JAKE CASTAIN’Slawyer was the picture of snobby elitist. If there existed a blueprint for slimy, arrogant white men with way more money than conscience, Henry Anthony Thornton III was it. George guessed him to be in his late thirties, he was a partner in his daddy’s law firm, and judging from his perfectly cut suit, the expensive leather shoes, and the Porsche Cayenne parked outside the precinct when they had entered, he wasn’t shy about charging high fees to maintain his luxurious lifestyle. The light brown leather of his exquisite briefcase glowed softly under the harsh lights of the interrogation room, just like his gelled blondish hair. Since they had no reason to play nice anymore, George gladly let Andi take the lead, just to see his partner’s disdain for humans in general and for this vermin in particular in action. Jake Castain’s lips were pressed into a tight line, his entire stance rigid. He’d lost part of his patronizing aura and seemed to be intent on not letting a single sound escape from his mouth. Thornton on the other hand looked down his long nose at Andi with all the arrogance that often came with money and privilege. George inwardly crossed his ankles to enjoy the show. He was a bit miffed because he’d forgotten to bring popcorn.
“Detective Hayes, I presume?”
Andi smiled broadly, like a shark before it crushed an unsuspecting seal between its jaws. “Yes. This is my partner, Detective Donovan. We were the ones to arrest your client.”
“A highly suspicious and unlawful arrest, as you well know. I was told you were on unpaid leave and no longer involved with the case when it happened. I demand my client be released immediately and all charges dropped. If this happens quickly enough, we may refrain from pressing charges against the two of you. We will insist on a suspension, though, for at least two months. Unpaid of course.” Thornton leaned back in his chair, seeming satisfied with the threats he had just dealt. Andi turned to George.
“Did you hear that, Detective Donovan? Mr. Thornton wants us suspended. I’m quivering in fear.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m this close to pissing myself.” George made sure to let his Boston accent come fully through. Thornton furrowed his brows. He did seem to be familiar with the concept of sarcasm, though he obviously didn’t like it when it was directed at him.
“This is no joke, Detectives. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll be lucky to get a job flipping burgers in this city by the end of the week.”
George was sitting with his chair slightly behind Andi, just enough to have a prime view of his partner’s shoulders tensing. Andi’s voice turned low, menacing, like the growl from a guard dog just before it attacked. Thornton and Castain both leaned back instinctively. A warm feeling of satisfaction built in George’s belly, seeing those two predators taken down a few notches.
“If I were you, I’d be a lot more concerned about the charges against my client. And about what we’re going to find aboutyouwhen we start digging into all the files Mr. Castain has stored in his house.”
If George hadn’t watched Thornton very closely, he probably wouldn’t have caught the tic in his left eyelid when Andi mentioned Castain’s files. CSI had found dozens of them behind a fake wall in Castain’s cellar, together with two additional lion masks like the one he’d had on him when they had arrested him. So Thornton had known what Castain was up to, had perhaps even participated in his sick “parties.” What an asshole. Andi kept on going.
“We have evidence, tons of it. Not only circumstantial evidence, but we also caught Mr. Castain in a house which doesn’t belong to him, attending a party where minors and drugs played a major role. In the face of so much very damning evidence, the question as to why we were there to arrest him will be nothing but a footnote, and you know it. Thanks to a lot of good old-fashioned police work we did when we were still on the case, we have also connected him to at least ten corrupt cops who aided him in getting minors for his trafficking ring. As we speak, IA is tearing those cops’ lives apart, no doubt finding all kinds of incriminating evidence.” Andi turned his full attention on Castain. “No matter how good you think your lawyer is, Mr. Castain, the only thing that’s going to help you now is a full confession. You may even be able to get a deal with the DA if you give your full cooperation in finding every last asshole involved in this. But I have to warn you, that deal will only be available for a short period, and if somebody else decides to talk first… well, then you’re screwed. I’m not going to tell you about the things they do to pedophiles in prison. You’re going to find out soon enough. And if you don’t crack, I’m sure your lawyer will.”
With that, Andi got up and turned to leave the room. George followed suit, not saying a word until they were outside. Once the door had closed behind them to let Castain and Thornton steep in their own juices—quite literally since it was hot as hell in the interrogation room—George made sure nobody was listening in on them. “The lawyer?”
