Page 87 of Dead Air
"The Rafferty case was bait." Understanding crystallized as she processed the implications. "Designed to expose the corruption network."
"Monica was supposed to gather evidence slowly. Build comprehensive documentation over years." Richardson's voice carried old pain and fresh regret. "Long-term penetration of the judicial protection system. But she discovered Thomas Hutchinson's connection to you, Elizabeth. She couldn't resist moving quickly once she understood the scope."
A muscle twitched along Byrd's jawline, the only visible crack in her judicial veneer. "She threatened twenty years of careful work. Systematic improvement of public safety through managed criminal cooperation. The greater good required protective measures."
"So you ordered her death." Lawson's words hung in the air like smoke.
"I authorized necessary intervention." Byrd's legal precision maintained even here, every word chosen for maximum deniability. "The operation served community interests. Individual sacrifice preserved collective benefit. Standard cost-benefit analysis applied to administrative decision-making."
The clinical description of Monica's murder chilled the room. Byrd discussing federal agent assassination with the same detachment she applied to sentencing guidelines.
Blackwell struggled against the lingering sedation, fighting to contribute. "You killed a federal agent investigating your corruption."
"I eliminated a threat to public order." Byrd's voice hardened further. "Monica Landry's idealistic pursuit of abstract justice would have destroyed effective crime management. Returned chaos to streets we'd pacified through intelligent cooperation with manageable criminal elements."
Parks absorbed this casual admission of multiple murders. Bram's death wasn't an isolated incident but part of systematic elimination spanning years. The scope of Byrd's criminal enterprise exceeded even his most pessimistic estimates.
"Bram was twenty-eight years old," Parks said quietly. "Had a fiancée. Planned to propose the weekend after he died. She still visits his grave twice a week, wondering what she did wrong to make him start drinking."
"Tragic consequences of necessary administrative decisions." Byrd's clinical response revealed a complete absence of remorse.
The standoff crystallized around competing philosophies of justice—Byrd’s utilitarian corruption against the fundamental principles that had already driven good cops to their deaths. Parks’s shoulders squared, his gaze locked on Byrd with a steadiness that made Lawson understand why Bram had once trusted him. Some truths demanded exposure regardless of personal cost. Richardson adjusted his grip on his weapon, professional training warring with personal emotion. "The Bureau knows everything now. Your operation ends tonight regardless of what happens in this room."
"Does it?" Byrd smiled without warmth, the expression transforming her distinguished features into something predatory. "Agent Komarov receives his intelligence through carefully managed channels. Federal task force operationsrequire judicial oversight for warrant approval. My cooperation enables their investigative success."
The implication was staggering. Any federal investigation would be compromised from its inception. Byrd controlled both criminal prosecution and federal oversight through her judicial authority and institutional connections.
"You've been feeding them selected information." Parks grasped the scope of her influence. "Managing what they discover."
"Directing their attention toward appropriate targets while protecting valuable community assets." Byrd's confirmation carried professional pride in bureaucratic manipulation. "Thomas Hutchinson's network provides social stability. Federal agents eliminate disruptive criminal elements. Everyone benefits from coordinated enforcement strategies."
"Except the victims of the crimes you've protected." Lawson's anger built with each revelation. Five years of pursuing justice while the system itself worked against resolution.
"Except cops like Bram who believed in actual justice," Parks added, his voice hardening with each word. "Who thought evidence should convict the guilty instead of protecting them."
"Acceptable casualties in service of greater community safety." Byrd's judicial demeanor remained intact despite the moral bankruptcy of her position. "Individual justice balanced against collective security. Your partners simply lacked appropriate scope of vision."
The casual dismissal of Bram's life as "acceptable casualty" snapped something fundamental in Parks' psychological restraint. Three years of methodical investigation. Three years of patient evidence gathering. Three years of professional conduct while his partner's killer walked free.
His weapon swung toward Byrd. "You're going to pay for what you did to him."
"Lieutenant Parks." Richardson's sharp command cut through the rising tension. "Don't let her make you into what she is."
Parks froze, finger on the trigger, professional training warring with personal vendetta. Killing Byrd would provide emotional satisfaction but betray everything Bram had died fighting for. Justice through law, not vigilante execution.
"Bram would want you to do this right," Lawson said quietly. "Official channels. Legal process. The justice system working the way it's supposed to."
Parks held his position for several heartbeats, weapon trained on the woman who'd ordered his partner's death. Then, professional discipline reasserted itself. He lowered the gun slightly, though it remained ready.
The low hum of electronic equipment filled the momentary silence. The tactical officers shifted their weight but maintained unwavering focus.
Byrd clasped her hands in front of her, gold rings catching the harsh fluorescent light. "You should understand, Detective Lawson. Your career in law enforcement taught you the necessity of compromise. The real world operates through negotiation between idealism and reality."
"I never negotiated away justice," Lawson spat back.
"You merely defined it narrowly enough to preserve your conscience." Byrd's rebuke carried decades of judicial authority. "Your definition simply lacks appropriate scope."
Richardson moved another step closer, his weapon never wavering. "Monica recorded everything. Your orders. Your meetings with Thomas. Financial arrangements. The federal agents have complete documentation of your criminal conspiracy."
