“From what? From who?” My amusement drops for a moment as I again crowd Olivia’s space. “I protected her. Her and the kids.”
Her eyes widen like she’s truly surprised by the level of emotion I feel about this situation.
"You and I both know something wasn't right about that situation. The way your boss shut down the investigation before it started."
Olivia's eyes widen even more. "How do you know about that?"
"I have my sources." I shrug, working to rein in my irritation. "But I'm more interested in how you reconcile it. The FBI agent dedicated to justice, working for a man who blocked an investigation into a child's kidnapping."
She turns away, moving to the coffee table where her wine glass sits half-empty. "It's not that simple."
"It never is." I follow her, maintaining enough distance to not feel threatening. "But you felt it too, didn't you? Unease? That voice in your head saying something wasn't adding up?"
Her silence is confirmation enough.
"You're so certain I'm the villain here, Olivia. So convinced that your side wears the white hats." I keep my tone gentle, almost sympathetic. "But what if the lines aren't as clear as you think? What if the people you trust are the ones bending the rules beyond recognition?"
She takes a long sip of wine before meeting my eyes. "Even if I had... concerns... about how certain cases are handled, that doesn't exonerate you."
Those words tell me she’s suspicious of her boss as well.
The question is, what is she doing about it? "I'm not asking for exoneration. I'm asking you to question your certainty. To consider that maybe we're not on opposite sides of this particular story."
"The FBI operates within the law," she says, setting her wine glass down. "We have oversight, regulations, protocols. Yes, sometimes we push boundaries, but we can't get convictions otherwise."
I can't help but laugh at her naivety. "Is that what helps you sleep at night? That thin line of legality?"
"It's not a thin line. It's the difference between justice and criminality."
I move closer, watching her eyes track my movement. "Let me ask you something. Are you comfortable setting people up for death?"
Her expression shifts from defiance to confusion, then horror. "What are you talking about?"
"Your confidential informants. The people you flip. The ones you convince to betray their associates." I keep my voice calm, conversational, and of course careful.
I don’t want to give her anything that could lead to her arresting me. "You have suspicions about what might happen to informants, right? When word gets out they've been talking to the feds?"
She stiffens. "We protect our informants."
“Come on now. We know that’s not true. Sure, maybe for a little while, but once you get what you need?—"
"That's not?—”
I don’t let her finish. “Are you aware that two of your informants killed Don Ferraza’s wife?”
She gasps. “What? No, that was a Calabresi?—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Olivia. You are naïve.” I almost feel bad for her. “And what do you think happened to the two informants?” I know for sure that Roman killed one.
The other looked like a drug OD, something Leo used to do, but he denies any part in it and I believe him.
So unless it was one of Marco’s men, I have to wonder if it wasn’t Agent Blackwood cleaning up his mess.
Her jaw tightens. "Everyone I've worked with is fine."
“How nice for you. What about your boss?”
She only glares at me.
