“He said he believed he’d found an inside source. Possibly related to the distribution of illegal drugs in Birmingham. He and Leo Kurtz were going to confront this source. Walsh would offer a deal for cooperation. The usual bullshit.”
“You have any idea who this source was?” Kerri nudged. “Man? Woman?”
Sadie laughed, the sound as dry as the leaves would be in Alabama’s relentless summer heat. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced a real laugh. “He referred to the person as ‘the source.’ Never indicated male or female. Obviously since you’re here, the source wasn’t interested in the deal he had to offer.”
Devlin glared at her with that holier-than-thou attitude. But they both knew the real story. Devlin was no saint. She had secrets. Sins. Everyone did. She’d gotten her hands dirty at least once, by God.
Falco braced his elbows on his knees and studied Sadie over the rim of his coffee mug. “Was anyone else besides Kurtz—another business owner maybe—involved in or cooperating with Walsh’s plan?”
“If that was the case, he didn’t share the information with me.” This was not entirely true. Drawing other business owners out of the cloak of fear and secrecy was the goal, but she had no idea if Kurtz had even started attempting to bring others to the table. Either way, she needed to follow up on a couple of things before she gave them too much.
“Was Walsh’s boss aware of this investigation?” Kerri asked.
“I don’t have a clue. I assume he was, but Walsh never mentioned him. My impression was that this was his baby. He wanted to rock it all by himself at least until the op found its legs.”
“We need your help with this.”
The idea that these words had come from Devlin surprised—no, shocked—the hell out of Sadie. Maybe the detective really was off her game after whatever happened at her daughter’s school.
Sadie went with the flow. “I’ll tell you like I told Walsh. You can ask me anything you like, but I can’t guarantee I have the answer. At least not an answer I can produce.”
“I’m sure you can answer this one,” Falco said. “What’s the number of the burner phone he used? We’ll need to get those records. See who else he called.”
She rattled off the number. “But don’t waste your time. I already pulled the records. He only called me with that phone. If he had another one, I don’t know about it.”
“You can email me a copy of the records.” Devlin stood. “Thanks for the coffee. Keep in mind we’ll have more questions.”
Falco pushed to his feet. He grabbed Devlin’s mug and carried both his and hers to the sink. The guy was too stinking nice for his own good. Years of undercover work had done shit to him too. Maybe all the being extra good these days was about making amends for something he’d done during that time. It happened. Going undercover was sort of like acting. If you wanted the Academy Award, you had to buy all the way into the part. It had to be real. Had to be you. Sometimes you did really bad shit to give the best performance.
“This case is going to be all over the news, Cross,” Falco offered. “The chief will be breathing down our necks.”
“I’ll make you a deal.” Sadie looked from Falco to Devlin. “You make sure no one knows about the calls between Walsh and me, and I’ll cooperate fully. But I don’t want my name anywhere on the official reports.”
Devlin and Falco exchanged a look. Devlin took the initiative. “You have my word.”
If there was one thing Sadie understood with complete certainty, it was that Devlin would not lie to her. As far as she’d fallen last summer, Devlin still had this idea of what a good cop was supposed to look like, and she tried her best to live up to that image.
Sadie wished she could make her see that the ideal was not realistic. A good cop did what had to be done, and sometimes it wasn’t good at all, only necessary.
“We’re square then,” Sadie agreed. “I’ll reach out to my sources and see what I can find for you.”
This was something Sadie did have, if nothing else. She had invaluable sources. All from the most unlikely of places. Not only were they reliable; they were damned good. Not a single one of her sources had ever let her down, which was far more than she could say for most of the friends she’d ever claimed.
“That would be very helpful,” Falco said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sadie got up and moved toward the door. “You’ll owe me, I know.”
At the door she reached for the top dead bolt, and Falco said the rest, “I already owe you, Cross. I haven’t forgotten.”
She turned to him. “I’m sure you haven’t.” Her attention drifted to Devlin. “You should remember the people who do you favors.”
Devlin gave a nod. “I haven’t forgotten either.”
Sadie reached for the door again. “Just one thing.” When both Falco and Devlin met her gaze, she continued, “Anyone associated with the Osorio cartel is utterly ruthless. I mean, the kind of evil you don’t even know. Those people will do anything to protect themselves. You should watch your backs.”
“Got it,” Falco confirmed.
As they filed out the door, Devlin paused. “You should watch your back as well. We may not be the only ones who know Walsh came to you.”
Sadie was well aware. This was yet another reason she had to find a way to put all those pieces together.
Whatever was happening, it was no doubt prompted by her past.
5
3:00 p.m.
Office of the Jefferson County District Attorney
Richard Arrington Jr. Boulevard North
Birmingham
Kerri sat behind Deputy District Attorney Asher Walsh’s desk and surveyed his office. The usual government-issued furniture. No upgrades for the wealthy Bostonian. The only concession to his prestigious background was the framed diploma from Harvard Law School. Nothing else.
The bulletin board was plastered with newspaper articles about drugs and human trafficking that had captured Walsh’s attention since he’d landed in Birmingham. So far, the contents of his files and his desk drawers were immaculately organized if lacking in any useful revelations.
One by one Falco moved through the books—mostly law books—filling the shelves along the opposite wall. He opened each one, looking for anything that might be hidden. Then checked the shelf before sliding the volume back into place.
Walsh’s assistant, Louisa Allen, eyes red from a recent bout of tears, had unlocked the desk and left Kerri and Falco to do the necessary search. The press conference had happened at one thirty. The district attorney, with the sheriff and the chief of police as well as the mayor, had announced the somber news. Because of Walsh’s strong and well-known antidrug agenda, the mayor, Emma Warren, was calling for a joint task force that included the DEA. Though she was well aware of how capable the BPD’s Major Investigations Division was and the wider jurisdiction, she felt the death of DDA Walsh was a message, and the city needed to respond to that message with a show of force and unity in a much broader fashion.
Until this proposed task force was set in motion, Kerri and Falco were to carry on.
Warren didn’t seem to be satisfied with the knowledge that the MID was made up of good cops from Birmingham as well as the surrounding communities—including the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department. She understood their jurisdiction was all-inclusive. The former mayor, the chief of police, and the sheriff had spent years developing this division. It was a fairly new concept, yes, but it had worked well so far. Being new to the office of mayor, Warren obviously wanted to prove she was not only paying attention but engaged and more than happy to ensure her predecessor’s legacy still met the needs of the community.