Chapter 7
"Let's go over this again, Mr. Malloy."
Trent eyed Galiano warily, and shrugged. If Carlos were the one questioning him – or Trivette, for that matter, who was standing silently in a corner of the room at the moment – he'd be more interested in cooperating. But after what he'd done earlier, and the attitude he'd had for the last hour or two, Trent had absolutely no desire to make his life any easier. "Whatever you say."
"What was the extent of your relationship with Kristin Deville?"
"We were partners, and we were dating."
"What were you fighting about the night she was killed?"
"Emerson invited her to fly to California with him to meet someone – I don't know who; I don't even know if she was told. He specifically told her not to tell me anything about it. I didn't like it; I thought it was a setup. She was convinced that it would be a major step toward finding out just how extensive the network is and meeting some of the key players, and thought it was worth the risk. I didn't."
"Sandoval's report says you threatened her."
Trent raised an eyebrow. If Carlos had written that he'd threatened her, he'd have told him. Not to mention that he wouldn't have put it into the report because it simply wasn't true. "I never threatened her. What I did was tell her I could think of a few ways to stop her from doing it."
"Such as?" MacPherson asked, her tone more curious than hostile.
He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Interfere. Follow her." He dropped his gaze back down. "Call you people."
"So, killing her wasn't on your list of options?"
Really, what kind of question was that? What did he expect him to say? Oh, yeah, actually, that was my first choice? "No. I was worried about her safety. Why would I kill her if my intention was to make sure she survived the case?"
"I can think of a couple of reasons, actually. Either she'd decided that working for Emerson and Reynolds paid better than working for us – or you did."
Even the suggestion alone made him sick to his stomach, and it must have shown in his face because he saw Trivette take a step forward, concern evident in his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head at him, and the Ranger retreated to his corner, watching closely.
When he finally found his voice, Trent forced himself to meet the man's steady gaze. "If she had switched sides on me, I'd have reported it to you, and dropped out of sight, because she'd have sent them after me. And I would die before I'd help anyone put more guns on the streets."
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Outside the hospital, Walker headed toward his truck, stopping only when Carlos grabbed his arm. "I actually have to run back to the station; there's something I have to do."
He eyed the younger man carefully for a moment, trying to gauge from his expression just what it was that he was planning to do. Unable to come up with anything solid, he just nodded. "Remember, Carlos, that you can help Trent more by playing by the rules right now."
The detective raised an eyebrow. "Tell that to Tommy," he replied quietly, then headed off toward his own vehicle, without waiting for a response.
Walker stayed where he was for a moment, watching him drive away, then crossed the remaining distance to his pickup. Carlos was a good cop, very strong of conviction – and while that was what made him so good at his job, it also had a tendency to get him into trouble.
Somehow, he had a feeling that avoiding trouble was the last thing on the detective's mind at the moment – and that causing it was probably at the forefront.
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Carlos threaded his way through the station, ignoring concerned inquiries and the occasional smug look from his colleagues, and walked straight into Burnett's office, closing the door behind him.
The Captain looked up at him, sympathy and concern showing despite the perpetually gruff expression he wore. "How is he?"
"Oh, he's great for having a bullet dug out of his shoulder," he replied shortly. "And his mother's ecstatic, having her seventeen-year-old son shot in his own house!"
"She has every right to be angry."
Carlos scowled. "Well, I'm glad we agree, then."
Burnett looked ready to blow his stack, and part of Carlos wished he would, giving him an excuse to let his own temper flare, but the older man just shook his head. "I'm sorry, Carlos."
"I'll pass on the apology." He waited a moment, then decided to give the Captain a chance to change his mind. "What's going to be done?"
If possible, Burnett looked even angrier. "Absolutely nothing. ATF is calling it an unavoidable accident, and ordered me to file a report, sign it off, and leave it alone." He shook his head. "My hands are tied, Sandoval."
"He shot a kid! With two more there, right next to him. There was no threat; Trent was cuffed, and Tommy was trying to get his sister back in the house. He had no reason to fire."
"I know. But there's nothing I can do."
That definitely wasn't going to change his mind. After a beat or two, he drew his service weapon and, his left hand on the barrel, held it out to his boss, then with his other hand slipped his badge off his belt. "Sorry I didn't give two weeks notice."
Burnett frowned at him, but took the gun, leaving the badge in Carlos's hand. "Why?"
"Do you have to ask?"
"Yes." The Captain set the weapon down, then took his glasses off and placed them next to it. "Is it that you got a friend in the hot seat right now? Is it Galiano? Is it the kid?"
"All of the above." Tommy most of all – no matter what anyone said, he should have been able to stop Galiano or at least protect the kids.
"There was nothing you could do about any of that, Carlos."
Clearly, he was missing the point. "All the more reason to leave."
His boss was quiet for a while, studying his desk before raising his eyes. "I'll make you a deal, Sandoval. Take leave, until this case is over – longer, if you need to – and think about it. You still want out, I won't argue with you." Burnett paused. "You're a good cop, Sandoval, and I don't want to lose you just because of a bad situation."
"This is beyond a bad situation." Carlos tossed his badge on the Captain's desk and turned to go. Hand on the door, he paused and turned back. "I'll think about it."
