He saw a man on a radio with a blue windbreaker. When the man turned around, he could see DEA was printed across the back of his coat. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Maury shouted.
“DEA!” Jimmy shouted back, his ears still ringing incessantly. The limo was still here, but Jimmy saw no sign of Jules or Charlie. His stomach began to turn with dread. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Charlie showed up like this, and he hoped that Jules was okay.
“What?” Maury repeated, obviously still unable to hear anything.
Jimmy shook his head, giving up on any form of verbal communication for now. He picked up fairly quickly that they were being taken downtown to the police station judging by the streets they passed. He pressed his face into the glass, sighing grumpily to himself.
So much for helping Rod. Instead of finding a great witness, he’d gotten himself picked up in a damn DEA raid.
At the station, he and Maury were separated. His hearing had mostly returned, but he knew he was probably still speaking at an abnormal volume as he demanded, “I want my lawyer and I want her now. You haven’t read me any Miranda Rights, so if I’m not under arrest, you’d better—”
“Pipe down, pipsqueak,” one of the DEA officers said, dragging Jimmy toward the interrogation rooms. “Got somebody that wants to have a little chat with you.”
Jimmy found himself shoved down into a chair and the door slammed shut. It felt like hours had passed, but there was no clock so he couldn’t actually be sure what time it was.
The door opened, and a man with a strong jaw and an expensive suit strolled in. The door closed behind him and left the two of them alone.
“Hello, Mr. Poe,” the man said with a cool smile as he sat down across from Jimmy. “I’m Stephen Blalock, district attorney for Strassen Springs.”
Jimmy’s heart stopped. “You’re the prosecutor for Rod’s case.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, the cool smile never faltering. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Jimmy said immediately, and he sat up straighter.
“First of all,” Blalock began politely, “I want to apologize for the way you’ve been treated—”
“Unless I’m under arrest, I’d like to leave,” Jimmy said firmly.
“The DEA has been working on shutting down Mr. Holliford’s operation for some time now,” Blalock went on as if Jimmy hadn’t said a word. “He’s one of the largest manufacturers of meth on the east coast. They let local authorities know about the raid as a courtesy, but I don’t think anyone ever expected that you’d be there.”
Jimmy stayed silent.
“It’s interesting,” Blalock mused, “the husband of the most notorious criminal in the city being caught in a drug raid? Tell me, Mr. Poe: have you had a drug problem long? Are you seeking help? Does Mr. Legrand know?”
Jimmy resisted the bait and again, said nothing.
“Your husband is in some very serious trouble, you know,” Blalock said, his face a mask of concern now. “What if you could help him?”
“That’s what I was trying to do,” Jimmy mumbled.
“Oh? Why don’t you tell me more about that?”
“No.”
“Mr. Poe, I’m sure you know that what your husband is doing won’t work,” Blalock said. “He can kill all the witnesses he wants to, but he cannot destroy the evidence—”
“Rod didn’t kill anyone!” Jimmy barked, hating that he was losing his temper so quickly.
“Right,” Blalock said quickly. “Let me rephrase. Your husband can drive as many people to suicide and instigate all the deadly riots—”
“I’m leaving,” Jimmy snarled and leapt up to his feet. “Get these handcuffs off of me and let me leave or arrest me.”
“I’d like to make a deal with you, Mr. Poe.” Blalock smiled sweetly. “One that I think would greatly benefit you and your husband.”
“I’ve had enough deals to last a lifetime,” Jimmy scoffed, and he was unable to resist a smirk. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
