by Ally Shields
“He thought mother needed money for her treatments,” Josh said. “But I had most of it covered through my insurance.”
Harry shook his head. “You were paying the rest yourself. I wanted to help, but instead I ended up owing over three hundred thousand to Big Mike’s syndicate.”
“Oh, Harry,” Annie gripped his hand. “How did you let it get to be so much?”
“It wasn’t hard.” He gave her a grim look. “It only took a couple of really bad bets. Anyway, I couldn’t cover my losses.”
“And he didn’t confide in me,” Josh said.
Harry sighed as if he’d heard the full lecture before and went on. “When one of Big Mike’s enforcers threatened to break my fingers or legs, I hid out with my so-called friends, but someone ratted me out. When he found me, I was given the alternative to do a couple of risky runs into the prison system, and they’d wipe out my debt. I eventually agreed.”
“What kind of runs?” Maggie asked, but she already knew the answer.
“Drugs. Mostly heroin.”
Annie put a silent hand over her mouth.
“Whoa, back up,” Josh interrupted, frowning at Harry. “They didn’t just threaten you, they threatened mother. It doesn’t make it right, but easier to understand how you made such a dumb mistake.”
“Would you stop interrupting and let me tell this my way?” Harry threw his brother an exasperated look.
“Then tell it all.”
“I’m trying.” Harry turned toward the women, his voice brisk, determined. “The truth is I ran into Josh on the way to a drop-off with a backpack full of heroin, the cops had gotten wind of the transfer. When they showed up, he claimed the backpack was his.”
“I understand protecting your brother,” Annie said, then turned her gaze to Harry. “But why did you let him?”
“I tried—”
“I told him to keep his mouth shut,” Josh said curtly.
The rest of the story came out slowly—Harry’s past possession of marijuana convictions that would have enhanced the new charges enough to put him behind bars while their mother was dying, the deal with the DA that eventually got Josh’s charges dropped in return for Harry’s secret testimony. Big Mike and his enforcer were both indicted on drug charges; Harry went into witness protection. The trial was still pending for December 28.
“I couldn’t let WP keep me away from Mom. Not after we’d both gone to such lengths to avoid a separation during her illness. So I dropped out of the program, and here we are.”
Maggie turned to Josh. “I don’t understand why you lost your job.”
“It took four months to work out a deal with the DA. My bridges were burned by then.”
Yeah, a cop had to have the confidence of the rest of his squad, but why didn’t he just explain? Surely he could have reestablished his reputation.
“He wasn’t fired,” Harry said. “His supervisors know the truth, but he quit—without telling me—rather than let the PD announce he’d been cleared.” He quirked his mouth. “Protecting me again, hoping Big Mike wouldn’t learn the name of the secret witness until the trial was over, but it leaked anyway.”
Josh shrugged it off. “I couldn’t go back.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Annie said, squeezing Harry’s hand. “A lot of things make sense now. And you have a rather marvelous big brother.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“OK. I think that about does it.” Josh stood abruptly. “Maggie, you ready? We still have a lot of work to do. We’ll see you guys later.”
Not surprised by his discomfort, she followed him out, catching up to slip her hand in his. Harry’s story hadn’t been unexpected, except for the extent of Josh’s sacrifice. For a cop to allow a blow like that to his reputation was an incredibly selfless act, a career ender. But she’d seen the look in Harry’s eyes. He knew what it had cost and what he owed.
“I know you don’t want to hear it,” she said softly. “But you’re something else, Detective Brandt.”
He threw her a brief smile, and they both let the subject drop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Their tension grew with every passing hour. Each black line through a name brought Maggie and Josh closer to identifying the District 13 mole. When that happened, the dominos would start to fall.
By seven o’clock that evening, Maggie developed an uneasy knot in her stomach, then a tightness in her throat. They continued to cross off names and compare lists, but one name stayed…and it stood out from the others.
