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“And Calakmul doesn’t know,” Roth whispered.
Moretti’s eyes shot toward his. He looked frantic. “He does now,” he said gruffly. “She works for him.” He jerked his head toward the attorney.
The woman rose hastily from the chair, the metal legs of it screeching as she backed away.
Carter walked over to the door. “Oh?” he asked with a cunning smile.
“You cannot keep me here,” the attorney snapped. “I have not been charged with a crime. I’m leaving.”
“So you can tell your boss?” Carter asked. She started toward the door, but he blocked it with his body. “No need to be in such a hurry, Mrs. Brown.”
“You cannot hold me against my consent,” the attorney repeated, her cheeks flushed. She looked guilty. Very guilty.
“Actually, I have probable cause now, thanks to Mr. Moretti implicating you,” Carter said. “I think we need to bring you to a separate room and start this conversation all over again from the beginning. Sanchez, can you come in here and remove her, please?”
The attorney’s eyes flashed with anger. She backed away from Carter, standing behind Moretti. Then she reached down and quickly traced something on the back of Moretti’s neck. Roth had seen Calakmul do that. He’d traced a glyph on Sarina when she was in a coma.
“Don’t touch him!” Roth said, scooting back in his chair and coming to his feet.
Moretti twisted his shoulders, having felt her touch, his eyes wide with fear.
Carter drew his gun and pointed it at the attorney. “Hands in the air!”
The attorney complied, hands up. “I did nothing! Nothing!”
Moretti was jerking back and forth and breathing fast. The attorney backed away into the corner.
With a table separating him from the attorney, Roth felt safe looking away from her to study his friend’s face. He’d gone pale.
“You okay, bud?” Roth asked him.
Moretti twisted his neck and looked at the attorney with fear. Then he began rubbing his chest with his fist. “I don’t . . . something’s not right,” he muttered. He rubbed his chest again.
Carter kept his pistol aimed at the attorney.
Moretti began to tremble. Sweat popped out on his forehead. “What’d you do to me!” he roared, trying to stand and fumbling. He was becoming increasingly pale.
The attorney stared at him, then a little smile crept across her face. She’d done whatever she’d set out to do.
“Te maté,” the attorney whispered.
Roth knew what that meant in Spanish.
I killed you.
Lund entered the conference room with a tray of food for lunch. A few sandwiches, bags of chips, and sodas. Monica entered with him. Roth had been pacing the room while Jordan played hangman on a white board with the twins at the far end of the table.
“I’m starving,” Jordan announced. “That’s all for me, right?”
“It’s for all of us,” Lucas said.
Monica didn’t smile. She motioned for Roth to approach her while Lund brought the tray to the far end of the table. He heard them murmuring, but his brain didn’t interpret the words because his focus was on Monica. Specifically on the look in her eyes. She had news, and he wasn’t going to like it.
“How’s Moretti?” he asked with concern when he reached her.
“He’s gone,” Monica said with a sigh. “They took him to Georgetown, but he went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance. We’ve got his blood work going to the FBI lab at Quantico to see what toxin killed him.”
Roth felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Now his two best friends from high school were dead. The pain in his own chest was searing. He felt tears sting his eyes. Moretti had stabbed him in the back, but he hadn’t wanted him to go out like this. He’d wanted him to have a redemption arc, to turn this thing around.
