As I followed Voss out, I brushed past Hawley. Murmured under my breath. "Keep digging. Find the connection."
The interrogation room was at the end of a long corridor. Its walls a shade of institutional gray that managed to be both bland and oppressive. Through the one-way glass, I could see a man sitting alone at the metal table. His hands cuffed in front of him. Muscular, with tattoos climbing up his neck like dark vines. He projected a tough-guy image that didn't quite hide the nervous energy rolling off him in waves.
"Who is he?" I observed the suspect's body language. The way his focus darted to the door every few seconds. The constant bouncing of his right knee.
"Marshall. Small-time enforcer with connections to several drug operations. Picked him up near the scene of your informant's beating."
The way he phrased "your informant" made my skin crawl. Like Daniel was nothing more than a piece on a game board. A pawn sacrificed in whatever twisted game Voss was playing.
"Convenient timing."
Voss's mouth tightened. "Good police work often appears convenient to the untrained observer."
Before I could respond to the jab, he pushed open the door to the interrogation room. The suspect's head snapped up. Briefly flashing with what looked like recognition when he saw Voss. Quickly hidden by a scowl that seemed more rehearsed than genuine.
"Marshall." Voss's voice carried an edge of familiarity that set off alarm bells in my head. "This is Detective Carlson from 51 Division. Formerly of 52."
I caught the emphasis on "formerly," but it was nothing compared to what came next.
"The detective who worked the 52 Division drug case," Voss added unnecessarily. Malice barely disguised as professional courtesy.
Marshall's focus locked onto me. Shifted from wariness to something darker. "You're the one they talk about. The pretty boy who couldn't keep his mouth shut about his snitches."
My jaw clenched involuntarily.
Setup.
Voss had just deliberately exposed my connection to Daniel without directly naming him. A calculated move that confirmed my worst suspicions. This wasn't an interrogation. It was theater. With Voss as the director and Marshall as his willing actor.
"Let's talk about where you were three nights ago." I took a seat across from Marshall. Kept my delivery calm and bureaucratic.
He leaned back, affecting a casual posture that didn't match the tension in his shoulders. "Working. Got witnesses."
"What kind of work?"
Before Marshall could answer, Voss interjected. "We've already established his alibi for the time of the assault. What I'm more interested in is how he came to know about Detective Carlson's informants in the first place."
The redirect was so transparent I almost laughed. Voss wasn't even trying to hide the fact that this was a setup.
"Good question. How did you learn about my CIs, Marshall?"
Marshall's focus darted to Voss. A quick, instinctive movement that confirmed my suspicions. He was waiting for direction. A puppet checking with its master.
Voss gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Marshall's posture shifted subtly.
"Everyone knew. Word on the street was that Detective Carlson was selling out his informants to save his own career. Names, locations, the whole deal."
My blood ran cold despite knowing this was coming. The accusation was absurd. I'd risked everything to protect my informants. But hearing it stated so matter-of-factly in an official interrogation was clearly Voss's way of getting it on record.
"That's interesting. Because there was never any official finding that I leaked anything. In fact, the investigation pointed to someone inside the division with access to the CI database."
Voss's satisfaction hardened. "Yet here you are at 51, not 52. Interesting indeed."
I ignored him. Focused on Marshall. Kept my questions measured and formal. "You mentioned 'everyone knew.' Who's everyone, exactly?"
Marshall shifted uncomfortably. Glanced at Voss again before answering. "You know. People in the business."
"Which business? Be specific."
