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“Okay, Bradley. We’re going to do this on the fly because we don’t have much time. This is so we can convince a judge to give us a warrant to search your dad’s property.” David pulled three letters from evidence. One of them was written by the blackmailer. “Can you tell me with any certainty, which one—”
“This one.” Bradley pointed to the blackmailer’s letters. “He wrote out a lot of notes when he was being treated. He used to have me read through what all the doctors told him to see if any of them were lying or trying to take advantage of him. It’s this one.”
“That’s good enough for me,” David said.
Harris nodded her head. “Then it’s good enough for me, too.”
Thirty-Eight
The intensity level in the precinct increased a thousandfold. The air, no longer stale, rushed past, carrying the smell of early fall through the building every time someone opened an exterior door.
Harris handed Bradley over to Detective Beauregard, who was instructed to take the man’s statement and not leave anything out, no matter how strange it seemed. Beauregard, for his part, gave a solemn nod and entered the interrogation room with a firm look of determination on his face.
Before Harris could issue any orders, a man in uniform ran up to her. “It’s in the news.”
“What’s in the news?”
“They know we’ve arrested a suspect and they know there’s someone else involved.”
Harris cursed. “Campbell?”
The man shook his head. “Not this time. Langford’s lawyer went to the press himself. He’s trying to paint Langford as the victim. He’s trying to say someone else was pulling the strings.”
“Court of public opinion,” David said. “Son of a bitch. That’ll be good for him.”
“And bad for us,” Harris said. “We gotta get to Baker before he sees the news, or he’ll be in the wind.”
“What should I do?” the cop asked. He looked young. And nervous.
“Get that piece of crap lawyer inside. I don’t care if you have to throw him in a cell. Just stop him from talking. Do what you need to do. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
The cop mumbled a quick “yes, ma’am,” and ran off in the opposite direction.
“David,” Harris said. “I need you to go over to Judge Kominski’s house and convince him we need a searc
h warrant.”
“It’s Saturday. He’s not going to be happy.”
“I don’t care. If you must, say we’ll owe him a favor. We need that warrant.”
“What are you going to do?”
“According to Bradley, his father is wealthy. He’s a flight risk. I’m going to head over to his house and keep an eye on him. Stall if I have to. That’s why you need to hurry.”
“Adelaide—”
“David.” She stared him down. “This is not the time to argue. Get that search warrant. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
David looked like he’d rather tie Harris to her desk than risk putting her in that situation, but he nodded his head, squeezed Cassie's shoulder, and ran down the hall and out of the precinct. By the time he got to the door he had his phone to his ear.
“Go home, Cassie.” Harris made her way over to her desk. “You’ve been a huge help. I’ll call you when it’s over, okay?”
“Home? Detective—”
“You know, I’d get a lot more done if people didn’t try arguing with me every time I told them to do something.” Harris sat down in front of her computer. “William Baker. Come on, you piece of shit. Work faster.”
Cassie looked down the hallway David left through. Elizabeth was standing there, allowing the other cops to pass through her unnoticed. She reached out her hand and tried mouthing something, but Cassie couldn’t hear the words.
