of lies and holes and shifts, it’s hard to keep up. But I’m damn good at riding the wave. The blackmail? It’s bullshit. Extortion’s one thing, and getting caught at it’s going to mean some time. But drugging and abducting a minor? Use of a deadly weapon? That’s a whole different level. A man’s after a pile of money. I don’t see him risking that different level by helping grab Caitlyn. That’s not his job, not his play.”
“He had pictures!”
“Charlotte, stop talking. Don’t say another word.”
“She’s not loopy from a sleeping pill now, and she’s back to blackmail. Another shift back from her daughter being coached to accuse her. They stuck a needle in her.”
Laid back vanished as Red slammed a fist on the table. “You picked the spot where they could grab her, and they stuck a needle in your ten-year-old daughter.”
“For money,” Michaela added. “For more Bulgari watches.”
“For love!”
This time, Scarpetti reached over, gripped Charlotte’s arm. “Not another word. I need to consult with my client.”
“Surprise, surprise.” Red got to his feet, stopped the recording. “He’s going to tell you the one who rolls first gets the best deal. He’s not wrong. You want a Coke, Mic? I could use a Coke.”
When they walked out, he signaled another deputy to take the door, then gestured to Michaela to follow him through the interview area, the bullpen area, and into his office, where he kept a cooler stocked with Cokes.
He got out two, passed her one before sitting down and putting his high-top Chucks on his desk.
“Okay, so let’s tell the state’s attorney it’s about that time. Fancy lawyer’s going to look for a fancy deal.”
“How much time is she going to get? Whatever it is, it’s not enough, but how much do you think?”
“Well.” He scratched the side of his neck again. “You got kidnapping a minor, for ransom. You got the use of drugs on the kid, the gun. Thing is she can carry on about how she didn’t know about the gun, so we’ll let that slide. And her being a parent, she can use that. But the ransom, that’s going to sting even when she rolls.”
“And she will. There’s no loyalty in her.”
“Not a bit. Five to ten, I figure. Her lover and the other? Twenty to twenty-five, easy. Depending on how stupid they are, they could get a full life sentence. But I figure the three of them are going to throw enough shit at each other, plead it down, get the twenty to twenty-five. If we can prove who waved the gun around? That one’s twenty-five to life.”
He took a long, long gulp of Coke. “But that’s the lawyers and court. Us? We gotta catch them. She’s going over, and if Sullivan has a brain—and I think he does—he’s already filing for full custody, for divorce, and getting himself a restraining order in the possible circumstances she makes bail.”
He took another swing. “You did good, Mic.”
“I didn’t do that much.”
“You did the job, and you did it good. You go on, let the state’s attorney know we’re going to play Let’s Make a Deal.”
Michaela nodded, turned toward the door. “That little girl? The media’s going to swarm like flies, Sheriff.”
“Yeah, they are. Nothing we can do there but give a statement when it comes to that, then go into no-comment mode, and stay there. She doesn’t deserve what’s coming next.”
No, Michaela thought as she went out. None of them did.
Five minutes after Charlotte began to spin shaded truths, outright lies, and self-serving excuses, Scarpetti cut her off. He told her with stone-cold clarity he needed the truth, all of it, or he’d walk away.
Because she believed him, Charlotte spilled her guts.
While she spilled, Frank Denby lounged on the bed of his motel room just south of Santa Maria, watching porn while he iced down his black eye and swollen jaw.
His ribs ached like a mother, so he’d driven as far as he could before calling it. Now after a pop of Percocet, some weed, some ice, he figured he’d head out again in a couple hours.
Sparks had kicked the shit out of him when they’d discovered the brat had gotten out. Like it was his fault. Not that he hadn’t gotten a couple of shots in. Yeah, he’d landed a couple.
But he understood Sparks might have killed him if Sparks hadn’t known he shared the blame.
So the job had gone to shit—all that money blown—and now he, down to a few hundred cash,