Page 67 of Bait and Switch
“Eli…” Stevens waggled his Glock again, his hand steady.
“Maya Crane’s death was… unfortunate,” Rizzi protested, his eyes were wide with panic. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time! If she hadn’t—” He cut himself off. “You helped, you made sure evidence went away, was swept under the rug.”
Casey’s jaw clenched, his molars grinding against each other at Rizzi’s use of the word unfortunate. It bothered Stevens too,
“When you kill someone to silence them, it’s murder, Eli. And yes, I did help pesky evidence go away. An innocent young man, Mickie Lundin, went to jail in your place.” Stevens nodded. Had he glanced in Casey’s direction again?
“That girl’s death was an accident! She wasn’t supposed to die. The situation got out of control, you know how young men are.”
Stevens shook his head, disappointed, and waved the gun again. “More.”
Rizzi’s gaze darted toward the crowd of watching law enforcement officers, then he licked his lips and swallowed. “All the Crane girl needed to do was stay quiet, but she wasn’t going to do that, was she? She had to be dealt with.”
There was a collective gasp from those watching, including Casey. What had happened to Maya was her beingdealt with?
“And the guilt for what happened afterward is mine. Thank you, Eli, that’s what I needed you to say out loud, with witnesses.”
Rizzi appeared to be speechless. That or he was trying to figure out what to say that would get Stevens to point his gun a different direction.
Stevens spoke again, “And my son, Peter? Why did you have him killed?”
Rizzi shook his head. Casey didn’t know if that meant it hadn’t been on his orders, he didn’t know, or he flat-out refused to answer.
“See, Eli, his murder was the last straw for me, which is saying a lot when you consider all we’vecollaboratedon for years.”
Somehow, Casey knew—everyone witnessing had to know—what was coming next, but it still seemed to happen in slow motion as well as too fast for anyone to stop. The weapon in Stevens’s hand was no longer pointed at the sheriff; instead, the old lawyer directed the business end at himself. Casey thought he saw him mouthI’m sorrybefore pulling the trigger without hesitation.
There was a fleeting, weighty silence and then the station erupted into chaos. A few deputies slapped hands over their mouths and turned away from the gruesome sight. Casey also had to look away and noted that Gabe was slightly green and turned his back on the scene at the same time.
Casey had been so fixated on what was happening that he hadn’t realized Elton had joined them. He’d been early Special Forces—a Frogman in the fifties—and now merely shook his head and muttered, “What a waste.”
Before the gun thumped to the carpet, Deputy Eagan took charge.
“Eli Rizzi, I am taking you into custody for the murder of Maya Crane.”
Casey expected Rizzi to fight her off, to try and escape, but perhaps he realized the jig was up. Or Stevens’s self-inflicted death had shocked him into silence. He stood up and turned around. Deputy Eagan cuffed Rizzi and read him his rights, then she and the deputy who’d initially tried to keep them out of the building led their now ex-boss away, presumably to a holding cell.
“No one, and I do mean absolutely no one, is to leave this building without my express permission,” Eagan called out, then disappeared with the former Twana County sheriff.
Deputy Eagan wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, which made Casey wonder if she didn’t trust everyone to obey her directive. Looking around at the still pale faces, he didn’t blame her.
Surveying the bullpen, her eyes landed on Casey, Gabe, and Elton. Pointing at them and then to the interview room, she said, “You three, get in there and keep your butts in chairs until I come and get you. Do not think about leaving the premises until someone has questioned you.”
Elton held out the signed confession almost as a peace offering, the papers crumpled from being stuffed under his arm. “I received this today. I’m going to hang on to it for now, to see it gets to the right people. But you can read it if you like.”
Eagan quickly scanned Stevens’s confession and handed it back to him. “We’ll need to make a copy of this. Please, into the room now.”
“Well,” said Gabe with what had to be feigned brightness, “that was a bit more excitement than I expected from my morning. How about you two?”
TWENTY-TWO
Gabriel
Thursday
They were stuckin the poorly ventilated TCSO interview rooms for several hours since each responding agency wanted to interview them. Eventually, they were separated and taken to different rooms, various offices appropriated for the task, then brought back together to wait it out in the original room—which unfortunately still smelled like fear-sweat and Spurring’s dirty socks.
The state investigator was a guy around Gabe’s age who introduced himself as Lane Boyd. Sizing him up, Gabe immediately decided that Boyd was not one to fuck around with.
