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He tilted his head slightly. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Ms. Payne. He killed that man.”
“The jury said otherwise.”
“I have proof.”
“In case you forgot, I was his lawyer during the case. I already saw all of the evidence.”
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
“Believe the man who killed my friend? No. I don’t.”
Was there even a hatch release button back here? Why wouldn’t they put some type of lever in the back to open this door in case one finds themselves trapped with a dead body and a killer who was coming after them next? Just past the Vigilante, the front seat beckoned me with its freedom, but when I calculated my odds of diving over him without his knife severing one of my arteries, my shoulders dropped.
Odds: not good.
“I got my hands on a video of the murder,” the Vigilante said. “It was recorded to provide a warning to others of what happens if you don’t pay your debts.”
“How convenient. And thissupposedvideo didn’t get submitted as part of the trial against him because…”
Maybe I could break one of the windows back here and dive through it.Break it with what, Luna?
“The jury was already out for deliberation when it came into my possession. Too late for it to enter the trial.”
“You still should have turned it over.” But he couldn’t because there was no video.
“My sources would stop supplying me with information if they found out I was working with law enforcement by handing over evidence they provided.”
“Which is it?” I asked. “You got it too late, or you would have not turned it over?”
“Both.”
“You expect me to believe that bullshit?”
“There are some types of people in this world who aren’t willing to talk to cops or lawyers. But they will talk to me. Especially if I offer some”—he slanted his head—“persuasion.”
Maybe I could grab the knife out of his hand or reachmysteak knife, which was lying on the ground behind him. Or maybe I could convince him to set his down for a second.
“Well, if what you say is true, show it to me.” I raised my eyebrow.
“Afraid I can’t do that.”
“Because it doesn’t exist.”
“The people who gave it to me required assurance it would not be shared with law enforcement or individuals involved with law enforcement. They might be willing to help me, but they have no interest in helping the police or being branded their informant. If they found out I handed it over to you, it would jeopardize my operation.”
“Operation. Is that what you call being a serial killer?”
I patted the floor behind my back. Landing on something firm and small.
Is that what I think it is? It is! The dead man’s box cutter. The one the Vigilante had knocked out of his hand when he’d lunged at him.
I grabbed it, a rush of hope flooding my limbs.
“Next time, you should vet the clients you take on more thoroughly,” the Vigilante lectured. “With a little digging, perhaps you would’ve realized he was guilty of murder, and you wouldn’t have helped him walk free.”
He twisted the knife’s blade in his hand.
“Everyone deserves their day in court, and it’s my job to ensure the scales of justice remain balanced.”
