Chapter 5 - The Witness Who Refused to Disappear|
Genevieve spent the next eleven minutes standing alone in Penelope's office bathroom, staring at a woman she barely recognized in the mirror.
Her evening gown was stained with dust.
A thin scratch crossed her collarbone.
Her hair had fallen from its carefully arranged style, leaving loose brown strands around a face that looked ten years older than it had at the beginning of the gala.
But none of those things disturbed her as much as the memory of Mateo saying one simple word.
Yes.
He had admitted that he protected information connected to her father's death.
He hadn't offered excuses.
He hadn't blamed another man.
He hadn't even asked for forgiveness.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Genevieve turned on the faucet and splashed cold water across her face.
Her father had taught her that courage wasn't the absence of fear.
It was choosing what was right when fear made every other choice easier.
She had repeated those words during her academy training.
Now she wondered whether she had spent years pursuing justice only to discover that justice could demand the destruction of someone she was beginning to care about.
The realization made her furious with herself.
She had known Mateo Viscanti for less than one night.
She had spent eight months investigating his organization.
Yet when the gunshots had sounded upstairs, she had been more frightened for him than she wanted to admit.
A soft knock sounded at the bathroom door.
“Genevieve?”
It was Penelope.
“I'm fine.”
“That's an ambitious interpretation of the evidence.”
Genevieve opened the door.
Penelope held a paper cup of coffee.
“Black, two sugars.”
“How did you know?”
“Mateo remembered what you ordered during the gala preparations.”
Genevieve stared at the cup.
“That man is going to drive me insane.”
“He has an extraordinary talent for it.”
They walked back into the conference room.
Mateo stood beside the window, speaking quietly with Gabriel.
He ended the conversation when Genevieve entered.
She placed the coffee on the table.
“We need rules.”
Mateo nodded.
“Name them.”
“First, you don't withhold evidence from me again.”
“Agreed.”
“Second, you don't decide which crimes deserve prosecution based on whether your family committed them.”
His jaw tightened.
“Agreed.”
“Third, I am not your fiancée.”
Penelope suddenly became fascinated with her phone.
Mateo's eyes remained on Genevieve.
“Understood.”
“And fourth, if we find evidence against you, I will not bury it.”
“Nor should you.”
Genevieve studied him carefully.
“You're agreeing suspiciously quickly.”
“Because those aren't unreasonable conditions.”
“Most men in your position would disagree.”
“Most men in my position don't have a federal investigator wearing their grandmother's favorite shade of silver and threatening to indict them before sunrise.”
Genevieve frowned.
“How do you know this is your grandmother's favorite shade?”
Mateo looked momentarily uncomfortable.
“I notice things.”
Penelope coughed.
“An increasingly expensive habit.”
Before Genevieve could respond, Penelope's office phone rang.
She answered and listened.
Then she looked directly at Genevieve.
“Captain Daniel Harris is downstairs.”
Genevieve's stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“He says a federal agent contacted his department asking that you be taken into protective custody.”
“Kesler.”
“That's the name.”
Mateo moved toward the door.
“I'll speak to him.”
“No,” Genevieve said.
“I will.”
Ten minutes later, Harris entered the conference room without his uniform jacket.
He looked exhausted.
The lines around his eyes had deepened since the gala.
“Ms. Sinclair,” he said.
“Captain.”
“Or should I say Special Agent Sinclair?”
Genevieve met his gaze.
“That depends on what you intend to do with the information.”
Harris pulled out a chair.
“I intend to find out why an IRS Criminal Investigation agent was nearly abducted from a charity gala while her supervising agent was making unusual calls to my department.”
Penelope sat beside Genevieve.
“Has anyone issued a warrant for her arrest?”
“No.”
“Then she is free to remain here.”
“Of course.”
Genevieve watched Harris closely.
“Why did you come yourself?”
“Because someone in my department removed two witness statements from the gala incident file.”
Mateo's expression sharpened.
“Whose statements?”
“Yours and Mr. Pendleton's.”
Genevieve leaned forward.
“Who removed them?”
“A detective assigned to the initial response.”
“Name?”
“Ross.”
Mateo swore under his breath.
Harris continued.
“Lieutenant Stephen Ross has been receiving money from a private security company with contracts linked to the Aster Foundation.”
Penelope opened her notebook.
“Do you have proof?”
“Enough to request an internal investigation.”
“Then why are you telling us?”
Harris looked toward Genevieve.
“Because I also found the catering supervisor you're looking for.”
Her heart jumped.
“Luis Navarro?”
“He's alive.”
Genevieve felt a wave of relief.
“Where?”
“At a hospital in Queens, under police protection.”
“Is he badly hurt?”
“Concussion, broken ribs, and several cuts.”
“What happened to him?”
Harris removed a photograph from his folder.
It showed a dark service hallway.
A man in a security uniform stood beside an open door.
Genevieve recognized him from surveillance photographs in her investigation.
Marco Bellini.
“Luis says he witnessed Bellini giving two armed men access to the service corridor before the shooting,” Harris explained.
“He tried to warn security, and someone attacked him.”
Mateo stared at the photograph.
“Marco.”
Harris looked at him.
“You recognize him?”
“He works for me.”
“Not anymore,” Genevieve replied.
Harris placed another photograph on the table.
This one showed Arthur Pendleton speaking to Lieutenant Ross near a hotel elevator.
The timestamp was eighteen minutes before the attack.
Genevieve examined it.
“Can you prove they were coordinating the shooting?”
“Not yet.”
“Then we need evidence that can.”
Harris folded his hands.
“That's why I'm here.”
Genevieve exchanged a glance with Penelope.
“There are financial records,” she said.
“Potentially significant ones.”
Harris's expression changed.
“Where are they?”
“Secured.”
“Can I see them?”
“After we establish a proper evidentiary process and contact someone outside Kesler's command structure.”
Harris considered her answer.
Then he nodded.
“I know an assistant United States attorney who has been investigating corruption connected to the waterfront.”
Penelope looked up.
“Nora Bell?”
Harris seemed surprised.
“You know her?”
“I've been trying to reach her for the past hour.”
A moment of understanding passed between them.
Genevieve leaned forward.
“Captain, there's something else.”
“What?”
“Kesler claimed to have evidence identifying the man who ordered the fire that killed my father.”
Harris became very still.
“Martin Sinclair?”
Genevieve stared at him.
“You knew my father?”
“I was a detective when that warehouse burned.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I remember the investigation.”
“Then you remember it was ruled accidental.”
“Yes.”
Genevieve waited.
Harris lifted his eyes.
“And I remember that the lead fire investigator requested a second inspection before the case was closed.”
“What happened to that request?”
“It disappeared.”
The room became silent.
Genevieve felt the past opening beneath her feet.
“Who signed the order closing the case?”
Harris hesitated.
May you like
Then he answered.
“Stephen Ross.”
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