by Kylie Brant
"You be the first to flip, Matt, and you get the best deal you can for yourself." Birtch sat on a corner of the table and lowered his voice persuasively. "Spin the story your way and you might not do much time at all. You owed LeFrenz some favors, right? He was your dealer and he kept you supplied with anything you wanted. Maybe even handed out a freebie now and then, a goodwill gesture or something."
Cade took over. "Must have been a shock for you to find out he'd been put out of commission. Guy has a habit like yours, he can't afford to go without for long. Maybe you checked on him a couple times, just to get an idea of whether you needed to find yourself a new source."
The orderly swallowed hard and said nothing, just looked down at the table. "Maybe you didn't even know what he was planning," Birtch said. "He asked you for a syringe full of stuff—hey, it's no big deal, right? You had no idea what he was planning."
"That's right." The man pointed his finger at Birtch. "I had no idea. He never told me nothin' about why he needed it."
Cade sat back in his chair. "Just that he needed your help, right? So you should get yourself to the hospital that night and be available. You come up with the football tickets for your friend? Offer to work for him so he could go?"
Brewer swallowed. "I had no idea what Jonny was going to pull. And I sure wasn't the one to stab that needle into the guard's heart."
"Sure, we know how it went down. You got caught up in something bigger than you planned on." Birtch gave him a commiserating look. "You can write it up that way, too. Give your side of things. But first tell us how you got the guard in there. Who else helped? It wasn't just you and LeFrenz, was it?"
The man shook his head miserably. The shaking in his hands had increased dramatically. "Some other dude was in there when I came in. It was 1 a.m., just like Jonny said. I thought the guy was a doctor. He had I.D. clipped to his pocket."
The two detectives exchanged a glance. More than likely the I.D. had been fake. "Did you see his face?" Cade asked.
"He had operating scrubs on." The man gestured. "Had his hair covered up and a mask on his face. Covers over his shoes. All I could see was that he was a couple inches taller than me, had blue eyes and wore glasses."
Working in tandem, the two detectives drew out the rest of the details of that night. How Brewer had told the guard he was needed in the room. How the officer had pushed the door open to watch the two men pretend to work on LeFrenz. And when LeFrenz had acted as though he was going after the phony doctor, the guard rushed to the bed to help subdue him. Brewer had gone to close the door and the fake doctor had jabbed the syringe into the police officer's heart, killing him almost immediately.
"Did you hear the other man speak?"
Brewer nodded. "He's the one who told me to take Jonny out the way I'd told him … I mean, to take him down to the morgue entrance," he corrected himself. "He met me there with an ambulance, we loaded Jonny into it and he drove off."
"Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?" Birtch asked.
The orderly shook his head. "His voice was muffled from the mask, and he was talking in whispers mostly."
"How about LeFrenz? Did he ever call the man by name?"
Brewer's limbs were trembling now. Cade wondered how long it'd been since the man had had a fix. He'd had to have been desperate to take a chance breaking into the drug closet today. "If he did, I didn't hear it."
After another half hour it became apparent that the man had nothing else to tell them, so they prepared to take him downtown. Pushing open the door, Cade saw Shae standing in the hall. He sent a quick glance to Birtch. "Put him in the car." The younger detective moved to do so, but not before taking a look at Shae, one long and thorough enough to have Cade narrowing his gaze at him.
She waited until they'd walked away to say, "Did Matt know anything about LeFrenz?"
"Your instincts were right on the money," he told her. "He helped with the escape that night."
She went pale. "Matt … helped kill that officer?"
"He supplied the drug. Helped smuggle LeFrenz out of the hospital." Cade went over and propped one shoulder against the wall, facing her. "He couldn't give us much help about the other guy helping LeFrenz."
Because it seemed too long since he'd last had the opportunity, he took his time studying her. She looked good. Her hair was pulled back with some sort of clip, and there were small gold rings in her earlobes. Until he noticed them, he hadn't considered the fact that he'd rarely seen her wear jewelry.
