Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

“Put him through,” Jared said as he entered his office. Picking up the phone, he said, “Rafferty, are you-”

“Where the hell have you been?” Rafferty asked, his voice racing. “I need to know what’s happening… what’s going on with the investigation… where they took her so I can-”

“Calm down a second.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Rafferty shouted. “This is my life! Do you understand? It’s my life! Whoever did this, I want you to find that son of a bitch and tell him he’s dead!”

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened, but I need you to relax and control your temper. If they found her early this morning, we’ll have some information by the afternoon. Until then, you should just-”

“Are you going to be able to get that information?”

“I assume so. Sara should have access to-”

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’m coming down there.” With a slam, Rafferty was gone.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sara checked to see if anyone was following her into 80 Centre Street. Seeing no one who looked particularly suspicious, she entered the building. “Hey, Sara,” Darnell said the moment she stepped inside the elevator. “How’s the trial?”

“A mess,” she answered. “One of our witnesses was just found dead.”

“Mob case?” Darnell asked.

“I wish,” Sara said. “That’d be easier.”

When the elevator reached the seventh floor, four people got off. Sara wasn’t one of them.

“Your stop, Kojak. What’cha waiting for?”

“Damn, I forgot something in the courthouse,” Sara said. “I have to get back over there.” When the elevator doors closed, she was alone with Darnell. “Can you take me to the basement without stopping on the other floors? I don’t want anyone to see where I’m going.”

“Pretty sneaky, sis,” Darnell said as he pulled down on the elevator switch. “Bottom floor, coming up.”

When she reached the basement, Sara walked straight down the main hallway until she reached a door marked INTERROGATION ROOM. Passing it, she opened the next door on her right and quietly stepped in and took a seat. On the viewing side of a large two-way mirror, Sara watched as Officer McCabe stared down at his prisoner. All Sara could see was McCabe’s back, but his body language revealed the rest: Things were not going smoothly.

His shoulders were tense and his fists were tightened. Clearly annoyed, McCabe pulled a rusty chair from under the interrogation table and took a seat. And at that moment, Sara got a good look at McCabe’s prisoner.

“Don’t tell me to be patient,” Claire Doniger told McCabe, raising her voice. “I’ve been here since six this morning. You won’t let me make a phone call, I’m not allowed to see anyone – you’d think I was the one under arrest.”

“For the tenth time, Mrs. Doniger, the trial doesn’t start until jury selection is done,” McCabe explained.

“When that happens, you’ll go across the street to testify. Until then, you’re here for your own safety.”

Sara leaned back in her chair. It was all going perfectly.

“No, I understand,” Jared said into the phone. There was a long pause. “If that’s what it says, we’ll deal with it. And if I see him, I’ll let him know. Yeah, I will. I promise.”

“Well?” Rafferty asked before Jared could even hang up the phone. “What’d they say?”

“The good news is they lifted dozens of prints from the knife in Claire’s body,” Jared said to Rafferty. “The bad news is all the prints are yours.”

“Oh, man,” Kozlow said, laughing.

“They’re wrong,” Rafferty said definitively. “It’s not possible. They don’t even have my fingerprints.”

“They do now – they got them from your office,” Jared explained. “Sara has you down as her top suspect, so she sent Crime Scene over to Echo. They pulled perfect fingerprints from your coffee mug, from your desk, even from your doorknobs.” Seeing the instant change in Rafferty’s complexion, Jared asked, “Are you okay?”

“It’s not possible,” Rafferty stammered. “I swear to God, it wasn’t me.”

“I believe you,” Jared said. “But as an attorney, I have to warn you that-”

“I haven’t even seen her for a week,” Rafferty insisted.

“Then is there anyone else who might’ve had access to your fingerprints?” Jared asked. “Anyone who has something to gain if you take the fall?”

“You don’t think…” Kozlow began.

“That scheming little toad,” Rafferty growled. “If Elliott-” Cutting himself off, he turned to Jared. “Is there a warrant out for my arrest yet?”

“Not that I know of. But there will be by the end of the day.”

“Good,” Rafferty said. “Let them come for me then.” Getting out of his seat, he stormed out of the room with Kozlow right behind him.

“Who’s Elliott?” Jared called out as they left. Neither of them answered.

When Rafferty and Kozlow were gone, Kathleen came into the office. “So far, so good?” she asked Jared.

“I don’t know,” Jared said. “Ask me in an hour.”

The first bullet hit him in the chest. The second one ripped through his stomach. But the first thing Conrad noticed was the taste of blood in his mouth. It came up almost immediately and reminded him of the bitter taste of black licorice. That’s when the real pain set in. It wasn’t like the pain when he broke his arm playing rugby. That was confined and sharp in focus. This cut to his core. As his body went numb, he felt less – but somehow, it hurt more. His vision started to blur, but he could still see his attacker across the room.

Elliott was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the event as if it were dinner theater. He was waiting for Conrad to fall, but Conrad wasn’t giving in. “You better have more than that,” he shouted at Elliott, barely able to hear his own voice.

Two more shots rang out. One hit Conrad’s arm, the other his chest. His body was in shock now. But even as his thick legs started to buckle, Conrad staggered forward, lumbering toward Elliott with his arms extended. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t.

Elliott fired another shot. It hit Conrad in the shoulder and pushed him backwards. For a second. Then he continued his march toward the table. He knew he was dying, but he was so close.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Elliott shouted. “It’s over.”

Not yet, Conrad thought. Not until he-

A final shot exploded, catching Conrad in the throat. That was it. That was all he had. Grasping his neck, he felt himself losing consciousness. Everything turned white. He hit the floor with a thundering crash. His last thoughts were of his first wife and the day they met.

Still pointing his gun at Conrad, Elliott didn’t move. Slowly, he circled around to the side of Conrad’s body. Refusing to lower his gun, he used his foot to turn him over. Elliott wasn’t taking any chances. With a quick shove, he got his answer. It was over. Conrad was gone.

When she returned to 80 Centre Street, Sara headed straight to her office, where Guff was waiting impatiently. “So?” Guff asked as Sara shut the door. “How’d it go with Rafferty?”

Double-checking to see that her blinds were closed, she answered, “I had to keep it short because I was on the pay phone across the street, but Jared said he went nuts. He and Kozlow tore out of the office before Jared could even pass along our offer.”

“I still can’t believe you told him,” Guff said.

“How can you say that? He has the exact same incentive to catch Rafferty and Kozlow.”

“And what about Victor?”

“Can you please stop? It’s all working out. Jared hasn’t said a word.”