Page 47 of So Smitten

“Same place you left him,” Garvey replied, “where he’s probably still whining about the fact I haven’t provided a luxury taxi service back to one of the Syndicates whorehouses.”

“Thank you,” Faith said, brushing past her.

As promised, Roman Kerry was right where they left him in the holding cell. As promised, he was indeed whining about the fact that he was still in jail. When he saw the agents, he jammed a finger into their faces and said, “Hey. You two said you’d get me out.”

“No,” Faith said, “we said that we’d help reduce the sentence and the charges. You’re still a gangster with multiple felonies to your name who threatened a federal agent and ran an illegal dogfighting ring.”

“Harris ran that ring. I just stepped in after he died.”

"Which will help reduce, but not eliminate, your sentence. Now, speaking of Harris, I have some questions about him."

“Fuck you. I’m done talking to you. You want info? Get me out of this cage.”

"How ironic," Michael said contemptuously. "The dog wants out of his cage. Maybe we should put you in a ring with another dog and see how it ends up walking away."

“You name the time and place, Mike,” Roman retorted. “I’ll be happy to rip your throat out.”

“Hey,” Faith called, snapping her fingers for attention. “We told you that we’d help reduce the charges if you gave us information leading to your killer. Well, your information led us to a dead end. Give us info that leads to the killer, and those fifteen years turn to two.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Roman said, “See, I made a mistake last time. I forgot that you guys can lie to people just like I can. I trusted you, which was stupid. We’re going back to street rules now. Tit for tat. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Until that happens, you can chase your damned tails.”

“So fifteen years sounds better than two, huh?” Faith asked.

“I don’t believe for a minute that you’re going to help me,” Roman said, “not unless I force you. So, I’m forcing you. I want a signed statement that I will be cleared of all charges for assisting the FBI in this murder case.”

“People in Hell want ice water,” Michael retorted.

“And people on the other side of the cage want answers,” Roman retorted. “No one’s getting what they want until I get mine.”

Faith could see in the set of Roman’s jaw that he meant it. They had exhausted his usefulness. She sighed and said, “Well, maybe prison won’t be so bad. You seem like a sweet guy. I’m sure you’ll make friends.”

“Yeah?” Roman sneered. “You want to be my friend, agent? Bet you’d look real nice with your face down and your ass up.”

“All right,” Michael said, “Enjoy prison.”

The three agents left the room. Garvey met them outside, her arms crossed. “Get what you need?” she asked sarcastically.

“Detective Garvey,” Faith said stiffly. “I fully understand that you’re upset right now. I’m pretty sure you and I are upset for similar reasons. So we can butt heads, or you can deal with the fact that the FBI is in charge right now. Make our jobs easier, and we make yours easier.”

“By giving my suspects a get out of jail free card?”

“By taking a murderer off the streets,” Faith replied, “in addition to orchestrating a raid that by your own admission is the biggest bust you’ve seen in your career. In addition to busting the three primary revenue streams of the Georgia Syndicate in Atlanta. You’re choosing to be angry over a relatively minor detail and ignoring the great help we’ve done your city, your department and your career. And that’s fine. I truly don’t care how you feel about this. But you will put yourself and your department at our disposal, or I will go over your head and make sure that whoever I have to talk to knows exactly why. I don’t have time to play nice anymore.”

Garvey glared at her, and Faith was certain that if Garvey could have teleported her back to Philadelphia, she would have. After a moment, though, the glare faded, and Garvey nodded. “Fair enough. You have your job, I have mine. Up until now, our interests have coincided, and, like you said, you helped us out. Okay. I won’t promise to support you if you try to reduce Roman’s sentence, but I’ll help you find your killer.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Roman has declined to be of assistance,” Michael said, “so feel free to throw the book at him.”

Garvey lifted an eyebrow. “So he got stupid again, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Listen,” Faith said, “the killer is someone who lost a dog, probably recently. Someone who’s intentionally targeting people who stole dogs that ended up dead in the pits.”

“So what about Harris then? He wasn’t stealing dogs.”

“Exactly. He’s the outlier, and he’s the one this case hinges on. We’ve been operating under the assumption that it was personal with Mariano, and that the killer was escalating with Evans, but I think we have it backwards. I think the killer went to the one who mattered most first. I think that’s why there was a struggle. He needed Harris coherent when he saw him. He needed Harris to know who he was and why he was doing this. He needed to hear Harris admit to his crimes. That gave Harris a chance to escape, which is why there were signs of a struggle in his case but not in anyone else’s case.”

“So you wanted Roman to tell you if any of Harris’s dogs had been killed lately,” Garvey surmised, “so you could track those dogs back to their owners.”

“Exactly,” Faith said, “but he’s not talking, so we need to talk to the other gangsters present at the pits.”

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