Corbin leaned back against the wall, giving him some space. “Think about it, Charles. You help us, we help you.”
Abercorn hesitated, his fear warring with the realization of his predicament. He let out a shuddering breath. “Okay ... okay. I’ll tell you. But you gotta promise me, you’ll talk to the DA. If I give you the name, I get immunity.”
Blade shook his head. “Can’t promise that, Charles, but we’ll do what we can. You have our word. Now, who did you trade the Tasers to?”
“It was a guy named Marco. Marco DeLuca. He’s the one who wanted the Tasers. He’s bad news, man. Real bad news.”
“Did you physically hand the Tasers to Marco DeLuca?” Corbin asked.
Abercorn nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Handed ’em right to him.”
Corbin wasn’t buying it. “All right, Charles. You’ve done the right thing. We’re going to take a little break.” He exchanged a look with Blade, who nodded.
“Sit tight.” Blade’s chair scraped back as he stood. “I’ll call the DA and be back in a few minutes.”
Abercorn slumped in his seat. “You better,” he muttered.
Corbin stepped out of the interrogation room, Blade following close behind. The harsh glare of the hallway lights made him squint after the dimness of the interrogation room. He pushed through the door to the observation room.
Luna waited for them, standing with her arms crossed.
“What did you think?” He glanced back through the one-way mirror.
Abercorn shifted in his seat, pulling at the cuffs that bound his wrists, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Who’s this DeLuca guy?” Luna asked. “What do you know about him?”
“Marco DeLuca.” Blade smirked. “That name gets tossed around more than a beach ball at a concert. Every two-bit crook fromhere to Miami claims he’s involved, hoping they’ll get credit for his arrest.”
“His name comes up for good reason. He’s bad news.” Corbin had seen the files. The surveillance reports. The confidential informants whispering about a new player, someone moving in on established territory. Someone dangerous. “DeLuca’s been on FDLE’s radar for months. If he’s made a move, this could be bigger than we thought.”
“Sounds like we can’t ignore it,” Luna said.
Blade raised an eyebrow. “You really buying Abercorn’s story?”
“Not completely,” he admitted. “But we can’t afford to ignore any lead. I’ll call Major Drugs. They’ve had DeLuca under surveillance. They should know his every move.”
“All right,” Blade said. “Keep me in the loop. In the meantime, I’ll let Charlie in there stew while I check his alibi for the kidnapping. Then I’ll ask him who taught him to decorate his house with an accelerant and rig it to ignite.” He paused, then his eyes softened. “How are you two holding up after that fire?”
“Shoulder’s a little sore.” Corbin flexed his fingers. They ached, the skin tender to the touch. Small burns, red and angry, marked his hands and arms. “And a few singed hairs, I think. Nothing major. You?”
“I’m a little crispy around the edges.” Blade grinned and ran a hand over his hair. “Nothing a good conditioner can’t fix.”
Corbin glanced at Luna. “How about you?”
“No complaints,” she said.
Tough as nails, just like he remembered. He noticed the scorched tips of her dark hair, the small cuts on her cheek and arms, barely visible beneath the soot. She was tougher than she looked. Tougher than he was, maybe. “And Salas?” He shifted uncomfortably, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and back protesting the movement.
Blade sighed. “He’s got a long recovery ahead of him. Second- and third-degree burns. He’s sedated and not allowed visitors because of the risk of infection. It sounds bad. Real bad.”
“Does he have family nearby?” Luna asked.
Blade nodded. “Wife and two kids. Just moved here a few months ago. He was so excited to be closer to the beach. Took the kids surfing last weekend, I heard.”
“Poor guy,” Luna said. “This is going to be tough on them.”
“How’s your other case going?” Blade asked, shifting the subject. “Any leads on Carlie?”