Page 90 of The Writer

/MG/GTS

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

CORDOVA SHAKES THE PAGE. “You used this to keep Declan in line, didn’t you?”

Denise says nothing, but there’s a slight smile on her lips.

Of course that’s what she did. It was Declan’s Get Out of Jail Free card.

A goddamn carrot.

Cordova reads the transcript twice before he hands the paper back to Denise Morrow. “The box? The same box of photos found with Geller Hoffman’s body?” It all makes sense now. “Lucero couldn’t get his public defender to hide that box for him, so he told you about it. Instead of disposing of all the pictures, you used them to frame Geller Hoffman. You…”

His words trail off.

Of course she did.

Three-card monte.

There’s not an ounce of remorse on her face. She had copies of the transcripts. She knew Lucero mentioned another man in the park during his initial interview. She built on that. Wove Geller Hoffman into the narrative. She did what all writers do: She created a backstory. Got Lucero to play along, made him think it would get him out.

David Morrow.

Mia Gomez.

Geller Hoffman.

Declan.

She played all of them.

Hell,Cordova thinks,she even played me. I bought it like everyone else.

He can’t help but smile.

As twisted as it all is, she committed the perfect crime.

“There’s a beauty to what you did,” he says softly. “I respect that. I’ve been on the force for decades and I’ve never seen anything like this.” He rubs his cheek. “Follow me.”

He leads her down the hall to the main bedroom.

The terrace doors are open.

He steps outside and lets the sounds of the city and the cool night air wash over him.

When he broke into Denise Morrow’s apartment, he’d found a bottle of champagne chilling on the kitchen counter. He’d brought it out here along with two glasses.

Denise appears in the doorway, followed closely by her cat. She eyes the bottle and the glasses on the wrought iron table near the railing. “Are we celebrating?”

“I’ve spent years wondering if I framed the right guy,” he tells her. “You have no idea how much peace you’ve brought me tonight by telling me the truth. And you…” He takes a step back, appraises her. “The way you did this, the way you mucked up the facts, the evidence… even if it all comes out, you’ll never see the inside of a jail cell. There’s not a single piece of evidence that can’t be discredited by even the most incompetent defense attorney. You’ve created so much reasonable doubt, any jury would let you walk. A month or two later, even the press would forget. You’ll never be held accountable. It wouldn’t stick. You covered everything. Fucking brilliant, if you ask me. I’m done. I’m throwing in the towel.”

“You expect me to believe you’re going to just drop all this and walk away?”

Cordova shakes his head. “Oh, I’m not walking away. With Mia Gomez gone, you’re going to need someone to supply you with information. I think you and I can work out a deal of our own. That ADA you saw downstairs and my lieutenant, they want in too. You put the three of us on your payroll and we guarantee you’ll receive back-channel data on the city’s highest-profile cases. Homicides, kidnappings, financial crimes. Nobody will be able to touch you. You get to keep writing, I get to supplement my crappy pension, and Daniels and Saffi line their pockets. We play this right, it’s a win for all of us.”

“What about that guy from IAU, Harrison?”

“Screw Harrison. He’s an idiot. We’ll take care of him.”

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