At eight-thirty Josh received the anticipated photo from Tessa, and Maggie’s heart sank. Thirty minutes later, Annie found the suspect’s hidden financial accounts. Maggie and Josh double-checked the name against every crime scene with missing evidence and his known whereabouts on the dates of the Hurst and Pardson murders. There were a few gaps, things unknown. The evidence wasn’t foolproof, but it was pretty damning.
Josh finally circled the name with a black marker. Ray Coridan. Maggie’s former partner had vaulted to the top spot on the suspect list.
She’d seen it coming for the past two hours as they steadily tied his name to the crime scenes with missing evidence, but it still stunned her. She slumped back in the kitchen chair and shook her head in disbelief. “Why would he work for Castile? Why didn’t I know?” Her eyes locked with Josh’s. “He must have known about the attempt to kill me. Maybe even helped plan it.”
“We can’t be sure yet.” Josh held out his hand, his expression shaded with concern.
“You can’t make this easier for me, Josh.” She snatched the printout of the photo and shook it. “There’s no doubt about this. It’s a little blurry, but I’d recognize him anywhere. He was my partner, dammit. And why would an innocent cop have hidden bank accounts?” She threw it back on the table. “I thought we got along. I didn’t let him get too close because he kept asking me out, but I suppose that was just part of his cover. Geez, this stinks big time.” She pushed out of her chair and went to the fridge for a beer.
He followed her and pulled her back against his chest. “Don’t make it personal. He’s a professional killer. They don’t think like the rest of us do.”
“If he wanted me dead, why didn’t he finish the job? He’s been in my apartment. We’ve been alone dozens of times. I suppose he was the intruder who put the bullet in my fridge. So, why did he run away?” She turned in his arms. “Oh, God, Josh. Do you think he killed Wernier?”
“I don’t know, Maggie. We’ll ask the bastard all of that and more when we catch him.”
“Do we have proof enough to get him?”
“Maybe not for court—especially since Annie’s financial stuff isn’t legal—but enough to approach the captain.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Then let’s put together a plan to catch him.” She glanced at the time on her laptop screen. “It’s going to be ten o’clock soon. Maybe we should give Jenson a heads up before he goes to bed. If we hope to keep this under wraps a little longer, talking away from the office is the only way Coridan won’t suspect.”
They gathered the pertinent notes and had Captain Jenson on speakerphone two minutes later. They went over the information they’d gathered, and Josh emailed him the photo from his informant. Jenson heard them out in silence, took a look at the picture, and swore in words Maggie hadn’t heard him use before.
“It’s him all right,” Jenson said. “But we can’t use the financials against him?”
“Definitely inadmissible,” she admitted. “We’d need a warrant to get them.”
“We don’t have enough to approach a judge,” he said reluctantly. “This bites, Maggie. Right under our noses. If he’s a professional cleaner for Castile, how many has he killed we don’t know about?” Since the captain was mostly talking to himself, coming to terms with the concept he had a dirty cop in the precinct, neither of them said anything. “Have you figured out a way to prove this to the DA?”
“We’re working on it,” Josh sa
id.
“When you do, come see me. If it’s not till morning, I want Brandt to come in alone. If York shows up again, it’ll raise too much suspicion. Coridan’s no dummy.”
“He already asked me about my Sunday morning visit.”
“Did he now?” The captain seemed bothered by that. “That means he’s keeping an eye on one or both of us. I don’t like it. Probably you, after you stirred up Castile. So, be careful. I know you’ve heard that before, but he’s already killed three or four people…that we know of. That gives him a lot of motive to keep you quiet.”
As Maggie and Josh went back over the events of the last few weeks and months, multiple questions were answered by Coridan’s culpability. Maggie had reserved a tiny doubt in the back of her mind, but it gradually faded. There were things they might never understand—like the intrusion at her apartment—but they could make educated guesses on others. The bullet from the Otley scene, for example, must have vanished into Coridan’s pocket and ended up somewhere like the bottom of the Mississippi River.
