Istare at the picture of Detective John’s beaten and bloody body as I sit in the passenger side of my father’s car while he drives us to the Oak Club.
Since the moment I woke up to this horror, I haven’t been able to look away.
I don’t know what Angelo was thinking, sending me something like this. The body on the floor is gruesome, and I keep thinking he’s dead, but I didn’t see anything about a murdered detective on the news. I kept thinking about responding, but what am I supposed to say to that? Thanks for beating the shit out of that dirty cop for me, I still don’t want you anywhere near my kid?
It’s insane. It’s unhinged.
And I feel better.
I know I shouldn’t. This sort of thing should make me sick and scared. But knowing that Angelo hurt that bastard makes me feel like some justice was served in this, even if there won’t be any real justice for the kills. Detective John deserved to get beaten, even beaten to death, and I want him to limp around and think about Angelo anytime he moves too fast or twists the wrong way or so much as bends over to tie his shoes.
I want him in agony, mostly because he nearly hurt me and nearly hurt my baby.
“What do you keep looking at on your phone?” Dad asks.
I quickly turn off the screen. “Nothing. Instagram.”
“Social media.” His lips curl. “Well, daughter, you’d better keep your phone away. The club looks down on that sort of behavior.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Dad drops the car at the valet, and we slowly walk in together. I don’t know why he’s bringing me tonight but when he said there was an important matter we needed to attend, I figured it was another discussion about my future. Dad likes to save the big stuff for fancy restaurants as a way to lull his victims into complacency, and I figure that’s what he’s doing with me. Take me to the Oak, wow me with its majesty, and get me to agree to some new demand.
And I have to admit, it might work.
The place is beautiful. Marble floors, shining wooden details, antique chandeliers worth millions, and the tree in the lobby: an enormous oak, an actual living plant with massive branches and a trunk at least ten feet around, probably more. It’s impossible, and it’s beautiful, and I’m staring around like a dumbstruck kid as Dad takes me into the restaurant.
“Now, Sara, I want you to have an open mind,” Dad says as the hostess guides us toward a private booth in the very back. “I understand this will be a surprise, but believe me, this is for the best.”
“I’m sorry, what are we doing here?” I frown at him, and my stomach suddenly feels like it’s made of lead. My mouth waters and my fingers tingle with nerves.
A man’s sitting alone at the table. A man with gray hair, a straight back, a lined face. He’s in his sixties, and he’s wearing a simple button-down shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and a bolo tie.
He nods to my father. “Thanks for bringing her,” he says.
And my heart almost stops.
“Of course, Chief Corvine,” Dad says. “I’ll be over in the waiting room when you’re finished.” Dad squeezes my arm and walks off.
Leaving me facing the Chief of the Dallas Police Department, Brett Corvine. He smiles at me, grandfatherly, his blue eyes sparkling, and gestures for me to join him. There’s a glass of water waiting. I don’t know if that’s a reference to my baby or if it’s just polite.
Chief Corvine sips a beer and tilts his head. He’s looking at me like I’m a long-lost friend and I bet that’s part of his charm. “How are you, Sara? Your father speaks highly of you, you know.”
“Does he?” I ask, taken off guard, and as my initial shock wears off, it’s replaced by a cold and seething anger.
He set me up.
My own fucking father set me up.
He brought me to this club tonight to speak with Corvine as some political favor or something like that. Which means Corvine knows about the coverup, which means this case goes all the way up, all the way to the top, to this animal.
I am way out of my depth here and I’m tempted to run away. Maybe I could sneak off, hide in the bathroom, and call Carmine—if he’s in town, he could come here and help.
But that’s stupid.
This is my case and we’re in a public place.
I’m as safe as I’ll ever be.
“I bet you’re wondering why you’re here.” He tilts his head. “Or maybe not. You’re a smart woman. Klein and Houndson? Straight out of law school? That’s not a small task. That’s a real nice firm, though I hear those guys are somewhat conservative over there.”
“Conservative is a nice way of putting it, Chief Corvine, but thank you. I’m very happy to be a part of such a good firm.”
“I bet you are, I bet you are.” He chuckles softly and leans back. The chief is known for his good old boy routine, but he’s not someone I can take lightly. A man like this only gets into his position by being absolutely ruthless. The chief of police is a political position as much as an administrative one, and any worthwhile chief knows how to play both sides. He’s a hard man used to taking care of his cops and doing a hard job, and he’s a clever man used to playing the city hall games. He’ll roll over me if I let him.
“What can I do for you, Chief?”
“I understand you found an interview,” he says, still smiling like this is no big deal, but my heart patters fast in my chest. “Seems someone told you about our unusual filing system.”
“Yes, sir, I did find an interview. It seems it was lost in the archives.”
“Well, you know how that goes. Sometimes things get shoved into boxes and folders and put away and, hell, it just disappears.” He laughs and sips his beer. “I’m glad you fished it out for us.”
“Are you, sir? I’m happy to hear it.”
“It’s only that this puts us in an awkward position. Are you aware of the around this country right now? Are you aware of the threats my officers face daily? The danger they walk into every time they pull over a car for a routine traffic stop?”
“Sir, I am very sympathetic to the police,” I say as carefully as I can, although I want to point out that being a cop isn’t even in the top five most dangerous jobs, not even close.
“Well, something like this little interview, it can make my job that much harder. It can put the lives of my men in jeopardy. And I assume you don’t want that.”
