He glances at the clock. “One more thing. Press is circling. You will not brief. You will not comment. If anyone sticks a microphone in your face on your way to lunch, you say ‘no comment’ and keep walking. Roberto will try to fight this battle out of the courtroom. We don’t.”
“We don’t,” I echo.
“And Pennino.” He leans forward and pins me with a look. “Elena. Luca Conti is a dangerous man.”
I clear my throat. “I kn—"
“He knows who you are, and he knows what you’re trying to do.” Miles’ voice drops. “Do not let your guard down. If you think, even suspect, for one second, that something isn’t right, that you might have a target on your back… do not hesitate. Do not keep it to yourself. Do not say that you can handle it. Men like him kill the same way you and I flip the bird. Clear?”
His gaze doesn’t falter, just stays trained on me, and I see now exactly how a witness could feel with him staring them down like that. I resist the urge to swallow and shrink in my spot.
“Crystal,” I say. My voice doesn’t wobble. “I’m not playing hero. I’ll loop in Threat Management for a baseline assessment and get on their radar, have them flag any chatter that touches my name. I’ll vary my commute, stick to the garage entrance, and stop walking home just because the weather’s nice.”
Miles gives one sharp nod, like he’s checking boxes in his head. “Good. I’ll have the Marshals run a quick protective sweep of your building and this floor. Don’t argue—let them do their theater.”
“Not arguing,” I say. “I’ll also have Facilities swap my nameplate for a generic title and remove my last name from the lobby directory. Low profile.”
“Already did the lobby, but smart on the nameplate.” He taps the memos with a knuckle. “And for any face-to-face with the Conti kids, you bring a second chair.”
“I was going to pull Investigator Chen,” I say. “She’s calm, won’t cave to pressure.”
“Perfect. She’ll think of angles you won’t.” He sits forward. “When?”
“I’ve got them staggered over the next couple of days—Caterina is today at 3:00, Nico tomorrow morning at 10:00, and Vito at 3:30. Straight advisement, then out.”
“Don’t take the conference room on this floor. Take the one on the top. A little fancy for this, but we don’t want them wanderingyour floor and making any mental maps.” He taps a pen on the desk. “And what about Roberto?”
“If he tries to accompany, we cite the order and give him a copy. These are advisements to potential witnesses under a protective regime, not defense interviews. He can wait in reception and complain to a plant.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Good. If he gets cute, I’ll be down the hall. We’ll get security to make some extra rounds in reception too.”
I allow myself a quick breath that feels a little like relief. I guess I didn’t realize how uptight I was about it until he brought up the issue of my safety.
“One more thing.” He studies me for a beat. “Personal life.”
“What personal life?” I ask, drily.
“Exactly. Keep it that way for now,” he says. “No routines. No extra people. No taking chances. Especially this week. If you need to get out of your apartment, use the DA’s short-term housing for a few nights. It’s there for a reason.”
“I’ll keep the option open,” I say. “Tonight I’m fine. Doors locked, shades down, phone on loud.”
“And the gym?”
“Office gym only,” I say. “No neighborhood runs until Threat Management gives me a green light.”
He leans back, satisfied. “Good.” He closes the file, which in this office is the signal that the meeting is over.
He grabs a Post-it, writes something on it, and slides it across the desk.
On it: 11:50—eat.
“Court-ordered lunch?” I ask.
“Boss-ordered,” he says. “You’re no good to me if you’re sick.”
“Copy that.”
Chapter Five
