“I already have you.”
Drex took a breath. “You saw those autopsy reports. Do you understand what they signify?”
“You think I’m too dense to grasp their significance?”
“I wasn’t implying that. I only meant—”
“You implied that you, Dr. Easton, are smarter than me.”
“Than I,” Drex said under his breath.
Rudkowski glared at him with malice. “You’re over and out. For good. When is that going to sink in? Maybe while you’re in jail. You’ll have plenty of time to reflect.”
“I’ll sign a confession, Bill. In blood.”
“I like that idea.”
“Tomorrow.”
Rudkowski scraped back his chair. “Stay here till someone comes to book you.”
“Wait. Please. Please,” Drex repeated and held out his hand as though to keep him in his seat.
Rudkowski hesitated, then resettled.
Drex tried another tactic. “I’m this close to him.” He made an inch with his thumb and index finger. “He’s close.”
“You know that?”
“I feel it.”
“Do you think that what you feel is going to fly with a prosecutor? You have no proof that such a person even exists. That business with the buttons? Circumstantial.”
“I realize that. But it’s more than I’ve had on prior cases. He thinks he’s outsmarted us. He hasn’t. We’re smarter. He’s tripped up and doesn’t even know it. This is our one chance to get him.”
“By him you mean Ford? His bloated body will drift ashore one of these days.”
“Could, but I don’t think so. Give me twenty-four hours, with a badge. If I don’t produce him, I’ve failed. You can lock me up and laugh your ass off. You can publicly ridicule me.”
He paused to let Rudkowski savor the appetizing thought of that. “But, if I succeed, and we nail the son of a bitch, it’s even better for you.”
“How do you figure?”
“You get all the credit.”
“What about you?”
“I take none.”
“You take none?”
“I’ll stipulate it in writing.”
“Nothing you write down will be worth the paper it’s written on.”
“I’ll email it. Emails are forever.”
“Not yours. You’ve got Mallory to rig them for you.”