hand on the desk. “Do I understand? Me? Evidence didn’t seem too important when I was falsely accused of terrorism, imprisoned in a Federal penitentiary for a month, had my life threatened every fucking day. Nobody could even tell my attorney who issued the warrant for my arrest. These people conspired to shove me into a jail cell with a man who they encouraged to beat me, rape me, and kill me for sport. I’m only alive because that man wasn’t the monster they wanted him to be. Where was your evidence then?”
“Nicky,” Linc said softly. “Hear them out.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Linc to fuck off, but the way they were all looking at him made him bite back his words. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Fields leaned forward, gesturing emphatically as he spoke. “We’re not saying you’re wrong or making any of this up. We are investigating what happened to you and we have the names of the other six hundred plus people who may or may not have been caught up in this as well, but what we have in front of us right here isn’t enough, especially if there are agents in the bureau who are getting payoffs or using the justice system for their own personal agenda. We need the names of those higher ups. We need somebody we can nail down so we can start working our way up the food chain until we get to the people at the top. The only way something like this works is if they all start playing ‘let’s make a deal,’ and getting attorneys, judges, and politicians to play ball is harder than getting the mob to talk. They know the law inside and out, so they know how to exploit it.”
“I can go back to the warden, try to get him to say more,” Webster said.
“No. You’ll never get a wire into the prison,” Watts said.
Webster shook his head. “Then I’ll try to get him to meet me outside of the prison.”
Once more, Fields interjected. “If you push him too far too fast, he’s going to suspect you are already sharing information with the authorities. If you spook him, who knows what could happen.”
Webster’s stomach sloshed at Watts’ casual statement. The prison still had Cy. If they figured out the DOJ was investigating them, they might hurt Cy to spite Webster.
Linc sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I would start with an internal audit of the prison’s books. If they’re bribing judges and politicians to keep their prison supplied with cheap labor, there has to be a paper trail. You need a forensic accountant.”
Fields gave a tight smile then stood. “We’ll keep you apprised of our investigation,” he said in a way that implied he’d do no such thing.
Once they were gone, Webster looked at Linc. “Well, that was a huge fucking waste of time.”
“We have to be patient. You’re the one who said you wanted to wait until Cy was free before we pushed forward, remember?” Linc asked.
“Yeah, and you’re the one who said we couldn’t afford to wait, just in case. Now, we’ve tipped our hand, and if those guys are as dirty as everybody else, Cy is going to get murdered.” The thought made him short of breath. He knew he was acting crazy, but he couldn’t help it. Every day Cy was in there was another chance for somebody to hurt him. Webster just wanted to know he was safe.
Linc stood, clapping Webster on the shoulder and squeezing. “I’m not going to let that happen, okay? We’ve still got a few more cards to play.”
Webster flicked his gaze to Linc. “Like what?”
Linc closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose like he prayed for inner peace. “I’ll call Wyatt’s grandmother.”
“Violet?”
Linc grimaced. “Yeah, Violet.”
Before Wyatt’s father had died, he’d long been estranged from the man, and even though Wyatt no longer spoke to his mother, his maternal grandmother had stood beside him at the worst time of his life. Violet was a well-known socialite, hell on heels, friends with everybody from the Los Angeles mayor to several high-ranking government officials at the pentagon. One call from her could open many doors, but Linc wasn’t a fan of being indebted to anybody, especially Wyatt’s family. Violet was old, but she would outlive them all, and that meant, someday, Linc would have to return the favor.
In any other circumstance, Webster would have refused, would have said they’d find