Page 52 of Outsider

I take the chair across from her and slide one of the cups toward her. “Did you take it?”

She humphs. “If I’d taken that kind of cash, you can bet your ass I would not be here.”

I say nothing.

She reaches for the cup, but doesn’t drink, sets it back down, agitated. “So, yeah, I’m worried. These guys have a lot to lose, Kate. I know what they’re capable of. I have a pretty good idea of how far they’ll go to protect themselves.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” I ask.

She laughs, but not before I see the apprehension peek out from beneath the mask she’s so good at keeping in place. “Let me put it this way: If they come here with a warrant and place me under arrest, I will not survive the ordeal. I will be dead inside of twenty-four hours.”

A chill plows across the backs of my shoulders. I don’t want to believe sworn police officers, men who’ve devoted their lives to the department, are capable of murdering one of their own to protect themselves. I hate it that I’m now open to the possibility.

“Veteran detectives don’t go around killing people,” I say. “They sure as hell don’t go around killing cops. Not without bringing down the wrath of those of us who walk the straight and narrow.”

She snorts, but this time her bravado falters. “Oh, they’ll make it look perfectly legitimate. They’ll make it believable. Cover all their bases and no one will be the wiser. And they will come out of it looking like heroes.”

It’s a disturbing scenario. For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure what to think. No LEO wants to believe career cops are involved in a level of corruption that includes extortion and murder. Complicating all of it is the kernel of mistrust I’ve felt for Gina since the moment I laid eyes on her, lying on that cot.

“They are cold-blooded sons of bitches,” she whispers. “I’ve seen it. Firsthand.” She sends me an acrid look. “They’re thieves, rapists, and worse.”

I nod, not sure I want to hear what she’s going to say next, knowing I don’t have a choice. “So tell me what you know.”

Closing her eyes tightly, as if to erase something branded into her mind’s eye, she shakes her head. “It happened during a raid. Bertrand and Mercer arrested a young woman, barely out of her teens. She was pretty. Tough talking. Cussing them. Covered with tats. They cuffed her, put her in their vehicle, and they left the scene. I was busy, working evidence or whatever. I didn’t think too much about it until her mother reported her missing four days later.”

“What happened?”

“No one ever saw her again.”

“You think Bertrand and Mercer…” I struggle with the word pulsing at the back of my brain. “You think they murdered her?”

“There was never a body.” She shrugs. “She was a prostitute. High-risk profession, right? Hey, shit happens. Those kinds of women disappear all the time. Aside from her mom, she didn’t have any family. No one who cared about her. Who’s going to point a finger at a couple of career detectives?”

“Did you ask either of them about it?” I ask.

“They claim they never took her into custody. Every cop there backed them up.” She raises her gaze to mine, and in that instant, I barely recognize her through the cloud of emotions roiling just beneath the surface. “I never turned my back to Mercer or Bertrand again.”

I pull out my notebook. “Does this girl have a name?”

“Tammi Guyer.”

I write it down. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Because I don’t have any proof. No offense, Kate, but you haven’t exactly been receptive to some of the things I’ve told you.”

I say nothing as I tuck the notebook back into my pocket. But I’m keenly aware of the chill at the base of my spine. Not for the first time, I think about Adam and the children. And I realize the one thing I am utterly certain of is that I don’t want them involved in any of this.

CHAPTER 16

Tomasetti arrives a little later in the afternoon. I meet him at the front door, pleased to see him and hoping for news as I invite him inside. I’ve been stuck out here for a couple of days now and, phone calls and one short visit aside, I’ve missed him.

“Did anyone ever tell you you look good in that snowsuit?” I ask.

I know the instant he takes off the helmet that he’s got news and it isn’t good.

“Where’s Colorosa?” he asks.

“I’m right here.”