Amanda Stevens - The Dollmaker

The chair was broken in several pieces around Nettle, but his hands and ankles were still bound. He tried to scoot away, but Dave dragged him back and clamped a hand around his throat, squeezed until the man’s face turned red and his eyes fluttered and rolled back in his head.

“Dave, for God’s sake!” Claire cried.

“Ease up, partner,” Titus said softly.

Dave released Nettle and straightened. “Maybe now you’re ready to talk.”

“Fuck you,” Nettle wheezed, and spat blood on the floor at Dave’s feet.

Dave leaned against the wall and folded his arms. He suddenly looked as comfortable and relaxed as a man chatting with a neighbor at a backyard barbecue. “Let me tell you how I see this all playing out, Nettle. JoJo Barone is going to finger you and every other cop who was there at that party the night you killed Renee. He’s a dying man, so he doesn’t have a lot to lose, and I seriously doubt he’ll want to spend the rest of his days worrying about how to pick up the soap in the shower without bending over. The D.A. leans on him hard enough, he’ll roll. We both know he will.”

“That’s it? That’s all you got? The word of a two-bit greaser like JoJo Barone?” Nettle laughed, a low, nasty sound that made Claire’s skin crawl.

“That’s all we need,” Dave said. “Because when JoJo starts naming names, you’re going to find out real fast who your friends are. Bobby Ray already sold you out. That’s why you’re here. My guess is, your old buddies in the department won’t be much different. When they get wind of what the D.A. has in mind, they’ll hightail it to the nearest attorney and try to cop a plea that’ll keep their asses out of prison. You don’t have that option. You’re going to do hard time, no question about that. But if you want to stay off death row, you better make your deal while you still have something to offer. And the only way to get to the D.A. is through me.”

Nettle laughed again. “Do I look that stupid to you? Lee Elliot wouldn’t give a guy like you the time of day, let alone buy into this drunkard’s fantasy you’re trying to peddle. Here’s a news flash, chief. Your cred’s kinda shaky these days.”

Dave shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to ask Elliot yourself when he gets here.”

“Oh, he’s on his way here, is he? You really are delusional. Kind of pathetic, really. I heard you were a pretty good cop before you turned into a lush. Now you sound just plain crazy. If you had anything on me, I’d be in lockup right now instead of cooling my heels out here with you two fucks.”

“Maybe Elliot wanted to make sure you’d stay alive long enough to give him a statement.”

Claire saw something flash in Nettle’s eyes.

“Think about it,” Dave said. “It’s an election year and this kind of case is a wet dream for an ambitious prosecutor like Lee Elliot. Murder. Conspiracy. Police corruption. He plays it just right, he could ride this horse all the way to the governor’s mansion. If you don’t cooperate, he’ll just move on down the line to the next guy on JoJo Barone’s list.”

“I still say this is nothing but one big bluff.”

“It’s not,” Claire said, and she felt Dave’s gaze on her as she took a step toward Nettle. “My sister is an assistant D.A. Her name is Charlotte LeBlanc. She was handpicked by Lee Elliot to be on his team. They’re very close. I can get her on the phone right now to verify everything Dave just told you.”

Dave straightened as he glanced at his watch. “Clock’s ticking, Nettle, so here’s the deal. You want to talk to Elliot, you’ll have to agree to my terms. Otherwise, when he gets here, he’ll find nothing but an empty cabin. A day or two from now, when he’s already made a deal with someone else, Titus here will march you into headquarters in handcuffs and leg irons. That won’t look so good on TV. That’s the kind of image that sticks in a prospective juror’s head.”

“No shit,” Titus said with a grin. “And no offense, but you ain’t exactly got what I’d call a sympathetic mug to begin with. You don’t want your veins pickled up there at the farm, you best hear the man out.”

“All you have to do is give me a name,” Dave said. “You tell me who placed those calls to my cell phone after my little girl disappeared, and you and me are done. You make your deal with Lee Elliot. I’ll stay out of it.”

Nettle turned his head and looked at Claire. “You sure you want her in here for this?”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, but her hands were sweaty and her heart had suddenly started to race.

He nodded toward Dave. “Why don’t you ask him why he brought you out here? I’m beginning to think this little dog-and-pony show he put together was just for your benefit.” He glanced up. “Ain’t that right, chief?”

“You’re a piece of shit, Nettle.”

The man laughed, his grinning face grotesque in the flickering lamplight. He cut his gaze back to Claire and lowered his voice. “You really want to know who made those phone calls?”

Claire nodded, her mouth suddenly so dry she couldn’t speak.

Nettle gave her a look that was half amused, half pitying. “It was your old man. Yeah, that’s right,” he said with a grin when Claire reacted. “Alex Girard made those calls. He thought it all up on his own. Said the kid was already dead, might as well use the kidnapping to our advantage.”

Claire felt as if she’d just been punched in the chest. She leaned against the wall, her breath suspended painfully in her lungs. And then her gaze went to Dave, and she could tell from the look on his face that Nettle was right. He’d already known about Alex. He just hadn’t had the guts to tell her himself.

Lee Elliot knew how to work a crowd, even the small group of cops that had gathered outside the cabin door to watch Clive Nettle’s perp walk to the nearest squad car. In his light-colored suit and silk tie, the Orleans Parish D.A. looked as if he’d just come from a Garden District soiree rather than a lengthy meeting with a cold-blooded killer. He had the charm and charisma of a natural-born politician, the breeding and manners of an old-fashioned Southern gentlemen, the lazy drawl of a pickup-truck redneck. In short, he was everything to everybody.

After Nettle was loaded into the back of the squad car, Elliot came over and clapped Titus on the back. Angelette was with him, but she didn’t say a word. She’d been keeping a low profile ever since she arrived. However, as she stood next to Elliot, Dave could feel her gaze, burning with its usual intensity.

“I appreciate that you boys wanted me out here to make sure everything went down by the book, but you would have made my job a lot easier if you hadn’t been quite so zealous in your pursuit of justice. Looks like you used Nettle for a punching bag. That won’t sit well with his defense attorney.”

“He resisted arrest,” Titus said.

“And you won’t have a problem swearing to that under oath, I don’t suppose.”

“No problem at all. You got a Bible on you, I’ll swear to it right now.”

“I don’t think we need to go that far.” Elliot’s gaze shifted to Dave. “And let me guess. You just happened to be in the neighborhood and offered your assistance.”

“Something like that.”

Elliot’s blue eyes twinkled in the flashing light from the nearest squad car. “You know, you’re a pretty impressive guy, Dave. I like how you operate. We could use a good investigator like you in the D.A.’s office. Have you ever thought about coming back to the force? The commissioner is a second cousin of mine. I could put in a good word for you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve burned too many bridges in New Orleans. I like it just fine where I am.”