Page 21 of The Italian Reckoning
“Your witness? Do you have a record of it? Proof? Did the actual words come out of his mouth or did you just make an assumption because you didn’t like his attitude?”
“No, he?—
“Did he say the words?” Brant storms around his desk. “Did he say thefuckingwords that justify your dragging Rocky Barati into fucking interrogation?”
“No, sir.”
“No!” Brant throws a hand in the air, then pinches the bridge of his nose as if he’s counting to remain calm. “No. He didn’t. And you arrested him and we had fucking Matteo come down here… Do you have any idea how bad this looks?”
Brant opens his eyes and points at me.
“Not only does your work look fucking sloppy, but we had Matteo Barati in our building freeing his son. You have no idea the amount of ammo you’ve just given every criminal in this city because of your recklessness. Do you not think, Sarah? Do you not look two, even three steps ahead?”
My heart pounds like a drum nearing its limit and tears warm behind my eyes each time Brant screams in my direction. I did overreact, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m actuallytryingto protect people.
“With all due respect, sir,” I say, fighting the quaver that bleeds into my voice from how hard my heart is pounding, “I had reasonable doubt. He was outside waiting for my witness to leave. He even claimed he was going to get answers out of him, and we all know that Rocky is Mafia?—”
“Not another word!” Brant’s face turns an alarming shade of purple as his pointing finger curls into a fist. “Not another damn word.”
“But sir! Belle deserves?—”
“No!” He steps forward, his neck flushing red as his lips press into a thin line. “Enough. I’ve given you more than enough time on that case and I want it wrapped up immediately. Belle was an unfortunate casualty in an ongoing gang war. That’s it. Nothing more.” Another argument rises on my tongue, but Brant turns his back on me. “End it, Sarah.”
“End it, Sarah,”I mutter mockingly a few hours later, perched on a barstool at The Black Ox. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Your captain?” Hazel, the woman who runs the bar, sets a rum and Coke down in front of me then leans her elbows on the bar. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Mycaptain.” Rolling my eyes, I take a long drink and focus on the subtle burning of the alcohol as it travels down my throat. Then I set my glass down and lock eyes with Hazel. “It’s fucking bullshit, that’s what it is. How can I, in good conscience, close this case when her killer is still out there?”
“Is there a chance he’s right? That she really was just collateral damage?”
My thoughts drift back to the Saran Wrap and perfectly stained makeup, and a chill steals down my spine sending a flush of goosebumps up my arm. “No. It was too…” My mouth twists as I seek out the right words. “It was too staged. And it felt personal. Familiar.”
“Familiar to another case?”
I nod slowly, unwilling to get into the details.
“Well, around here, familiar killings usually are the result of gang warfare. I hate to say it, honey, but your captain might be right.”
“But my gut tells me there’s more to it, like there’s something I’m missing, and I can’t shake that feeling. I did talk to my captain about the previous case I thought it could be linked to, and he accused me of chasing old ghosts.”
“Is he right?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“You are my paying customer.” She chuckles. “So you’re right, he’s a dick and there is a connection.”
Despite her attempts to lift my mood, my shoulders slump. “Maybe. Honestly, he was kind of right. What I thought was a connection to something old was just me jumping at shadows. Like the reminder of an ex that you regret letting get away.”
“Oh, I have no regrets.”
“Of course not.”
Hazel bursts out laughing and straightens up. “So, what are you going to do?”
I shrug one shoulder and lower my attention to my glass. “I don’t have a choice, but I’m going to put off closing the case as long as I can. I’ll squeeze out every last drop of chance I can get. If only that fucking guy hadn’t screwed things up.”
“Rocky?” Hazel sets about polishing a nearby glass.
