by G. K. Parks
“It could just be a few buyers.”
“It could,” I agreed. “There’s been a lot of activity at their base camp for the last few weeks. We’ll need to identify the players involved and find out who might have been waiting for a delivery.” I grabbed my jacket. “You might as well give me a ride back to the office.”
“Parker, you’re not cleared for desk duty yet. You can’t be involved.”
“Which is more important, Lucca? Protocol or preventing a potentially heinous attack?”
“Both. If they’re planning something, we need to be able to grab them and hold them without some slimy defense attorney twisting things around. Your mental functions could be impaired which could affect your work. It could have legal ramifications down the line.”
“So why the hell did you tell me any of this?”
“Because if getting your help saves someone’s life, that’s more important than the rest of this shit.”
“You just contradicted yourself.”
“You can coach from the bench, but you aren’t being called in to play.”
“That’s why you came over. You wanted something from me.” I snorted. “And to think, I was feeling guilty for eating your sandwich. Next time, bring me dinner too.”
“Only if you come up with an original idea that I haven’t already explored.” He lifted the folder off the desk. “I’m glad your memory is returning. Hopefully, once it does, you can take point on this Shade shit.” He went to the door, reaching for the knob just as a loud knock sounded.
“Police, open up,” bellowed a voice from the other side.
“Friends of yours?” Lucca asked.
“My friends are too clever to announce themselves. They know I’d never answer if they did,” I replied.
More knocking sounded, and Lucca opened the door. Detectives Delaney and Collins were standing in the hallway. They gave Lucca an uncertain look, but he stood his ground.
“Alexis Parker,” Delaney called from the hallway, “we have a warrant.” He pushed past Lucca and entered my apartment while Collins maintained a wary eye on my partner.
“For what?” I asked.
“Ma’am, you’re under arrest,” Delaney said.
“The hell she is,” Lucca replied, stepping closer. Collins attempted to intervene, and Lucca practically growled at him. “I’m a federal agent. If you lay a hand on me, I’ll arrest you for assault and interfering in a federal investigation. Is that clear?” Obviously, the interagency pissing match had begun.
“What are the charges?” I asked. He held the warrant out, and I read it. “This is bullshit. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Your gun was found at the scene of a homicide. Your prints were also there, and I’m guessing that when the results come back, your DNA will confirm that as well,” Delaney said. “Do you intend to make this more difficult than it needs to be? We can place you there. Don’t bother denying it.”
“I might have been there, but that doesn’t mean shit,” I said.
“She didn’t do it,” Lucca said. He snatched the paper from my hand and read it.
“That’s for a jury of her peers to decide, now isn’t it?” Collins sneered.
“Fine,” I put my hands on my head and turned my back to them, “do your job, Detective.”
“Alexis Parker, you have the right to remain silent,” Delaney began, holding both of my hands in one of his while he performed a quick pat down. He continued to recite the Miranda warning while clicking the cuffs in place. I gasped at the sudden memory and the pain that shot through my sprained wrist which was now twisted and locked at an uncomfortable angle.
“C’mon, she’s hurt. She’s complying with your ridiculous demands. That isn’t necessary,” Lucca said.
“It most certainly is,” Collins replied. “Did you know there’s a jacket on Agent Parker? This isn’t the first time that she’s been wanted for murder, but we’ll make sure this one sticks.”
“Parker, don’t say a word,” Lucca warned, following us out the door with his phone in hand. “I’m calling Jablonsky. We’ll have counsel meet you at the police station.” He glared at Collins. “What precinct are you going to?”
“I don’t remember. All those numbers blur together after a while.”
“Fine,” Lucca made eye contact with me as I was dragged down the hallway toward the stairs, “I’ll be right behind you. We’ll get this straightened out ASAP.”