Maggie pushed back her chair. She needed to stretch her legs, and there might be another piece they could fit into the puzzle. “Josh, let’s go for a drive.”
It took a couple of sweeps of the streets near Coridan’s apartment, but they found the black Tahoe. While Josh kept watch, Maggie crouched behind the vehicle and scraped a paint sample into an evidence bag. “Gotcha, partner.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I filed that hit and run report for you. By the book, Red.”
“Look who’s talking.” She straightened and handed him the sample bag. “Your evidence, detective.”
At five o’clock that morning, Maggie looked across the kitchen table at Josh and shrugged. “He’s guilty as hell, but there’s only one way to get him. We have to set a trap.”
After an early call to Jenson and gaining his approval, Maggie strolled into District 13 shortly after roll call that morning carrying a stack of files. Junk files, but no one would know that; they looked real enough. She gave a brief wave to several colleagues, and when one of them asked if she was coming back soon, she said, “I sure hope so.” But her stride and attitude exuded confidence. When Coridan attempted to catch her eye, she looked away and disappeared into Jenson’s office.
Maggie set the files on his desk and sank into a visitor’s chair across from him. “That should get the rumor mill going.”
“When this is over, don’t forget to get that psych test. I can’t do this for real without a clean bill of health.”
“You’ll have it. I’m OK, Captain.”
He nodded. “You still have to prove it to the shrinks. Where’s Brandt?”
“Sleeping. It was a short night. I’ll catch a few hours later, so we’ll both be ready for tonight. I don’t expect any action till then.”
“I wish I could put a tail on Coridan.” He gestured sharply when she started to protest. “Oh, I won’t. He’d spot it in a minute, but I’m not happy with you two going it alone.”
“We won’t be alone all the time. And look at it this way, Captain. If we get killed, at least you’ll know who did it.”
His brows lowered, and he shot her a direct look. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll fail a psych test.”
“Sorry. It was a feeble stab at a joke.” She looked at the clock on his desk and rose. “Ten minutes is about right, don’t you think? Shall we give them something more to think about?”
She opened the door, and for thirty long seconds she and the captain stood in the doorway and grimly scanned the squad room. Several officers glanced their way, a couple more than once. Maggie finally turned, nodded at Jenson, and started for the door. Coridan got up from his desk as if to cut her off, but she ignored him and quickly left.
Outside the building, Maggie smiled to herself. The SOB had to be wondering what that was about. And in a few minutes the lab manager, Cory Devane, would be called to the captain’s office. Cory had already been clued in and agreed to spread the word Maggie was working off the books on a special investigation. A visit from Internal Affairs shortly afterward should raise the hairs on Coridan’s neck.
When she arrived at Josh’s apartment, she drank half a pot of coffee, fighting to stay awake until the right moment to wave another red flag. At eleven, the captain was gathering the squad to make an announcement regarding new procedures on evidence tagging. At precisely eleven oh one, she called Coridan’s number. Since no one was allowed to take phone calls when the captain was speaking, the call went to messaging.
“This is Maggie. Do you recall who handled the evidence on the Otley case? I think we have a problem.” With any luck, he’d try to make it go away by coming after her.
Maggie woke at four-thirty that afternoon. Coridan had called her phone while she was sleeping, but Josh had let it go unanswered.
“I didn’t want to alert him we were together. This only works if he thinks you’re vulnerable.”
She nodded and checked to see if he’d left a message. He hadn’t. “He’ll call back. We have his attention.”
They waited, staying away from the windows. He might not know where they were, but there was no sense in taking chances. Their best hope of catching him was to force a meeting out in the open…where they could call in backup.
Coridan’s second call came at five-thirty. Maggie answered this time.
“What’s going on, York? Why the questions about Otley?”
