Page 93 of Dead Air
"The FBI investigation records?"
"More than that." His breathing became shallow, each word measured against available oxygen. "My personal records. Things that never entered official files."
Lawson leaned closer. The cardiac monitor showed increased heart rate. "Richardson, whatever confession you're planning can wait until you recover."
"No recovery coming." His certainty carried absolute conviction. "I need you to understand what happened. Why it happened. The truth Monica died for."
She recognized the determination in his expression. The same stubbornness that had driven his career now focused on unburdening his conscience before death claimed him. Fighting him would waste precious energy he clearly intended to spend regardless of her protests.
"I'm listening."
"I recruited Monica for the FBI operation. Spotted her potential during her first year in Homicide. Smart. Detailed. Incorruptible." Pride colored his words despite his weakened state. "The Bureau needed someone inside who could document judicial corruption without raising suspicion. She volunteered immediately."
"That part I understand," Lawson said. "What I don't understand is why you concealed her status after her death. Why you redirected the investigation away from Byrd."
Richardson's fingers tightened on the sheet. "Because I killed her."
Lawson almost stood up, the shock hit her so hard. Three syllables that rewrote five years of history. The cardiac monitor registered Richardson's distress in accelerated beeping.
"Explain." The word emerged through clenched teeth.
"Monica discovered Byrd's connection to Thomas Hutchinson faster than anticipated. Started gathering evidence independently, outside approved channels." Richardson's voice strengthened with his confession's momentum. "She told me she'd uncovered direct financial links. Planned to take everything to the federal prosecutor immediately."
"Why was that a problem? Wasn't that the objective?"
"The operation timeline required six more months of surveillance. Building comprehensive network mapping beforearrests. Taking down not just Byrd and Hutchinson but the entire organization." His eyes locked onto hers with surprising intensity. "Monica's accelerated timeline threatened the larger operation. My FBI handler ordered containment."
"Containment," Lawson repeated, the euphemism's meaning clear.
"Special Agent Charles Drummond. Twenty-two years with Bureau organized crime division. Specialized in long-term infiltration operations. He authorized extreme measures to protect the investigation. Ordered me to neutralize the threat Monica posed through premature exposure."
"You're saying the FBI ordered her murder."
"Not in those exact words." Richardson closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength. "Drummond said 'contain the situation by any means necessary' during our secure call that night. Bureau terminology with understood implications. Plausible deniability built into the language."
Lawson's fingers dug into her palms. "So you met her at the warehouse."
"So I let Byrd think the undercover agent was Monica. She ordered the hit, and I carried it out."
Richardson's breathing grew more labored. "I arrived before you. Set up the floodlight to create momentary blindness. Positioned myself behind the equipment shed."
The scene reconstructed itself in Lawson's mind. Monica arriving, uncertain, looking for her informant. Richardson waiting in darkness. The trap already set.
"She never saw me." His voice dropped lower, forcing Lawson to lean closer. "When she stepped into the light, I took the shot. Clean trajectory through vital organs. No possibility of survival.
"You were the perfect witness. Drunk. Distracted. Grieving your fight with her." Richardson nodded slightly. "I knew youwouldn't be able to get a clear visual that night. Your statement about an unidentified shooter aligned with operational needs."
The betrayal cascaded through Lawson's body. Five years investigating her partner's murder, never suspecting the killer sat across from her at department meetings. Guided her career. Protected her from consequences while concealing his own guilt.
"Why tell me this now?"
"Because Drummond authorized Monica's death, then abandoned the operation once she died." Anger brought color to Richardson's pale cheeks. "Bureau politics. Asset loss requiring explanation. Easier to terminate the investigation than acknowledge a federal agent died under their orders."
"In that lockbox, you'll find a digital recorder. Password is Monica's badge number. I recorded every conversation with Drummond. Insurance against Bureau abandonment." Richardson's eyes darted to the door, checking for potential interruption. "Last recording proves he authorized lethal action against a federal agent, then orchestrated the cover-up to protect his career."
"Why protect me all these years? Why not let me take the fall for her death?"
"Guilt." The word emerged as barely a whisper. "I killed your partner. Watched you destroy yourself seeking justice I prevented."