"You did the right thing to call me," he said, and gave her a friendly nudge. "You're getting pretty good at this detective stuff."
"Yes. Well." She looked discomfited by the compliment. "Was that your new partner who took Matt out?"
The term still didn't sit well with Cade. He wondered if it ever would again. "That's Detective Birtch. He just graduated kindergarten."
That elicited a smile, a real one this time, not the strained, too-bright sample she'd given him last night as she'd ushered him out of her apartment. "He doesn't look much younger than you."
He shrugged uncomfortably. "He's a good cop." The words were true enough. They shouldn't have felt like a betrayal to Brian. "We're paired for the duration of this case."
She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her lab coat, as if uncertain what to do with them. "We're short-handed here. I don't know when I'll get off."
"I'll tell the guys on detail to check in with you. I want you to ride home with them."
Shae nodded, but made no move to leave. "Will I see you tonight?"
He hadn't expected the question, but then, he never really knew what to expect from the woman. She was a mass of contradictions and it would take a lifetime to unsnarl them all. He'd always been a sucker for a puzzle. He was beginning to think that when it came to her, he was just a sucker, period. "I'm not sure. I've got another engagement and I don't know how long it'll take."
Something flickered in her eyes, as fleeting as it was intriguing. Her voice was stilted when she said, "Of course. I'll talk to you later, then."
She turned to walk toward the elevator, and he stopped her with one hand on her elbow. "If it's not too late, I'll call you tonight."
Her gaze dropped to his hand, then raised to his face. And her voice had warmed several degrees when she said, "Call me either way."
The sign outside advertised restaurant/bar, but it looked like a typical yuppie place to Cade. He shoved open the door of the establishment and felt instantly ill at ease. It was the kind of place you'd maybe bring a date, or the wife and kids. It wasn't the sort of place you met a guy for drinks, even when you were only pretending the meeting was cordial. He suspected Morrison had chosen the place on purpose.
He saw the man sitting at a small table in a corner of the bar area and brushed by the hostess when she would have led him to a seat. Cade was hoping he wouldn't be here long enough to have to pretend to choke food down. There was a limit to his acting ability.
"Tremaine." Morrison waved him to the seat opposite his and slid a complimentary basket of popcorn at him. A perky waitress met him at the table. "What are you drinking?"
"Miller Lite, bottle." He waited for the woman to move away before looking around. "Nice place. I've never been here before." And would never have chosen to come here, had it been up to him. The place featured polished oak, brass and hanging baskets of ferns. Cade had never trusted a bar that had live plants in it. How the hell did they keep them alive in the dark interior? And if they were fake, what was the point?
"I come here a lot," Morrison said. "At least I used to when my wife was alive."
The statement elicited an unwanted thread of sympathy. "I'm sorry."
The other man lifted a beefy shoulder, his gaze on his bottle. "Cancer. What are you gonna do, right?"
Since there seemed no real answer to the question, Cade directed his attention to the waitress headed toward them balancing his lone beer on a large tray. He imagined it would have been simp
ler just to deliver it by hand, but he suspected he just had a bad attitude tonight, anticipating the distasteful scene ahead of him.
He tilted his bottle toward the man across from him in a silent salute, before tipping it to his lips.
"So." The Internal Affairs detective studied him. "I thought we'd have to force things with your lieutenant to finish the meeting that was interrupted last time."
"The lieutenant has been on my case about getting it done," Cade lied. He'd told Howard exactly what he was planning and gotten the man's blessing. "But it probably won't shock you that I wasn't in a hurry to meet with your sidekick again."
Morrison gave a shrug. "Torley's not so bad."
"He's an ass." The statement might be the only one he uttered here tonight that was perfectly honest. "So I figured, if I could meet with just you—away from headquarters—we could get this thing over."
"I've said all along that we don't have to be adversaries." The I.A. detective paused to sip his draft. "I'm aware of my partner's faults. I like the guy well enough, but I know what he is. I wonder if you can say the same about your ex-partner."
