Chapter 19 #2
Janice stood framed in the doorway, her cheetah-print dress a violent splash of color against the diner’s muted tones. She strode over with her usual confident swagger and slid into the booth beside her.
Tori pushed the pie plate out of the way. “What happened? What did he say?”
Janice’s laugh came out shaky and bitter. “That man is either completely insane or scared out of his mind. Maybe both.” She lifted an empty coffee mug to signal the waitress.
“What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this table. Not to his son, not another detective, not to anyone. He made me promise,” Janice said. “He claims that people have already died to keep this buried, and they won’t hesitate to kill again.”
Tori looked at Blade, and they both agreed. Not a word.
“The warden didn’t want to let me in. First, she tried to block the visit because it was outside visiting hours. Then, because Damien’s in confinement. But I told her I needed a signature for an official document.”
The waitress slid in, tipped the pot, and filled the mug. Janice dropped a manila folder onto the table, popped it open, and spread the flap wide. One sheet sat inside, heavy with type, her letterhead stamped sharp across the top.
“It’s a waiver of attorney-client privilege. Allows me to break confidentiality with the two of you.”
Tori stared at the document. “Brilliant.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo.” She smiled and tucked the paper back into the folder. “You know, the entire time I defended Mr. Sullivan, he claimed his boss had it out for him.”
“You mean Chief Barclay?” Blade asked.
Janice nodded and lifted the mug. Coffee sloshed against the rim, but she managed a sip before it spilled over the edge.
“But during our conference today, he never said the name. Not once. He said they were listening, even though it’s illegal for a warden or prison staff to listen to an attorney-client conference without permission. ”
“If Sullivan believed someone was monitoring privileged conversations, his paranoia might not be paranoia at all.”
“True, but it probably happens more than we’d like to believe.
It’s also difficult to prove.” Janice added a splash of cream and stirred her coffee.
“Either way, Damien didn’t name names today.
He spoke in generalities. But I saw him draw B on the table with his finger when he talked about his boss. I’m sure it’s Barclay.”
Tori remembered Damien’s finger tracing lazy circles on the metal table between them. All those seemingly random circles. Was he trying to communicate something she’d missed?
“I started with your first question,” Janice continued. “Damien swears he was the responding officer to the Crew homicide, no matter what the murder book says.”
“What about the fractals?” Tori leaned forward. “The patterns?”
“I asked that next, but he wanted to start at the beginning.” Janice took a sip of coffee and shook her head. “You know, after all these years I’ve represented this man, this was the first time Damien admitted he was a dirty cop.”
Everybody in Millie Beach had heard the rumor. Sullivan wasn’t clean. Hearing it laid out now only made her feel worse for Corbin growing up with a father who’d sold off his own badge.
Janice continued, “Damien said he was part of a larger operation. Paid to look the other way on certain arrests, lose evidence. Sometimes plant evidence. It paid well, and he needed the money.”
“I suspect he also enjoyed the power trip,” Blade said.
The waitress appeared with the coffeepot, steam curling from the dark liquid as she topped off each mug. Janice’s manicured hand dismissed the offered menu with a sharp gesture, and the waitress gathered the empty pie plate before retreating.
“At some point, Barclay started using leverage instead of money,” Janice said.
“Photos, recordings, documentation of everything Damien had done. Classic blackmail. Do what I say, or I’ll destroy your life.
He was called into the office three days before the shooting, and Barclay laid into him.
Damien knew he was in trouble, knew Barclay was planning something. So he took precautions.”
“What kind of precautions?” Tori asked.
“Damien isn’t as impulsive as everyone thinks.
A mean drunk, yeah. But he was smart enough to keep records.
Handwritten notes, copies of evidence, everything he needed to prove corruption at the highest level.
His insurance policy. But Damien made a huge mistake.
” Janice tapped the table with her index finger.
“One night, he’d been drinking, and he mouthed off to Barclay about it.
Said he had enough evidence to take everyone down.
You can imagine what happened when he sobered up. ”
“He realized what he’d done,” Blade said.
“And the danger he’d put himself in,” Tori added.
“You’ve nailed it,” Janice said. “So the night before Barclay fired him, the night before the shooting, Damien hid his insurance policy.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. If Damien had kept track of everything he’d covered up or hidden, he might have information about her parents’ murder. Maybe even her brother’s new legal name. Proof that Damien had been there that night.
“Okay, so where’s this evidence?” she asked. “Did he tell you?”
“Sorta.” Janice let out a soft laugh. “He said, ‘The man who saved Tori can find it in the bag from the first fight.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
“Does he mean Stryker? He’s the man who saved me. Has he been sitting on this evidence all these years?”
Blade was shaking his head even as Tori finished her sentence. “No way. Stryker wouldn’t look the other way on this.”
“Well, Damien didn’t have a chance to explain about that or the fractals.
And I’m sorry, but he didn’t tell me anything about your brother,” Janice said.
“The warden interrupted our meeting, saying I’d had plenty of time to get my signature and confer with my client. She adiosed me right out of there.”
“Sounds familiar,” Blade said.
Hard to picture Janice giving ground to anyone. “She really just cut you off? Can she do that?”
“Warden runs that place, so yeah.” Janice leaned back and crossed her arms. “But I made sure Maggie Quick understood. If she stuck her ear where it didn’t belong, I’d end her.” Her smile showed teeth.
The coffee’s dark surface reflected Tori’s face back at her, blurred and distorted.
The man who saved her. The bag from the first fight.
Damien, with his stupid cryptic messages. Leads that only took them in circles. Questions that only led to more questions.
“We need that notebook,” she said.
Blade nodded. “Yeah. We do.”