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“Does your relationship with Mr. Savant extend beyond a professional one?”
Eads narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, but his attorney held up her hand.
“Don’t answer,” Remington said.
Alyssa flattened her hands on the file folder, drawing Eads’s and Remington’s eyes to it. The attorney remained calm, but a blush crept up Eads’s neck.
“You should answer the question, Detective Eads, because your job is at stake.” The detective notched his chin up higher and simply stared daggers at Alyssa. “Are you aware that every case Adam Savant tried in Chatham County has been reevaluated?”
“Witch hunt,” Eads snarled.
Remington turned to her client. “Do not say another word unless I tell you it’s okay.”
“Seventy percent of the cases where malicious prosecution was identified had one thing in common,” Alyssa said. “You were the lead detective.”
“Are you going to tell a story or ask my client a question?” Remington asked.
Alyssa opened the file, removed seven pieces of paper, and lined them up in front of Remington and Eads.
“Are these my bank statements?” Eads asked.
“Not another word,” Remington warned.
“Yes, these are your bank statements,” Alyssa said. “I obtained them by subpoena.” She removed a copy of the legal document and handed it to Remington, who took her time reading it before confirming the records were legally obtained. “There are five-thousand-dollar cash deposits into your account, which coincide with the dates of seven investigations where evidence and witness tampering occurred.”
I couldn’t resist leaning closer to the monitor.
“I don’t hear a question,” Remington said. All the stalling in the world wouldn’t help her client. Alyssa had this punk right where she wanted him.
“Did you accept cash bribes from former prosecutor Adam Savant—who we discovered is your wife’s cousin by marriage—to alter your investigations?”
Eads banged his fist on the table, and Remington placed her hand on his forearm. “Are you charging my client with a crime?”
“Not at this time,” Alyssa said, then turned to Eads. “However, I am placing you on paid suspension until I’ve completed my investigation.”
“You can’t do that,” Eads said.
“Keep it together,” Remington warned again.
“Shecanand shewill,” Rigby said, breaking her silence. “I want your gun and badge right now.”
Eads unclipped his badge and slammed it down in the center of the table. I tensed as he reached for his gun but relaxed when Rigby and Alyssa moved their hands to a drawing position. The disgruntled detective wouldn’t catch them off guard if he decided to turn on them, but he peacefully removed the ammunition clip from his gun and set it next to the weapon on the table.
“It would be in your best interest to come clean now,” Alyssa told Eads.
The detective’s face turned bright red, and he visibly trembled. “It would be in your family’s best interest if you just dropped your witch hunt altogether.”
“Shut up, Dylan,” Remington said. “This interview is over. I want the cameras and audio off right now.”
Alyssa ignored the attorney’s request and leaned closer to him. “Are you threatening my family, Detective Eads?”
Remington stood up. “We’re leaving. Now, Dylan.” When he didn’t budge, she gripped his bicep and pulled until he rose to his feet.
“Your husband’s career will be over when this gets out,” Eads snarled. “The boys in blue won’t stand for this. He better watch his back.”
Beside me, Eubanks snorted. “Usually, I’d be pissed he overlooked the female officers, but I’m glad he acknowledged we’re too smart to fall for his shit.” I would’ve laughed if Eads and Alyssa weren’t squaring off like two gunslingers as Remington physically tried to extricate her client from the room.
“My husband is a parole officer, so you must be referring to my ex-husband, and you must know Chief Mendoza is more than capable of taking care of himself.”
