Chapter 24 #2
Walter hitched his belt up. Had he lost more weight? “Do we have enough to arrest Detective Robertson? For anything but being a dumbass courier of something that might not be illegal as well as being a cheating asshole?”
“Not at the moment, but we’ll give a copy of our report to the police chief here. I bet Detective Robertson doesn’t keep his job for long.”
Even with his hotshot attorney.
“So, you and Detective Robertson kept your relationship quiet,” Laurel said. They’d been interviewing Officer Jillian Jackson for almost forty minutes, and the woman was starting to wilt.
“Yes,” Jackson admitted, her gaze flicking toward the door, desperation fraying her composure. “We were careful.”
Walter’s pen scratched against his notepad, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t said much, letting Laurel take the lead.
“Careful,” Laurel echoed. “That’s one way to put it. You’re married, Officer Jackson, and so is Detective Robertson.”
Jackson’s mouth tightened, her shoulders hunching defensively. “I’m aware. It was . . . complicated. It’s not like we planned it.”
“And Mark Bitterson planned to use that against you,” Walter said.
She flinched. “I told you, I didn’t know Bitterson. He never contacted me. Whatever happened, it was between him and Josh.”
“But you knew that Detective Robertson was meeting him,” Laurel pressed.
Officer Jackson hesitated. “He told me . . . he told me Bitterson was trying to dig up dirt on him. That he was being followed. But he said he had it under control.”
“Except he didn’t,” Walter cut in. “Bitterson had him running errands, passing packages. And you had no idea?”
Officer Jackson’s eyes widened, her voice growing sharper. “No. Why would I? Josh never told me anything like that. He said it was just . . . I don’t know, him trying to deal with Bitterson’s threats. I tried to get him to go to Internal Affairs, but he said it would only make things worse.”
“What kind of threats?” Laurel asked.
Officer Jackson’s gaze dropped to the table. “He said Bitterson would ruin us. That he had proof of the affair. That if Josh didn’t cooperate, he’d leak everything.”
“So he cooperated,” Laurel said. “Even when it meant meeting a known criminal in dark alleys.”
“I didn’t know that was happening.” Officer Jackson’s voice cracked. “I swear. Josh told me he was handling it, and I believed him. I thought . . . I thought if we were careful, it would all blow over.”
“‘Careful’ isn’t how I’d describe what’s been happening.” Laurel’s gaze bored into her. “You didn’t ask why Mark Bitterson was targeting Detective Robertson? Why a man like that would go to so much trouble just to extort him over an affair?”
Officer Jackson’s hands twisted together. “No. I thought it was about me. About . . . about us. I never imagined it was more than that.”
“And when you heard Bitterson was dead?”
“Relieved.” The word came out harsh and unfiltered. “I know that sounds horrible, but I thought it meant Josh could finally breathe again. That we could be . . . I don’t know, something normal.”
Walter’s pen stilled. “You didn’t ask him about the packages?”
“No.” Officer Jackson’s shoulders trembled. “He never mentioned that.”
Laurel kept her gaze on the woman while her attorney remained silent next to her. So far, she hadn’t admitted to anything other than having an improper relationship with a superior officer, which probably kept her somewhat safe. “Did you ever meet Melissa Palmtree?”
“No. Never heard of her,” Officer Jackson said.
Walter stopped writing. “Do you pick up extra work at Oakridge Solutions?”
Officer Jackson shook her head. “No. My husband is the football coach for the high school, so my weekends are busy with games.”
“When you’re not cheating on him?” Walter asked.
Officer Jackson paled. “I fell in love with Josh. Didn’t mean to, but it happened.”
Laurel wasn’t getting anything helpful from the woman. “Tell me right now if you know anything about the deaths of Tyler Griggs, Miriam Liu, Melissa Palmtree, Larry Scott, or Mark Bitterson.”
Officer Jackson blinked rapidly. “I don’t. Do you think they’re related?” She pressed a hand to her throat. “Is Josh in danger? Am I?”
Laurel glanced at Walter and then back. “I’m sharing my report with the police chief, so you might want to speak to him first. You’re free to go.”
Officer Jackson shot out of her chair like it had caught fire. She hesitated, her gaze darting between them before she fled through the door and down the hallway.
Walter stretched his shoulders. “Well, that was a bust.”
“Not entirely.” Laurel’s gaze flicked to Vexler, who remained seated, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “But we’re not finished.”
Vexler’s smile was slow and measured. “No, I imagine we’re not.”
Walter stood. “I need a minute.”
“Take your time,” Laurel replied, her focus now solely on Vexler. Walter slipped out of the room, his shoulders tense.
Laurel leaned back in her chair. “Did you get what you needed today?”
“Not yet, but Abigail has accurately described you. You’re data driven, calm, and rather unemotional. Very different from her.”
Laurel barely kept from shaking her head. “You don’t read people as well as you believe if you think Abigail is emotional. She can mimic emotion, and she knows how to manipulate people.”
“Look who’s talking,” Vexler drawled. “From what I understand, you’ve made sure your mother is safely out of the country, somewhere she can’t be subpoenaed in time for Abigail’s trial. So I can’t ask her about being raped by the evil Pastor Caine so many years ago.”
Laurel’s pulse kicked, but she kept her expression calm. “My mother’s on vacation.”
“An extended vacation.” Vexler’s eyes glinted. “Very convenient timing.”
“Convenient for her.” Yes, Laurel had seen the expedited trial request coming from Abigail. She’d protect her mother, no matter what.
Vexler chuckled, the sound low and cold. “You’re a fascinating woman, Agent Snow. Always two steps ahead. But what happens when you’re dragged back? You’ll be testifying in Abigail’s case, after all.”
“I’m only interested in facts,” Laurel said, keeping her emotions in check. “You want my testimony? You’ll get it. Every fact, every detail, and not a word more.”
“Not even for the woman you sent halfway across the world?” Vexler’s smile held no warmth. “It must be comforting, knowing she’s safe. Untouchable.”
“Is there a point to this?”
Vexler rose, his movements fluid. “Just that your determination to protect certain individuals is as strong as mine. And maybe . . . just as misguided.”
“I’m here for the truth,” Laurel replied. “Not your version of it.”
Vexler’s gaze lingered on her, assessing. “You’re going to make this very interesting, Agent Snow.” And then he was gone, leaving the room colder than it had been when she entered earlier.
Walter poked his head in. “Nester just texted. His deep dive on Joley McNalley revealed a teenaged runaway arrested twice in Seattle for prostitution. Nothing else. The kid is from Oregon but has no family around. So there’s no way to confirm or negate Abigail’s big story on the podcast Saturday night. ”
“Wonderful,” Laurel muttered.
Walter nodded. “Also, the warrant for Tyler’s apartment just came through. Want to go search?”
“Absolutely. Please ask Nester to draft a warrant for Oakridge Solutions. I’ll type up my affidavit to show cause when we return to the office, and hopefully we can get it signed tonight. We’ll head out there first thing in the morning.”
She was getting closer on this. The vest weighed her down and she lifted her head. “Keep an eye out, Walter.” She could not get him shot. Again.
“Always,” he replied grimly.