“Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Nick left me in the observation room once Mrs. Haggerty and her attorney were gone. A moment later, he came into view on the other side of the mirror, cornering Mike Tran before the detective could follow them out.
“What do you want?” Mike asked, clearly annoyed.
Nick’s voice was cold and clear through the small speaker in the wall. “I’m assuming you have everything you need to release Steven Donovan.”
Mike gathered his files as he stood. “Those women’s confessions don’t change the fact that Donovan assaulted a police officer.”
Nick put both hands on the table and leaned into Mike’s space.“Which he wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t goaded him into doing it to bolster your own investigation.”
“Donovan’s anger management issues aren’t my problem.”
“Admit it. You pulled the trigger before you actually had a case, and you needed a reason to hold him until you had enough dirt on the guy to make one up.”
Mike’s face hardened. “You want to talk about dirt? How about we start at Donovan’s farm? Just because he wasn’t guilty ofthiscrime doesn’t mean he isn’t guilty of something.”
“The same could be said of a lot of cops I know.” Joey sauntered into the room and slipped a toothpick into his mouth. He leaned against the wall, making himself comfortable. “How are you, Mike?”
Mike stiffened, wary as he silently returned the greeting.
“I couldn’t help but overhear all that talk about dirt,” Joey said, his cool blue eyes making a slow pass over Mike. “You know, I worked with Internal Affairs for a long time. Even did some work for them while I was here in Loudoun County, but I’m guessing you already heard that. Things like that get around fast. Everybody’s careful to warn their buddies, to make sure no one’s saying too much around the snitch. But I do hear things, Mike. I hear all kinds of things. I don’t bother looking into most of it, because a lot of those cops are good cops, and I don’t really see much benefit to the department in recommending internal investigations and making more work for everyone. But sometimes someone rubs me wrong, and I start wondering… what if there’s some dirt worth looking into?” Joey chewed on his toothpick as he studied Mike’s face. A muscle in Mike’s jaw tensed under Joey’s close scrutiny. “I left IA in pretty good standing. We got rid of a lot of dirty cops when we took Zhirov’s organization down. Nick’s bust at the sod farm was a big part of that whole operation, and there are a lot of people inthe FCPD—not to mention the FBI—who would hate to see all their hard work called into question because you botched a case and figured you’d do something stupid—like reopen someone else’s—in some misguided, desperate attempt to save a little face.”
Mike gritted his teeth. “Isolvedmy investigation. Nick and I were just wrapping up here.”
“That’s good,” Joey said. “I’m glad we understand each other.” His eyes trailed Mike as he shouldered past them and out of the room.
“You think he’ll push?” Nick asked.
Joey toyed with his toothpick. After a thoughtful pause, he shook his head. “He’d be a fool to try. His nose isn’t as clean as he wants people to think it is.”
Nick seemed to relax at that.
“You can come out now,” Joey called over his shoulder, presumably to me. I poked my head out of the observation room, making sure no one was looking as I slipped into the hall, then into the interrogation room with them. “Why don’t you two get out of here and try to get some sleep,” Joey said. “You’ve both had a long night. I’ll stick around and make sure Tran signs off on Steven’s release.”
I opened my mouth to protest, feeling guilty for leaving even though my eyes were so tired I felt like I needed two of his toothpicks to hold them open.
“And don’t worry,” he said before I could ask. “Cam made me promise to look after Mrs. Haggerty, too.”
I nodded, grateful to be able to go home and get some rest. According to my phone, it had been more than six hours since Nick and I had arrived at the police station just before dawn, me in my minivan and Nick following with Penny and Mrs. Haggerty in his Impala. I’d sent Vero home in The Eggplant and promised her I’d text her updates from the station. At some point that morning, onlyafter it had become clear that Mrs. Haggerty and Penny had stayed true to their word not to implicate either of us in their confession, Vero had stopped reading my texts, and I’d hoped that was because she had fallen asleep.
“Thanks, Joe,” Nick said. The two men clapped each other on the shoulder, and Nick followed me out of the room.
We were both quiet until we reached the parking lot. I paused, unsure where to go. His Impala was to the left. My van was to the right. Nick paused as well, as if he also wasn’t entirely sure where we stood. “You look too tired to drive. Want me to drop you off at home?”
“No, thank you,” I said, forcing myself to look him square in the eyes. I didn’t want him to drop me off. I wanted him to come home with me. But first, there was something I needed to do.
I took his hand and led him toward my minivan. He looked confused as I slid open the back door. I gestured for him to get in. His mouth quirked up and he almost laughed, until he registered the look on my face. This was not something I wanted to do.
He climbed inside, bending at the knees and the waist to fit as I climbed in after him. I slid the door shut and locked us in. Then I sat down on the floor of my van and gestured for him to sit, too. He eased himself to the floor, his worried frown deepening the longer I didn’t speak.
I drew in a steadying breath and said, “Harris Mickler died right here, on the floor of this van, while it was parked in my garage.”
Nick paled. I watched the knot in his throat bob. Saw the medical examiner’s findings click in place in his mind.Harris Mickler. Cause of death: carbon monoxide poisoning. Toxicology findings: traces of ketamine.
“You told me once you wanted to hear my entire story, everyword. That you didn’t want me to leave anything out. But there are parts of that story that don’t belong to me,” I explained. Vero’s story, Patricia’s, Irina’s, the women in the book club, even Mrs. Haggerty’s. “I can’t—won’t—share those with anyone, including you. Not because I don’t trust you with them but because they’re not my stories to tell. But I’m ready to tell you mine. Not because I need your help or your forgiveness. But because I want to. Because we’ll never be able to have a future together if I’m not willing to be honest with you.”
He was still—so still, I couldn’t be sure he was breathing, as if he was afraid the slightest sound or movement would scare me off. He listened, silent and rapt, as I told him about the first time I’d met Harris Mickler. How I’d seen Harris drop a roofie into his date’s drink. How I’d switched the glasses, drugging Harris instead, then lured him into my van, fully intending to return him to his home, until Patricia Mickler had told me not to because she was terrified of him.
I told Nick about the horrible things I’d discovered on Harris’s phone, and how I had driven him to my house, not knowing what to do. I told him that even though I hadn’t killed Harris, I’d been the one to bury him at the sod farm. And how by doing so, I’d accidentally put myself in Feliks Zhirov’s path. I explained how Feliks, at every turn, had drawn me deeper into debt with the Russian mob.
