Page 67 of Justice for Francesca

He smiled and nodded. It was hard for her, but she was doing the right thing, no matter how much her training was pushing her in the other direction.

“I need to… I need to think,” he stuttered. “I’ll be in touch.”

Michael disconnected the call, and Francesca returned the phone to Tripoli. “What do I do?” she asked.

“You need to tell Livingston. He’s right. It reads that he’s guilty. He may be telling the truth, and trust me, I want that as much as you do, but if you don’t report the call and it comes out later, it’ll look worse for you. Maybe even that you helped him cover things up.”

She smiled at him. Placing a hand alongside his face, she caressed his cheek with her thumb. “I don’t deserve you, Ethan Ezekiel Evans.”

“You deserve everything, Francesca.” He turned his head to kiss her palm. “Call Livingston. Let’s get this over with.”

A gentle touch of her lips to his. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

20

THIS MAKES NO SENSE

Francesca

Shortly after the phone call from Michael and her conversation with Tripoli, she called her boss. The woman had arrived that morning, taking up residence in her makeshift office. Normally housed out of Dallas, she was creating quite a stir with her announcement upon arrival that she would be in San Antonio for the duration of the case.

It was an understatement to say that the meeting did not go as expected.

“So let me summarize to make sure I understand what you’re telling me. While staking out a tip on Sequeira’s home, you witnessed your brother enter the residence. Instead of calling for backup, you entered the home, confronted your brother, and were stabbed, which you covered up for four days.”

“Yes.”

“Then this morning, you received a phone call from your brother where he informed you of exactly what we sawfor ourselves on video, pinpointing him as our number one suspect.”

“Yes.”

The special agent in charge drummed her fingers on the desk, a scowl on her face as she considered Francesca’s admissions. “I have to be honest, Frankie. I’m finding it difficult to reconcile the field agent I know with your actions over the past few days.”

“I understand. It’s a bit awkward for me as well.”

A snort of derision accompanied the shake of her boss’ head. “‘Awkward’ is one word for it. Frankie, what were you thinking? Do you understand what you’ve done?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. I’ve compromised the investigation by withholding information that may have led to the capture of our most viable suspect and, in turn, may have cost Matilda Moll her life because of it. This is why I’ve officially requested I be removed from the case. My judgment is clearly impaired based on the choices I’ve made the past week.”

Despite the fact that it was true, it still stung hearing it out loud, especially coming from her mouth. However, her intuition was screaming at her that Michael was innocent. It was difficult to wrap her head around when, just twenty-four hours ago, she would have had no qualms about arresting him on the spot.

Ortiz cleared her throat, and Francesca detected a thread of panic laced within her words. “We need to think this through, Frankie. No snap decisions.”

Nonplussed, Francesca stared at her boss. When she could form words again, she reminded her boss of the further consequences of her actions. “Ma’am, with all due respect, there’s no way I can continue. When it becomes known what I’ve done, the repercussions will be far-reaching, not just for this case but every case I’ve worked on in the past ten years. All of those perpetrators I’ve arrested or even helped to arrest willhave the right to an appeal, not to mention how many sentences could get overturned just by circumstance. All of the cases I’ve consulted on are now in jeopardy. This could even affect my five years with the NYPD. By all rights, you should be taking my credentials and my gun and arresting me. At the very least, I should be suspended until an inquiry is made. What do you mean, ‘think this through’?”

“There’s no need to be so dramatic, Frankie,” the SAIC complained.

“Dramatic?”

“Yes, dramatic. Just because you made a mistake during one case shouldn’t affect them all.”

Was this woman serious?

She tried to reason with Ortiz once more. “Ma’am. While I appreciate your faith in my past work, you know that everyone will question if all of my years of work were artful cover-ups for my family. My presence as an agent will be a distraction of the highest proportions.”

“This is a clusterfuck of epic proportions,” Ortiz grumbled. “Why couldn’t you just do what you were supposed to do? What you always do?”

---