Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(94)
“We’re close, Sam. Closer than we’ve ever been.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around Conklin’s involvement.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“How many do you think there are? Out of four thousand, how many are crooked?”
“Maybe one percent.”
“That’d be forty. That’s too many.”
“We’ve gotten rid of two of the worst with Conklin and Stahl.”
“Or so we think. Who knows how deep the cancer has permeated the department.”
“I have to believe that most of the people we work with are on the side of right. The day I no longer believe that is the day I’ll turn in my badge.” He placed his hands on her upper arms, forcing her to stop pacing and meet his intense gaze. “Don’t let a few bad apples ruin your love for the job. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Your dad would hate that.”
“Yes, he would. I’m glad he didn’t live long enough to find out that Conklin was involved.”
“Me too. That would’ve broken him.”
A uniformed officer appeared at the door, bearing a large plastic evidence bag. “Per your request, Captain. It’s been fully processed, so no need to glove up.”
Malone took it from the officer. “Thank you.” He closed the door and handed the bag and a printed report to Sam.
She took it from him, hugging it to her chest while reading the report that indicated Deputy Chief Conklin’s prints had been found on the bag, along with those of Deputy Chief Holland and Conklin’s wife.
“Take as long as you need. I’ll tell Hill to wait for you.” The door clicked shut behind him as he left the room.
Sam went around to sit at his immaculate desk. She would never understand how neat-freak people like him and Nick got anything done in such sterile work spaces. As she broke the seal on the plastic bag containing the messenger bag, tears filled her eyes. She refused to give in to them. Not now. Not yet. Soon… But not yet.
Handling the worn leather gingerly, she removed it from the plastic bag and placed it on Malone’s desktop. For the longest time she only stared at it as if it somehow had the power to bring back the man who’d once carried it. The bag couldn’t bring him back to her, but perhaps it could yield some of his secrets. Touching the Kiss Me I’m Irish key chain, she let it slip through her fingers, recalling his over-the-top pride in his Irish heritage and mourning the fact that he’d never made it to Ireland. That’d been on his retirement bucket list and was another thing that’d been taken from him by the shooter.
She flipped open the outer flap, unzipped the largest pocket and withdrew a stack of file folders that included those pertaining to the Coyne shooting. Sam set them aside to go through later. In addition to the Coyne files, she found a stack of newspaper articles about Roy Gallagher, sending a new zing of tingles down her backbone.
“I knew it. I fucking knew it.”
She found a piece of paper with the names Santoro and Ryan circled in red ink.
Sam knew she ought to find Malone and update him on what she’d found, but she took one more minute to go through each of the other pockets, finding his business cards, a pack of the mint gum he’d loved, pictures of her sisters and their children, a photo of him with Celia, and Sam’s official police portrait. In yet another pocket, she found a spare set of keys to his house as well as the department SUV that had been transferred to Conklin after her father was medically retired.
She put everything back exactly where she’d found it, knowing she would never again unzip the pockets or remove the items from where he’d kept them. The bag would remain in evidence through the trials of those involved, but it would one day return to Sam’s custody and she would find a place to keep it where it could never be lost again.
Taking the files and the copies of the Gallagher newspaper stories with her, she went to find Malone in the lobby, conferring with the chief.
“Find anything?” Malone asked.
She handed him the stack of photocopies of news stories pertaining to Gallagher. “Told you so.”
With the chief looking on, Malone flipped through the articles about Gallagher opening yet another restaurant, buying yet another apartment building and running again for reelection.
“What I want to know,” Sam said, “is where a working-class kid from Foxhall Village got the money to build such a massive business conglomerate and how he manages it all while also serving as a full-time member of the city council. We also need to find out who Santoro and Ryan are.” She showed the piece of paper on which Skip had written their names and circled them with red ink.
“The answer to those questions may very well break this entire thing,” Farnsworth said. “Let’s go.”
Sam followed them to the interrogation room, where Hill waited with Terrell, as well as Faith Miller, outside the door. Malone updated them on the items they had found in Skip’s bag.
“Ready?” Hill asked, his gaze landing on Sam.
She nodded and stepped into the observation room.
The others followed, but she paid them no mind as she set her sight on Conklin’s unshaved face, bracing herself for whatever he might say and how it would change everything. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Good. She hoped his guilty conscience was causing havoc.