“No, sir. I don’t.”
“Good. Good. That’s really good.” Another sip. Another pause. He laughs quietly. “You know, at a firm like Klein and Houndson, having a friend at the top of the police department might be a good thing.”
“It would,” I say and lean forward. “What are you offering, sir?”
“I’m not offering anything. I don’t make offers.” His eyebrows go up and he gives me an exaggerated innocent look. “I simply make observations.”
“All right, then here’s an observation for you, sir. Nicolas Cavallo is innocent. He’s currently in jail for a crime he didn’t commit and is facing serious time behind bars. Possibly life in prison. That’s a travesty if I’ve ever heard of one, and it’s not the kind of justice system I want in our country.”
“Interesting,” Chief Corvine says, eyebrows raised. “You really give a damn about that gutter rat, don’t you?”
“He’s a human being, sir. An innocent one.”
He holds up a finger. “He’s not innocent. I know what Nicolas Cavallo is. That boy works for the Scavo Famiglia, which is a massive and growing organized crime family from Philadelphia. But you know about them already, don’t you? Seeing as you’re friendly with Carmine Scavo’s wife.”
My blood runs cold. I have to grip the edge of the table to keep myself steady. “My friendship with Brice has nothing to do with putting an innocent man in prison for life.”
“But you know, don’t you? You can’t sit there and feign ignorance. You know what the Scavo Famiglia does, and you know why that Nicolas boy was down south meeting with members of a cartel to begin with. You know what he planned on doing. You understand the deal he was going to make.” Chief Corvine leans in, still smiling, like a snake. “You think he’s innocent?”
I let the silence fall over us like a blanket. He drinks his beer, grinning away like this is some fun game. The sound of the dining room filters through—forks against plates, the clink of glasses, the murmur of conversations—but I feel like everyone’s staring.
Chief Corvine’s like everyone else. He’s like Detective John, he’s like my father. He’s like all the men in power that can only see what they want to see. They don’t think of Nicolas as a person, but as a problem that needs to be solved, and who cares if they happen to fix another problem in the process? Nicolas is nothing to them.
Like Angelo. Like Carmine.
But I don’t see that when I think about them. I see Angelo’s loyalty. I see the way Carmine looks at Brice, the way he kisses her, the way he loves her. I see Nicolas hunched over the desk in the visitation room with those ugly bruises on his face. I see people, and decisions, and the complicated circumstances that led them to these places.
They’re humans, human beings, with wants and fears and loves. They’re flawed, and they might be dangerous, but I refuse to give in and treat them like rats.
“Here’s what I’ll offer,” I tell him. “Release Nicolas. Drop all charges. You do that and the interview I read will disappear. The truth will disappear with it. Maybe you’ll have five dead bodies you can’t account for and your stats will suffer, but oh, well, life is hard. You’ll manage it. That’s my offer, Chief Corvine. I won’t take less.”
His smile slowly fades. He turns his glass in circles, staring at the dregs of the beer, before he tosses it back. “You’re really going to torch yourself for this kid? This lowlife fucking nothing? Your father said you were a reasonable girl. He said you’d do the right thing.”
“Fuck what you think is the right thing, sir. All due respect.” I slide out of the booth, shaking. “By the way, the worthless scumbag you’re so keen on throwing away noticed something else. There were dozens of shots fired into that room, but no shell casings, no forensics. Not to mention he was only in that room for a short period and there’s no way a jury’s going to believe that lone kid somehow did all that violence and straightened up after himself in less than five minutes. Someone else was on the scene long enough to gather everything up, and I bet I can guess who.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says slowly.
“You have my offer, sir. Think about it.”
His eyes meet mine. “What if I just kill that thug of yours, huh? What if I do the same to you? Ruin your daddy? Ruin your momma too? Burn you all? Don’t think I couldn’t, girl.”
I take a slow breath and let it out. “I know you could, sir. But you’re smart enough not to take the risk over one man.”
“Over a worthless piece of shit. Over a criminal that deserves to spend his life on death row.”
“No, sir, just a man, flaws and all.”
“You’re fucking up, girl. You just lost a very important opportunity. You realize that if you walk right now, I’m going to make sure every big firm in the state of Texas stays far away from you? Klein and Houndson doesn’t want someone like you as a partner, girl. Think about your future.”
I smile at him. I give it some thought.
“Good luck, sir.”
I turn and walk away from the table on weak knees.
I don’t know why I just did that. A smart person would’ve played along, maybe even given in and did what he said. Chief Corvine really could be a good ally.
But I’m not going to sell my soul to a man like that.
I want to pretend like I’m doing this with my head held high, but honestly, I’m scared as hell and worried I just made the biggest mistake of my life.
My father’s waiting for me. He grins as I step around the corner, but the smile slowly fades when he sees the look on my face. “What did you do?” he says.
I stop right in front of him and jam a finger into his chest. “You set me up, you spineless asshole.”
His eyes go wide. “You can’t talk to me that way.”
“I’m calling a car. I’m not coming home.”
“Sara,” he hisses but I’m already walking away. “Sara, stop it.”
I keep going. Dad follows for a few feet, but he stops.
He must be afraid of making a scene.
I don’t cry as I get out my phone and summon an Uber. I don’t tremble as I stand outside alone in the darkness of the long driveway waiting for it.
I don’t let myself despair thinking about what I’ve given up and what’s coming for me now.
For once in my life, for the first time ever, I did the right thing.