“It’s fine, Eddie. This is just a misunderstanding. Tell Mark what happened. He’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Wow, even in handcuffs, these feds think they’re calling the shots. They think they can do anything,” Collins said to Delaney. “We’ll see how things look when she’s been sent through central booking.” He smiled evilly at me. “Most cops don’t do well in lockup. I’m guessing the same holds true for you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re already injured. The sharks will smell the blood in the water. Think about that on our drive. Maybe you’ll reconsider keeping your mouth shut.”
Delaney looked at me. “If you didn’t do it, answer our questions. The sooner we can clear you, the sooner we can nail whoever is responsible. Talking to us can only help you.”
That was bullshit. I knew they were playing good cop, bad cop. The evidence they had was circumstantial. Jablonsky would bring them the proof they needed, and this would be sorted out. Forcing myself to remain optimistic, I knew once I was cleared, their efforts would be focused on finding the real perpetrator, and then justice would be served for those two lost souls and my missing hours. It would be okay. It had to be.
Nineteen
“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” Delaney asked. I was sitting on the wrong side of an interrogation table. At least the pricks had been nice enough to remove the handcuffs. “It’s the least we can do until this mess gets sorted out.”
“I’m fine.” I stared at him, pulling my legs up in the chair and resting my chin on my knees. “How are you doing?”
He gave me a look. “I’m okay.”
“Really?”
“Agent Parker,” he glanced down at the folder in front of him, “Alexis, why don’t you take me through what happened that night at Pepper? We have your gun. Three bullets are missing from the clip. Ballistics matched the slugs we pulled from the victims to your weapon. Your prints are on the gun. Your prints are on the SUV where the bodies were discovered, and we found this.” He slid a sealed evidence bag across the table. Inside were my OIO credentials.
“That picture doesn’t do me justice,” I said. I squished up my face. “Hell, are you sure that those are even mine?”
“Oh, so you’re telling me that the badge number, your photo ID, and your government-issued nine millimeter don’t belong to you but rather some other OIO agent with the exact same name?”
I shrugged.
“And that person just happens to have the exact same fingerprints. How stupid do you think I am?”
“I know better than to answer that.” I dropped my legs and leaned forward. “You’re looking at this all wrong, Delaney. I understand why you think the things that you do, but you’re missing the bigger picture. So am I.” My words could be dangerous, and I was careful in what I said. “It has to do with the restaurant.”
“What does?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s bullshit. You honestly expect me to believe that something bigger is going on here, but you don’t know what it is? That’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard. Prove that you didn’t do this. Tell me why you were there, who you were meeting, and what the hell happened so we can both do our jobs.”
“Honestly, I’d tell you if I could.” I closed my mouth and returned to my previous position.
“I’ve seen your hospital admittance records, and I spoke to the EMT that treated you the following morning. Right now, your office is being subpoenaed to turn over everything relating to you and the condition they found you in. I’m sure you must ha
ve been covered in evidence. You should change your tune before we get it. Things will go a lot easier. I’ll do what I can to extend you a professional courtesy but only if you talk to me.”
“Really, you think that I’m responsible? I was lucky to escape with my life. What do you think happened?” I couldn’t help myself. “You’ve seen enough already, so piece it together, Mr. Ace Detective.”
He snorted. “Why should I? You won’t answer my questions. Make this a fair trade, and I’ll tell you what I think.”
“I want my lawyer. This interview is over.”
“You’ll regret that.” He went to the door. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to reconsider.”
Resisting the urge to say something vindictive, I kept my mouth shut. Since being taken to the precinct, I’d been booked and held in an interrogation room. The accommodations were adequate, but the company sucked. What sucked more was the fact that I understood why they thought I was responsible. Frankly, I wasn’t positive that I hadn’t pulled the trigger on one of the dead men. The evidence pointed to me, but they should have realized that no self-respecting federal agent would leave a calling card at the crime scene or commit murder with her service piece. That would be idiotic. Hell, it was idiotic for a frame-up job, but I suspected that might have been what the actual assailant had hoped to accomplish. Too bad I didn’t know who had done this. The only name I could provide was Jakov Horvat, and even that was a shot in the dark.
