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“Whoa, what a minute,” Roth said, holding up his hands, feeling instantly uneasy. Because there could only be one way he could be of help. “You want me to talk to Moretti?”
Lund had shut the door and stood with his back to it. “Yes.”
“I don’t know anything about interrogating someone,” Roth said.
Jordan tapped his fingertip on the table. “Give me fifteen minutes with him without his attorney, and I could get him to talk.”
Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head no. “It doesn’t work that way, Jordan.”
“It’s worth a try,” he said.
Lund frowned at Jordan and gave him a curt nod to shut up. “I know you haven’t been trained in interrogation, Jonathon. But I have. So has Agent Sanchez. You’re going to have to trust us. We think you stand the best chance of getting him to talk. Now, listen. It’s all about asking the right questions.”
“But I don’t know what to—” Roth stopped when he saw Lund fish something from his pocket.
“This is an earpiece. A very small one. Moretti almost certainly won’t notice it. You might not know what to say, but I do.”
Roth watched from the other side of a one-way mirror as Carter paced on one side of a table, and Moretti and his lawyer sat on the other. Jordan had stayed behind in the conference room with the boys, but Steve Lund and Monica were both watching the interview with Roth.
It was weird seeing his high school friend, who’d put so many people away over the years, in a blue jumpsuit reminiscent of the scrubs a nurse would wear. Weirder still seeing him with his wrists cuffed. His attorney was a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense expression.
“So you can imagine our surprise, Mr. Moretti,” Carter said, his tone scathing, “to find a man of your pay grade and tenure with overseas accounts worth millions of dollars.” He held up a hand and ticked off his fingers. “Cayman Islands, Switzerland, Belize, Montevideo. Just to name a few.”
“Agent Carter,” said the attorney, “he does not have to recount his finances to you.”
“My point, Mrs. Brown, is that there is ample evidence of multiple crimes in addition to the one we’ve already charged him with: accomplice to kidnapping.”
“I am protecting my client’s rights, as per—”
“I know, Mrs. Brown. I know.” Carter turned to the one-way glass. “Send him in.”
Lund motioned for Roth to come forward. He took a deep breath before he started moving, trying to prepare himself for the confrontation. Although he’d have Lund in his ear, he felt completely unprepared. But he had to try. He had to.
When Roth entered the room, Moretti’s expression instantly changed from stubborn to stricken. He flinched and then looked down at his wrists, unable to meet his gaze. Lund shut the door.
There was a single chair opposite Moretti. Carter gave Roth a disdainful look and then nodded toward it. Roth sat down, feeling awkward and unsuited to the task.
“I guess it’s time to roll initiative,” Roth said. It was a D&D reference—when a party of characters was about to get into a fight, they’d roll a twenty-sided die to determine the order of combat.
Lund had suggested that he reference their history together, anything to soften Moretti and make him more likely to talk. It hurt to think of the old times, especially since their friend Westfall was dead—killed by Jacob Calakmul. The sting of betrayal hadn’t lessened.
Moretti made an involuntary chuckle. He shook his head. “I already rolled a one.”
“No, I feel like I did,” Roth said. He blew out his breath softly, trying to stay focused. “When we got back from Mexico without Sarina . . . I almost told you what was going on. But I knew you were a cop. I figured if I told you she was being held hostage, you’d have to report it. I didn’t want to involve you any more than I already had.” Roth felt another stab of pain. “But you were already involved.”
“You don’t have to answer him,” Mrs. Brown said. “Anything you say can be used against you.”
Roth heard the little voice in his ear. It was so quiet, it felt like it was coming from his own thoughts. “Remind him of what he said at the hotel. That you pissed off Calakmul.”
“At the Tidwell Hotel, you said I’d pissed off Calakmul.”
Moretti lifted his head slightly, meeting Roth’s gaze.
“That conversation will not be admissible evidence,” Mrs. Brown said. “Anything you say here will be.”
“He’s got your wife and children,” Roth said, ignoring the attorney. “He’s got my wife and my daughter. He wants to kill me. Because I tried to stop this.”
“You can’t stop it,” Moretti said. “It’s too late for that.”
