“I know exactly who it is, though I just recently found out.”
With Sussman whispering what to say in my ear, I repeated his instructions word for word. “I want immunity from prosecution and I want my client to get a reduced sentence in a private psychiatric ward which she will pay for.”
The men balked. A couple scoffed out loud.
“Ms. Davidson,” the DA said, “surely you realize you’re tap dancing on some very thin ice. We could charge you with —”
“Now, hold on there, Michael,” Uncle Bob said. “I told you how this was going to play out. You promised to listen to everything she has to say and charge her with absolutely nothing.”
The DA glared at him. “I know that and you know that, but until about fifteen seconds ago, she did not.”
“Charley came here of her own accord, and she’s worked miracles for this department. We aren’t playing games with her.”
So proud I could burst, I took his hand under the table and squeezed. He squeezed back, and Sussman leaned over again, whispered something about how having Ubie in our corner was going to be very beneficial. I had yet to figure out why he was whispering.
“If you’ll just hear me out,” I said, “I think you will be pleased with the outcome.”
After a moment of contemplation, the DA smoothed his tie, then sat back down. “Fine. What are your terms?”
“First, my client has agreed to pay back everything. Every penny of damage she caused.”
“That will take a long time and a lot of payments she won’t be making if she’s soaking in the tubs at the state nuthouse.”
“No, no, no, a private nuthouse that she will pay for.”
“Yeah, right, do you have any idea how much —?”
“Will fifty million cover it?” I asked, shutting him up before he could dig himself in too deep.
That got their attention.
“My client has fifty million to play with, although I’ve seen those properties. We will not accept inflated prices the insurance companies want to throw at us. I’ve seen the properties she’s destroyed. The value of everything combined couldn’t possibly be more than four million, but that will be between my client and her lawyer to negotiate. And while we’re on the subject, I also wanted to discuss why she did this, if that’s okay. You’ll understand more once you understand what she’s been through, and perhaps leniency won’t be such a hard pill to swallow.”
“I’m not sure we’re up for hearing a sob story, Davidson,” the DA said.
I was kind of impressed with the captain. He had yet to say anything. He just sat back and watched me, his gaze unwavering, like a hawk’s right before it swooped in for the kill. I shifted away from him, just in case.
“No, you have no idea. Everything the arsonist did was to protect her brother. They had both been horribly abused growing up, and when I say horribly —” I took out my picture of Reyes. “And no, you can’t keep that.” If they looked at it long enough, they would be able to identify Reyes by his tattoos quite easily. I needed to make sure that didn’t happen, as promised. “I know that doesn’t excuse what she did, but if it helps you acquiesce to my terms, then so be it. This is her brother.”
Uncle Bob knew the moment his gaze landed on the picture. He knew exactly whom he was looking at. I furrowed my brows and shook my head to silence him as the others took in the brutality of what they were seeing. It worked. They were stunned. Sickened. Heartbroken.
“She has been through so much. The man who raised her and her brother would starve her to get her brother to comply with his demands. I’ll let your imaginations fill in the demands part. Just conjure the most vile, heinous acts you can imagine and multiply by ten. That should get you somewhere in the ballpark.”
Uncle Bob stood abruptly and walked to the window as the men deliberated. He once told me he’d known, deep down inside, that Reyes was innocent, but the evidence was too overwhelming. He had no choice but to do exactly what he did – turn over his findings of Reyes’s guilt. And now, ten years after the fact, that knowledge was eating him alive. We’d have to talk later. I worried about him over this. It bugged him more than I thought it would.
Sussman leaned over to me again. “I think now would be the perfect time for your trump.”
I grinned and nodded. “But wait,” I said to the table, brightening, “there’s more.”
The department liked to look good. They liked to solve cases, and what would look better than solving the mystery of a mass grave outside of Las Cruces? “I’m still negotiating here, and I can sweeten the pot if what I’ve brought to the table isn’t enough, though why it wouldn’t be is beyond me.”
“What else do you have?” the captain asked, chiming into the conversation at last.
“I am almost positive I know who killed those women in the mass grave they just found.”
The captain’s face went blank. The DA looked at me skeptically, and the ADA’s mouth fell open, but just a little.
“I need a couple of days to get the proof, but I have a very good idea who it is.”
“Charley,” Uncle Bob said, stunned, “if you know who —”
“Really, Uncle Bob?” I asked, giving him my best incredulous expression. “I’m using this as leverage.” Then I looked at the DA. “Do we have a deal? All my client will get is twenty-four months in the private institution of her choice.”