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Watching the interrogation, Trivette resisted the urge to interrupt. Galiano was getting angry, probably from frustration at getting absolutely nowhere. He knew the feeling well himself, actually. It was usually around now that he and Walker started playing games, making threats, and trying to play their suspects against each other.
That wouldn't work in this case, however. First of all, Trent knew the games and wouldn't fall for them – hell, he'd played a few of them over the years. Second, he just wasn't guilty. Though he'd believed in the private investigator's innocence to begin with, the last hour or two of questioning had served only to set that belief in stone.
Actually, there was something else he'd gotten out of the whole thing – an assurance that he and Walker had been way off base in their earlier assessment of the situation. He really didn't believe that Galiano was setting Trent up. The man wanted it too bad, was pushing every button he could find to try to trip him up. If it was all a sham, he'd have closed the book on it as soon as they'd brought him in.
The woman, MacPherson, had been, by contrast, fairly quiet throughout the whole thing, occasionally asking a question or two but more often than not just interrupting to rein in her partner. She'd seemed to express genuine remorse over Tommy being injured, whereas Galiano's indifference had been clear. Jimmy wasn't quite sure what to make of her yet.
In truth, about half an hour ago he'd all but stopped listening; the questions were the same, worded differently in places – transparent attempts at a trap. Trent's answers, too, were starting to sound like a broken record, the only sign of his frustration being a slight change in tone as he repeated himself for the fifth or sixth time.
But then Galiano started talking again and something about his voice made Trivette focus once more. "Detective Sandoval's report indicates that Agent Deville's face was bruised when he saw her with you the night she was murdered, and the medical examiner confirmed that some of the bruising was old." He paused, tossing the folder he'd been scanning down on the table. "How did she get hurt?"
For the first time all afternoon – evening now, he supposed – Trent looked genuinely uncomfortable. After a long silence during which Galiano seemed to almost literally be chomping at the bit, the blond answered, his voice quiet. "From me. We were sparring, without equipment, and she missed blocking me a couple of times."
"You normally hit that hard when you're practicing?" Jimmy recognized the tone in the agent's voice; he really thought he had him. Not that he could blame him. Were their roles reversed, he'd have jumped on this too.
"No. But Kristin wanted to learn so she'd be better able to defend herself. She argued with me that if she got into a real fight, whoever she was up against wouldn't pull any punches, so she didn't want me too." He shifted. "I wasn't happy about it, but I let her make the call."
However Galiano planned to reply, it was forestalled by a knock at the door; Carlos stood just outside, waving him over. Excusing himself, he caught Trent's eye and nodded, making a silent promise to find out how Tommy was, then left the room.
Once in the hall, Jimmy's eyes honed in on the empty holster on the detective's hip. "What—?"
"Took a leave from the department," Sandoval said quietly. "I got a lot to figure out."
"If this is about Tommy—"
He shook his head. "It's not just that; it's a lot of things." What remained unsaid, and all too obvious, was that Tommy's shooting had been the final straw. "Look, I'm heading over to CD's to meet Walker, Gage, Cooke, and whoever else."
"Tell Walker I'll be by as soon as I think it's safe to leave Trent here with the vultures in there."
"Will do."
"How's Tommy?"
"They removed the bullet; he should be fine – no permanent damage. Going to be drugged up pretty good for a day or two though, for the pain."
That, at least, was good news; he hadn't heard much other than that the boy had been taken to the hospital by ambulance, and the lack of information about his condition had concerned him more than he really wanted to admit.
The creak of the interrogation room door silenced both of them. MacPherson stepped outside, closing it tightly behind her. "How is his brother?"
"He'll be all right." Carlos's animosity toward the woman was unmistakable and Trivette ignored the inclination to step between them.
"I'm glad." She hesitated. "I promised Malloy I'd let him know."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate it." Carlos gestured toward his holster. "By the way, you won't have to worry about my interfering in your investigation – in an official capacity, anyway."
The underlying meaning in his words was obvious to Jimmy, though he wasn't sure if MacPherson picked up on it. Carlos had every intention of carrying on his own investigation; that was probably no small part of why he'd turned in his badge.
Her response surprised them both. "I'm sorry to hear that." She stopped speaking and glanced over her shoulder, presumably checking to see if her partner was paying attention to them or to the suspect, then turned back. "I think you're right. I think there's something else going on here." She slipped a hand into her jacket pocket, producing a business card that she then handed to Carlos. "My cell phone number is on there. Call me later, please."
Raising an eyebrow at her, the detective nonetheless pocketed it, nodding. Trivette, for his part, just watched the exchange – particularly the parts that went unspoken. It appeared that some sort of truce had been declared, though he wasn't sure how or why.
As she opened the door and retreated back into the interrogation room, something else occurred to him, and as he started to walk away with Carlos – there really was little for him to do here at this point – he shared his thoughts with the other man, keeping his voice low. "She doesn't seem to trust Galiano much, for being partnered with him."
"Can you blame her?" Carlos asked sourly, then shook his head. "Yeah, I noticed that too." He sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the evening light. "Something just seems wrong about this whole thing."
Trivette clapped him on the shoulder as they stopped by his car. "We'll figure it out." He cracked a smile. "Walker always does."
Carlos met his eyes. "You know the worst part?" Jimmy was quiet for a moment, thinking over the possibilities, then shook his head. "Everything about the case just screams to me that Trent's guilty."