Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(9)
Elle looked at the pictures in front of her on the table, trying to avoid Marlene’s, feeling totally overwhelmed. “This is insane.”
“Let’s go over what happened one more time,” the detective insisted.
She threw her arms over her head. They’d gone through it a million times. “I told you. Dick Aalto showed up at the last minute. He boarded the plane with Maldonado and two of his bodyguards and they flew away. End of story.”
“Are you one hundred percent sure this man is the one you saw with Aalto?” Hensen asked, jabbing at a mug shot of Maldonado.
“Yes and yes. Totally sure. I still don’t see the need for protective custody, though.”
“These are the people that saw Aalto getting into Maldonado’s plane. All of them dead on the same day. What do you think is the chance this is accidental and unrelated? What do you think will happen to you when Maldonado and his goons discover there’s a witness they haven’t dealt with?”
Good question. Elle gulped. “You have my statement. Can’t you arrest him?”
“Your word might not be enough. We need hard evidence.”
“I don’t understand the problem. You already know who was with Aalto when he was thrown from the plane. Three passengers. Maldonado and two men that looked like his security detail. I don’t remember their names, but they are on the passenger manifest at the airline’s office. Isn’t this info enough to, I don’t know, get an order to search the plane? Check the cameras at the airport? I watch CSI. I’m sure you can find some physical evidence that Aalto was on that plane and build your case. You don’t need me.”
“The plane is not in the US now. According to our information, Maldonado is coming back tomorrow. You can bet your sweet ass that plane is going to be pristine. We’ll try to find other evidence to link Aalto to that plane, but at the moment you are it for us. Not to mention the little detail that our star witness was committing a major felony. Juries and judges do not take kindly to witnesses who break the law.”
And they were back at the point Hensen had been hammering for hours already: the fact that apparently she’d broken a thousand laws and breached national security by taking Marlene’s shift, and now she belonged on the FBI’s most wanted list.
On top of that, they wanted her to go into protective custody. She wasn’t sure if it was the hangover or the shock. Probably both, but nothing made any sense.
There was a knock on the door, and a woman with a police badge on the waist of her pants entered and approached Hensen. Since being escorted to the station, she’d been kept incommunicado, and hadn’t seen a single police uniform. Just suits. She spoke in his ear, and Elle couldn’t make out what was being said.
“We found Marlene Cabrera’s killer,” Hensen informed her once they were alone again. “Dead. Overdose. A small-time criminal and junkie. His fingerprints were all over the crime scene. He apparently forgot he was left-handed and injected himself in the wrong arm.”
“What does that mean?” Elle asked, confused. She’d been awake since God only knew when. She felt nauseated, and her head was spinning.
“It means that someone helped him overdose. Whoever gave him the job to eliminate Marlene Cabrera was tying up loose ends. People are dropping dead left and right, and you’re our only witness.”
“I can’t go into protective custody.” She would go insane locked in some stinking apartment. Unable to sleep. Unable to escape into work. Besides, she couldn’t disappear. Tate was recovering from giving birth and she had her hands full with the baby. Elle needed to pull her own weight and take care of Rosita’s. “Maldonado doesn’t know I exist; he thinks I was…Marlene.” Her voice cracked at the mention of her friend, but she fought to regain composure. Crying would get her nowhere and she couldn’t afford to break down. “I’m leaving for Boston today. Nobody would think to search for a person they don’t know exists. When the time comes to testify, I’ll fly back.”
“And who ensures that, sweetheart?”
She stared at him, offended. “I give you my word.”
The man let out a bark, not a speck of humor in it. “I told you, your word ain’t good around here, and protective custody is the least of your problems, lady. Dead people do not testify.”
“Can I have a break?” Elle asked, overwhelmed. “I need some air. And coffee.” Her adrenaline was crashing. In other circumstances, she would have tried to charm her way out of this, and she still might, but at the moment she was too exhausted to even think, let alone pull any kind of stunt that required the use of brain cells.
“We are not done yet.”
“I want out of here,” Elle demanded, standing up and heading for the door. The walls were closing on her, her lungs too. “You can’t keep me here. And you can’t force me to go into protective custody.”
The detective got in her face. “You’re in deep shit. You broke the law and you’ll do as we say or so help me God— “
Suddenly the door burst open.
Elle turned to the menacing man dashing in. Dark hair, beard. Piercing, ice-cold blue eyes. Her jaw dropped. Oh my God. “Jack?”
He didn’t address her. He stepped in between her and the detective and growled, “Back the f*ck off.” He didn’t scream, but the threat in his voice was so evident Hensen staggered back before regaining his ability to speak.