Something About You (FBI/US Attorney #1)(12)
Those first couple of weeks after her father’s murder, she’d felt . . . gray was the word she’d used to describe it when Collin had asked how she was holding up. But then she’d pulled herself together and went back to the firm. In many senses, knowing how proud her father had been of her hard work had made it easier to do that—she knew he would want her to carry on, to keep going with her career as far as she could. But something had been missing.
Four weeks after the funeral, she was in court when she figured out what that something was. She’d been waiting to argue an evidentiary motion that once would’ve seemed particularly important, but after her father’s death had felt dismayingly insignificant. Then the court reporter called the case before hers.
United States versus Markovitz. A simple felon-in-possession of a firearm case. It had been a straightforward court appearance, nothing flashy, a motion to suppress evidence filed by the defendant. Procedurally the motion was very similar to the one Cameron herself was scheduled to argue that day, so she’d paid attention, wanting to gauge the judge’s mood. After a brief oral argument, the judge ruled in favor of the government, and Cameron saw the look of satisfaction in the assistant U.S. attorney’s eyes.
Since her father had been killed, she hadn’t once felt that same kind of satisfaction.
But that morning, as she watched the defendant being escorted out of the courtroom wearing his handcuffs and orange jumpsuit, she felt as though something had been accomplished, no matter how small the degree. Justice had been served. The man who had shot and killed her father had been a felon, too. Maybe if more had been done, maybe if that gun hadn’t been on the streets, maybe if he hadn’t been on the streets . . .
She could do something about that, she’d realized.
That very week, she applied for an assistant U.S. attorney position.
One aspect of being a prosecutor Cameron hadn’t anticipated, however, was the politics that often came into play with government jobs. While sitting across from Silas that day, discussing his reasons for pulling out of the Martino case, she realized that the U.S. attorney’s office was no exception. She could guess Silas’s real problem: simply put, he didn’t want to stick his neck out and potentially lose a trial that would be covered by every national newspaper, television, and radio station.
She was surprised by his decision. And frustrated. And disgusted by the thought that someone like Roberto Martino would be allowed to go on, unchecked, with business as usual. But unfortunately, unless she planned to hand over her assistant U.S. attorney badge right then and there, her hands were tied. She’d been with the office for only a year—openly challenging her boss on such an issue would not be the smartest move if she wanted to remain an employed crime-fighter. So she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Okay. No charges.” She got a pit in her stomach, saying the words out loud.
“I’m glad you understand,” Silas said with a nod of approval. “And there’s one last thing: I haven’t had the chance to speak to anyone at the Bureau about this. Somebody needs to tell Agent Pallas and the others that we’re pulling out of the Martino case. I thought, since you seem to have a good rapport with him, that it should be you.”
Now that was a conversation Cameron wanted no part of. “I think it might be more appropriate if Agent Pallas heard this directly from you, Silas. Especially given everything he went through in this investigation.”
“He was doing his job as an FBI agent. That’s how these things turn out sometimes.”
Sensing from his tone that the matter was no longer open for discussion, Cameron nodded. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to speak at that moment, anyway.
Silas held her eyes. “And just so we’re on the same page, the only thing the FBI needs to know is that there aren’t going to be any charges brought against Martino and his men. This office has a strict policy that we do not comment on our internal decision-making process.”
When Cameron still said nothing, Silas cocked his head. “I need you to be a team-player on this, Cameron. Is that understood?”
Oh, she understood all right. Silas was selling her out—letting her take the fall for his decision to back off of Martino. But that was how the game was played. He was her boss, not to mention an extremely important and well-connected member of the Chicago legal community. Which meant there was only one thing she could say.
“Consider it done.”
JACK WATCHED AS Wilkins checked his rearview mirror. The passenger in the backseat had been silent for a while.
“Is she asleep?” he asked.
Wilkins nodded. “Been a long night.”
“True. Let’s pick up another round of coffee before heading back. The stuff they have in the office tastes like shit.”
“I meant that it’s been a long night for her.”
Jack knew exactly what Wilkins had meant. But he was trying to avoid thinking about her as much as possible.
“Kind of strange, the two of you meeting again under these circumstances.”
Wilkins apparently had not received his let’s-just-drop-the-issue memo.
Jack glanced in his mirror to double-check that Cameron was sleeping. “It would’ve been strange no matter what circumstances we’d met under,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Wilkins looked away from the road. “You have any regrets?”