“I can’t discuss it. Not even with you. But about Otley…did you collect any evidence yourself? What about under the trash bin? I’m nearly positive I saw a bullet.”
He let out an audible breath. “Hell, Maggie, we went over this. There was no bullet.”
“I’m not so sure.” She let the doubt hang in the air.
“Well, I’m sure.” Annoyance crept into his voice. “But there’s more going on, isn’t there? Why’d you avoid me this morning?”
“I didn’t, but I couldn’t stay and talk either. The captain was watching.”
“Watching for what? What have you gotten into? Maybe I can help. Why don’t we meet where we can talk more freely?”
“I don’t know. This is big, Ray. If Jenson found out I told you…” She forced herself to sound reluctant, letting Coridan push the idea of a meeting.
“Who’s going to tell him?”
“Well…I could use the help. I miss tossing ideas around with you. And, well, I owe you a heads-up.”
There was a pause after her last comment. “Uh, great. Shall we say eight o’clock? How about the riverwalk near Jackson Square?”
“OK. I can do that. But don’t mention it to anyone.”
“No problem. See you then.”
Maggie gave a derisive snort after she disconnected. “You bet, creep.” She looked at Josh. “I’ve got a date with a killer tonight.”
* * *
By seven o’clock a three-man sniper unit was in place, covering the Mississippi River bank near Jackson Square, and four unmarked cars waited less than a block away. At seven-thirty Maggie and Josh left his apartment building through the backdoor, took his truck, and parked near Cafe du Monde.
Her pulse sped up the instant she stepped out of the cab. The dark, nearly moonless night prevented her from seeing them, but at least three snipers had their sights trained on the area. This could be a critical moment if Coridan was a fourth. A night scope would make this an easy shot. She was counting on him wanting to know how much the PD knew or suspected. But killers were unpredictable.
She watched for a telltale laser beam, but it didn’t always happen that way, except in movies. A fatal shot could come without warning. Her palms grew sweaty. She momentarily flashed back to another dark night…in a courtyard…
Maggie shut down those thoughts, took a deep breath, and walked toward the path along the water. Brandt went with her until they neared the riverbank. He wore a wire in one ear to communicate with the backup teams and already held his Beretta at his side. He stopped, and she walked o
n alone, emerging onto the open riverwalk.
She turned to the left, following the path, and stopped about twenty-five yards away to wait. Her phone read 7:56. She looked back the direction she’d come, but Josh had faded into the background. The only people in sight were a couple walking a golden retriever. She scanned the area, watching for movement, listening for footsteps. All she heard was the lapping of water against the stones below her path.
She checked her phone screen again. 8:05. He was taking his time.
A flash of light over the water caught her attention. Her shoulders tightened. A reflection from something? A rifle? Then the spot grew and morphed into something vaguely resembling Hurst’s figure. He glided onto the shoreline and moved toward her. His image flared—in, out, in, out—much as he’d done the night of her apartment intruder. Was he warning her Coridan was coming? She turned to take another look.
When the ghostly form rushed toward her, Maggie dodged away, fearing another jolt of that searing cold. Hurst slowed abruptly but swirled around her twice before breaking away and darting toward the city streets. When she continued to stand there, he came back and turned again, his swift movements leaving jagged, scattered wisps. What was he trying to tell her? Something was wrong…and Coridan was late.
Or Coridan had fooled them, and she wasn’t his target.
Oh my God. Josh. Selena had warned her. Your actions will place another in danger. She took off running toward his last known position. Hurst’s ghost shot past her. She frantically searched for Josh’s familiar figure among the buildings and trees or for a body on the path.
Then Josh stepped out of the shadows and caught her. “What’s wrong? What happened out there?”
She gripped his arms, mentally regrouping. “It’s Hurst. He’s acting like he’s warning me, and I recalled what Selena said about putting someone else in danger. I thought it was you. But if Coridan didn’t lure me here to kill one of us, then who? Where didn’t he want us to be?”
