Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(95)

“You requested this meeting,” Hill said. “We’re listening.”

“Deputy Chief Conklin is willing to make a statement that will provide information that should help to resolve two outstanding homicide cases, in exchange for leniency and isolation from the general prison population.”

There. Confirmation that Coyne and Holland were related. She’d known it, but hearing it confirmed left a hollow pit in her belly.

You dirty fucking rat, still looking out for yourself when two good men are in the ground. It was all she could do to remain in observation when she wanted to burst into the interrogation room and claw Conklin’s beady eyes from his face. She wanted to pummel him with her fists until he hurt a fraction as much as her father had hurt in the last years of his life. She wished she could beat him to a bloody pulp for all the years Skip had been denied and his family cheated.

But she didn’t do any of those things. Rather, she stood stoically and silently and let the process play out the way it needed to. There’d be time for howling later.

“In exchange for what?” Hill asked in response to Bagley’s offer.

“He’ll tell you everything he knows about the shootings of Steven Coyne and Skip Holland.”

Conklin had the good sense to look down at the table as his lawyer all but acknowledged that his client had information relevant to both cases. He also verbally confirmed that the two shootings were related.

Under normal circumstances, Sam would be euphoric to have a break in either of the cold cases. Under these circumstances, her hands rolled into tight fists, and her entire body ached from the tension that had every muscle on full alert while her stomach burned with bile that threatened to come up at any second. If anyone so much as breathed on her, she’d shatter.

Hill got up and left the room. As far as Conklin was concerned, Hill was conferring with the Assistant U.S. Attorney. But they’d worked out their plan in advance, so Hill merely took a few minutes in the hallway while Conklin twisted in the wind, coexisting in uncomfortable silence with his lawyer and Terrell.

The door opened, and Hill stepped back into the room, closing the door.

“Well?” Bagley asked. “Do we have a deal?”

“That depends on what Mr. Conklin has to say.”

Sam loved that Hill continued to refuse to refer to Conklin as deputy chief. For that alone, she would forever count Avery Hill as a close personal friend.

Conklin sputtered with outrage that Bagley quelled with a hand to his client’s arm and a tight squeeze.

“Deputy Chief Conklin is under no obligation to share any information with you. He has offered to do so out of respect for Officer Coyne and Deputy Chief Holland.”

That finally broke her. Sam slammed both hands against the two-way glass that separated the observation from interrogation. They couldn’t hear her, but she screamed anyway, filled with rage that he would pretend to have respect for either of the deceased officers.

Malone calmed her with his hands on her shoulders. “Take a breath, Lieutenant.”

The chief moved closer to her, the two of them protecting her from whatever outrage would come next.

“Respect,” Hill said, “is an interesting choice of words in light of the fact that Mr. Conklin sat on information relevant to the shootings of two of his fellow officers, for years in one case and decades in the other.”

“I didn’t know about Coyne for decades,” Conklin shouted, the words bursting from him in an urgent tone.

“Shut up, Paul,” Bagley said in a low growl. “Not another word.” Glaring at Hill, Bagley said, “Either you offer us something tangible or this conversation is over.”

“I guess it’s over, then.” Hill was the picture of calm coolness as he stood. Taking his lead from Hill, Terrell did the same.

They were to the door when Conklin cleared his throat. “Wait.”

“Paul…”

“Be quiet, Charles. This is my life on the line here, and I want to talk.”

Bagley scowled at him. “You’re a fool to do that without a deal on the table.”

“What kind of deal do you think they’re going to give me? The chief was Skip’s best friend. They’re going to throw the book at me.”

Sam growled. “You got that right, you worthless son of a bitch.” She held her breath waiting to hear what he would say.

Conklin sighed, seeming resigned to his fate. “I have one condition.”

“What’s that?” Hill asked.

“Drop the charges against my wife. She had no idea what I was asking her to do and shouldn’t be caught up in this. If you leave her out of it, I’ll tell you what you want to know, and I’ll hope that in exchange, the USA will do what he can for me. If you refuse to drop the charges against her, I’m not saying another word.”

“I’ll make that recommendation to the U.S. Attorney, but as you know, that’s his call.”

“She’s a victim in this. I’ll swear on a stack of bibles that she knew nothing about that bag or what was in it.”

“So noted.”

Sam wanted to laugh at Conklin offering to swear on a stack of bibles. Didn’t he know his word—with or without the bibles—was shit at this point?

“You aren’t going to confer with the U.S. Attorney?”