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That only happened when there were good cops out there, ones who actually cared about people instead of promotions.
The chief folded his arms across his chest. “Which cases you work isn’t your call.”
I stared him down. “I don’t want to be involved in this, Chief. I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. Because that’s your job. Your contact in the Sinners, DeWitt, landed his dumbass in jail, and now he’s running his mouth. I had a call from Liam Banks, reporting that I had a dirty cop. He called you out by name.”
The blood drained from my face. It was bad enough that word had got out internally. But if Liam had heard, that meant that there were probably others. The guards at the prison. Judges maybe. Everyone whispering behind my back. My face flamed hot with shame.
“You need to go down to the jail and talk to DeWitt. Get him to shut his mouth before the whole fucking case unravels.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not doing it.”
The chief sat back in his chair, pinning me with a hard glare. “You will. Because the man is also claiming that he ordered a hit on Jayela. And I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to talk to him about that.”
* * *
“Well, this is a surprise,” DeWitt drawled, led into the room by Rowe Pritchard, one of the prison officers Jayela and I were friendly with. “To what do I owe such a pleasure, Officer Boston?”
Rowe shoved DeWitt into the seat across the table and backed off to the corner of the room. “You good?” he asked me.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. I was so wired my heart pounded like I’d chugged half a dozen energy drinks.
He nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.
Dewitt grin was smarmy. Was it the smile of a man who’d put a hit out on a cop? I’d pondered that question over and over again as I’d driven out to the prison.
It took everything I had to sit calmly and study him, counting off the things I knew silently in the back of my mind. DeWitt was my contact within the Saint View Sinners. Exactly where he sat in their hierarchy, I never quite picked up, but the man had enough standing to offer a cop a bribe. At the insistence of my superiors, I’d fed DeWitt the information they wanted him to know.
That had seemed to keep everyone happy. Until DeWitt upset the balance by running his damn mouth.
I curled my fingers around the tabletop, nails pressing hard into the solid wood, trying to hold myself back, while I chose my words carefully. I couldn’t just launch into accusing him of ordering a hit. So I went for the smaller of two accusations first, trying to ease myself in, as much as him. My nerves were so frayed, the last few hanging on by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. “Who did you tell that I was on the take?”
DeWitt sat back, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t have the time or the patience for his games. Suspects did this all the time. Played dumb until I laid out the facts in front of them, one by one, proving beyond a doubt that they’d done the crime.
I didn’t have any proof this time, though. But my gut instinct told me this guy just liked to talk. My instincts shouted that he was a grunt, and that the Sinners had let him take the fall. After all, he was inside, doing time. And I hadn’t heard a whisper about anyone else in the gang going down. Maybe he didn’t realize it, but maybe they’d thrown him under the bus. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’ve just had my chief up my ass about it.”
DeWitt grinned slyly. “You ever tried that? You’d probably like it.”
I ground my molars. “Who did you tell?” I didn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. But I wanted to know what he was saying, and to who. I was sick of letting other people run the show. I was sick of being forced into deals I didn’t want a part of. I was sick of the chief holding my job over my head.
The rose-colored glasses I’d worn when I joined the police force had been ripped from my face. Then stomped on, over and over, until nothing was left but dust.
DeWitt leaned forward, the smile dropping from his face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it.”
I’d become the glasses, pulverized by a boot, kicked and stomped until there was nothing left of me. “I’ve been letting you deal with it for months. How about you start talking, and I deal with it.”
DeWitt drummed his fat fingers on the tabletop. “The new guy. Michaelson. You know, the one you put in here for your bitch partner’s murder? You guys fucked up there. There is no way he did it. You and I both know that, though, don’t we?”
I froze as his words sank in. I hadn’t wanted to listen to the inkling idea in the back of my mind that poked holes in the arrest of Heath Michaelson. I knew that confession had been beaten out of him, but the rest—the fingerprints on the murder weapon, the motive, the opportunity…I’d let all of that push the idea aside. I’d ignored Mae when she’d told me it wasn’t Heath.
I launched across the table, grabbing DeWitt by his shirt. I shoved him back against the wall until his head hit the brick, my hands creeping up to circle his throat. “Was it you? Did you kill her?”
DeWitt chuckled, though the sound was choked by the pressure I exerted on his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know?
A hand clamped down on my arm, breaking my hold on DeWitt’s neck.
