Page 100 of Faded Gray Lines
My fists curled tighter in the cuffs. “Atwood! Either charge me or let me go, asshole.”
The latch on the door released, and the familiar man from the campaign party walked in with a folder tucked under his arm. Sitting across from me, he raked his eyes down my face before throwing the file down and flipping it open.
He smirked. “If you’d asked nicely, I would’ve come in a lot sooner.”
“Fuck you.”
“A pleasure as well, Mateo. No counsel?” he asked, gesturing around the empty room.
“I have nothing to say.”
“Fair enough.” He sifted through the papers in the folder and spread them out. “I’m sure you recognize Hector Diaz’s apartment. I mean, you were there first.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Atwood huffed out a laugh and reclined in his chair. “We investigated his apartment, thanks to the helpful tip from your girlfriend.”
He was trying to rattle me into turning against Leighton. If that was the best he had, our visit would be short.
“Good for you,” I said, my eyes never leaving his face.
“You’re smart. I’ll give you that,” he conceded, holding up a photo of Hector’s living room. “You covered your tracks pretty well.” Dropping the photo, he picked up another one and flicked the black object in the middle with his finger. “You forgot to wipe your prints off the remote control though. Rookie mistake, Cortes.”
Fuck.
“Then charge me,” I demanded. “Why are you sitting here holding your dick?”
He chuckled. “All in due time. I thought we’d have a chat first.” Flipping to the back of his file, he quirked an overgrown eyebrow. “Quite a rap sheet you’ve got here. Time served for felony possession with intent to sell? Aggravated assault?” He clucked his tongue. “Not very complimentary.”
I had to give it to him. I’d been grilled by the best, and sooner or later, they all lost their temper. Atwood was a different breed. Maybe it was the trained DEA agent in him, but he seemed content to toss insults back and forth with no signs of breaking.
It pissed me off.
“Why are you so obsessed with me, Atwood?”
He leveled a stare at me. “Maybe I’m picking heads on a platter—evil over innocence.”
In that moment, I understood why he seemed so unflappable. Agent Atwood knew he held all the cards. He held the lives of the woman I loved and the child I’d yet to know in the palm of his hand and dangled them in front of me like a prize.
He didn’t have to say it out loud. I understood the choice he wanted me to make.
The family I honored with others men’s blood or the family I created with my own.
Alex leaned both elbows on the table, a sheen of sweat beading on his upper lip. “What Leighton said proves she knew about what you did to Diaz, and it makes her an accessory after the fact. Either she cooperates with us or she goes down with you.”
His threat was my undoing. Imagining her behind bars, scared and alone, unleashed a darkness that devoured me. Jerking on my restraints again, I roared, the sound inhuman. “What about my daughter, you son of a bitch? Why are you doing this?”
Slamming the folder closed, he leaned over it, his face reddening with fury. “You cartel guys think you’re untouchable, but all it takes is one loose thread for everything to unravel. How ironic that the ADA’s sister will be the one to do it.”
The monster in me begged to go for his jugular. Instead, I imagined Stella’s innocent face and regained control. “Why did you have Finn Donovan kill Hector instead of doing it yourself?”
It was the last card I had to play, and it was an educated guess at best. But too many coincidences usually pointed toward a conspiracy. Seeing them at the party together set off a warning bell, and the photo of Alex at Leighton’s father’s funeral rang it even louder. His obsession with Hector Diaz was the final link that clicked everything into place.
“Finn Donovan?” Alex enunciated every syllable. “You mean the missing man, Finn Donovan? Are you admitting to another murder, Cortes? If so, speak loudly so the microphone can pick it up.” He pointed a finger toward the ceiling where a camera sat tucked in the corner.
“Let her go.”
Pursing his lips, he returned to his reclined position. “Let’s talk about your friends Emilio Reyes and Valentin Carrera.”
