Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(97)

“That’s not in any of his files or notes,” Sam said.

“He might not have had a chance to document it yet,” Malone said, “but clearly he was onto the same thing Coyne had uncovered.”

“He was meticulous about the paperwork.”

“Something this nuclear, he might’ve kept out of the files until he had it sewn up.”

“Why do I know Dermott Ryan’s name?”

“He owns O’Leary’s, among other things, but he’s not there very much, so you may not know him personally.”

Stunned, Sam stared at the captain. The owner of the bar that had been like a home away from home to her dad was involved in his shooting? She staggered under the weight of that information.

Malone braced her with his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe.”

Sam couldn’t move or think or do anything other than reel.

“Sam! Breathe, damn it.”

She forced a shaky breath into lungs that felt like they belonged to someone else. Time seemed to stop and the roaring in her ears became so loud it was all she could hear. People close to her father at work and away from work had hidden information that could’ve solved his case years ago. Right under her nose, under their own roof at HQ.

“I…I think I’m going to be sick.”

Malone hustled her toward the garbage can in the corner.

Sam heaved up the meager contents of her stomach, and that she didn’t care her captain was holding her hair back as she puked would’ve concerned her under normal circumstances. However, there was nothing normal about these circumstances. When her stomach stopped heaving, she tied off the trash bag, her fingers fumbling through the basic steps of tying a basic knot.

Sam felt hot and cold at the same time, as her brain whirled and her heart pounded. Adrenaline raced through her system, as if she’d downed six large cups of coffee all at once.

And then she heard Conklin sobbing in the interrogation room and was doubly glad she wasn’t in there because there was no way she’d be able to hold back the burning need to punch him in the face. She’d like to think she’d learned her lesson about punching her fellow officers after the Ramsey incident, but in this case, it would surely be justified.

Straightening, she took the tissues Malone handed her and wiped her mouth with shaking hands. He looked as undone as she felt, which brought her comfort. At least she wasn’t the only one who found this excruciating.

“You should go home. We can take it from here and get it done.”

Sam looked up at him. “No fucking way am I going home.”

He gave her a long, piercing look before he nodded.

They turned their attention back to the interrogation room, where Conklin had his head down on his folded arms, his entire body shaking with sobs.

“I loved Skip. I truly did.”

Sam wanted to claw his eyes out. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch. You motherfucking rat bastard—”

“Sam.”

The chief’s stern tone ended her vocal diatribe, but the diatribe inside her would never end. She wanted to stab that cowardly bastard straight through the heart with the rustiest steak knife ever.

“When did you figure out that they were behind the killing of Steven Coyne?”

“About a year before Skip was shot. When he said he was going to take another look at the case, I tried to tell him to leave it alone.” Conklin sniveled as snot leaked from his nose. “But he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You warned him off the investigation?”

Conklin nodded as he wiped his face on his sleeve. “I tried to. I told him that messing with Gallagher wasn’t a good idea.”

“I feel like my head is going to explode,” Sam said.

“Mine too,” Malone replied, his teeth gritted.

“What did he say when you tried to warn him off?” Hill asked.

“He was determined to get justice for Steven, even if it led to people who’d rather forget what’d happened to him. He said he would never forget.”

“Did you tell Gallagher that Skip was onto them?”

Conklin dropped his head into his hands and muttered something.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, I told him!”

“And you did that knowing it could get your friend killed?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Gallagher had shit on me that could ruin my life.”

“What kind of shit?”

“I…I was involved with the gambling. I made a small fortune. My wife… She had no idea where the money came from, and she would’ve left me if he told her because her father bankrupted their family gambling when she was a kid. I…I really love her. She saved my life in so many ways. I couldn’t lose her. And if it got out, it would’ve ruined my career along with my marriage. If he found out I knew about Skip digging into the Coyne case and didn’t tip him off, he would’ve come at me hard. He might’ve even tried to kill me.”

“So in order to save your career, marriage and your own skin, you were willing to sacrifice Skip’s life?”

Conklin’s sobs echoed loudly through the speaker connected to the interrogation room.

“Tell me how Skip’s shooting went down.”