“He’s taken the same drugs as the rest of them, quite recently too.” Andi shrugged. “Makes sense for him to know about it. Castain was nothing but methodical in all this, so of course he has prepared insurance in case things go south. And what’s better than having a lawyer who has almost as much to lose as yourself when you go down? Even if Thornton had nothing to do with the trafficking, which I doubt, he still uses the same source for drugs as Castain, and you can bet Castain has proof of that. I’m pretty sure, though, Thornton is going to drop him like a hot potato unless Castain has some additional leverage aside from Thornton being his customer. The question is which rat will leave the sinking ship first?”
“An interesting question. Though I doubt Castain has a lot on Thornton.” George started walking toward the small common room on the interrogation floor where a vending machine was located. “People like Thornton tend to keep their dirty secrets close to their chests. I’d bet my career on him having more than just his penchant for underage sex partners or drugs, but the chances of anybody but him knowing about them is almost zero.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s going to go down with Castain. Have you seen the tic in his eye? We’re going to find something on him, I’m sure of it.”
“Then we better see to it that he can’t leave the country.”
They exchanged a long look of deep satisfaction. The hunt was almost over. The prey was down. All they had to do now was wait for it to succumb.
Chapter 30—Loose Ends
IT DIDN’Ttake long until both Castain and Thornton broke down. In Andi’s experience men who prayed on the weak, especially minors, were utter cowards more often than not, only feeling strong when their superiority wasn’t questioned. Castain was a conniving bastard with contingency plans for almost every scenario, which was the reason he’d been so successful, but once all those plans fell through, he cracked, and after that the DA had problems making himstoptalking. Thornton, too, struck a deal with the DA, after which getting the remaining customers and helpers for the trafficking ring was a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. News that Castain had been arrested had been kept secret, so nobody tried to run. The list of people who had used Castain’s services was shockingly long, and some of those names caused major ripples not only in the higher society of Charleston but also in the entire state.
The only person they hadn’t been able to get their hands on was Detective Harris, who somehow had gotten wind of what was happening during the three days after they had arrested Castain. He was nowhere to be found, and CSI had just started working through his many accounts, trying to entangle the vast net of aiders he had built seemingly over many years. Unlike Castain, Harris hadn’t kept any files in his house or he’d been smart enough to destroy everything before he went underground. Which meant they still didn’t know who the mole in the Charleston PD was, something that galled Andi. He wanted the person responsible for sabotaging them behind bars, not to mention how difficult it was for him to enter the precinct every day knowing somebody in there was an enemy. The chances of finding Harris were slim, but they had a chance to catch the mole once all the detective’s accounts had been combed through. He sighed. This was the part of cases he hated the most—waiting for the last knots to unravel, which could take weeks.
“Andi, you ready to go home?” George was grabbing his keys, obviously wanting to leave the precinct for the day. It was already past six, and there wasn’t much they could get done this evening that couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Andi switched his PC off.
“Coming.” He followed George through the door and into the car. George driving him was now a fixture Andi wasn’t unhappy about. They didn’t talk much during the short drive to Andi’s house, each of them lost in their thoughts. It was a companionable silence Andi had learned to relish in the days since the arrest of Castain. George always seemed to know when Andi needed room and never filled a good silence with useless chatter.
When George pulled up in front of the house, Andi was relaxed, but the images bombarding him from inside his home made him jerk back in his seat so violently, he hit the back of his skull on the headrest.
Hints of blood, already coagulating, still sweet, promising nourishment, pain, sharp in the air, intruders, not meant to be here, upsetting everything with their heavy footsteps, chair scraping over the floorboards, sending shock waves throughout the second floor, the silverfish hiding in their nooks and crannies, the huge blue bottle stirring in the corner where it had rested, woken by the blood and the alluring scent of sweat, tinged with fear, fear was always good, it promised a meal, a place to lay the eggs, the spider in its web on the ceiling waiting, the air in waves from the wings of the blue bottle, prey, hunger, INTRUDERS, food, nourishment—
“Andi? Andi! Are you all right? What’s going on?” George’s worried voice disconnected Andi from the maelstrom of sensory overload that was coming from his kitchen, threatening to drown him because he had let his guard down. Andi was not ashamed to cling to George’s arm, anything to center him after having been sucked into a different world and then yanked from it again. He took deep, calming breaths, and once his heartbeat was back to normal, he grabbed his cell, dialing Forard’s number. The SWAT leader answered after the second ring.
“Hayes. What is it?”
“Forard. You’re on speaker. Donovan is with me.”
“Shoot.”
“Two intruders in my home, possible hostage situation, though I’m not entirely sure. We’re going in now.”
“Be there in ten.”
