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“I’m telling you, there’s evidence piling up against your son, and you’d better hope none of those stones being turned over expose your involvement.”
“I can assure you, I have nothing hidden.”
I stand and grab my phone. “This meeting went a little off the rails.”
He stands. “The car has been fixed. I don’t want a check.”
“Good, ’cause I wasn’t gonna give you one,” I grumble.
“And what should Kalvin expect from Whitley?”
“If he or any of his lackeys comes near her, or our daughter, or anyone we love, he should expect a fucking war.”
“They were together for quite some time. What if the child asks about him?”
And here we go, I think.
“Trust me, she won’t.”
“All right then. I’ll see you out.”
“No need.”
Climbing into Whit’s vehicle with plenty of time on the parking meter, I peel away from the curb as I power up the dummy phone.
Within a minute, I’m pulling up to the hotel and heading up to get these wires off.
Walking into the room, I look at the less-than-enthusiastic State and Federal officers. “I pushed buttons. It will get back to his son, and that will lead to something more than we’ve already handed you.”
“Pope, we’re on the same team,” Marks says as he pulls the suit jacket off that has the voice recorder wired into it.
“Who’s on Alice’s team? Whether Kevin is involved or not, she’s not safe, and neither is the information no one but her is motivated to give.”
“She was taken into protective custody last night. She’s safe,” one of the two detectives informs.
“Spud talking?” I ask.
“Asking for his lawyer every five minutes. We’re taking our time fulfilling that request.”
“What are your plans?” Marks asks me.
“Trying to convince my wife to take off with me, bring Danny and Chloe to recuperate. You and York get some time off and come hang with us.”
“You’re witnesses,” one of them states sternly.
“You’ll have to subpoena me if needed.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
Marks chuckles. “You know how the girls used to get a period pass to get out of gym?”
I look at him like he’s crazy.
“Pope needs one so he doesn’t get in trouble for missing a game.”
“Shit, right, he plays baseball.”
I don’t know if I should be bent out of shape that they didn’t remember who I was or elated because they were focused on the task at hand. I go for the latter.