Cade's beer was suddenly difficult to swallow. "I knew Brian as well as anyone."
"But you didn't know what he was up to."
Setting the bottle down on the table, Cade looked the other man square in the eye. "See the thing is, you haven't convinced me that he was up to anything. You've thrown out lots of innuendoes and allegations, but I haven't seen anything that comes close to evidence."
The man's eyes went shrewd. "You're not the person we need to show evidence to."
Cade shrugged, took another swallow.
When he stayed silent, Morrison said, "We had a warrant for his car, his house and his bank records. You think they just give those things out with nothing to go on?"
Running his thumbnail under the label on his beer, Cade countered, "There's a lot of back-scratching that goes on in this town. No telling who owed you a favor."
The other man shook his head as if in disgust. "You don't want to see what's right in front of you."
Leaning forward, Cade said, "No, you're the one who doesn't see. Brian was like a brother to me. You got a brother, right?"
Morrison nodded, belched. "I hate his guts. But I see where you're going with this. That's nice for you, that you and your partner were so close and all. But you and your brothers, I mean your real brothers, well, you're all on a whole different financial plane from ol' Brian, aren't you?"
The personal shift in the conversation blindsided Cade. "What are you getting at?"
"I mean, you boys were born rich. Your sister, too, I guess. Silver spoon in your mouths and all that. It could begin to gnaw on a man who wasn't born that fortunate." Morrison smiled, revealed a chipped incisor. "Brotherly feelings or not."
For a moment it was difficult to remember just why he'd thought Morrison was the least offensive of the two IA agents. Cade wanted nothing more than to plow his fist into the man's square face. Instead, he clenched his jaw and muttered, "I guess."
"No guessing about it. You can't imagine what it's like to want more, since you've always had plenty. Hell, your family probably spends more on hiring people to manage their money than most of us make in a year."
"Yeah, well, none of this has anything to do with Brian." Cade didn't have to manufacture the note of stubbornness in his voice.
"No?" Morrison withdrew a slim folder from his breast pocket and slid it across the table. A bank book. "You might be interested to know that we found this in our search of your buddy's place. It was buried at the bottom of his toolbox in the garage. Either he's been having a lot of bake sales or he was into something dirty—up to his neck. He was putting away some nice-size payments pretty regularly."
Cade stared at the book, strangely reluctant to pick it up. It didn't matter what was in there, he thought. Wouldn't matter. He knew Brian. Knew what he was capable of. And what he wasn't.
He saw his hand reach out as if disconnected from his body pick up the book, flip it open. Saw Brian's name, what looked like his signature.
And saw the weekly payment entries. Nine of them.
As if it singed his fingers, he dropped the bank book on the table. "Anyone could have planted that book there. Anyone could have made the deposits."
Morrison pursed his lips, nodded as if in agreement, and reached for some popcorn. "But anyone didn't. Hollister did. Bank camera caught him on film in the bank lobby on at least two occasions. And guess what? Both times he was with his pal, Freddie." He tossed the kernels in his mouth, munched loudly. "Guess he was more than a snitch, after all, huh?"
It was like taking a fist in the solar plexus. There was a roaring in Cade's ears. A vise tightening in his chest. There had to be another explanation. Everything Morrison had shared was circumstantial. Damning, but not absolute proof.
But it was more proof than Cade had expected to face.
Aware that the other man was looking for a reaction, he gave him one. "This isn't … I don't know." Jamming his hand in his hair, he gave a credible impression of someone who'd just had the rug pulled out from beneath him. "I wasn't expecting this. I didn't…" He drew in a deep breath. "I can't believe it."
The I.A. agent picked up the bank book and tucked it back into his pocket. "Hey, I'm not a total jerk. I feel for you. Has to be a shock to discover the guy you thought you knew was running dirt right beneath your nose."
Below the table, Cade's hand fisted. "Yeah. A shock."
