Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (read out loud books txt) 📖

I nodded. She went inside and I walked across the road to my car. I leaned on the roof and covered my face with my hands. I smiled and laughed softly to myself.

We’re going home.

Home.

Twenty Two

I stood for about five minutes watching dusk gather around the station house, watching the late sun turn from gold to burnished copper as the shadows deepened and the cold bit through my jacket into my skin. Then I saw Guzman’s attorney step out of the station house door, swinging his attaché case, and walk quickly toward Story Avenue. A moment later, Dehan appeared, wearing her coat and carrying mine. She took the two stairs in one long stride and was just looking to cross the road when I saw her stop and look back. Maria, the desk sergeant, was at the door saying something, pointing back with her thumb, like she was hitchhiking.

I pushed myself off the car and walked to where Dehan was standing. As I approached, she turned to me. Her face was a vivid mix of pity, compassion, and wanting to hit somebody.

I asked, “He wants to see us now?”

She nodded. “He’s going crazy.”

“Let’s strike while the iron is hot, Dehan. Let’s reel it in.”

She sighed and followed me into the station. As we walked, I said to her, “I’m going to get Newman. We’ll call the DA. You go and get Guzman. Take him to number three. Take two armed guards with you and post them outside the door. I want the whole damned station on red alert. If anyone or anything comes near him, shoot it.”

“You got it, Sensei.”

As I climbed the stairs, I could hear her bellowing like a marine gunnery sergeant rallying his troops.

Upstairs, I pushed into Inspector John Newman’s office without knocking. He looked surprised but not upset.

“John…”

I raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. The pain in my shoulder didn’t let me see it through. I said, “John, you’re going to want to see this. Guzman is about to give us Hennessy and her hit man.”

“Holy…”

“Shit is the word you’re looking for, and a ton of it is about to hit the fan.”

“Is it time to call in the Feds?”

“No.” Then I shrugged. “It’s your call, Inspector, but as of right now we still have no evidence. Let’s see what Guzman gives us. But call the DA. We need her in on this interrogation. We need her to authorize the deal, and we also need a safe house for him. Because after tonight, he is going to have some very powerful and very dangerous enemies.” I hesitated. “And so are we.”

Half an hour later, Newman and Jane Anderson, the very worried District Attorney, stepped into the observation cubicle attached to interrogation room three, and I went in to join Dehan and Guzman. I sat down, told Guzman that we were being recorded, and then recited the date and the time, stating who I was and who was present. Finally, I said, “Okay, Guzman, what have you got to say to us?”

He was watching me with fearful eyes. A couple of times he glanced at Dehan. His breathing was shallow.

“First I need guarantees, man. You don’t know how dangerous these people are.”

“What guarantees do you need?”

“What you said before. I need indemnity. I need protection, and I need the witness protection program for me and my family.”

“What do we get in exchange for that, Guzman?”

He kept trying to talk, but all he could manage was to swallow and lick his lips. Finally, he said, “I can give you the name of the guy who paid me to whack you and Detective Dehan. I can tell you where the order came from. And I can give you a name…”

“What name?”

“The name you’re looking for. The name of the guy who was talking to Thorndike. The big shot hit man.”

“How do you know that name?”

“Fuck you. Gimme the deal, then I talk.”

I stood and walked out. Newman and the DA joined me in the corridor. Jane said, “Give it to him. I’ll call the office and get them drafting it. If there is the slightest chance that what he is saying is true, we need to nail these bastards before they slip out of our grasp. Once the deal is done, you understand this will become a federal case?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know that. And that worries me.”

I turned and went back in. I sat and said, “Okay, Guzman, you have your deal. The paperwork is being done as we speak. This conversation is being recorded. You have all your guarantees you need. Now talk.”

I heard the suppressed sigh of relief from Dehan as she flopped back in her chair. Guzman went pale and sagged as he realized the enormity of the commitment he had just made. In that moment, I understood that I owned this son of a bitch. Maybe not for long, maybe only for the next twenty-four hours—until the Feds took over—but for now he was mine to do as I pleased with. I smiled, like he was now my pal.

“Relax, Jay. Believe it or not, this is probably the safest you have ever been in your life. And the more you commit, the more you give us, the more we’ll want to keep you that way. As of the last two minutes, you have the biggest law enforcement machine in the world focused on keeping you alive. We’re friends now, on the same side.”

He stared at me for a long moment as he adjusted to the idea that all the people who used to be his friends were now his sworn enemies, committed to his death, and all the people who had until now been his sworn enemies were his friends and allies, committed