Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

“You quit?”

“I don’t know about that,” Sandy said hastily. “I mean, I have to make money, so I’m not sure I quit quit. But…it really bothers her.

And…I know what happens sooner or later to everyone in the life.”

“Does she know?”

Sandy shook her head.

“How come you haven’t told her?”

“Because what if I go back?” Sandy broke off a piece of the scone and nibbled on it. “She’ll be…disappointed.”

Michael placed her coffee cup carefully on the breakfast bar. She leaned forward, curling her Þ ngers around Sandy’s forearm, stroking softly. “She loves you. She won’t stop.”

Eyes clouded by fears she couldn’t voice, Sandy Þ nally said hesitantly, “You know, tomorrow is the ceremony for her promotion thing. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Mmm. I know. Are you going?”

Sandy shrugged. “She asked me to.”

“Well?”

Sandy squirmed and looked past Michael at nothing in particular.

“I dunno.”

“What’s stopping you?” Michael persisted, keeping her hand lightly on Sandy’s arm.

“I won’t Þ t in.” She blew out an irritated breath. “You think I can go there and everyone won’t know I’m a whore? Jesus, like that should matter to me.”

“That’s not who you are,” Michael said Þ rmly, never raising her voice. “You’re not deÞ ned by what you’ve had to do to survive. Nor by the mistakes that you may have made.”

Sandy narrowed her eyes at the note of Þ erce intensity in Michael’s cultured tones. She knew that appearances rarely told the whole story; some of the most violent johns were well-dressed, well-spoken men.

Michael seemed like the most together woman Sandy had ever met, but Sandy could still hear the pain in her voice. Something or someone had hurt her badly once.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

Michael laughed. “Well, that’s something we can easily Þ x.”

• 134 •

Justice Served

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Michael stood and slipped her hand into Sandy’s, giving her a tug. When Sandy stepped to the ß oor, Michael wrapped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go shopping.”

v

“You don’t say anything unless I ask for your report,” Rebecca said with Þ nality.

Sloan snarled.

“Or you don’t sit in.”

“Okay, okay,” Sloan muttered. “Jesus.”

Watts, looking pleased, said nothing as the three of them walked through the detective squad room toward Captain Henry’s ofÞ ce.

Sloan eyed him dangerously. “You have something to say?”

His grin broadening, Watts held up his hands in surrender. “Not me.”

The fact that Rebecca pushed open the door to Henry’s ofÞ ce forestalled Sloan’s retort. Sloan looked past her to the men in the room and stiffened. Henry sat in his customary place behind his broad desk.

Avery Clark, clad in the federal agent’s requisite uniform of dark suit, pale blue shirt, and rep tie, leaned against the Þ le cabinets a few feet from Henry’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze ß ickered over each of the new arrivals as they entered the room, his expression registering nothing.

“Have a seat,” Henry said, indicating the mismatched, armless chairs fronting his desk.

Rebecca and Watts complied, but Sloan moved to the wall opposite Clark and rested an elbow on top of a small watercooler. From there, she could look directly at Clark, which she did. She’d learned long ago never to give Þ eld advantage to an adversary, and she wasn’t at all convinced that Clark was on their team.

“You’ve had some developments in the case, Lieutenant?” Henry asked of Rebecca.

“In one aspect of the case, yes, sir. We believe we’ve identiÞ ed the source of the leak in the department. We also think the same individual was involved in the attempt on Sloan’s life.”

Henry’s eyes glinted. “Let’s hear it.”

• 135 •

RADCLY fFE

“Sloan?” Rebecca requested.

Still leaning against the watercooler, Sloan reviewed their investigation, starting with the premise that only those people who’d had advance knowledge of the plan to trap one of the midlevel Internet porn distributors could have Þ ngered her for execution. She described the process by which they’d eliminated the suspects, conveniently leaving out the fact that Henry had been one of them.

“A few days ago, I found several computer traces that led back to Beecher as the likely source of the network intrusions. In all likelihood, someone is accessing his computer regularly from a remote location and using it as the portal into the entire law enforcement system. Your Þ les are open books.”

Looking as if he had been carved from stone, Henry angled his body toward Clark. “We’ll need to go right to the district attorney, seeing that Beecher’s one of hers. This is going to be very messy.”

“Computer evidence alone often isn’t enough to convince a DA to bring charges.” Clark spoke softly, his posture relaxed. He didn’t look at Sloan when he spoke but directed his comments to Henry as if they were alone in the room.

Sloan stiffened and took a step forward. “How did I know you—”

“Sir,” Rebecca interjected, cutting off Sloan in midsentence,

“we’re in the process of gathering further documentation of Beecher’s involvement in the Internet pornography operation.”

Watts cast her a sidelong glance, but said nothing.

“We only wanted to bring you up to speed on these developments in case things move quickly and we need a warrant.” Glancing at Clark and then back to Henry, she added, “Appreciating, sir, that this situation could be…delicate.”

Everyone in the room knew that only Clark was immune from the politics of this situation and that Henry was likely to be the messenger Þ rst in line to be shot.

“And I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant,” Henry said dryly.

He turned to Sloan. “How solid is your evidence?”

“Rock,” Sloan said ß atly.

“Good.” Henry nodded as if pleased before addressing Rebecca.

“I’ll give you the weekend to put together a package I can take to—”

• 136 •

Justice Served

“I’m not so sure we want to take Beecher out of the picture,” Clark interjected quietly.

“Why aren’t I surprised,” Sloan snapped.

“I’m not saying not to take him,” Clark said. “But for now, he’s our best chance of discovering who’s really behind this. He’s obviously not working solo.”

“So we bring him in and sweat him,” Watts suggested. “A guy like that, not used to rough handling? Verbally…I mean,” he said with a sly smile. “And he’ll tell us everything he knows.”

“You’re probably right, detective.” Clark spoke with the merest hint of condescension. “But what about what he doesn’t know? Once we have him, whoever is running him will start covering their tracks. If we somehow lose that connection, all we have is a dirty ADA. Small fry.”

“Who was involved in a murder attempt that was almost successful,” Sloan said through gritted teeth. “Beecher needs to go down for that.”

“That and a lot more, Sloan.” Clark Þ nally met her gaze squarely, and for the Þ rst time, his voice had lost its friendly edge too. “Have you forgotten how it works?”

Sloan quivered with the effort to contain her temper. “You know I haven’t.”

“Then make the case and set your personal issues aside.”

“My personal issues are still struggling to recover from the hit-and-run.” Sloan’s voice was ice.

When Sloan took another step in Clark’s direction, Rebecca bolted up, blocking Sloan’s path. “That’s exactly what we plan to do, Captain.