“Oh?”
“I’m having trouble believing you.”
I blanch. “Why?”
“Partly becauseyouare wanted by the NYPD. But most importantly, everything you’re telling me can’t be backed up. In law, we deal with evidence—concrete evidence. Not rumors.”
“But criminals don’t leave behind concrete evidence for you to find!”
“There’s always evidence. One way or another. But all I see right now is a woman who’s caught up deep in this world, trying to make a deal by ratting out her enemies.”
Each word stabs at me like a dagger. He doesn’t think that I’m here to help him. He thinks I’m here to save my own skin. What’s worse, he’s treating me like he would’ve treated any other criminal who waltzed into his office with tales of deep-seated corruption in the NYPD.
Suddenly this no longer seems like such a good idea.
I stare at the half-eaten burger in my hand. This has to look good. It has to land properly. If any of this is going to work, then I need to sell it.
“Mr. Berkowitz,” I start slowly. “I understand what this looks like to you. Truly. But you have to trust that what I’m saying is the truth. Mr. Austin wouldn’t have reached out to you if it wasn’t.”
“Clayton reached out to me as a personal favor. He’s one of my biggest donors, so I’m obliged to listen. And unless you have something truly concrete for me to use, then I’m afraid that this meeting was fruitless.”
My lower lip trembles. I don’t have to act too much to make that happen. Everything has been weighing on me for a while, especially the fact that my left ring finger still feels as cold as ice.
I rub my arm and set the burger down. “If I give you something concrete, what can you do?”
“That’s going to depend on what you tell me, Liya. I understand what you want—a full investigation of the NYPD—but that will take time. It may even extend long after I’m no longer the DA. And if you come at the NYPD, you’ll need to do it in a way that they can’t discredit you.”
“Okay.” I take a shuddering breath. “I’ll give you proof of how Felix Cardona is involved.”
“I’m listening.”
I glance toward the brick wall on my right. “Felix Cardona forced me into this life after he killed my father.”
He doesn’t blink as he meets my gaze. “Go on.”
“He set everything up.” I shiver and hug myself. “He forced me to run away with my brother. He set up my marriage. He murdered my brother. He paid off the papers. He did it all.”
“And you can prove that?”
I nod. “I can tell you everything. And you can match up all of the details. All of it. But you have to promise me: you can’t get the NYPD involved. The moment they get a sniff of someone looking into their dirty laundry, they’ll close ranks. You know that, and I know that.”
“If what you say is true.” He stares at his phone, taps the table, and then leans back. “I can guarantee your safety. But you’ll have to be in custody.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No custody. That puts me in the hands of the NYPD.”
“It’s the best protection I can offer.”
“I don’t trust them!” I snap. “How many times do I need to tell you that Felix Cardona owns half the NYPD?”
“As many times as you’d like.” He nods. “But I need evidence.” He looks empathetic as he rests his elbows on the table. “Tell you what. You give me the details, and I can do an independent investigation. No cops.” He looks into my eyes. “How does that sound, Liya?”
“You promise?”
He nods again. “You have my word.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Mr. Berkowitz.”
“Please.” His smile is friendly and welcoming. “Call me Marion.”