Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(92)
Charlie’s eyebrows rose and he stood at the same time Josie did, ready to stop her.
She put both hands on the table and leaned in toward Wally. “Listen, you miserable piece of shit. Your greed killed a woman and led to two kidnappings. One of them was your own son!”
Wally turned calmly to Charlie. “I think we’re done here. This lady don’t want my help.”
She banged both her fists on the table, and then pointed a finger directly at him. “The FBI and a kidnapping negotiator are observing the neighborhood where we believe Dillon Reese is stashed at this very moment. If they find him tonight, and you go to trial, and you will go to trial, and the jury hears that you withheld information from the police? Information that could have led to the kidnappers? Information that could have saved a man’s life?” Josie paused, lowering her voice. “The judge and jury will eat you alive. And I will enjoy every second of your miserable meltdown.”
Over the next several seconds, Josie watched the volley of meaningful looks that occurred between attorney and client. Wally looked anxiously to Charlie, expecting his attorney to save him from the smartass cop. Charlie frowned. Wally’s expression turned to worry. Charlie pursed his lips, and in Wally’s expression Josie could detect his realization that it was over. How many times had she seen that scene play out through the years? It was the beginning of the end for Wally Follet.
“I believe, Mr. Follet, that it would be in your best interests to cooperate. Holding back information at this point will not serve you well in court,” Charlie said.
Wally didn’t hesitate. In the end, he was a con man who knew when to lie and when to cut his losses and tell the truth.
“By the way they talked, it had to be Piedra Labrada. He’s in a house. They keep talking about Espinoza Street. I don’t know where that is, but there can’t be two streets with that name in a town the size of Piedra.”
“Is it a residential neighborhood? A family home?” Josie asked.
“I don’t know.”
“How many people are in the house?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give me something, Wally. Anything to help us identify that house.”
Wally stared at the table. “I know they said the bedroom windows were boarded up.”
Josie watched him with a lump in her throat. If he could narrow down the house for Nick, she could be going after Dillon that night. He could be coming home.
“Think about that house. What else did they say?”
He looked up at her, his eyes expectant. “I remember them talking about an old camper trailer. One of them talked about using it. Taking it somewhere south.”
Josie glanced at Charlie, who gave her a nod, a sign of encouragement. She stood and walked out into the room next door, where Otto sat in front of a computer monitor watching the interview by a live feed. He put his fist in the air when she sat down in the chair next to him. “Excellent, Josie. This is it. I can feel it.”
She said nothing, but her pulse was racing. She took her phone out of her shirt pocket and called Nick. When he answered she asked if they had narrowed down the safe house they were searching for.
“I’ve got four guys watching a three-block neighborhood. It’s a big area, so we need more time.”
Josie summarized Wally’s arrest and her conversation with him in the interrogation room. “I got a street and a description.” She took a breath to steady her voice. “Wally claims the guys along the river described a house on Espinoza Street.”
Nick made a noise on the other end, obviously excited. “That’s one of the streets we’re watching. Street number?”
“He didn’t know, but he said there are bedroom windows that are boarded up, and there’s an old camper parked behind the house. That’s all I’ve got.”
“That’s enough. I’ll let you know if we find it.”
*
Josie returned to the interrogation room with two Styrofoam cups of black coffee. Wally took one and Charlie declined, so Josie set the other in front of her. She’d had a surge of energy after talking with Nick, and was ready to push Wally for more. She asked him to describe the last two weeks of his life, which were spent similar to how she’d predicted. Wally had been tipped off by two different U.S. car dealers that the feds were ready to indict him for racketeering and selling stolen property over an international border. Wally knew they had him, and that he would do time, but that wasn’t his worry.
“I didn’t run from the feds,” he said. “I ran from Medrano.”
Wally then went on to explain that the investigation would have eventually led the feds to discover his involvement with the Medrano cartel, and when it did, his business would be destroyed. He said he’d been shipping cars with the Medranos for three years, and he knew them well enough to know he would have to leave the country forever if he stole their money, especially that amount. There was an implicit understanding when conducting business with the Medranos that mistakes are not made. If they are, you pay with your life. Wally claimed everyone doing business with the Medranos thought they were being careful. Some other schmuck might screw up, but not them. The risk was always worth the profit.
“So you run from Medrano by stealing millions from them?” Josie asked, her tone incredulous.
“Why not?” Wally said. “If I stayed, the feds would arrest me. The Medranos would never let me get to trial though. They wouldn’t let their business get hacked around in a U.S. courtroom. I’d be dead before I ever made it to trial. So why not take the money and run? At least I had a chance.”