“Maybe,” she answered. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that this is something I’m good at.”
“He’s not one of your horses. You aren’t going to dig into his psyche and expose the truth of his actions.”
“It’s not the truth I’m going to expose, but his weakness. He’ll expose the truth after that.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Drew said, the insistence in his voice now bordering on anxiety.
“What doesn’t work what way?” Vivi asked. Everyone in the room spun to find her standing in the open doorway. They’d been so caught up in their discussion, no one had noticed that Vivi and Joe had taken a break from the interrogation room.
“Vivi, may I speak to you in the hall?” Carly asked, before anyone could interject.
“Damn it, Carly,” Drew said as he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it so spikes stuck up at odd angles.
“Whatever the hell you think you’re going to do, it’s a bad idea. You have no idea what you’re doing,” Marcus added.
She debated whom to respond to first, but the frustration and fear—fear for her—in Drew’s eyes won out. She walked up to him and took his hand in hers. “I know you don’t think this is a good idea, but I’m asking you to trust me.”
“It’s not about trust, Carly,” he said, gripping her fingers. “You know I trust you.”
“I know you don’t want me to confront the man who killed my mother. I know you’re worried about me and what it might do to me if I don’t get the answers I want. I know you don’t want me to do this because you care about me. But I’m telling you now, if I don’t get the answers I want, I’ll somehow learn to live with it. I may need your help, but I promise you, I will learn to live with it. But if I don’t even try?” she paused and shook her head. “If I don’t even try, I’m not sure that is something I could learn to live with. So please, Drew, tell me I can do this, and also that, if I come out of there with nothing more than what we have now, you’ll be here to help me figure out how to accept that.”
He hated it. She could see it in his eyes. He hated what she had asked of him, but she knew as well as he that he wouldn’t deny her. After a long moment, he raised her hand, still wrapped in his, and rested the back of it against his cheek. “I know you can do this, Carly,” he said, brushing a kiss across the back of her hand. “And, whatever happens, I will be here when you walk out of that room.”
She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on tight, if just for a moment. But she didn’t. Instead she brought his hand to her lips and, mimicking his actions, placed a kiss there. He gave her hand one last squeeze, then let her go.
“And you Marcus,” she said, turning to her brother. “I know this past year has been hard on you. I know this isn’t the life you thought you’d have. But contrary to what you may think, and you don’t seem to be thinking highly of anyone or anything these days, I do know what I’m doing. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I know exactly what I’m doing.
“I’ll let your lack of faith go this time, because I know it isn’t really you saying what you’ve said to me. But make no mistake, my forgiveness won’t extend forever. I love you. You’re the only family I have left. But you need to figure your shit out and start being the decent human being I know you can be.”
She didn’t stop to see his reaction, but she did catch a glimpse of Wyatt’s wide-eyed expression as she turned toward Vivi. “Can we step out into the hall now? I have a favor to ask you.”
Vivi’s eyes bounced from Carly to Drew to Marcus, then back to Carly, and she arched an eyebrow. “Of course,” she said, standing back and motioning Carly through.
Taking a deep breath, Carly walked out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Drew watched Carly walk into the interrogation room. She paused after shutting the door and met Repetto’s gaze.
“Do you remember me?” she asked.
For the first time since they’d started the interrogation, Repetto’s face lost some color. Whether he remembered her from before or he was only now putting two and two together, he knew who she was.
“I’m Deputy Chief of Police Carly Drummond,” she said as she walked toward the table. “Or you may remember me as Carolyn Davidson,” she added, taking a seat across from him.
Repetto didn’t deny knowing her, but other than his initial reaction to her, he didn’t confirm it either.
Carly sat across the table from Repetto and took a moment to simply watch him. She’d folded the pages she’d printed in half and occasionally tapped them on the tabletop as they sat in silence.
“She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing,” Marcus muttered from his spot beside Drew. “Vivi, how could you have let her go in there?”
