“You lived with him all those years, Ms. Benoit. You had to have seen him committing a crime. We need you to be frank with us.”
“No one sees Rafe committing crimes, Detective, least of all me. I can’t help you. I really can’t. If you don’t have any further questions, I’d like to leave now.”
“I have just a few more for you,” Tuttle said, giving her an exasperated look. “You do understand that this man is a crime lord. You have no reason to feel loyalty toward him. He murdered your mother. He either murdered April Harp and her family, or he ordered that hit. Rafe Cordeau belongs behind bars.”
“If all that’s true, Detective, why can’t you ever find any evidence? Or witnesses?”
“Witnesses disappear.”
“Exactly. That’s my point. I was never a part of Rafe’s business. I was a child growing up in his house.”
“There’s no record of you going to school.”
That shamed her and she suspected he’d said it to humiliate her. She detested that Rafe hadn’t sent her to school or brought in tutors. She was tempted to lie, but instead she lifted her chin. “No, I didn’t go to school. And strangely, no one came to ask why.”
“He didn’t have you homeschooled?”
She shook her head. “No, I was never homeschooled. I didn’t graduate. I didn’t go to college. In fact, Detective,” she added a little defiantly, “I could barely read for a very long time. What does that have to do with Rafe and his crimes?”
“I would say that would be considered an injustice against you,” Tuttle pointed out.
Catarina shrugged. Every second that went by was a second more Rafe had to find her. Sooner or later a police officer on the take would notify him.
“Ask your questions. I don’t have much time.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means that sooner or later, word is going to get out that you have me in an interrogation room. Rafe can move fast when he needs to. I think it best if I’m long gone before he gets here.”
“We’re offering you protective custody in exchange for your testimony against Rafe Cordeau.”
She stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing, noting she just might be on the edge of hysteria. “Have you not heard one word I’ve said to you? I will not testify against him. I don’t have any information to help you. And people in your protective custody are not safe from him. He would be able to find me. Once he’s here and he gets my scent, my trail, he will find me. He’d kill every single one of you and your families to get to me. He would kill every officer you have guarding me. And then he would kill me.”
Tuttle sank back in his chair, smirking. “So he’s Superman with incredible powers. Can he fly through the air as well?”
“I want to leave. You aren’t charging me with anything, so I want to leave.”
“He already knows where you are.”
Tuttle dropped the words so softly she nearly missed them. For a moment her lungs seized. Her throat closed. She stared at him. Stricken. Horrified. And then she knew.
“You told him. You have someone in his organization trying to climb the ladder and you gave that information to your man so he would gain Rafe’s marker. You sold me out and then expected me to put myself in your hands.” She whispered it. She knew she was right.
She’d been certain once she’d heard some of the information they had on her that the DEA had a man undercover. They must have fed him her location in order for him to curry favor with Rafe. They told him where she was. The police. The ones who were supposed to serve and protect. They’d put her directly in the line of fire. She swallowed terror and looked up at him.
“How long ago did Rafe get this information?”
Tuttle looked at her, noted her shaking hands and tried not to smile. “We can protect you. We’ll get you to a safe house.”
She stood up, pushed back her chair. “There is no safe house, you idiot. There’s no such thing. How long ago did you inform him of my whereabouts?”
Tuttle glanced at his watch. “A few hours before we brought you in.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have any idea what you’ve done. You’ve killed at least three good men. You need to make certain you put them somewhere far from here. David Belmont at Poetry Slam. Malcom Hardy at the martial arts studio. And Ridley Cromer. He’ll kill them all to get to me. To teach me a lesson. You can’t hang them out as bait and hope he does it so you can build a case against him. You’ll never know it was him. God. You people. You don’t get it.”
“I think that can be arranged if you choose to testify.”
“Damn you, do you hear yourself? Are you really willing to risk all three of them? I’m not testifying. I don’t have anything I can help you with. I don’t have one single thing I can help you hang him with. Not one.”