Redemption (24 page)

Lucky called the attorney he’d used to close on the house.

***

Time was running out. Even the hardware store played cheesy Christmas music, and Johnson’s apartment, where Lucky went to clean up before going home, was a mishmash of Santa Clauses, angels, mistletoe, and greenery. A tiny tree stood in one corner, amid half-emptied packing boxes.

“Damn, woman. You said you had a son, but there’re enough presents under the tree for three kids.”

Johnson added another wrapped package. “It’ll be his first Christmas here, without his friends and cousins. I have to make it special.” She dug in the closet and brought out two more gifts.

Lucky didn’t say a word.

“These are for Gran.” Under the tree they went, or rather, as close to the tree as they could get. Once more she rambled in the closet. “Hey, you need an air mattress for your new place until you get some more furniture, since the movers finally brought my stuff?” Johnson held a box in one hand and a pump in the other. “It’s a double. I’ve got sheets too.”

Might as well take it, though Lucky couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to visit. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll get them later. Right now I need to go home.”

Once more she played chauffeur.

The houses between her neighborhood and his displayed wreaths and lights, all except for Lucky’s duplex.

Though Bo had made great strides in getting back to normal, he hadn’t mentioned the coming holidays, another try to visit family, the office Christmas party, or even plans for dinner. He’d not decorated, even though Lucky owned a few pitiful decorations he’d bought the year before, hoping to spend the day with Bo.

This would be their third Christmas since meeting, and God willing, they’d spend this one together. Lucky should at least bring home the Christmas cactus from work, now full of pink buds.

“Same time tomorrow?” Johnson asked when she pulled into Lucky’s drive.

“If you’re not busy with…”

“Phillip. His name is Phillip. And no, he’s at Northeast with his boss. I won’t be seeing him this week.” Johnson’s pout appeared out of place on her usually stern features.

“How about your boy, and your grandmother?”

“They’ll be here Christmas Eve. Until then, I’m all yours.”

Christmas Eve. Just days away. And at least a month’s work remained on the house before he’d dare show it to Bo. But keeping busy kept his mind off things. Nothing more came from the bureau’s attorneys—yet. Stephan wouldn’t give up easy. If he stood the slimmest chance of getting an advantage by screaming about Bo and Lucky’s relationship, he’d scream loud and long.

He wouldn’t be the first man to throw someone else under a bus to save his own skin.

Johnson saved Lucky from his dismal thoughts. “We finishing up our factory audits tomorrow? I’d like to get that case closed before the holidays. I’ll pick you up in the morning and we’ll go straight over there.”

“Okay.” God, he owed Johnson so much. Making friends with one of his coworkers wasn’t the best of ideas, but when in doubt, consider what Walter might do.

While Walter was more likely to help Lucky than ask Lucky for anything, Lucky had taught the man how to work a new tiller when Walter’s missus took it into her head to dig a vegetable garden. And he’d moved the Smith’s big screen TV so many times it ought to come when he whistled.

“Are you going to the office party,” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“I’ll have to ask Bo.” For the past ten years, Lucky had avoided office get-togethers. If Bo wanted to go, he’d make an exception.

He got out of Johnson’s warm Jeep, into the cold. Close to freezing, and still Mrs. Griggs sat on her porch, watching the world go by. In the time Lucky’d lived next door, he’d not seen her have many visitors, and her side of their shared duplex was as plain as his.

He and Bo ought to invite her to Christmas dinner. Hell, it wasn’t her fault a high-powered drug lord delivered a package without her noticing. His henchmen probably dropped off a stray cat, and while she’d been busy ohhing and ahhhing, snuck the photos into Lucky’s mailbox. Hell, they could have hauled in a piano and a drum set, not just stuffed an envelope into the mailbox, by distracting her with a new cat.

Lucky threw up his hand, opened his front door, and jumped out of the way of a white blur. Carpet gave way to kitchen laminate. Moose skidded, hit the cabinet door, and dashed through the dining area, a black scrap hanging from his mouth. Lucky coulda sworn the beast giggled.

Bo skittered down the hall after him. “Damn it, Moose! Bring that sock back here!”

Hallelujah. Bo was back.

But with Stephan threatening to pull the rug from under their newfound domestic bliss, how long would he stay?

***

Lucky lifted the covers and wrapped an arm around Bo’s waist. “Hey, do you want to go to the office Christmas party?”