“Hey,” I said, staring at the mirrored glass, “I changed my mind. I have something to say.”
A few minutes later, the door opened and Collins entered. He must have been watching while Delaney questioned me. He took a seat and stared with cold, dead eyes in that intimidating way that only seasoned law enforcement was capable of achieving.
“So talk,” he said.
“The arrest warrant left a number of blanks, and you and your partner haven’t exactly been forthcoming. So maybe you’d like to tell me who was killed.”
“You sick, twisted piece of shit,” Collins spat, “as if you don’t know.”
“I don’t know.” I enunciated each word. “Who was killed? What were their names?”
He crossed the room and yanked me out of the chair and into the cinderblock wall. “You tell me. You set up the meet. You lured him to that place, and you killed him. Now you want me to believe that you forgot what his fucking name was?”
“I set up the meet?” My mind was focused on the new details rather than the irate cop. “Why would I have picked Pepper?”
“You fucking bitch,” Collins screamed. That time, I heard the pain in his voice. He’d lost a friend. “How could you?”
“I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
He slammed me against the wall again, but I didn’t struggle or fight back. I felt empathy for him and remorse for not saving his friend. The masochistic part of my mind considered that I deserved this.
“Collins, back off,” Delaney said, entering the room with an officer at his heels. “Let her go.”
“Greg’s dead. She killed him. She needs to pay,” Collins growled.
“I didn’t kill him. I want to help you find the person that did,” I insisted.
“Lies,” Collins spat. He moved to throw a punch, but Delaney pulled him away before that could happen. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll make sure of it.”
Delaney tossed another look my way while he led Collins out of the room. “Take her to holding. I want her out of our sight.”
“Ma’am,” the officer said, unsure exactly how to proceed, “come with me, please.” He put his hand on my elbow and led me out of the interrogation room and down the corridor. Normally, I’d be cuffed, but I guess he wasn’t sure due to the brace on my wrist and the encounter I’d just had with the detective.
“Parker?” Lucca called, quickly getting to his feet. “What’s going on? Where are they taking you?”
“Back away, sir,” the officer said. “She’ll be held downstairs until her attorney arrives.”
“That’s insane,” Lucca protested, but I gave him a sharp look.
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen the inside of a holding cell,” I said.
The officer’s grip tightened, and he pulled me away from Lucca and toward the elevator. He didn’t speak again until he passed my sheet to the officer in charge and had the door to the cage unlocked. This particular police station was older than most of the others in the city and rather rundown. The women’s holding cell was one large unit that had originally served as the drunk tank. I stood outside, staring at the dozen women. Based on looks alone, I’d say a couple had been picked up for solicitation, half might have been pinched for drugs, but four of them looked like they’d just lost a MMA fight. He gave my back a push, and I winced, feeling the impact of Collins’ outburst.
“Are the accommodations not to your liking?” he mocked. “Did you make a reservation for a private room?”
“Something like that.”
“We must have lost it. Too bad,” he shoved me inside and slammed the door, “you had your chance earlier.” He nodded at the officer on duty, who checked the lock. Then he waited for the other man to walk away before saying, “I guess you’re used to swankier accommodations at the federal building. It’s too bad none of your co-workers at the FBI thought to spring you.” He said it loud enough that the women inside could hear.
“You son-of-a-bitch,” I muttered.
Violence wasn’t allowed in interrogations. It was considered police brutality, but letting someone else do the hitting was considered an accident or perhaps negligence. Keeping my eyes down, I took a seat on the end of the nearest bench, closest to the door, and put my back against the bars. The ache was getting worse, but this was the most strategic move that I could make. Then I placed one heel on the seat in front of me and rested my cheek against my leg, keeping my head tilted toward the ground. My peripheral vision monitored the area, but so far, no one had acknowledged me. That was good, but I didn’t know if it would last.
