“Fine, be that way. I can escalate, too, and you’re not gonna like it.”
He opened the door and shoved her toward it so she hit her head. Her eyes watered, but she refused to cry out. Fuck him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The car reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee. Getting in the front seat, he glared at her in the rearview mirror.
“That was some stunt you pulled back there. You’re lucky I didn’t blow your brains all over that filthy floor. Just so you know, give me trouble again and I will kill you.”
Fear turned to rage. And rage got her talking.
“Then you’re stupid. Twenty people saw you arrest me. People will notice if I disappear. I’m a Harvard Law student.”
He laughed. “You want to know one thing people hate more than cops? Harvard. I’ll just claim I had to shoot because you grabbed for my gun. They’ll throw me a parade.”
Whether he was right or wrong, he believed what he was saying. He thought he could kill her and get away with it, which made him deadly.
He pulled out into traffic.
“I’m gonna ask you some questions. If you answer to my satisfaction, things will go easier. If you don’t, they’ll go harder. Your choice. Is that clear?”
She stared back at him, hate in her eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes. First question. Where’s Kathy?”
The question shocked her. And that shock made her realize that, deep down, she’d been thinking that Wallace had kidnapped or murdered Judge Conroy. She just hadn’t verbalized that to herself because it was too scary. If he didn’t know where the judge was, then obviously she was wrong. Small mercy.
Madison didn’t know where Judge Conroy was, either, but she should pretend to. He’d be less likely to kill her that way.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned her head and stared out the window.
“Hey. Look at me. I’m talking to you. Where is she? And what were you doing in her house while she was gone?”
She didn’t say a word.
“If you don’t start talking, we’ll go somewhere private, and I’ll beat the answers out of you. I’m not kidding.”
She believed him. Screw strategy. Screw Miranda. This wasn’t an arrest. It was a kidnapping. She needed to stay alive.
“I was feeding the cat.”
“The cat. You expect me to believe that?”
She shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Bullshit. Kathy knows you’re a liar, that your brother is a criminal. She was told you’re a threat. Given all the information. She agreed to fire you, but then she didn’t. It makes no sense. Unless you have something over her. I want to know what it is. And you’re gonna tell me one way or another.”
“I’m her student and an intern in her chambers. She asked me to take care of her cat. Run errands. She pays me to do that. Nothing more.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Did you hear what I said? I work for Judge Conroy.”
He pounded the steering wheel, making her jump.
“Brooke Lee? Olivia? Who told you to break into Nancy’s office? What were they looking for? What did they do with Kathy?”
Olivia was an undercover, then, like Imani said. Brooke Lee must be from law enforcement, too. If he thought Madison was passing information to them, he’d kill her.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. The only Olivia I know of was the intern before me, and I never met her. I don’t know Lee, or whoever that is. And I didn’t break in to Nancy’s office. I needed some documents for a memo. I used Kelsey’s keys that were readily available. I thought it was okay. Sorry if it wasn’t. I’m just a student. I didn’t know better.”
He scoffed. “If you’re so innocent, why run? You knocked the old lady over, you were in such a rush.”
“It was late. I thought I was alone, and suddenly the door flew open. I got spooked, that’s all.”
“That’s a load of crap. You were looking for something. Was it the surveillance photos, or something else?”
“I told you, I was looking for documents on a case.”
“That’s not what you took, though, is it? What are these?”
He waved the envelope.
“They’re photos of me. Of my mother. Stop blaming the victim. You’re the one in the wrong. Why were you following us?”
“Because you’re a goddam snitch, that’s why. Andrew Martin. Doug Kessler. What are you doing talking to the likes of them?”
“It was a party. I was networking. They’re influential people.”
He smashed his fist against the steering wheel. “Bullshit. Tell me now, or you’ll end up at the bottom of the river.”
He wasn’t joking. Dizzy with fear, she struggled to keep her voice steady.
“I only did what Judge Conroy told me to do.”
The car swerved hard enough to draw a blaring horn from an oncoming truck. Wallace looked haggard in the rearview mirror.
“Kathy sent you in to talk to them? She’s working with them?”
Jesus, she’d get the judge killed if she wasn’t careful. On the other hand, the judge wasn’t in the car with this lunatic. She had to protect herself.
“There was no mention of working, nothing like that. She said the party would be a good networking opportunity, and those were the people I should talk to.”
“What were you supposed to say?”
“Just introduce myself and say I work for her. Look, I don’t know anything. I’m a lowly intern. The judge doesn’t confide in me. I haven’t seen her in two days. I don’t know where she is. I went to the house to feed Lucy, to make sure she didn’t starve. That’s all.”
“Right.” He scoffed.
They pulled up in front of a small, modern office building, the parking spaces in front of it filled with police vans and cruisers. The police precinct. She nearly fainted with relief. He wasn’t going to kill her. But the next second, she wanted to cry. She was under arrest. If he took her inside and actually booked her on a criminal charge, the thing she’d been so afraid of would come true. It would destroy her legal career, ruin her life. Would he really do that? Arrest her for stealing those surveillance photos from Nancy? The photos implicated him in a conspiracy. He’d be crazy to broadcast that. Yet here they were.
He came around to her door and pulled her from the back seat.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Where snitches go.”
He led her inside, through a glass door marked “Booking and Processing,” to a large open area. A uniformed female officer with short hair and no-nonsense body language came out from behind the desk.
“Charge?” she said.
“Narcotics conspiracy. Federal. Log this as evidence retrieved from her person,” Wallace said, throwing a clear plastic evidence envelope down on the desk.
Inside were dozens of little baggies filled with a brownish-white powder, stamped with a red rocket ship. Rocket was the brand of heroin that Ricky Pe?a’s crew sold, according to the write-up in Danny’s complaint. Madison staggered, her stomach heaving. Burglary she’d expected. That was a charge she could defend against. But narcotics? Jesus, no.
She looked at the female officer in desperation.
“He’s lying. Those drugs aren’t mine. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
The woman rolled her eyes.
“If it’s federal, why you bringing her here?” she demanded of Wallace.
“The feds didn’t answer the phone. I’ll do a removal order tomorrow.”
“You dump all that paperwork on me when I won’t even get a stat? No way, Charlie.”
“Quit whining and do your job,” he said. “Here, log this, too.”
He threw Madison’s wallet onto the counter. But not her phone, she noticed. Was he keeping that? He would rifle through her photos, read her texts, track down her mother, her friends. No one would be safe.
“Where’s my phone?” she said to the officer. “He can’t just walk off with it, can he? That’s stealing.”
The officer sighed. “You got her phone or what?”