Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

“I’m not promising anything. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Forget it,” Sara said.

Shaking his head, Conrad said, “Give me one good reason why I should take orders from you.”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll be putting my life and my family’s life in jeopardy.”

Sara let her statement sink in. Eventually, Conrad said, “I promise you, I’ll never do anything that will put you or your family in danger.”

“And I have your word on that?”

“You have my word.”

Taking a deep breath, Sara explained how she had been approached by Sunken Cheeks, and how he told her she had to win the case. From the threat he made about Jared to what he did to Pop, she told Conrad everything. Conrad didn’t interrupt once. Then, the moment Sara was finished, he said, “Are you telling me an outside party threatened you and you never reported it to anyone? What did I tell you about that? The system is set up to protect you when-”

“Conrad, no offense, but I don’t want to hear your lectures on the system right now. The system didn’t protect Pop, and it certainly can’t protect my husband. This psycho, whoever he is, has the fingerprints of a dead man, knows everything about me, approached me on a subway without me even knowing, and somehow got into my basement without a key. The truth is, he scares the hell out of me. Every time I walk into my house, I check the closets to see if he’s there. In the bedroom, I look behind the door to see if he’s waiting for me. He’s not your basic criminal, and until we know who he is, I see no reason to piss him off. He’s just asking me to do my job.”

“He’s not asking you to do your job. He’s threatening Jared’s life.”

“He wants me to win,” Sara shot back. “That’s all he wants. And you and I both know that I can give it to him. You may be a better prosecutor, but no one knows my husband better than I do. I know how he thinks, and how he fights, and who he talks to.”

“Like Lenny Barrow,” Conrad interjected.

“Exactly. Like Lenny Barrow,” Sara said. “Believe me, I don’t plan on letting this guy off the hook, but I can’t let you shut me out of this. It’s my family, my problem, and my case.”

“I don’t know…”

“Conrad, since the day we first met, I’ve followed your rules. If you said it, I did it. And I’ll always be grateful for that. Just this once, though, I’m asking you to see things my way. Help me stay on this case. That’s all I’m asking.”

For the next minute, no one said a word. “Let me think about it,” Conrad finally said. “We’ll talk again first thing tomorrow.”

“As long as you think carefully,” Sara said, heading for the door. “That’s all I ask.”

The following morning, Sara and Guff sat in Sara’s office, waiting impatiently for Conrad to arrive. “Do you think he’s going to go for it?” Guff asked.

“I have no idea,” Sara said. “Sometimes he seems so predictable, other times I can’t figure him out.”

“Predictable? Conrad’s never predictable. He may love to follow the rules and preach morality, but the moment he thinks it’s necessary, he’s prepared to drop that shtick and do what’s right. Don’t forget, he’s both a New York resident and a government employee. By definition, that makes him a realist.”

“I pray you’re right,” Sara said.

Ten minutes later, Conrad walked into Sara’s office. He shut the door and stood directly in front of her desk. “Here’s my offer,” he said. “First, I’m not dropping this case.”

“Then you can-”

“Hear me out,” he interrupted. “I’m not dropping this case, because Monaghan won’t let you do it alone. But I will agree to colawyer it with you. To everyone else, it’ll look like I’m in charge, but between us, we’ll be equal partners on it.”

“So I still get to run it and manage it as I see fit?”

“As we see fit,” Conrad corrected. “You have a lot riding on this case, but I won’t let you do anything illegal or stupid just to make a point. In my experience, emotion always wrecks rational thought. So if you step out of line, I’m going to yank your ass back.”

“But you’ll help me win?”

“Make no mistake, Sara, we’re going to win. No matter what your husband does, no matter how many motions he files, no matter how many designer-suit-wearing, expensive-tie-buying, Saab-driving, salon-styling, manicure-getting, mahogany-loving, conspicuous-consuming, overbilling, prestige-sucking, rich-ass lawyers he can find in that overhyped law firm, they’re going to shine our industrial-carpeted floors by the time we’re done with them. And whoever this fucker is that hurt your Pop – when this is all over, we’re going to do our end-zone dance on his mysterious but guaranteed to be kicked-in face.”

Sara grinned broadly.

“I knew he was going to say that,” Guff said. “So damn predictable!”

“Now, do we have a deal?” Conrad asked, offering a handshake.

“As long as you don’t tell Monaghan about the guy who threatened me.”

“Monaghan won’t hear a word. The only thing I’ve told him is how aggressive you are as a prosecutor and how late you love to work. You know he loves to hear that. Now, are you sure you’re ready to continue hunting for this guy?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sara said, shaking Conrad’s hand.

“Good,” Conrad said as he sat next to Guff on the couch. “Because that’s where I want to start right now.”

“Wait, before we do that, tell me something,” Sara said. “What convinced you to keep me on the case?”

“All I had to do was put myself in your shoes. The moment I did that, I realized I’d want someone to step up for me. Now does that answer your question, or do you need me to feed you some psychological bullshit about how I needed to do this to exorcise my own personal ghosts?”

“Nope. That’s enough,” Sara said. “But if you keep doing nice things for me, I’m going to start telling people what a big softy you really are.”

“They’d never believe it,” Conrad said. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a sealed interoffice-mail folder. “Anyway, getting back to personal ghosts, this just arrived from Crime Scene. It looks like the fingerprint results you requested.”

“The ones from my briefcase? What’d they say?”

“I didn’t want to open it without my co-counsel,” Conrad said. He threw the envelope to Sara. “You do the honors.”

Sara ripped open the envelope and flipped through the report. “I don’t believe this,” she said.

“What?” Guff asked. “The prints belong to that same dead guy?”

“No, it’s not the same dead guy. It’s a new dead guy. According to the report, the prints on my briefcase belong to Warren Eastham, a petty criminal who was murdered last year.”

“I don’t understand it,” Guff said. “How the hell does a man have two sets of fingerprints?”

“Maybe he works in Crime Scene and he’s sabotaging all the searches we run,” Conrad suggested.

“Or maybe Crime Scene is blowing the searches on its own,” Guff added.

“I don’t care how he does it,” Sara said. “I just want to know who he is.”

Dressed in tight black biker shorts and an oversized, faded Michigan sweatshirt, Elliott walked straight into the lobby of the medical examiner’s building. “Messenger,” he announced to the security guard, flashing the bright yellow nylon backpack that hung off his shoulder. “I’m looking for a Dr. Fawcett.”

“Take the elevator to the basement,” the guard said. “Room B- 22.”

When Elliott reached the basement, he quickly found room B-22. Opening the door, he saw Fawcett sitting behind his desk. “How’re you doing?” Elliott asked with a smile. “I’m here to pick up the final autopsy report on Arnold Doniger.”