Start with Chapter 1
CHAPTER 36
Guthrie walked into the hallway outside the interview room, followed by Dean, who closed the door behind him. At the end of the hallway, just outside the chief’s door, his father stood, pounding his fist against the door jamb. Before him stood two men. One was dressed in a black suit with a black tie and holding gold aviators in his hand as he rubbed his thick mustache with his index finger and thumb. The other wore a windbreaker and a baseball cap on his bald head that bore the logo of the DEA.
“You can’t do this.” said Eric. “This is our case. Our man got killed.”
The man in the suit—whom Dean presumed was FBI—said, “Sir, I understand your attachment to this case, but the jurisdiction is ours.”
Guthrie brushed past the two, and Dean stopped beside his dad. “What’s your jurisdiction?”
The DEA man looked at Dean. “Special Agent Tony Hayes.” He extended his hand.
Dean shook it. “Detective Dean Wallace.”
The FBI man said, “Special Agent David Pryce.” He tapped the edge of his cap.
Dean nodded.
Hayes said, “Multiple, actually. The DEA’s interested because those drugs are crossing state and international lines. The FBI’s interested because there’s reason to believe the Grim Devils have perpetrated crimes in Canada. The Mounties called us up. Said they found some evidence in a murder outside Montreal. I understand you’ve seen some of that evidence.”
“We talking about the case where a guy was found murdered in his home and a bunch of fake passports and cash were found?”
“Yes. Marcel Lorrain was the victim.”
“And it’s connected with the Grim Devils?”
Hayes shrugged.
Eric turned to Dean. “They want to take Sam into their custody. Get copies of all our evidence on the ambush, the lab, everything. They want goddamn everything.” He raised his hands in exasperation.
“But we can keep it and prosecute, right?” asked Dean.
“Maybe. But you’ll have to wait. We may need that leverage to get some of them to talk, to cooperate,” said Pryce.
Dean put his hands to his waist. “Shit, fellas, we want these guys for killing one of our own. Reggie Hargrove.”
Hayes nodded. “We know. And we’re sorry, and we don’t intend to let them off for that. But there are—frankly—other priorities.”
“Assholes.” Eric stepped forward.
Hayes raised a finger. “You know what I meant. We’re talking about bringing down the entire gang in this area. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, all right? Just give us the evidence and reports you’ve got.”
“And Sam?” asked Dean.
“Yes. We’ll take him down to Plattsburgh. You’ve got enough evidence to hold him?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got enough.”
Pryce said, “Great. Then let’s get the stuff.”
Eric shook his head, waved his hand in the air in disgust, and walked into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Dean said, “Okay. I’ll have Guthrie gather the physical evidence. We haven’t had a chance to get the guns tested that we found in Sam’s house, just so you know. I’ll grab the reports. I need to type up this interview, and we’ll put it in boxes for you.”
Pryce placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you.”
Ninety minutes later, Guthrie placed the last box of evidence in the trunk of the agent’s car. Pryce and Hayes signed the paperwork indicating they had taken over the evidence: A box with a short stack of reports he and Guthrie had typed up, the surveillance logs, and photographs. Another box of the meth, marijuana, and heroin seized at Sam’s house plus two bags with his cache of weapons.
Dean stood outside the driver’s side window, looking down and in. “You know,” he said to Pryce, “the Alex kid we arrested and ran that lab is the son of the county DA.”
Pryce smiled. “Yeah, we know. Lucky for him, his son is small fry. And the Justice prosecutor is an asshole, so some county DA’s not going to frighten him.”
“All right. Please keep us informed if you can. At least about the Reggie aspect.”
Hayes tapped the dash. “Let’s go.”
Dean only then realized the day had turned to evening. He looked at his watch: a quarter after seven. The western sky was a luminous orange and red and pink swaths of clouds a quarter of the way up the horizon. He rubbed his chin and then pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
When Cindy and he had been married, they had made a thing of watching the sunset together, except for winter. From their apartment in New York, it was not always a great view, but nonetheless, they would sit on the small balcony in cheap lawn chairs and watch the sunset wash over the sliver of sky and buildings. He smiled at the memory. Only in hindsight after the divorce did he realize the first sign of trouble in the marriage was when they stopped sitting and watching the sunset. He took a drink from his flask and watched.
A few minutes later, he went to check on his dad and Guthrie, but both had left.
His phone rang, so he walked to his desk and answered it. “Hello? Detective Wallace here.”
“This is Paige McFadden.”
“Good evening.”
“Yeah. So want to tell me what’s up? I saw a couple of FBI guys show up at the station. Well, they were at the Shambles first stuffing their face.”
“One of them is DEA.”
“DEA?”
“Yep.”
“Gotcha. So tell me.”
Dean told her. He gave her the rest of the information he felt comfortable giving. He attributed the lab to intelligence they had received to cooperating witnesses. He skimmed over the ambush and then gave her the high-level view of the evidence leading them to Alex and then to Sam. And now the DEA and FBI were interested. She thanked him and hung up.
He pulled on his coat and went to his car, leaving James and Stanley at the station for the night shift. He started the engine and sat there, rehashing the day in his mind and settling on a single thought: Sadie. He debated what he should do but realized he already knew. He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Fuck it.”
Minutes later, he was pounding on the front door of her two-story house. She whipped open the door. “What the hell Dean? You drunk?”
He thrust the door open, which thudded against the back wall, denting the red and light yellow striped wallpaper and drywall behind it in the shape of the lockset.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s the meaning of this? I’ve got someone coming over. I don’t have time.”
“I’m not here for the normal.”
She saw the look in his eyes. Something beyond determination, beyond anger. She knew then to be frightened. “What’s going on?” She put her hands to his chest.
He grabbed her wrists and twisted them away. “How long have you been informing on me?”
She held up her hands.
“How long have you been telling Paul Zorn everything I tell you?”
She knew that look in his eyes was betrayal. “Now look here.” She raised up a finger and held it in the air, pointed at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You get a grip and get the hell out.”
He stepped toward her, recognizing that she had gone from light-hearted, to terrified, to strong in a few quick beats.
“I mean it. You stop right there. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t tell Zorn anything. Or any of his lackeys.”
“I trusted you. I said things, and they shouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
“They didn’t. You paid me and what happened in this house, anything you said, anything we did, no one knows but you and me.” She dropped her hand. “No one.”
He stood before her, in her living room, a room he never bothered to notice. She stood, dressed in black lace negligée and a light pink robe with white lace edging, next to a brown leather couch on a large, square beige rug. Matching dark wood end tables at either end of the couch with brass lamps and off-white lamp shades from which plastic diamonds hung. A television to the right of the couch, next to the fireplace with its mantle. Framed photos of Sadie and her family and friends. A greeting card. At this distance, Dean thought it was a birthday card.
He looked back at her. And he knew he was wrong. She had not betrayed him.
“Get out.” She had moved to the front door, still wide open. “Now.” She gestured for him to leave.
He nodded once and grimaced.
As he walked past her and onto the porch, she said, “Fuck you, Dean. I never want to see you again.”
She slammed the door behind him.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for visiting and your comments!