"I could get my ass in a sling for telling you this much, you know." Morrison paused, as if waiting for Cade to thank him. Fat chance. "But I figured you for a stand-up guy. Just sticking up for a friend he believes in. Now that you know—" he shrugged, washed some popcorn down with a swallow of beer "—things might look different."
Cade shook his head as if dazed. "You put a whole new light on things and everything changes, you know?
You start to rethink things you saw, what you heard…" He let his words taper off.
"Exactly." Morrison leaned forward, genial exterior gone for the moment. In its place was a hard-nosed cop moving in for the kill. "All I'm asking is for you to rethink things Hollister might have said or done. Given this new light on things, your interpretation of events could be totally different."
Cade pushed his half-full bottle away. He didn't have to feign a sudden distaste for it. "I'll need some time."
"You do that. Then call me." Morrison slid a card across the table, and Cade made himself pick it up. Look at it. It had the I.A. detective's numbers listed on it. "Why don't you give me a call in a few days?"
Nodding, Cade rose and strode away, the image of a man anxious to escape the truth. Or run from it.
The air outside seemed fresher somehow, and Cade hauled as much as he could into his lungs. He needed to clear his head. To shake the doubts that had crept in like sly thieves in the night. When emotion had receded, he'd be able to think more clearly. Be able to figure out an explanation for everything Morrison had told him. Everything he'd seen for himself.
Head down, he went toward the parking lot where he'd left his car and heard his name called behind him.
"Hey! Tremaine, right?"
Cade looked up, recognized the task force detective that had taken over his and Brian's case. Quentin. "Yeah. Hi." Although he wasn't in the mood for conversation, he waited for the man to reach him.
"I thought that was you in the restaurant. I was getting ready to leave about the same time you walked out." He made a face. "Lady stood me up. Again. Don't know why I put up with her."
"Any news on the case?"
Quentin fell into step beside him. "Well, you were right about Reggau. He's moved up on the food chain, but he isn't big enough to be the guy you were after. I still like Davies, though. My men are starting to get some real interesting stuff on him. Think he could be our guy."
Cade unlocked his car with the remote. "Hope you catch up with him soon, then."
"Hey."
There was an oddly tentative note in the man's voice, stopping Cade as he was about to open the door and climb in the car. "Inside … I couldn't help but see you were with Morrison."
Instantly wary, Cade responded, "Yeah. So?"
There was a flicker of sympathy in the man's dark eyes. "So I figure he ran his half-assed theory by you."
Leaning against the car, Cade folded his arms across his chest. "Which one would that be?"
"That Hollister had set up the meeting at City Park that night with the intention of having you killed." He shook his head in disgust, missing the frozen expression on Cade's face. "Those I.A. pricks have some imagination, huh?"
"Yeah." Cade's head was reeling. "Some imagination."
"Listen." The man looked around, lowered his voice. "I don't have any more love for I.A. than the next guy, so I thought I'd give you a head's up. From my conversation with them, I think Torley's the one whose holding on to that scenario. But Morrison in there, he's a real piece of work. He doesn't think Hollister was alone in this. So watch your back, man. Word is, the job is looking at you, too."
* * *
Chapter 12
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Shae opened her door to find Cade leaning against the jamb. His smile was lopsided. "I decided not to call."
"I noticed." She let him in, noting the weariness in the set of his shoulders. It had been a surprise to hear his voice on the intercom. And even more of a surprise to feel the quick flutter of pleasure at his unexpected visit.
Under normal circumstances her reaction would worry her, but right now she was more concerned about him. She'd grown used to seeing exhaustion in his expression. But this time there was more than lack of sleep responsible. He looked discouraged, and more than a little disillusioned.
He'd walked halfway into her apartment, then stood in place, as if wondering what he was doing there. She was beginning to wonder the same thing. "Any news on the case?" For a moment she thought he had bad news to share and was grappling with a way to word it. But he looked startled at her question, and she relaxed muscles she hadn't realized had gone tense waiting for him to answer.