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“Marvin Maloney,” Bronson shares, leaning closer and tapping the pictures with his finger. “That was his name. That’s who they killed. He’s not the only one we know of, but the only one we think we can prove.”
“Who was he?” I ask softly, unable to look away from the pictures as my blood turns cold. I know they are capable of killing, hell, I witnessed Rogan shoot a man point-blank right in front of me, but this man suffered a great deal. I didn’t even see the rope marks on his hands, feet, and neck at first… Did they hang him before they mutilated him? He’s also disemboweled, and although I don’t seem to mind bloodshed, my stomach rolls as I finally figure out what the spongy red bits are hanging from his stomach.
“He was an informant.” I drag my eyes to Bronson as he stares at me. “He worked for the Dixen brothers before he was approached by an officer in this precinct. He agreed to snitch on them, to spill their secrets, and there were many of those if he was to be believed. He said he had proof of embezzlement, drug smuggling, money laundering…and murder. Finally, we had a witness to their activities, activities we had been watching closely for years. And then one day, before he was due to give evidence in court, he turned up dead. Like this. Tortured and left like garbage in an abandoned warehouse.” I swallow, and he nods. “You wanted to know, this is it. This is what I’m trying to prove.” He shuts the file and takes it as I slump backwards, more confused than ever.
I thought I knew the Dixen brothers. Thought I—shit. Can I give up my freedom for them? Especially if they did this?
Did they?
To protect their company, their family…themselves?
“He had a family, a kid and a wife. They deserve justice, and the Dixen brothers deserve to rot for it,” he snarls, stabbing his finger at the folder.
“What if they didn’t—”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot. It’s not a coincidence he was about to testify against them and he turns up dead. They did this to cover their tracks, don’t let them fool you. Behind all that money and luxury, they’re nothing but monsters. Cold-blooded killers. And you got into bed with them, Ms. O’Brien. Can you live with that?” I meet his eyes, and he searches my face. “I can’t. I can’t sleep at night knowing they’re free, laughing at us and enjoying life, while Marvin’s family never gets answers or peace. He wasn’t a great man, but he was still a man who deserved dignity and respect, and he received neither.”
“I’ll get your information,” I whisper, more confused than ever, but it’s what he wants to hear.
He nods smugly. “At least with you fucking them, we might get more intel.” He grins, and that moment of him acting like a caring human disappears. “Just don’t get killed, it would be a bitch to replace you. Now go, I want something solid by Wednesday or your ass is back in jail. Understood?”
“Understood.” I stand and then turn before looking back at him. “You care about that dead man more than you care about whether I die or not. Did you ever think about that? You preach about them being monsters, yet you’re sending me right into their nest and don’t even bat an eye. So, Detective Bronson, if they are monsters, then what does that make you?”
With that parting shot, I leave, needing some air to figure out what I’m going to do.
