They stared at each other, neither feeling the need to talk. She wanted answers to all her questions, but she knew he wouldn’t give them to her. He hadn’t made a plea deal. She doubted he would testify. She would have to. Once, she’d thought it would be difficult. Now? She was much stronger. She would tell the truth and the jury would believe her or not.
In fact, asking Tommy anything would tip him off that there was a bigger investigation at play. Since he wasn’t talking to the police, his loyalty was with Rykov, which meant he would alert Rykov that the feds were looking at him. And if Hart was in as deep Matt thought he was, he would know as well—and know that Alex was part of the investigation.
The truth was, she didn’t have any questions she could ask Tommy Cordell without screwing up the federal investigation. What she really wanted was to face him, to know she could do it, to put the past firmly in the past.
“Okay,” she said with a nod.
“Okay what?”
“I’m done.”
He leaned back and raised his bushy eyebrows. “Done?”
“This has been hanging over me for the last nine months. I’ve been ... at an impasse. Angry. Bitter. But it’s gone. I needed to see you to make sure it wasn’t going to sneak up and bite my ass.”
“You’re making no fucking sense, Morgan.”
“I’m hoping you’ll do the right thing. I’m going to ask you something, and I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. Your lawyer isn’t here, the prosecutor isn’t here, just you and me.” She’d come up with a plausible lie as she stared at him. And it was, frankly, brilliant. Either he knew or he didn’t know.
“I’m not admitting to anything, Morgan.”
“Do you remember Selena Black?”
He snorted. “What red-blooded man wouldn’t remember that hottie?”
“She recently caught a case. A Russian prostitute, beaten and sodomized, that had several similarities to two other cases—one that she investigated five years ago, and another where the victim ended up in the river last year.”
“If little miz Black wants my help on a case, she can ask me herself.”
“She won’t. She doesn’t think you’ll help, and she has nothing to offer you.”
“And you do?”
“Spin.”
“Excuse me?”
“I will not lie in court when I testify against you, I will tell the complete truth. But I can choose words that have a great emotional impact on the jury, or I can testify as if reading a police report.” She paused. He didn’t believe her, but he tilted his head, analyzing what she meant.
“It could be the difference,” she added, “between five years and twenty years.”
He didn’t say anything. But the fact that he didn’t tell her to go to hell was a good sign.
“Selena and I compared notes. In the first case, the prostitute survived, refused to talk, left the hospital against medical advice, and then died of an overdose two days later. Jim Perry caught the case. The second case, eighteen months ago, was investigated by Selena’s brother John Black. The girl was strangled during sex from behind. John believed that it was accidental, and the killer or her pimp dumped her body in the river to get rid of evidence.”
“There are far better ways of getting rid of evidence.”
“True. But he used a condom and spermicide and the girl had her wrists tied to avoid scratching her rapist.”
“Rapist? They were prostitutes. I can see a murder rap, but hard to prove rape when the whores get paid for sex.”
She didn’t react to his comment, simply nodded. “Now Selena has another victim, and though she’s not cooperating yet, Selena has a guard at the hospital. Because there’s a fourth victim, from three years ago, another Russian prostitute—this one was shot. Selena pulled the autopsy report and found week old injuries consistent with her new victim and the previous two victims.
“Three dead Russian prostitutes. One in serious condition in the hospital. And you know something about Russian prostitutes, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you think I can tell you.”
“I think you know who their rapist is—okay, we’ll call him a john. You’re forgetting, Tommy, I worked with you for well over a year. I turned my back on a bunch of shit because you weren’t always a bad cop. You had good instincts.”
He scowled at her. “I didn’t think you’d turn into such a * and freak out because I was screwing a whore.”
“She was fourteen,” she said through clenched teeth. “That was my fucking problem. She was the same age as your own daughter.”
Tommy looked almost surprised. As if he’d never considered that fact, and was horrified. She didn’t think he was faking. So she pushed.
“I want to give Selena something, a direction. The bullet that killed the prostitute three years ago matched ballistics from another case.” She took out a photo of Hart’s shooter from her pocket and showed it to Tommy. “I know you know this kid. He attempted to kill Lieutenant Governor Travis Hart two days ago and ballistics from the scene match a gun found in his possession. He killed himself—or was killed by whoever hired him to take out Hart.”