Fair Warning (Jack McEvoy #3)(37)
“Why would that happen?”
“Because of you. And me. You are a person of interest in this case until we know otherwise. And I’m the editor who didn’t yank you off it when I should have. If we go to war that’s all going to come out and it’s not going to look that great, Jack.”
I leaned back and shook my head in impotent protest. I knew he was right. Maybe Mattson had known he could do what he did because we were compromised.
“Shit,” I said.
Myron’s name was called because he had paid for lunch. He got up and got our sandwiches. When he returned I was too hungry to keep talking about the issue. I had to eat. I mowed through half of my po’boy before saying another word. By then, without the edge of hunger in my anger, my desire for a constitutional battle with the LAPD had waned.
“It’s just that I feel like this is where we’ve come to,” I said. “Fake news, enemy of the people, the president canceling subscriptions to the Washington Post and New York Times. The LAPD thinks nothing of just throwing a reporter in jail. At what point do we take a stand?”
“Well, this would not be the time,” Myron said. “If we’re going to take that stand then we have to do it when we are one hundred percent clean, so there are no comebacks from the police or the politicians who love seeing journalists thrown in jail.”
I shook my head and dropped the argument. I couldn’t win and the truth was I wanted to get back to the story more than I wanted to take on the LAPD.
“All right, fuck it,” I said. “What did Emily say she has?”
“She didn’t,” Myron said. “She just said she got good stuff and was heading up to the office. I figure that after we finish here we’ll go meet with her.”
“Can you drop me at my apartment first? My car’s there and I want to take a shower before I do anything else.”
“You got it.”
My phone, wallet, and keys had been confiscated during the booking process. When they had been returned upon my departure I stuffed them back into my pockets in a hurry because I wanted to get out of that place as soon as I could. It became clear that I should have looked more carefully at the key chain when Myron dropped me off in front of my building on Woodman. The key to the front gate was on the ring, as well as the key to the Jeep, a storage locker in the garage, and a bike lock. But the key to my apartment was missing.
It was only after I rousted the live-in property manager from a post-lunch nap and borrowed the management copy of the key that I got into the apartment. Once in, I found a copy of a search-warrant receipt on the kitchen counter. While I was in a jail cell the night before, Mattson and Sakai were searching my apartment. They had most likely used my trumped-up obstruction case as part of the probable cause for the search. I realized that was probably their goal all along. They knew the case would get kicked but they used it with a judge to get into my home.
My anger quickly returned and again I took their action as a direct assault on my rights. I pulled my phone and called the LAPD’s Robbery-Homicide Division and asked for Mattson. I was transferred.
“Detective Mattson, how can I help you?”
“Mattson, you better hope I don’t solve this before you because I will make you look like the piece of shit you are.”
“McEvoy? I heard they turned you loose. Why are you so mad?”
“Because I know what you did. You booked me so you could search my place, because you are so far up your ass on this case you wanted to see what I had.”
Looking at the search-warrant receipt I saw that they did not list a single item being taken.
“I want my key back,” I said. “And whatever you took from here.”
“We didn’t take anything,” Mattson said. “And I have your key right here. You are welcome to come by anytime and pick it up.”
I suddenly froze. I wasn’t sure where my laptop was. Had Mattson taken it? I quickly reviewed the evening before and realized I had left my backpack in the Jeep when I decided to go up to the front curb to check my mailbox. I’d been intercepted there by Mattson and Sakai.
I grabbed the search-warrant receipt and quickly checked to see if the search was authorized for my home and vehicle. My laptop was fingerprint-and password-protected but I assumed it would be easy for Mattson to go to the cyber unit and have someone hack their way in.
If Mattson got into my laptop he would have everything I had and know everything I knew about the investigation.
The search warrant was only for the apartment. I would find out in the next thirty seconds if there was a second warrant waiting in my car.
“McEvoy, you there?”
I didn’t bother responding. I disconnected the call and headed for the door. I went down the concrete steps to the garage and quickly crossed to my Jeep.
My backpack was on the passenger seat where I remembered putting it the day before. I returned to my apartment with the backpack and dumped its contents on the kitchen counter. The laptop was there and it appeared that Mattson had not gotten to it or the case notes. The rest of the contents of the backpack seemed to have been untouched as well.
The relief that came from not having my work and my emails rifled through by the police came with a wave of exhaustion, no doubt due to my sleepless night in jail. I decided to stretch out on the couch and catch a half-hour nap before going into the office to meet with Myron and Emily. I set a timer and was asleep within a few minutes, my last waking thought about the men I had been bussed to the courthouse with that morning, all of them most likely back in their cells now in a place where just closing your eyes made you vulnerable.