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“Maybe your friend Emma Warren killed him,” Sadie suggested. Naomi had said she had a friend in the mayor’s office. Who knew it was the mayor herself and that they were more than friends?
But Sadie got it now. They were business partners. The puzzle pieces were all falling into place.
Naomi made a face. “Emma gives the orders. She never executes them. She has always been the real power.” Naomi smiled. “She’s just like me. Born into a man’s world. But she, too, took the power. She found herself pregnant at fifteen, and her father, who was already disappointed she wasn’t a boy, shipped her to Galveston and then to Birmingham to be rid of her. But she showed him. She achieved her law degree at Samford just as I did. We became very good friends. We had so much in common—powerful, abusive fathers. I helped her find her place in Birmingham. Introduced her to her future billionaire husband. I helped mold her into an unstoppable force, and her father had no choice but to see she was his ticket to great things in this country. A doorway. A very important one.”
For the first time in her life, Sadie found herself at a loss for words. “What’re you saying?”
The older woman smiled. “Emma’s father is very much alive. His name is Carlos Osorio. The child she had at fifteen was Eduardo. I think you knew him.”
Shock quaked through Sadie. “That’s not possible.”
She laughed. “Trust me, dear Sadie. Carlos sent her away, and she clawed her way to the top; she became the one with the power. Carlos took orders from her. Raised her son like a wet nurse.” Naomi laughed long and hard; this time the sound was full of amusement. “He became the wife and mother. How ironic is that?”
Fury burned through Sadie. Now she had her answer. “So if what you said is true, even if Warren didn’t kill Asher, she must have given the order.”
“No, no,” Naomi contended. “Emma wouldn’t do that to me. She understood what he meant to me, that he was my life. Someone else did this without her consent. It’s the only possible explanation.”
Sadie was the one who laughed this time, a dry, weary sound. “You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.” She pushed to her feet. “If Warren is really who you say she is, I guarantee you she gave the order.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Naomi argued, staggering to her feet.
Sadie drew her weapon. “You might want to get back to that joint. Finish while you can, because I’m calling this in.” Sadie fished out her cell with her left hand. “I regret that I can’t do the honors myself, but I’m not a cop anymore.”
Naomi collapsed back into her chair and reached for the lighter. “The sooner this is over, the better.”
Sadie made the call to 911.
Then she sat down to wait and keep an eye on the woman. Naomi Taylor wasn’t going anywhere before the police arrived.
She should have known better than to worry. Just before the sirens sounded in the distance, Naomi had a seizure and stopped breathing.
Sadie started CPR.
Probably something the crazy old woman had added to the weed.
The cops arrived and took over the situation, but there was no reviving the woman.
She was gone.
Sadie walked away. Whatever happened next didn’t matter to her. She had what she wanted.
She knew who had killed Asher.
She should have known from the beginning.
48
4:00 p.m.
Federal Holding Facility
Birmingham
Sadie waited in the interview room.
Like all interview rooms, even those operated by the feds, the walls and floor were a bland grayish-whitish beige. The table was utilitarian with enough wear and tear to be called vintage. A clock hung on the wall. Something to remind whoever was on the wrong side of the table how much time had passed. To make them sweat. To ensure the tension continued to build. Just watching the second hand tick, tick, tick around the face of that basic, no-frills clock was frustrating. The sound it made was similar to a leak in a faucet. That drip, drip, drip that echoed in the night, the sound carrying through the darkness.
The air was stale, the temp too warm. Later it would be too cold, then too warm again. But it was the chairs that were the worst. Hard, slick. Uncomfortable for five minutes, downright painful after half an hour.