Bo rolled over. “Who are you and what have you done with Lucky? You don’t like to hang out with coworkers after-hours, remember?”

“Maybe not before, but you like office get-togethers, remember?”

Bo asked on a yawn, “And you’d go if I did?”

Not Lucky’s thing. Oh, the sacrifices he made. “Yeah. I reckon it wouldn’t kill me.”

Bo stayed silent so long Lucky worried he’d fallen asleep. “I appreciate it, but I’ll let you off the hook. It’s clear you don’t want to go.”

No, he didn’t. But if Bo wanted to, then Lucky
needed
to go. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The Bo of last year would’ve volunteered for decorations or such.

Bo twisted around and faced the other way again.

Now or never. Although Bo said “No”, he’d kept calm. “Bo, I need to tell you something.”

Silence.

“Bo? Bo!”

Soft snores answered him. Damn.

***

“Mr. Harrison?” The receptionist with the big worried eyes and a Santa sweater hovered at the entrance of Lucky’s cube.

“What?”

“Mr. Smith asked to see you in his office.”

What now? The skittish rabbit of a woman flitted back down the hall.

Bo hadn’t returned from going home to check on the pets. Lucky scrawled a note: “Back soon.” No need to say where he’d gone, with Bo one breath away from freaking out at any moment.

Lucky locked his laptop and sauntered down the hall. This time, he knocked.

The door opened, and Lucky came face to face with a stranger. The guy stepped back and let Lucky into the office.

“What’s this about, boss?” The room was asshole deep in… assholes. In suits. Walter sat behind his desk while four other men took up odd places around the room.

“Come in, Mr. Harrison.” Fuck it all to hell. Boss being formal meant a shitload of trouble. “I’m sure you’ve met some of our legal team.” Walter swept his hand from one man to the other, muttering, “Mister This” and “Mister That.”

A couple of faces were familiar. While Walter kept his agents out of the spotlight, the occasional turn on the witness stand came with the territory. Ignoring all the suits but one, Lucky glowered at the moron stupid enough to park his ass in Lucky’s chair.

Lawyer Gray Hair, in the other guest chair, said, “Logan, why don’t you let the man have a seat?”

The flunky stood and slunk back into the recesses of the office. A non-threat. Gray Hair commanded attention, especially when Walter bowed his head in the man’s direction. Walter didn’t kowtow to many people, and when he did, only a fool did otherwise.

Lucky sat. “You wanted me?” Maintaining balance between bluster and respect might prevent a Walter swat later.

“These gentlemen need to ask you a few questions.” Walter leaned back in his chair. Rather than rest his hands on his desk, he folded them together in his lap, then unfolded them to grip the arms of his chair. Uh-huh. So Walter wasn’t comfortable either.

“Ask away. I got nothing to hide.” Except for the whole ex-con thing. And the little incident in Mexico involving chloral hydrate. Once having been a drug lord’s boy toy. Stealing cars as a teen… But if these guys were from SNB legal, they’d seen his file.

Gray Hair settled lower in the chair next to Lucky. Yeah, Lucky’d been to the same class: put yourself at eye level with your suspect, make ‘em believe you weren’t a threat. So, Lucky was a suspect now. Best to watch his mouth.

“What’s this about?” Was he about to be charged with something? He hadn’t exactly been living by the rule book in Mexico, but he hadn’t strayed too far from department protocol.

“Agent Harrison.” Gray Hair donned the phoniest smile east of the Mississippi. The piranha tasted blood and wanted more.

“That’s what they call me now. But I prefer ‘Lucky’.”

“For the sake of this briefing, I’ll refer to you as Agent Harrison. And this conversation is being recorded.”

Was that the clanging of a cell door? Lucky shot a glare at Walter.

No reassurances. Just a classic Walter Smith scowl. “Answer their questions honestly. If you don’t know the answer, tell us so.”

Uh-oh. The ultimate “oh shit!” moment.

Rapping on the door broke tension thick enough to cut with a knife. “Would you be kind enough to get that?” Walter asked the flunky.

The man opened the door.

The receptionist might have a permanent case of deer-in-the-headlights fright after this, judging from how badly her hands shook when she passed over a cardboard tray bearing cups.

Flunky Boy brought the care package to Walter’s desk. The receptionist vanished at light speed. Walter handed Lucky a cup and took one for himself. Gray Hair took the third, and a wizened old man who reminded Lucky of a high class Art took the fourth, leaving Flunky and a wet-behind-the-ears attorney empty handed.

