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Romero checks his phone, frowning. “What's taking him so long? He seemed to be in a hell of a hurry when I called him after our call started wrapping up. He said he'd be here as soon as possible.”
“I'm sure he's moving as fast as he can. Maybe with one of those dome lights on his roof.”
“There's a chance he could decide not to tell us a damn thing, you know.”
“I know, except I have a feeling I can get through to him.” I'm going to do everything in my power. After what we've learned since Romero pulled together that list of cops in on the take, I'm pleased we've uncovered the full story of what happened to Jessica Cole. I want to hear it from Ken, however. I need to, since he allowed his best friend to continue hating me for years and even watched him beat the shit out of me when he knew the truth all along.
“You're sure this is the right thing to do? What if Bianca comes back early?”
“Please. Charlie will keep her there for hours. Knowing him, he'll spend the whole time trying to convince her to stay for good.”
As soon as Bianca announced she was paying him a visit, I knew it had to be today. Otherwise, she would've been hanging around the house, and there would've been no discussing this. I don't want her to know yet, not until I figure out a gentle way to break the news—if there is such a way of breaking it.
“Besides,” I add, “the app will let me know once she's moving.” I tap my phone that's sitting on the desk, where the app tells me she's parked by Charlie's house.
Henry's call from the front gate sets Romero in motion while I sit at the desk and brace myself for what's to come. It's sort of a last-ditch effort, calling Ken in for an emergency meeting, but I'm tired of tiptoeing around the issue. I want answers, and I want them now. Until I know for sure what happened to Jessica Cole, there's no moving forward with Bianca. The guilt and uncertainty are acting as barriers between us whether she knows it or not. Eventually, she will and clue into the way I hold part of myself back from her.
Ultimately, I'll have to tell her about my connection to the murder, but I can't leave it there. I need to be able to follow that up with the rest of the story. I need to provide the answers I promised.
I hear Ken's deep, strident voice before I see him. “Is Bianca here? Is she alright?”
“She's fine,” Romero tells him. “This doesn't have to do with her.”
“Tell me Charlie hasn't pulled some crazy bullshit again.” He looks and sounds beside himself when he enters my office, his angular face flushed, his skin shining with a thin layer of perspiration. He's in the typical detective outfit of a shirt-and-tie combo, his badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck. “What's happening? Why did you need me to come right away? Tell me he's not tied up somewhere in this house.”
The idea makes me laugh a little. “I wouldn't go that far. No, Charlie isn't here and hasn't been since the last time you and I saw each other. As far as I know, Bianca is visiting with him right now.”
“Jesus Christ.” He comes to a stop in front of my desk, hands on his hips, lowering his head as he attempts to catch his breath. “Do you know how many ugly thoughts can go through a man's head when he gets an urgent call?”
“I do apologize, I didn't mean to make you anxious. We need to discuss something else, and I didn't want Bianca here for it. She hasn't gone out on her own much lately, and I had to take advantage.”
“What's going on? Is there anything I can help with?”
“I'm thinking there is something you might be able to help us with. Please, have a seat.”
He reminds me of a wary animal now, eyes narrowing slightly as he sits. “What's going on?”
“I'm going to cut right to the chase, for there's no point in wasting time.” Looking him in the eye, I fold my hands on the desk. “I have it on good authority you were in on the take.”
His face drains of color all at once, as suddenly as if I flipped a switch. “I'm using past tense because I would like to give you the benefit of thinking you've moved on from that, however who's to say? At any rate, you were taking money from outside influencers around the time of Mrs. Cole's death.”
“Who did you hear this from?” His head swings around until he finds Romero standing by the window. “Where are you getting this information from? Because they're full of shit, whoever they are.”
“From what we've learned,” I continue, ignoring his outburst, “you were in with one particular family. It so happens I was in the middle of brokering a pretty big deal with that family at around the same time. And, of course, Charlie was a dog digging for a bone, determined to put me and anyone I did business with in prison for a long time.”
He's fighting hard to keep it together, only that doesn't stop him from trembling, no matter how he tries to laugh everything off. I've watched men spiral through the different reactions of getting caught red-handed. This is nothing new.
“I still don't understand what this has to do with me,” he insists. “For one thing, it isn't like guys on the take announce it to the rest of the department. How would anyone know for sure?”
“Ken. You realize I could have taken this information directly to Charlie and let him do what he wants with it? I brought you here out of respect and with an understanding that this is a very complicated situation. The least you can do is man up and quit the bullshit.”
“I cannot believe I came here to be insulted.” He blurts out a bitter laugh as he stands. “This is insanity. Are you this desperate to show Bianca what a decent man you're trying to become? It's going to backfire, big time.”
“I confirmed it with his son,” I murmur, freezing him in place. “Sebastian Costello. He was here the day Charlie kicked my ass. You saw each other.”
“And I noticed the way he looked at you,” Romero adds, his voice so low I could almost call it apologetic. “Like he had seen you before.”
“And when I asked him,” I continue, “he confirmed having seen you in his father's office more than once when he was younger. Many times, I believe he said.” Romero's head bobs up and down slowly in confirmation.
