Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I lean back against the front bumper of the truck. “I told the chief the truth. I told him everything I know and everything I guessed. And I told him he can fuck himself.”
Misty barks a laugh. “You told Corvine that? That old cowboy asshole?”
“Sure did.”
“Good for you. I never did like him.” She looks at Angelo and back to me. “I was sent to make a deal. I don’t want to be here because I find this whole mess extremely distasteful, but I agreed to do it anyway. Since I figure I’m just about the only cop left that doesn’t want to kill you both.”
“We only have one demand. Nicolas goes free,” Angelo says. “And we decide whether we release what we know to the press. That’s the deal.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Misty says. “We need assurances. Real fucking assurances. If we release Nicolas, we need to know this whole goddamn, shit-stain mess stays buried nice and deep.” She jabs a finger in my direction. “I can’t risk this one deciding she wants to take this into court just to get some false sense of justice.”
“I have no interest in making enemies with the Dallas PD for the rest of my life,” I say and nudge Angelo. “Same with you, right?”
“Hell, no. Fuck them. I don’t care if they hate me.”
“Angelo.”
He sighs. “Whatever Sara says, I’ll go with, but I want it on the record that I’d rather burn your whole fucking precinct to the ground than cut a deal. You slimy fucks.”
Misty gives him a hard look. “You’re preaching to the choir. Believe it or not, there are some of us that don’t agree with pretending like cops can’t fuck up sometimes. But unfortunately, I’m in the middle of this now, and all I want to do is get it over with. We release Nicolas, you all bury what you know, everyone walks away happy.”
“What about the case?” I ask.
“Our stats take a hit, but fuck the stats.” Misty smiles tightly. “I heard that’s what you said to the chief. Is it true?”
“More or less.”
She laughs and seems genuinely delighted. “The balls on you, girl. You would’ve made a good detective.”
“I’d rather work for Carmine Scavo than you people,” I tell her. “At least he’s got honor.” Which is true. Carmine doesn’t hide what he is and what he does. He obfuscates, he layers himself in protection and keeps some plausible deniability going, but it’s not like he’s walking around pretending to be a saint. The cops, they’re supposed to protect and serve. They’re supposed to be the good guys. Right now, they’re just a bunch of thugs with guns and badges protecting their own asses.
Misty’s smile disappears. “Right, let’s finish this then. We’re working on the honor system here for obvious reasons. In the next day or two, Nicolas will be released from prison and the charges will be dropped. We’ll cite new evidence or some shit, I don’t know. The prosecutor’s office will deal with that. Once he’s free, you destroy everything you have on what happened at the Two Lane Inn. And I mean everything. If so much as a whisper leaks about what really went down, there will be consequences.”
“You gonna follow through with those consequences, Misty?” Angelo asks.
She ignores him. “Do we have a deal?”
I hesitate, watching her. I hate this. Every piece of this. It’s my father’s world: a smoky room, a shady handshake. Except it’s hot out and we’re in some beat-up parking lot. It’s corrupt from the top to the bottom. And here I am, thinking I can do better.
There is no better—there’s only different.
I became a lawyer to fight this garbage.
But I’m not that girl anymore. The world isn’t black and white—it’s an ugly shade of gray—and I want to get Nicolas out of prison.
Nothing will bring back those dead cartel men. Not that I particularly mind. And the cops won’t ever face consequences for what happened, though I figure this whole ordeal is bad enough. Maybe they’ll think twice the next time they go off on some half-cocked raid.
“We have a deal,” I say.
“Great,” Misty says and makes a disgusted face. “I hope I never see either of you ever again. I fucking hate this trash.” Misty turns on her heel, marches to her truck, and gets inside. I stand next to Angelo and his hand slips into mine as she drives off.
“How’s it feel?” he asks once she’s gone.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s almost anticlimactic. I expected some big fight, some dramatic confrontation, but we already did all that, didn’t we?”
“You confronted the chief of police. I beat the shit out of that garbage detective. I’d say we’ve been busy. What else did you want? Some protracted gun battle? This is the real world, princess.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Just none of it feels good.”