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“Dammit,” Bruner muttered, but he was right behind him.
When they got to the apartment, Muncy expected to hear noise. Granted the boys would be in school, but with two little kids under school age, it shouldn’t be quiet. But he knocked and got no answer. He knocked again and was still waiting for someone to answer when a door opened behind them.
An old man was standing in the doorway with a cigarette hanging from his lip, and holding a bottle of beer.
“They’re gone,” he said.
Muncy’s heart skipped. “Oh yeah? Do you know where they went?”
“Her old man got shanked in prison. Her people from Virginia come and moved her and the kids back to where she grew up.”
“Oh… Okay, thanks,” Muncy said, and was turning to walk away when the old man called out. “Hey! Are you them cops who was here when Roadie got killed?”
They nodded.
“Did you catch who done it?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah, we did,” Bruner said.
The old man took the cigarette out of his mouth and flipped the ashes. “Good. Roadie had a hard life, but he was a decent man. He didn’t deserve to die like that,” he said, then stepped back inside and shut the door.
Muncy glanced at his partner, then headed for the stairs. It wasn’t until they got back in the car that Bruner spoke.
“Okay, I’m glad I came. This is a feel-good moment I never saw coming.”
Muncy grinned, then started the car and drove away.
Fiona’s lawyer, Sheldon Ryker, was at the Tallahassee prison where Fiona had been sent, waiting in visitation to speak with her. He had news and more news, none of which she was going to like.
When they finally brought her in, he was shocked at her transformation. She was gaunt, hollow-eyed, and looked like utter hell. Her hair was dry and stringy, and the dark roots were growing out. She shuffled when she walked and didn’t blink when the guard handcuffed her to the table where Ryker was sitting.
She looked up at him, blinked, and then frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“To give you updates,” he said. “The families of Stuart Bien and Zander Sutton have filed civil lawsuits against you. They’re asking five million dollars each for loss and suffering. And the board of education in Jubilee, Kentucky,has filed a lawsuit against you for the sum of four million dollars for the damage to the school and playgrounds from the chopper crash, for which you have claimed guilt, and to pay the medical bills of the two teachers and thirteen students who were injured during the second explosion.”
A ripple of shock went through her as he continued.
“Your assets have been frozen. That includes your bank accounts and property registered under the name Mary Ingalls and BioMed, your company under your own name. Whatever monies are decided after the lawsuits are settled will come from those assets, minus my fees, of course.”
Her eyes welled. “What about me? What’s my fate?”
“The feds have agreed to the plea bargain…up to a point. You have no leverage, so there’s no point in arguing. They have agreed to leave your sentencing up to the judge without requesting one way or the other. Either you’ll be a lifer, or you’ll lose your life.”
She lowered her head, like a bull deciding whether to bluff or charge, then glanced up from beneath hooded eyes.
“What about my single cell?”
“If you’re in for life, you share. If you’re awaiting a death sentence, you get a single cell to await execution,” Ryker said.
“And who’s the judge signing my dance card?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet, and it doesn’t matter. Either way, we have no say.”
She grimaced. “In my high school yearbook, I wasvoted most likely to succeed. When I graduated college, I was magna cum laude. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
Ryker sighed. He didn’t like her. He had no sympathy for her. She was the most narcissistic, heartless, selfish, vicious woman he’d ever met, and he was ready to be rid of her drama.
“It was the murders, Fiona. You skipped the part about all the murders. That’s why you’re where you are. When I get more information, you will be informed,” he said, then nodded at the guard. “We’re through here.”