“Give her time, Marcus,” Vivi responded.
The seasoned agent’s calm tone caught Drew’s attention and he turned to look at her. Standing with her arms crossed, she watched the interrogation room with her head tilted a bit to the side and her brow furrowed ever so slightly, which made her look more curious than concerned. Her body language gave him a bit more confidence in whatever plan she and Carly had put in place.
He switched his gaze back to Carly, who had leaned forward slightly.
“I have to say,” she started. “I was a bit surprised to read your profile once we’d identified who you were and what role you’d played in what happened—from the financial crimes to the murders of my mother and uncle, and finally, of Marguerite.”
She paused and tapped the papers again. “Marguerite surprised me. I mean, I can see why you would have gone after my mom and uncle, since they were a direct threat to something you were actively involved in—it was a reaction to the situation. But Marguerite? That was planned. Well planned too, for the most part. Not well enough, of course, but most murders aren’t, are they?”
Drew thought the question was rhetorical, but she paused.
Repetto eyed her but said nothing.
“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You only worked white-collar crime. You didn’t handle a lot of murder cases. You wanted to, though, didn’t you? You requested a transfer to the anti-terrorism group a few years ago, and a few years before that, you wanted to transfer to the serious crimes division. Of course, Deputy Director Perelli denied both, just as he’d denied all the other transfer requests you put in for,” she said, adding the last bit of information as almost an after-thought.
Carly took a deep breath and exhaled. “Anyway, like I said, given what we know about what you did, your dossier came as quite a surprise. Husband of Olivia Laturna, member of two country clubs, white-collar crime specialist . . . doesn’t really read like the profile of a murderer, does it? And it’s not as though you needed the money, right? Because, let’s not forget, you’re also the son-in-law of Senator Buzz Laturna. What is he, a two-term senator now?”
“Three,” Repetto corrected automatically.
Carly bobbed her head. “I guess that’s right. Time flies, but I do remember him, your father-in-law, coming to the house once to see if he could get my uncle to bankroll one of his campaigns, must have been the first one, since my uncle was long dead for his second and third runs.” She paused again and Drew saw the back of her head shift slightly. If he could see her face, he’d bet she was looking off into the middle distance.
“My uncle turned him down, of course. Anthony Lamot was old-school Southern Democrat. Don’t get too many of those these days, do we? Obviously, their politics didn’t align.”
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Repetto asked condescendingly, finally showing some sort of emotion.
“See? Now he’s questioning her,” Marcus muttered.
“Shut up, Marcus,” Vivi shot back, not taking her eyes from the room on the other side of the glass. Beside her, Joe shifted on his feet. Tempted to turn and see how Marcus had taken her rebuke, Drew resisted, knowing if he did so it would only piss Marcus off more.
“I guess I find it interesting t
hat pretty much your entire life is bankrolled by your father-in-law. Your expensive wife, your house . . . I’m pretty sure there is no way you could afford your luxury cars or country club memberships without his help. I wonder if he pays your credit card bills too. Is that a custom suit? Definitely something Olivia would approve of,” she added.
Drew watched as Repetto’s jaw tightened. For the first time, it occurred to him that he should be worried not just about Carly’s emotional safety but her physical safety as well.
“Vivi?”
“If he moves, Damian is right outside the door,” she answered, obviously thinking the same thing.
“Of course, nothing is too good for his only daughter, is it?” Carly continued. “He appeared quite protective of her this morning, maybe even a little proprietary, and it wouldn’t do to have her living in whatever kind of apartment or house in the suburbs you could afford on your government salary. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know how much you make, and it’s decent, but I think we both know it’s nothing compared to what Senator Laturna has, is it? Certainly not enough to keep his daughter living in the style to which she’s accustomed.”
“Of course it’s not,” Repetto managed to say. He still wasn’t saying much, but she had persuaded him to say more than “I’m not saying anything.”
