“Maybe I have been.”
Morrison’s expression darkens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I take a deep breath. “It means maybe I’ve been having second thoughts about using someone I care about as bait.”
“Someone you care about.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just a nasty edge. “Right. The target you’re not supposed to be emotionally involved with.”
“His name is Tate.”
“His name is irrelevant. He’s a means to an end.”
“He’s a person.”
“He’s a person who’s about to get recruited by criminals who fix hockey games for money. And thanks to your cooperation, we have a chance to stop that from happening.” Morrison stands upand starts pacing behind his desk. “Unless you’ve decided your feelings are more important than federal law enforcement.”
“What if I have?”
The words tumble out before I can stop them. Morrison stops pacing, his head slowly turning to look at me.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you, I just can’t believe you’re stupid enough to say it out loud.” He sinks back down in his chair. “Let me remind you of your situation, Christensen. You’re a cooperating witness in a federal investigation. You’ve been given immunity in exchange for your assistance. That immunity goes away the moment you stop cooperating.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure you do because it sounds like you think you can pick and choose which parts of our agreement you want to honor.”
“What if I told him about everything?”
Morrison’s face goes completely blank.
“Told him what?”
“Everything. About Detroit, about the syndicate, about this operation. About the fact that he’s been a target since before I took the coaching job.”
“You didn’t.” Morrison’s jaw twitches, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“I did.”
Rage seeps into his expression. “You compromised a federal investigation.”
“I protected someone who didn’t deserve to lose his livelihood.”
“You obstructed justice. You violated the terms of your cooperation agreement. You committed a federal fuckingcrime.” He’s standing again, slamming his hands flat on the top of his desk. “Do you have any idea how serious this is?”
“Yes, and I should have done it a long time ago.”
“You’ve completely fucked yourself beyond all recognition.” He reaches for his phone. “I’m calling the DA. Conspiracy charges, obstruction of justice, breach of agreement. You’re looking at ten to fifteen years.”
I hold out a hand. “Wait.”
“Wait for what? For you to compromise another investigation? For you to decide which laws you feel like following?”
“I can fix this.”
“You can’t fix this. It’s done. The operation is blown, the target is compromised, and you’re going to prison.” He starts dialing. “And just so we’re clear. Your father’s medical care gets cut off today. Hope he enjoys the state facility.”
