A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(48)

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. He would have agreed to just about anything in the interests of eventually earning her forgiveness.

He followed her to the interrogation room in question. She knocked on the door, grasped the handle, and chose that moment to toss out, “By the way, Sawyer is his attorney.”

She went inside, leaving him gaping on the threshold. After a couple of seconds, he shook it off and entered behind her.

Bishop was hunched over the table, his shirt stained with sweat, his face drawn and sallow. He was continuously washing his uncuffed hands together, a nervous habit that set Levi’s teeth on edge.

Seated beside Bishop, Sawyer blinked at Levi before arching an eyebrow in Leila’s direction. “Bringing in the big guns, I see.”

She shrugged, the hint of a smirk curving her lips.

What little color remained in Bishop’s face had drained out the moment he’d caught sight of Levi. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and swallowed convulsively without saying anything.

Levi locked eyes with Bishop as he came forward to sit across the table in silence. A bead of sweat rolled down Bishop’s temple.

“This posturing is ridiculous,” Sawyer said. “What do you think you have on my client? Photographs of him giving a man money in a public park? That’s not illegal.”

Leila sauntered over and leaned one hip against the table. “That man’s name is Jim Watts, a student at UNLV and a known member of Utopia. He took that money straight to a Utopia safe house which was being used to manufacture IEDs-most likely the same explosives used in the terrorist attack last night.”

Though Bishop flinched, Sawyer was unfazed. “You have no proof that my client gave Mr. Watts the money to be used for any such purpose, or that he had any knowledge whatsoever of Mr. Watts’s criminal affiliations.”

“Sure,” Leila drawled. “Maybe he was just paying for the answers to the OChem final.”

Throughout Leila and Sawyer’s back-and-forth, Levi had been studying Bishop, who seemed unable to look away from him. He saw plenty of fear, unsurprisingly, but what gave him pause was something he identified deeper in Bishop’s bloodshot eyes: remorse.

“Do you know who I am?” Levi asked, interrupting the verbal sparring.

Bishop laughed a bit hysterically. Okay, it was a dumb question. Everyone in Las Vegas knew who Levi was-as did most people in the entire country, by now. It was something he still hadn’t gotten used to and would probably never stop hating.

“I was at the Mirage when the volcano exploded,” he said. “I tried to stop it, but I didn’t get there in time. I was injured. Burned.” He indicated his bandaged forearms.

Sawyer didn’t cut Levi off as he’d expected, just listened with a small frown. Bishop chewed his lower lip, but that wasn’t enough of a reaction. Levi needed to push harder.

What had Dominic said? Bishop’s ex-wife had been angling for sole custody of their children. And Dominic had spied on Bishop while he’d been playing with his kids in the park.

Levi leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. “Still, I got off easier than the people who died, or were maimed. Or the people who lost loved ones: Spouses. Parents.” He paused. “Children.”

Bishop blanched, curling in on himself. Sawyer put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I think that’s enough.”

“Tell me, Mr. Bishop, do you think I deserve to die because I’m Jewish?” Levi asked.

“Oh, come on, Detective,” Sawyer snapped.

Bishop’s head jerked up, his eyes wide as a spooked horse’s. “God, no, of course not.”

“How about because I’m gay?”

“Detective!”

“No.” Bishop dragged both hands down his damp face. “I would never want anyone to die, let alone in such a horrible way. I didn’t know what they were going to do-”

Sawyer’s hand clamped around Bishop’s wrist, but it was too late. Levi smiled; above him, Leila’s grin was positively sharklike.

“So you do admit to some knowledge of Watts’s affiliation with Utopia,” she said.

“Don’t answer that.” Sawyer’s voice was clipped.

“It’s fine.” Bishop pulled his arm out of Sawyer’s grasp. “I want to make a deal. I never would have given them money if I’d known they were going to use it to hurt innocent people.”

Levi scoffed. “What did you think Nazis were going to use your money for?”

“They aren’t Nazis,” Bishop said, though the words rang hollow. There was a good chance he’d believed that before-after all, Utopia self-identified as an “alt-right” militia, not a neo-Nazi organization. But their actions of yesterday left no doubt as to their true nature. “That money was supposed to go to lobbying, political organization. They told me they were trying to take Utopia in a new direction, that they were setting up a PAC to campaign for conservative candidates and ballot initiatives.” He looked down at his hands. “I-I knew they had an unsavory reputation, so I didn’t want my donations to be public record in case my ex-wife tried to use that against me. But I had no idea that they were planning any kind of attack, I swear.”

“What are you offering?” Leila asked as she settled into the chair beside Levi.