“And they never let you forget it, do they?”
Repetto’s eyes came up sharply at the comment disguised as a question.
She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance Drew knew she didn’t feel. “I don’t know much about your wife, other than her spending habits, but Buzz Laturna is an arrogant son of a bitch who’s hard to even watch on TV. I can’t imagine what it’s like having him as a father-in-law, but I have to believe he makes your life a life a living hell. Maybe not overtly, but in that subtle, insidious way he seems to have,” she added then paused to observe Repetto, who now seemed to study her with something close to curiosity. He wasn’t ready to talk yet, but he definitely wanted to know what she’d say next.
“I imagine he’d be the kind of guy who measures worth in dollars and I’d bet his daughter is the same. But I’d wager that, while Olivia might actually get a thrill out of telling her country club friends about her FBI-agent husband, Buzz probably doesn’t have much respect for you or what you do, does he?” Carly asked.
She let the question hang and, after a moment, Repetto gave a small nod.
Letting out another long exhale, she shook her head, as if commiserating with him, but not going quite that far. “Yeah, I kind of thought that would be the case. He’s not one who cares for the common man, is he? I mean we’re all so, well, common.”
At this, she paused, unfolded the papers, and took a look. Repetto leaned forward a bit, but unless he stood, and he was smart enough not to, he wouldn’t be able see the content of the pages.
Carly took another minute to look then refolded the papers.
Repetto frowned.
“So this is how it is, Vince,” she said, using his first name for the first, and probably only, time. “We have enough to convict you. We have the paper trail of all your financial transactions and my mom left a pretty robust set of files that documented conversations you had with my uncle. It’s been pretty easy to tie those conversations to some of your more profitable financial investments.”
“Then why are you spending your time talking to me?”
Carly cocked her head and took a moment before answering. “Well, you see, some friends and I have been having a disagreement about why you did what you did, not necessarily what you did.”
“Assuming I did anything, you think I’m going to tell you? And since the crimes you just listed are financial crimes, assuming I did anything, I think the reason why would be obvious. Money.” It was the most they’d heard him say since he’d walked into the room.
“But that’s the thing, you have money. Well, granted, it’s not yours per se, but it is at your disposal. So while money is the obvious answer. I don’t think it’s the correct one.” Again, she tapped the papers on the tabletop and studied the man across from her. “It’s really all about power, isn’t it?”
The question hung between them and though Carly continued her line of reasoning, she took her time before picking it back up.
“Living with a man who constantly makes you feel like you could never live up to his standards has got to be, what’s the word?” she paused. “Aggravating? Frustrating? Probably something even stronger than those two emotions would be my guess. But beating your father-in-law at his own game—making money—now that shows some balls,” she said. “It had to feel good to be trading in information and money he could only hope to have access to.”
For a long, charged moment, Repetto stared at her. Drew knew, and he had no doubt Carly did too, that this was the turning point in her line of questioning. Repetto would either take the bait she had laid out, or he wouldn’t. And if he didn’t, they’d get nothing more out of him.
“Why the hell does she care why he did it, we just want confirmation that he did. Hell, I don’t even care if he confesses, we have enough to build a solid case against him without him saying a word,” Marcus said.
Drew could feel Marcus’s frustration, and between that and the tension in the observation room, it felt like they were standing inside a pressure cooker. But even so, even knowing that as a more seasoned agent he should be defusing that tension, he couldn’t help his response.
“Lay off, Marcus, and trust your sister. Finding out why he did it is a means to an end, not the end itself,” he snapped.
“Then what the hell is the end?” Marcus demanded.
Drew felt no need to respond. Repetto had started to speak.
“I’m not admitting to any of the charges,” he said. “With regard to my wife, she enjoys what her father has provided for her but she doesn’t judge people the same way he does. Surprisingly.”
“And Buzz?”
