“Have you uncovered any evidence or are you pursuing any line of investigation that indicates there is or should be IAB involvement?”
She leaned forward. “Fuck that. A cop’s dead. Try to care a little.”
He mirrored her move. “Fuck that. If I didn’t care I wouldn’t be IAB.”
“Give me a yes or no to my question, I’ll give you a yes or no to yours.”
He leaned back again, studying her. Calculating, she knew, how to handle it. “Yes.”
The knot in her belly twisted, but she nodded. “Yes. I need to know if she was dirty, Webster.”
“Can’t tell you. Can’t tell you,” he repeated, pointing a warning finger when her eyes fired, “because I don’t know.”
“Tell me what you do know. Quid pro quo,” she added. “I’ll reciprocate, with the stipulation we both keep this conversation off our records, unless both agree otherwise.”
“I can do that. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already made the connection between Coltraine and Alex Ricker. Is he a suspect?”
“He is. I don’t have enough, or much of anything on him. But I’m looking. IAB’s been on her since Atlanta, then?”
“The bureau down there got a tip she was involved with Ricker.”
“A tip?” Eve prompted.
“Some photos of Coltraine and Ricker—hand-holding, lip-locking—landed on IAB’s desk.”
“Handy. Somebody wanted her roasted.”
“Probably. It doesn’t change the picture. IAB got the package about nine months before she requested transfer. They followed through on it, confirmed. While each maintained a separate residence, they essentially lived together in a third—a condo in Atlanta in a building owned by Max Ricker. Private entrance, private elevator, private garage. She could come and go with little risk of being seen. They also spent time together when she was off the roll. She traveled with him to Paris, London, Rome. He bought her jewelry, high-ticket items.”
“No high-ticket items in her place,” Eve put in. “No evidence she kept a lockbox anywhere.”
“She gave it all back when they split.”
“How do you know? You had her surveilled? You had the place wired?”
“I can’t confirm or deny. I’m telling you what I know.”
“If all this was going on, why didn’t IAB pull her in?”
“Contrary to popular belief, we don’t go after cops for the fun of it. Alex Ricker? No criminal, no evidence of criminal. No evidence Coltraine was on the take or passing police info to him. Hypothetically, if the place was wired, Alex Ricker and his old man are the types who have places swept regularly.”
“And who are smart enough not to discuss anything incriminating unless they’re sure it’s safe.”
“They got bits and pieces.”
“Did she meet Ricker?” Eve demanded “Max Ricker? Have any dealings with him?”
“Nothing came up. Then again, like I said, she and Ricker’s boy, Alex, traveled. So they could have. But those bits and pieces included the boy making it clear he didn’t want to discuss Daddy. So they didn’t. Upshot is, things got rocky in paradise, seriously rocky after Daddy went down.”
“When we took him down,” Eve murmured.
“Yeah. She started spending more time at her own place. They argued a few times when there were eyes on them. Then it shut down. Few weeks later, she put in for the transfer to New York.”
“That’s when you guys took over.”
“We kept an eye on her. Nothing close. Maybe if we had, she’d be alive. The fact is, we looked, couldn’t find, and put her on the outer rung. Nothing we picked up since she transferred indicates any contact with Ricker—Max or Alex.”
“Alex Ricker’s in New York. She met with him the day before she was murdered.”