A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(57)
Hailey’s and Bianca’s comments made him rethink that assumption. He abandoned his search of Ms. Olsen’s desk and returned to Bianca’s social media feeds, particularly Facebook and Instagram.
The redhead, Roxy, did pop up in Bianca’s photos here and there. Now that Dominic was paying more attention to her than Bianca, though, he noticed that she was never the subject of the photos; she was always in the background, as if her presence in the picture was unintentional. And Bianca never tagged her or mentioned her by name.
Dominic set down his phone and resumed searching the desk, this time with a specific goal. He found what he was looking for within seconds: an old-school, leather-bound address book.
The entries had been made with pristine handwriting. He skimmed the pages, flipping through the book until he saw it. Roxanne Calhoun.
He looked up the address included beneath her name and was surprised to find it located at the Whitby, a luxury condominium highrise Downtown. Further research informed him that Roxy was currently unemployed, but several years ago, she’d been a paralegal at the firm of Hatfield, Park, and McKenzie.
He slammed the address book shut triumphantly. Roxy wasn’t Bianca’s friend at all. She was Hatfield’s mistress.
As far as he knew, the police and FBI were unaware of her existence, which meant they hadn’t searched her place. This was where he should probably stop and turn over the lead. No way could he break into a highrise condo with the same ease he’d had breaking into this house.
His phone dinged again, and he picked it up, bracing himself for Bianca’s next scintillating update.
But the notification wasn’t from his monitoring app. It was his long-standing Google alert on the Seven of Spades.
RENOWNED LOCAL DEFENSE ATTORNEY NAMED PERSON OF INTEREST IN SEVEN OF SPADES CASE
His stomach bottoming out, Dominic clicked through to the news story. He’d read no further than the first sentence before he leapt to his feet and sprinted out of the room.
As Levi stood with Martine, watching Sawyer through the two-way glass, he concluded that this was the most flustered he’d ever seen the man-and Sawyer’s “flustered” looked like most people’s “mildly discomfited.” He was beautifully dressed in a designer three-piece suit, not a hair out of place, and seemed more irritated by the inconvenience than anything else.
“This is so ridiculous it barely merits a response,” Sawyer said to Leila, who was alone in the interrogation room with him. “If you were going to arrest me, you would have done so. You know I’m not going to speak without an attorney present, and all my attorney will say is that you have no real grounds on which to hold me, so keeping me here is a waste of everyone’s time.”
“Really?” Instead of sitting at the table with Sawyer, Leila was standing a couple of feet back from it, as she often preferred to do while questioning people. “So you have nothing to say to accusations that you’re one of the modern era’s most prolific serial killers?”
Sawyer leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and raised his eyebrows.
“I get it. Nobody knows to keep their mouth shut in a room like this better than a lawyer.” Leila bent over, resting her hands on the edge of the table. “I just thought you might make an exception, considering the effect this whole thing is having on Levi.”
Sawyer stiffened.
“I mean, if you want to leave him in the messed-up state he’s in now, be my guest. He probably won’t jump off a building or anything-just take a few hundred Silkwood showers, maybe never have sex again.”
“Oh my God,” Levi muttered.
Giving Leila the side-eye, Sawyer straightened up. “He told you-”
“That you fucked him? Sure did.” She shrugged. “I’m only surprised that you didn’t start crowing about it the very next day. From everything I’ve heard, you’ve been gagging to tap that narrow ass for years.”
Levi choked. A snort burst out of Martine; when he glared at her, she hastily rearranged her expression into a disapproving frown and patted his arm.
He understood that Leila was trying to knock Sawyer off balance so he’d be easier to manipulate, but really? Really?
At least she seemed to have had some success. Sawyer was contemplating his hands, his brow furrowed.
“You know, Levi threw up after he figured it out,” Leila added.
“I-” Sawyer closed his mouth with a frustrated exhalation, his body as tense as an angry cat’s. He was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m willing to speak to Detective Abrams, alone, under several conditions.”
She gestured for him to continue. Behind the glass, Levi shook his head-he didn’t want to speak to Sawyer, today or ever again.
“There will be nobody else present in the room besides Detective Abrams and myself, nor anybody observing from the viewing room.” Sawyer gestured toward the mirror, and Levi shrank back despite himself. “The conversation will not be recorded in any format. And nothing either Detective Abrams or I say during the conversation will be admissible in any court proceeding, nor used as the basis for requesting any form of court order.”
“Deal,” said Leila, heading for the door.
“I’ll have that in writing, Ms. Rashid,” Sawyer said icily.
Half an hour later, Levi was psyching himself up outside the interrogation room. Everything in him recoiled at the idea of facing Sawyer, but if he was the only person Sawyer would talk to, he had no choice. He had a responsibility to protect the public safety, and it wasn’t the public’s fault he’d slept with a serial killer. He’d made his bed, literally; now he had to lie in it once more.