Lucky sipped his coffee. He owed Walter big time. Not for the coffee alone, but the silent show of support. “Ask away.” The condemned man had his final, drinkable meal.

“Stephan Mangiardi hired the finest legal team money can buy.” Gray Hair held his cup, but didn’t drink.

“So did his uncle Victor, for all the good it did. We’ve got proof, witnesses, and a recorded confession. Our case is solid.” The time Bo and Lucky spent gathering evidence had to count for something. “We’ve got him for operating a major drug trafficking organization, money laundering, murder, among other things.”

“Oh, he can’t fight the charges, but he can discredit his accusers.”

Lucky’s heart dropped to his stomach and acid burned his throat.

“Agent Harrison, where is Agent William Schollenberger at this moment?” The lawyer rested his elbow on the edge of Walter’s desk, forming a wall on one side of Lucky. The walls closed in.

“Why don’t you call and ask him?”

“Please answer the question.” The man added a little more force to his voice. Reminded Lucky of being cross-examined during his own trial. He’d rather face a firing squad.

Glancing at Walter only got him pursed lips and a head nod. Walter had Lucky’s back. If he didn’t Lucky wouldn’t work for him. But in this his hands were tied.

Honesty. These guys sniffed out lies for a living. “Last I saw him, he was heading home.”

Gray Hair leaned in so close Lucky caught a faint whiff of peppermint on his breath. “His home? Or
your
home?”

Lucky closed his eyes, pulled in a deep breath to buy time, and leaked the air out slowly. He opened his eyes and met the interrogator’s gaze.

In a chair in the corner, Flunky Boy tapped away on an iPad.

Again Walter met his silent question with a nod.

Lucky returned the nod and stepped into the lion’s den. “
Our
home.”

The attorney retreated a few inches. “I see. The defense will use your relationship with Agent Schollenberger against you. They’ll claim collusion.”

“They can claim anything they want. We have names, we’ve been following the shit he’s selling for months. There’s the factory…”

Gray Hair cut Lucky off with a raised hand. “To your knowledge, did Agent Schollenberger use illicit substances while on assignment in Mexico?”

“Stephan’s doctors shot him up like a guinea pig every morning if that’s what you mean.” Why were they even bothering with these lame-assed questions? If these morons handled legal for the SNB, they knew agents did what they had to.

“Did you ever witness this event personally?”

“Well, no. All the men got drugged daily. I wasn’t allowed in the lab.”

“But if you didn’t see someone physically administering the drugs, how can you swear under oath that your partner didn’t take them willingly?”

What the hell? “Hey, I thought you were here to represent our case, not Stephan’s.”

The attorney’s eyes turned hard. “If found guilty of even half of the crimes he’s charged with, Mangiardi is facing life in prison, even without the murder charge. He’s not going to win his freedom, so he’ll cast doubts on his arrest. You damned well better believe his counsel will ask the same questions I am. We need to understand what we’re up against. Now, did you ever see Agent Schollenberger take drugs of his own free will?”

Fuck. Lucky had. To stave off withdrawals during the big showdown. “He had the shakes…”

“Answer the question, yes or no, Agent Harrison,” another suit barked. Time for “Good Cop, Bad Cop”. These guys needed a new game.

Lucky stared at his coffee cup. He couldn’t lie, no matter how bitter the truth tasted. He took them all in: Walter, Gray Hair, Old Guy, Bad Cop, Flunky. Not a sympathetic one among them, except for Walter. “Yes.”

Bad Cop threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes.

“That’s enough, Winslow.” Oh yeah, now came Good Cop Gray Hair, to be Lucky’s buddy and try to win him over. Wasn’t Lucky’s first interrogation, and the only person in this room with Lucky’s best interests at heart was Lucky. Walter would help him if possible, but when the chips were down, he’d side with protocol.

Gray Hair softened his voice. “Had you met Stephan Mangiardi before you went to Mexico to look for your missing partner?”

“I didn’t
go to Mexico to look for my missing partner
as you said. I got clonked over the head and dragged down there without having a say in the matter.”

“You were abducted. Can you prove this?”

Walter replied, “We can. For Harrison’s own protection we kept him under surveillance. We have video of his unconscious body being carried from the house.”