Catherine Coulter - Backfire

So his wife had left him the house on Maple and he’d stayed there.

Hall of Justice

850 Bryant Street

San Francisco

Saturday morning

Two guards walked Cindy Cahill over from county jail number two to the interview room on the sixth floor, where the men were housed in the Hall of Justice. She shuffled into the room ahead of the guards, wearing her prisoner’s three-piece suit-cuffs, belly chain, and leg irons. She looked up and saw her husband, Clive, dressed as she was, sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“Clive,” she said, and tried to move toward him, but the guards stopped her. Clive rose slowly, smiling at her. “Hi, gorgeous. I liked you in the blue suit Milo brought you to wear in court last week, but hey, orange looks great on you, too. You okay?”

“I’m okay, but I wish I knew what’s-” Cindy shot a look at Savich and shut up.

Savich rose slowly as the guards seated Cindy beside her husband, then left the small room with Savich’s nod.

Savich introduced himself and Eve to the Cahills. He said, “Before we begin, I’d like you to confirm you’ve both agreed not to have your attorney, Mr. Siles, present. Is that correct?”

“Sure,” Clive said. “Like I already said before my sweet wife arrived, we don’t need Milo for this. We didn’t do anything wrong, and we have nothing to hide. And how could I pass up the chance to spend some time with Cindy? Even talking to you clowns is better than being bored.”

He sat back in the uncomfortable chair, like a seasoned lounge lizard.

Savich asked, “Mrs. Cahill?”

“Okay with me,” Cindy said. “So call me Cindy. I heard the guards talking about you, Agent Savich; said you were from Washington, and you were real important.”

Clive said, “Hey, where’s Special Agent Christoff? That boy needs manners, you know? He’s a hard man, that one, not much fun at all.”

Savich watched them look at each other for a moment-affectionately? Wondering if the other would spill the beans? He didn’t know, but allowing them to be together in the same room without their lawyer present was a good start. With everything that had happened-suspension of the trial, the federal prosecutor O’Rourke gone missing, and Ramsey shot-Savich knew both of the Cahills would want to find out as much as they could about what the Feds knew. He doubted they’d fold their tents and want to deal given what had happened, but maybe they’d let drop something-anything-to give him some leverage, particularly with Milo Siles, since even on a good day the chances of getting the truth out of a defense lawyer were harder than getting a bipartisan bill out of Congress.

Savich said as he sat down, “You needn’t worry. Agent Christoff won’t be joining us. There will be only myself and Marshal Barbieri.”

As Savich spoke, Cindy didn’t look away from his face. She rested her cheek on her long white fingers, her fingernails not so lovely now. Those dark eyes of hers saw deep into a man’s soul, no, not his soul, Savich thought, she made a direct connection to his sex, and the pull of her was powerful. He recognized he was new prey to her, and so Savich clicked away, knew she recognized that he’d turned her off, and hoped she would work really hard to snare him. He wanted to observe her methods.

When Cindy turned her eyes to Eve, with her fresh, very pretty face and blond ponytail, she didn’t look happy, and he was pleased. What came out of her mouth pleased him even more. “Well, now, aren’t you the cutest little thing? All blond and blue-eyed, like a little princess, and yet here you are, a big U.S. marshal all dressed up in red and black, like a hard-ass. I thought all you marshals did was chase bad guys who escaped from the real cops. Like Tommy Lee Jones.”

“My hero,” Eve said. She was pleased Savich had decided to bring her even though Harry had been major-league ripped until Savich had calmly said it was obvious Cindy would have the advantage with two male interviewers, plus she would be instantly wary of anything that came out of Harry’s mouth, since he’d led the case against them and interviewed her at least a dozen times. Savich wanted to shuffle the deck, pull out a joker, and present Cindy with another woman. Hopefully Cindy hadn’t noticed her in the courtroom. Unspoken to Harry was the message that since Eve Barbieri was a looker, why not try to rattle Cindy Cahill, who firmly believed she was God’s gift to all men? Harry hadn’t said another word. On their way to the interview room, Savich had said only to Eve, “Rattle her.”

“And would you look, you’ve got a little holster where you carry your gun. Isn’t that delicious? I always liked macho girls. I mean, men can be so difficult, don’t you think? Tell me, Eve, what do you do with a difficult man?” And Cindy Cahill slanted Savich a sloe-eyed look.

Eve smiled at Cindy, recognizing pure sex on the hoof when she saw it. She was sure men vibrated to full alert when Cindy waltzed into their vicinity. She was also beautiful, despite so many months spent in jail. Her dark eyes were exotic, slightly slanted, full of sparkle and high-voltage tease. She looked at you with incredible focus, and that focus was now turned on Eve. Eve sensed a formidable intelligence behind those hot, dark eyes-and something else when Cindy looked at her-calculation, and hatred. Hatred? Was Savich right? Was this incredible woman jealous of her ? She said nothing.

Savich smiled. “Maybe what we should be talking about, Cindy, is how you thought you could get away with threatening a federal prosecutor.”

Direct attack, Eve thought, and took due note.

Cindy Cahill answered Savich, her voice dripping Southern Savannah honey, “Threaten the federal prosecutor? You mean Mr. O’Rourke? I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent Savich. Do you, Clive?”

Clive said through a yawn, “Not a clue.”

“What you both must have figured out by now,” Savich continued smoothly, “is that your whole plan to get the murder charges dismissed has blown up in your face. Judge Hunt saw through it, and now there will be a mistrial. You will be tried again, with even greater security, and you’ll be convicted. If you had anything to do with Judge Hunt’s shooting or with O’Rourke’s disappearance, we’ll find that out, too. I would think two people facing the death penalty might be asking about a deal right about now.”

Clive and Cindy exchanged glances. Clive said, “We already told you we had nothing to do with any of that. Mr. Siles has already told us to sit back and wait awhile, see what happens now. Right, darling?”

Cindy said, “Right. We wouldn’t want to disappoint Mr. Siles.”

Savich said, “You’ve got to know your lawyer doesn’t want to end up in prison with you, if he was involved. If you could help us find Mr. O’Rourke, or to find Judge Hunt’s shooter before he can do any more harm, I’m sure the U.S. attorney would be very interested in possibly removing the death penalty from the table, maybe even reducing your sentences. And I’m sure the government would very much like to know who you sold that information to from Mark Lindy’s computer.”

Clive said, “We don’t know what happened to Mr. O’Rourke. I’ll tell you, though, I think maybe he went off somewhere and had a heart attack. He was real intense, always impatient, always demanding. I saw him start shaking once in the courtroom, looked to me like the poor boy was about to fall apart. Do you know he threatened me? I laughed at him, because what could he do? I was already in jail.”