Justice Lost (Darren Street #3)(37)

“And where is the Knox County sheriff getting this money?”

“Various people. Pimps, operators of gambling establishments and strip clubs, cockfighting and dogfighting promoters, bare-knuckle-fighting promoters, human traffickers.”

Janie looked startled. She quickly drained her beer and asked me for another one. I reached into the cooler and pulled one out, popped the top, and handed it to her. I was as confounded as she was. When we left the boat dock earlier, I had no idea the conversation was going to go this way.

Janie took a long drink of the second beer, wiped her mouth, and said, “Forgive me, Miss Tate. I have all the respect in the world for you and for your grandfather, but what you’re telling me is explosive stuff. Do you have any evidence that any of it is true?”

“We’ve only recently become aware of the extent of the corruption in Knox County involving the sheriff and the district attorney. We were hoping that you might be able to develop some sources and expose what’s going on.”

“Just in time to get your candidate elected,” Janie said.

Claire’s eyes flashed, and I saw Janie cringe. Claire was definitely the more formidable of the two women.

“My candidate will be elected by a landslide whether you do this or not,” she said.

“Then why are you telling me this? Why don’t you get the TBI or the FBI involved?”

“The TBI is tricky,” Claire said. “They work very closely with the district attorney. As a matter of fact, they won’t even investigate a case unless the district attorney asks them to, and obviously, Morris hasn’t asked them. If we tried to go around him, we’re afraid someone close to Morris might tip him off and he’ll shut everything down before we can prove anything.

“The current presidential administration has changed the FBI’s mandate. Their primary task is counterterrorism. They don’t care much about whether a redneck sheriff and a DA in Nowhere, Tennessee, are shaking down vice peddlers and drug dealers. So that leaves it to someone like you. You can work quietly, be cautious and inconspicuous, but you’ll have to work pretty quickly. We’ll help any way we can. When the time is right, pounce on them and print your story.”

“And wind up in a landfill somewhere,” Janie said as she drained the second can of beer and tossed it at me. I pulled another out of the cooler and handed it to her.

“You certainly don’t have to do a thing,” Claire said. “I’m just making you aware of a situation. You can do what you wish with the information. If you think some harm might come to you, then by all means, stay away from it. Darren, of course, will do everything he can to put a stop to the corruption on his end after he takes office. Perhaps, down the road, he can deal with the sheriff.”

“Maybe he ought to just kill him,” Janie said. She was taking large gulps of the beer.

“Beg your pardon?” Claire said.

“The word around the cop campfire is that your candidate has bagged a few,” she said.

“Not true,” I said.

It was the first time I’d opened my mouth. Claire had told me to let her do the talking, and up until that moment, I’d done so. I had often heard that criminal defendants, after telling themselves and everyone else they didn’t commit a crime over an extended period of time, actually began to believe it. I knew exactly what I’d done, but it had become instinctive to deny I’d killed anyone.

“How much more beer you got in there?” Janie said as she took a long drink from the can.

“There’s one left.” I looked at Claire. “You want to head upriver and get some more? I only brought six.”

“I like beer,” Janie said.

“I don’t think we’ll need any more,” Claire said. “Why don’t you pull up the anchor and let’s start back? Janie can drink the last one on the way.”

I did as Claire requested and started the boat back toward the dock.

“So you’ve never killed anybody?” Janie said.

“No,” I said.

“Swear?”

“I swear.” She obviously didn’t drink much.

“Pinkie swear?”

“I’ve never killed anyone. The questions you should be asking are why nobody was ever arrested for my mother’s death, why Ben Clancy has never been found, and what happened to the doctor who killed my daughter and girlfriend. All of those things happened under Morris’s watch.”

“I don’t let people tell me what questions to ask, thank you very much,” she said. Her words were becoming slurred now, and she was getting louder.

“Sorry,” I said. “No offense.”

“I don’t suppose you know anything about that marine that went missing recently,” she said. “I wrote a story about it a few days ago. Did you read it?”

“I did read your story, and, no, I don’t know anything about what happened to him.”

“You’re responsible for everyone that goes missing around here, you know,” she said. “Just ask the Knoxville cops. I know a bunch of them. It’s a standing joke with them. Somebody disappears, they say it must’ve been you that made them go away. They call you The Reaper.”

“Is that right?” I said. I said the words silently a couple of times and imagined myself in a black hooded robe, carrying a scythe. I wouldn’t have admitted it, but I liked the image.