“Hey,” someone said, but I didn’t look up. “Hey, girl, I’m talking to you.” I suspected that I was the ‘you’ she was referring to, but I pretended not to notice. “Bitch, I’m speaking to you. Are you deaf or something? You got a broke arm. Do you have broke ears too?”
Slowly, I drew my head up, glaring in her direction. “What?”
“Is that shit true?” she asked, standing. Two of the other women flanked her. “You sure as hell don’t look like any FBI agent I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not looking for trouble. I’ve got enough of it.” I dropped my gaze, hoping she’d lose interest. Unfortunately, she didn’t. She crossed the cell and stood in front of me with her posse of reject fighters. “I just want to be left alone.”
“Answer my question.”
“Shit, you sound like the cops upstairs.” I dropped my leg and looked up at her. “I don’t want to get jammed up here. Neither do you. So I’ll stay out of your way.” There was the remote possibility that one of these women had been planted by the cops in the hopes of gaining information from me, so talking to anyone wasn’t advisable.
“So why’d he say it if it wasn’t true?” she asked, jerking her head at the empty corridor outside the cell.
“Because he has a small dick, and I wouldn’t blow him.” Jokes were usually the way to go in these situations.
“She’s too tiny to be a fed,” the woman beside her whispered loudly, “and she’s dressed all wrong. She looks like a yoga instructor or pot dealer.”
“Nah,” my antagonist said, leaning over me and making exaggerated sniffing sounds, “she’s got the stink on her. Ain’t that right?”
“I won’t say it again,” I warned. “Leave me alone.”
“C’mon,” one of her minions said, grabbing her arm, “it’s not our problem. We’re already in enough trouble.”
“Yeah, fine, she’s not worth it,” my antagonist said.
&nbs
p; They went back to their previous spot across the cell and sat down. I felt her eyes continue to bore into me, but I kept my head down and my mouth shut. A few minutes later, another officer that I’d never seen before opened the cage to let one of the hookers out.
“Parker,” he said, “your boss is on the way. We’ll bring you upstairs when he gets here.”
I didn’t acknowledge him or his words, hoping to keep things calm, but my mouthy cellmate loudly asked, “Why the hell does she get out? What makes her so special?” Thankfully, the cop didn’t say anything in return. My hope that she didn’t realize I was Parker was short-lived when she barked more questions at me. “Who’s coming here to get you out? Is it one of your FBI friends?” I remained silent, feeling the increasing tension build. “Answer me, bitch.” She crossed the room and gave my shoulder a shove.
“Touch me again, and you’ll regret it,” I growled. Keeping a low profile was preferred, but being submissive was asking for trouble.
“Why? Are you going to arrest me?” She shoved my shoulder again. “It looks like you can’t tell anyone what to do now.”
“Fine.” I looked up at her, seeing the two other women close in on the sides. If I stood, it’d be seen as an act of aggression that might lead to a fight. So I remained still, poised to move if the situation warranted it. “I’ll mind my own business.”
“Yeah, that’s what you did every time you arrested someone, right? You were minding your own business. You never thought that they might have to do what they do in order to survive. That not all of us are pretty little things that have it easy.” She shoved me again. Her anger was at the system and what it represented. Unfortunately, she decided that I was the embodiment of everything wrong with society and the criminal justice system. “That’s why you’re getting out of this hellhole because you’re somebody that knows somebody.”
“Lady, I don’t have a beef with you.”
“That makes one of us,” she spat.
She moved faster than I anticipated and slapped me across the face. Glaring up at her, I stood, needing the space to avoid another hit. Unfortunately, I’d been boxed in by her two MMA pals. She shoved me backward, keeping me off balance when the backs of my knees hit the bench. She moved to throw a punch at my face, but I deflected it with my right arm, feeling the impact reverberate through my sprained wrist and along the microfractures in my arm. Dropping my injured arm, I followed through with a left hook to her jaw. She stumbled back, but the woman on her right charged into me, throwing me into the bars and punching me repeatedly in the stomach.
