Mack wanted to say,Bring it on, I got this, but the guy had an air of contempt that gave Mack a moment’s pause. Mack was surprised Zamora hadn’t called the attorney who represented Razo’s gang members. Seemed like Zamora would do that right off the bat, but he didn’t even hint at it. Not that Mack was complaining. Not at all.
He shifted on the hard chair, and a stabbing pain raced up his injured leg. He had to work hard not to suck in a breath and reveal the pain that had worsened during the arrest. He changed his position again, hoping to find a more comfortable spot, moving as subtly as possible.
Addy was watching through the one-way glass, and he didn’t want her to feel bad about his injury or worry about him. He wished she wasn’t even watching. After the shooting, he hadn’t wanted to bring her to the detention center, but Harris agreed that Addy could observe the interview, and there was no stopping her. He recognized that from the moment Addy fixed her determined gaze on him.
Plus with Zamora in custody, Mack didn’t have a reason tokeep her away. Sure, Razo was still free, but it would take him time to get another one of his henchmen in position to cause Addy any harm. And as she’d said, if she wasn’t safe from Razo and his men inside the interview area of a secured jail with deputies all around, where was she safe?
He couldn’t argue. Even as much as he wanted to.
The door opened, and Harris entered. They’d decided Mack would be the tough guy, and she would go easier on Zamora. Between the two of them, they hoped to get him to roll over on Razo.
Harris sat next to Mack, laid a pen and notepad on the table, then tapped the play button on the video recorder. “I’m Gala Harris, Special Agent in Charge of ICE’s Portland office. And I’m joined by Deputy Mack Jordan with the Marshals Service, questioning Dante Zamora.”
She added the date and leaned forward. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, two counts, and kidnapping, Mr. Zamora.” She read Zamora his Miranda rights. “Do you understand the charges and your rights?”
Mack didn’t know how she could call this creep “Mr.” In Mack’s Southern upbringing, the word was a sign of respect, and there was no way he respected Zamora.
The guy crossed his arms and gave Harris a snarky smile. Mack noted the birthmark on his wrist, cementing in Mack’s mind that the guy had been the knife wielder in the video.
“I understand,” he said. “But I didn’t try to kill or kidnap no one.”
“See, here’s the thing.” Mack planted his hands on the stainless-steel table. “We have the casings from the hospital shooting with your prints all over them. Plus the slugs. Our top-notch forensic staff is processing it all right now, and we’ll have your DNA and prints from every touchpoint. And they’ve lifted your prints from the railing where you took your stand. It’s all enough to put you away for a very long time.”
Mack paused and waited for Zamora to speak. He slumped back in his chair and clamped his mouth shut.
“And we have your DNA from Agent Leigh’s house, and prints from there and her car,” Mack added, this time taking the guy by surprise. “So you’re looking at multiple counts of attempted murder and two counts of kidnapping. Without your cooperation, you have no hope of getting out of prison until you’re an old man.”
“I...” He closed his mouth and stared at them. “I want to see my lawyer.”
Having this creep lawyer up frustrated Mack beyond words, and he wanted to lay into the guy. How he wanted to. Desperately. He fisted his hands on his knees instead.
“We’ll make that call, Mr. Zamora, but just know, telling the truth about everything will go a long way in reducing your sentence.” Harris’s tone was softer, kinder. “We know you committed these crimes for someone else. If you cooperate, I can tell the DA about your assistance and recommend a lighter sentence.”
Zamora crossed his arms again, the tattoos vivid and gaudy. “I ain’t no snitch.”
“Don’t think of this as snitching as much as you saving your own neck,” Mack suggested.
Zamora shook his head. “Just the opposite will happen. This guy runs with the big dogs, and he’ll have me killed.”
“You mean Razo,” Harris stated.
“Nah. He don’t know nothing about this,” Zamora said with a vehemence that Mack believed. “And I aim to keep it that way or he’ll want to take me out as well.”
Addy’s mouth fell open, and she suspected Mack and Harris felt the same way. If Zamora was telling the truth, this was a shocker. A big, honking, crazy shocker. If Razo wasn’t theforce behind Zamora, who was? And why did this person want her dead?
Mack shoved his chair back from the table. “Think about it, man. We’ll only go to bat for you if you come clean, and soon.”
Mack spun and limped out of the room. The door opened, and Mack walked in, favoring his injured leg. “Do you believe Zamora?”
“You should get off that leg.” Addy tapped the chair.
He complied, his lack of protest telling her he was in more pain than she first suspected. She wouldn’t comment, though, or he might go back to being the strong, invincible guy, working hard to hide his pain. No point in putting him through that.
She took the chair next to him. “Seems like he’s telling the truth.”
“My gut says the same thing. He’s working for someone in addition to Razo, and that someone is the person who wants you dead.” Mack moved his leg again, and she wished she’d been allowed to bring her purse in so she could give him some Tylenol. “Probably the reason he didn’t lawyer up right away too. If he’s two-timing Razo, he couldn’t call Razo for the gang’s attorney, and Zamora wouldn’t implicate this other guy who scares him so much. But who is he?”
“I have no idea.” She searched her brain and came up blank. Did she know this boss’s identity but couldn’t remember? She couldn’t be the reason that these guns came into the country and countless people were murdered. They had to figure this out, and there was little time left to do it.
