Page 48 of So Smitten

“All right,” Garvey said, “I can help with that. I can’t make anyone talk, though. Even the underlings are clamming up.”

“We have to try,” Faith said.

Try they did. They spent the next two hours interviewing prisoners and getting nothing. The prisoners, interestingly enough, were more than willing to divulge details of their own involvement in the ring. A few were pit bosses. A few were trainers. A few were handlers and a few were what they called “ticket-takers,” people who took spectator fees and bets and handled the flow of cash. Two of them were security. They happily detailed their violent defense of the gang’s right to make innocent dogs murder each other, but when it came to talking about Harris and which of his dogs hadn’t fared well in the pit, they clammed up.

“For God’s sake,” Faith said in exasperation after the tenth interview once more yielded nothing. “Harris is dead. What’s he going to do to you?”

“It ain’t about that,” the man said, “It’s about honor. We don’t snitch on each other.”

Faith pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Honor? Seriously? You guys stole pets and trained them to eat each other. What kind of honor is that?”

The man drew himself up with sickening pride. “We’re wolves, agent. Sure, we eat sheep. But we don’t eat other wolves.”

“Charming,” Faith said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find that to be exactly the same when you share a room with a lifer. Good luck with that.”

The police officers filed him away, his chest still absurdly puffed out. Faith turned to Michael, hands on her hips and said, “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said, shaking his head. Then his eyes widened. “Actually, I do.”

He left the interrogation room suddenly. Faith and Turk followed on his heels. He found Garvey and said, “The others arrested that night, the ones who weren’t affiliated with the gang. Where did they go?”

Garvey lifted an eyebrow. “They’re at county waiting for their arraignment. Why? You think they know something?”

“I don’t know, but if they do, I think they might be willing to talk,” Michael said. “The gangsters all have the snitches get stitches motto drilled into their brains. We won’t get anything from them.”

"All right," Garvey said. "You want to go to county, or do you want me to send someone here?"

“What’s faster?”

“I’ll have them bring someone here. Then they only need to process him instead of him and you.”

“Have them send all of them here,” Faith said. “We’ll talk until we get an answer.”

***

Benjamin Ritter was very clearly not the same kind of person as the gangsters Faith and Michael had been talking to before now. He practically shook with fear, and when he accepted the water Faith brought him, he spilled some, bringing it to his lips.

“Jail’s not so fun a place to be, is it?” Michael said sympathetically.

Benjamin swallowed and shook his head.

“People being mean to you, Ben?” Michael asked.

“Or are they being too nice?’ Faith said.

Ben shivered. "N—no one's hurt me yet, but… look, agents, I know I made a mistake, okay? I shouldn't have been in that place. It's not for me."

“Really?” Faith asked, “because you told Detective Garvey that was your ninth visit to the pits. If it wasn’t for you, why did you go back?”

Ben swallowed. “I… I know I shouldn’t have—”

“We’ve established that, Ben,” Michael said. “Read you loud and clear. You did wrong. Believe me, we have no confusion on that point. The reason we’re here now is because you have a chance to do right.”

Ben blinked. “I… I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay,” Michael said, his voice laced with contempt. “I wouldn’t expect you to. So let me help you out. We believe we know who’s been electrocuting people to death with a shock collar. You heard about that, right?”

Ben nodded. “Some of the guys at the warehouse were talking about it.”

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