’ve never killed anyone!”
Dean read him his rights.
“I know my rights, I was a prosecutor!” Hart spotted Matt standing near the doors. All color drained from his face. “You.”
“I knew this day would come,” Matt said.
Hart went from pale to beet red. “This whole case is tainted! Matt Elliott is a liar!”
Dean leaned over his desk and said, “We not only have a witness who told us that you habitually abused prostitutes, but we have a video of you strangling a prostitute to death while raping her. Did you think that the people you were in business with wouldn’t protect themselves?” He smiled. “We have it all on tape. You are going down hard, Mr. Hart.”
“It’s a lie. It’s all made up.” But he looked scared.
Served him right.
Dean cuffed him. That’s when Travis Hart saw Alex standing partly behind Matt. At first he didn’t register what it meant, then he shook his
head. “This is all because of you, isn’t it? If you weren’t at the hotel, no one would have figured out anything. I told them you should have been shot!”
“I can’t take all the credit,” Alex said, “but I’m happy to take part of it.”
“They’ll come for you,” Hart said. “You’re as good as dead, Alex Morgan.”
Matt stepped forward and raised his fist. Dean stepped between them. “We’ll add threatening a federal agent to the long list of charges,” Dean said.
“What? No fucking way,” Hart said.
Alex just smiled. She’d accepted a position in the FBI, and would be heading to Quantico as soon as her ankle healed, likely by the start of the summer session. Dean called in a favor to ensure that she would be assigned to Sacramento, because he knew how important family was to her. With what she’d sacrificed to help them take down Travis Hart and disband Rykov’s operation, Dean had told her she deserved something good to happen.
“You’ll all pay for this!” Hart shouted as Dean walked him out of the office. “You think anything will stick? I’ll be out faster than you can blink.” He sneered at Matt. “You won’t see me coming, Elliott. I will never forget this.”
Matt glared at him and watched as Hart was escorted from the building. Alex took his hand and they followed. As soon as they stepped out, they saw the press congregating right outside the main doors.
“How’d they get here so fast?” Alex asked.
“A little birdie must have told them,” Matt said. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll miss you when you’re in Virginia.”
“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“That’s bullshit. I’ll visit as often as I can.”
“You have an important and demanding job.”
“I’ll make time. And starting today, I’m on vacation—my first vacation since I was elected. A whole week.”
She smiled. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am. It might have been presumptuous of me, but I asked your brothers to move your stuff into my house.”