Repetto let out a cynical laugh. “You’re right that Buzz Laturna is a judgmental son of a bitch and his scales always tip in the balance of money. For those beneath him, which in his mind is nearly everyone, beating him at his own game, one-upping him when it comes to investments and making money would definitely be a way to have the last laugh,” Repetto said.
“I thought so,” she said, then seemed to mull something over before speaking again. “I would think, even if you couldn’t say anything to him about what you’d done, assuming you did anything, which we’re not,” she added as he opened his mouth to object, “it would be satisfying. Just knowing you beat him, just having that little secret to hold onto. The last laugh, as you said.”
Repetto hesitated, then sat back in his chair. “Yes, I imagine it would be satisfying.”
At that point, with that statement, Drew knew Carly had him. He didn’t know exactly what she had, but she had him where she wanted him.
“Yeah, it’s interesting you say that, Vince, because I have something I’d like to show you.” She unfolded the papers.
“What’s on that paper?” Drew asked Vivi.
At the same time, Marcus asked, “What is she showing him?”
Vivi smiled but kept her eyes locked on Carly. “Investment information.”
Drew chanced a look at Marcus who met his questioning gaze with one of his own. They didn’t have the answers, but at least Marcus’s hostility seemed to have abated.
“What’s this?” Repetto asked, taking the pages from her.
“These are some of your father-in-law’s investments over the time you were using my uncle to manipulate the market,” she said.
Repetto’s eyes came up. He glanced at her over the top of the pages before dropping his eyes back down to the data she’d provided him with.
A few minutes passed in complete silence—the kind of silence that would have ratcheted up tension under normal circumstances, however, in this case, Drew felt a sense of calm come over the observation room. He knew where this was going and Carly had gotten them t
here. They still had a long way to go, but the confidence he felt in knowing they’d get there was only overshadowed by the tremendous sense of pride he felt on her behalf. She’d been right all along and she hadn’t bowed to what he or Joe or Marcus had tried to tell her. And because she hadn’t bowed, she was going to get not only Repetto’s confession, but was quite possibly going to be the architect behind one of the biggest political scandals to hit Washington in decades.
“This column, this one on the right,” Repetto said, pointing to one of the pages he’d spread out on the table. “These are my investments, aren’t they?”
“They are, yes.”
“And this column on the left, these are Buzz’s?” His voice, heavy with incredulity had pitched up.
Carly nodded.
Repetto’s eyes went back to the pages. And as he read, his face became redder and redder.
“Are you telling me—”
“That your father-in-law was manipulating you all along?” she asked. “If that’s what you think I’m telling you, then, yes, you’re right. He was.”
She paused long enough to lean forward and point to something. “Have you noticed that for each transaction you made, there’s a timeline from when you talked to my uncle, to when you made your initial transaction, either a buying or selling of stock, to when your father-in-law did the same, to when you both made money?
“You see, if you look at this transaction here—according to my mother, this is when my uncle told you his friend’s company hadn’t been awarded the big government contract they’d been promised. You sold your stock before word got out and then, look here,” she said, pointing to something else, “a few days after you sold your stock, your father-in-law sold his. I’m guessing you shared a broker?”
Repetto nodded, but it looked more like an automatic reaction than one done with any thought.
“So, you know, your secret wasn’t a secret—and worse yet, he even outdid you trying to outdo him,” Carly said, pointing to something else on the page. “Look here, at this transaction. Here is where your father-in-law sold this chunk of stock. A few days later you sold your shares as well. And then, a few days after that, again, according to my mother, you asked my uncle to circulate a rumor about that company going bankrupt. The stock plummeted and while you rebought your original quantity of shares—leaving you with a nice chunk of change and your investment intact—your father-in-law rebought—at pennies on the dollar—six times what he’d sold it for before the crash. When the price recalibrated after the rumor was put to bed, he sold the excess off, leaving him, like you, with the same quantity of stock, but a hell of a lot more cash.”
An Inarticulate Sea Page 36