Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Walter palmed the table. “You might want to watch your six, Detective. It appears that people in your orbit are ending up . . . dead.”
Detective Robertson fled the room.
Vexler trailed him with calm grace. He glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll get Officer Jackson for you. I’m representing her as well.” He shut the door behind him.
Walter let out a low breath. “That lawyer is a definite shark. He’s pretty much working for free just to mess with you.”
“He’s studying me,” Laurel said. “Trying to learn how I think, how I work, and how I’ll respond on the stand during Abigail’s trial. This is the only way he can get close.”
“Now, that’s dedication.”
Laurel had no idea how Abigail inspired it. Unless Vexler was just that dedicated. Laurel would need days with him to accurately diagnose him, but she’d bet he was a narcissist. Many successful people had narcissistic traits.
Walter hitched his belt up. Had he lost more weight? “Do we have enough to arrest Detective Robertson? For anything but being a dumbass courier of something that might not be illegal as well as being a cheating asshole?”
“Not at the moment, but we’ll give a copy of our report to the police chief here. I bet Detective Robertson doesn’t keep his job for long.”
Even with his hotshot attorney.
“So, you and Detective Robertson kept your relationship quiet,” Laurel said. They’d been interviewing Officer Jillian Jackson for almost forty minutes, and the woman was starting to wilt.
“Yes,” Jackson admitted, her gaze flicking toward the door, desperation fraying her composure. “We were careful.”
Walter’s pen scratched against his notepad, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t said much, letting Laurel take the lead.
“Careful,” Laurel echoed. “That’s one way to put it. You’re married, Officer Jackson, and so is Detective Robertson.”
Jackson’s mouth tightened, her shoulders hunching defensively. “I’m aware. It was . . . complicated. It’s not like we planned it.”
“And Mark Bitterson planned to use that against you,” Walter said.
She flinched. “I told you, I didn’t know Bitterson. He never contacted me. Whatever happened, it was between him and Josh.”
“But you knew that Detective Robertson was meeting him,” Laurel pressed.
Officer Jackson hesitated. “He told me . . . he told me Bitterson was trying to dig up dirt on him. That he was being followed. But he said he had it under control.”
“Except he didn’t,” Walter cut in. “Bitterson had him running errands, passing packages. And you had no idea?”
Officer Jackson’s eyes widened, her voice growing sharper. “No. Why would I? Josh never told me anything like that. He said it was just . . . I don’t know, him trying to deal with Bitterson’s threats. I tried to get him to go to Internal Affairs, but he said it would only make things worse.”
“What kind of threats?” Laurel asked.
Officer Jackson’s gaze dropped to the table. “He said Bitterson would ruin us. That he had proof of the affair. That if Josh didn’t cooperate, he’d leak everything.”
“So he cooperated,” Laurel said. “Even when it meant meeting a known criminal in dark alleys.”
“I didn’t know that was happening.” Officer Jackson’s voice cracked. “I swear. Josh told me he was handling it, and I believed him. I thought . . . I thought if we were careful, it would all blow over.”
“‘Careful’ isn’t how I’d describe what’s been happening.” Laurel’s gaze bored into her. “You didn’t ask why Mark Bitterson was targeting Detective Robertson? Why a man like that would go to so much trouble just to extort him over an affair?”
Officer Jackson’s hands twisted together. “No. I thought it was about me. About . . . about us. I never imagined it was more than that.”
“And when you heard Bitterson was dead?”
“Relieved.” The word came out harsh and unfiltered. “I know that sounds horrible, but I thought it meant Josh could finally breathe again. That we could be . . . I don’t know, something normal.”
Walter’s pen stilled. “You didn’t ask him about the packages?”
“No.” Officer Jackson’s shoulders trembled. “He never mentioned that.”
Laurel kept her gaze on the woman while her attorney remained silent next to her. So far, she hadn’t admitted to anything other than having an improper relationship with a superior officer, which probably kept her somewhat safe. “Did you ever meet Melissa Palmtree?”
“No. Never heard of her,” Officer Jackson said.
Walter stopped writing. “Do you pick up extra work at Oakridge Solutions?”
Officer Jackson shook her head. “No. My husband is the football coach for the high school, so my weekends are busy with games.”
“When you’re not cheating on him?” Walter asked.
Officer Jackson paled. “I fell in love with Josh. Didn’t mean to, but it happened.”
Laurel wasn’t getting anything helpful from the woman. “Tell me right now if you know anything about the deaths of Tyler Griggs, Miriam Liu, Melissa Palmtree, Larry Scott, or Mark Bitterson.”
Officer Jackson blinked rapidly. “I don’t. Do you think they’re related?” She pressed a hand to her throat. “Is Josh in danger? Am I?”