office. “Jeannie,” she said to Detective Jeannie McBride, “update the board with the Brinkley info and get Archie and someone from the Gang Unit down here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sam unlocked her office door and flipped on the lights, immediately turning them off when the fluorescent glare hurt her eyes. She hated fluorescent light almost as much as she hated needles and airplanes.
A knock on the door preceded Malone into her office. When he closed the door behind him, Sam had a sinking feeling this day was about to get worse—if that was possible. “What’s up?”
“The chief asked me to talk to you,” he said as he made himself comfortable in her visitor chair.
Her instincts rarely failed her. “About?”
“Stahl.”
That one word could conjure up a million different thoughts for Sam—none of them good. “What about him?”
“We’ve heard from Forrester’s office,” he said of the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia, “that Stahl is willing to enter an Alford plea in your case.”
Sam sat because that was better than her legs going out from under her. “So, he’s willing to concede they have enough to convict him, but he’s not willing to admit his guilt? That son of a bitch.”
“We thought you might say that.” Malone leaned in, elbows on his knees. “Here’s the thing, Sam. If you agree to the plea, he’ll still go away for decades. You won’t be put through the ordeal of the trial and having to relive what happened that day in Marissa Springer’s basement.”
The words “Marissa Springer’s basement” brought it all back. The torture. The razor wire. The gasoline. The absolute certainty she was going to die at the hands of a man who’d once been her commanding officer and had come to despise her. “After what he put me through, I want to hear him say he did it. I want him to admit his guilt in a court of law, or there’s no deal.”
“I hear you, and I understand where you’re coming from. But before we pass that on to Forrester’s team, I want you to take twenty-four hours and think about it from all sides. Talk to Nick and your dad. See what they think. Just take a day, Sam.”
“I don’t need a day. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Still, take the day. Do it because I’m asking you to. I don’t want you to have regrets later when there’s no choice but to testify.”
Affecting her best mulish expression, Sam stared at him, but he stared right back, the bastard. “Fine. If it means so much to you, I’ll sit on it for a day, but I won’t change my mind.”
“Fair enough. What’s next in the shootings investigation?”
“I’m gathering my team in the conference room to figure out our plan of attack.”
“I’ll join you.”
They walked together into the conference room, and once again Sam found herself trying to keep her mind on the case where it belonged. Goddamned Stahl. Like she didn’t have enough going on. He had to rear his ugly head too.
“Let’s walk through it from the top.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
