Keep Her Safe(76)

I get another intimidating, bulgy-eyed look. I’ll bet he uses those in court with great success. And then Maxwell leans back in his chair, muttering a “no shit” under his breath as he tests his coffee.

“Did you know him?”

“Know him? No. I talked to him once, though.”

“What about?” I ask as innocently as I’m capable, hiding my cringe as he adds another sugar to his coffee.

“A case. He had evidence he thought would help me.” He takes a long sip, and a part of me thinks he’s weighing his words, deciding what he should tell me. “I started out as a public defender, and I ended up on this case where this guy got busted with a trunk full of drugs. He was goin’ away for a long time.”

My heart starts racing. “When was this?”

He frowns. “It would have been . . . ’03? Yeah, that’s right. Spring of ’03. I remember because I was picking up my wife’s engagement ring from the jewelry shop when Wilkes called. I proposed to her over Easter brunch. You should have seen her face when she opened the plastic egg that I—”

“Do you remember what the case was about?” I interrupt.

“Darlin’, I remember every detail about it, it was so bizarre.”

“And what’d my dad have for you?”

“Well, that’s a story and a half. I suppose I can tell you, seeing as my guy won’t be minding anymore. The way it went was the defendant swore up and down that he had a pile of cash in the trunk and that the cops stole it when they busted him outside this dive motel. I told him no one’s gonna buy what he’s sellin’. But, days later, lo and behold, I get a call from an APD cop—your dad—who tells me that he was there that night and he saw the whole thing shake down, and he had a video to prove it. He was ready to testify for my client against another officer.”

Something like giddiness fills my chest. “Who was the officer?”

“Don’t matter, does it?” He takes a sip of his coffee.

I’d love to push that it does matter, and that he has to give me a name, but I don’t want to give Maxwell a reason to grow suspicious and stop talking. “Did you see the video?”

“That’s the thing. Your dad died before I even had a chance to meet him in person. Needless to say, his testimony never made it to court.”

Despite my attempt to remain calm and innocent, my anger flares. “And you didn’t think it was at all strange that he was shot right after telling you he wanted to out a cop for corruption?”

“Honestly? The fact that he was gonna torpedo a slam-dunk drug bust seemed more strange. I mean, the defendant was guilty, there’s no two ways about it. And once your dad testified, his career in the APD would be as good as done and my guy might actually get out, and go on sellin’ drugs. Wilkes knew that. I couldn’t figure out why he’d do it.”

“You mean other than being an honest cop who wanted to do the right thing?”

“Well, yeah, sure . . . I guess. But that wasn’t the case here.” I glare at him and he quickly adds, “It was pretty obvious that your dad was doin’ one of his drug connections a favor. A retaliatory thing. That’s how all those gangs work.”

“Pretty obvious? Do you argue your court cases on ‘pretty obvious’?” I bite back the sharpness in my tone. I can’t blame Maxwell for thinking that my dad was lying to him. Why shouldn’t he think that? Someone went out of his way to make my dad look like the criminal.

And it sounds like there was one cop who stood to benefit from that.

Maxwell slaps the table once as he stands. “Well! These criminals aren’t gonna put themselves behind bars.”

“What happened to that drug dealer, anyway?”

Maxwell lets out a disgusted snort. “Oh, that idiot went to jail. There was no getting around a trunk full of drugs. ’Course, I threatened the prosecutor with leaking the story to the press. I mean, it’d never stick, but if the public heard that the cops walked away with a hundred grand in drug money, it’d sure tarnish our police department’s shiny reputation.”

I let out a mock whistle, even as dots keep connecting before my eyes. “A hundred grand?”

“Just shy of it, if I recall correctly. Anyway, it was a dirty trick on my part, but Silas fell for it.”

“Wait . . . Silas?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was the prosecutor. And he was so impressed with my bluffing game that he offered me this job. Which is good, ’cause I’m better off putting the guilty guys away than I am letting them go free. Worked out for everyone.”

For everyone but my father. I struggle to keep my voice even. “Did you tell Silas about this video?”

He chuckles. “Not straightaway. You don’t show your whole bag of tricks off the bat. I went in with ‘irrefutable evidence.’?” He uses his fingers to air-quote. “Not until he agreed to knock off five years did I fess up about your dad claiming to have video proof of the defendant’s claims.”

My gaze wanders down the hall, toward where I know Noah and his uncle sit behind closed doors. Is Silas admitting all of this to him? Is he telling him that he knew about both the drug bust and the video?

And if Silas knew, why didn’t he do anything about it?

“So this drug dealer . . . he’s still in prison?” I need to talk to him.