The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (17 page)

With my head high and shoulders straight, I start toward the back of the office. People try not to stare but most can’t help themselves. I catch more than a few gawkers before they gaze back to their desks. I wonder what they’re thinking. I do look formidable. Martin made me change from my jeans and hoodie to a black suit with white button down shirt. I even took time to do my hair and make-up. If my mugshot is going to be distributed worldwide, I want to look good.

When I enter Interview Two I almost sit on the interviewer’s side, the one without the ring used to handcuff the bad guys. Force of habit. The small white concrete room, barely the size of a bathroom and just this side of cold, does its job. The door hasn’t even closed and I want out. Not that I’ll allow these men to glean that, not even the ones behind the mirror. Head and shoulders locked, back straight, and legs crossed. This is just an interview. I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong. Perhaps if I keep telling myself that we’ll all soon believe it.

“For the record,” begins the red headed Fed Devitt, “this is the interview of Joanna Fallon in regards to Federal Case 15-5436A9. Marshalls Matthew Devitt and Griffin Jackson conducting, and we are joined by Ms. Fallon’s attorney Martin Ferdman. Ms. Fallon is here voluntarily and at this time has not been read her rights.” Devitt opens his file then smiles at me. “Let me just start by saying it is an honor to meet you, ma’am. My wife was on Pendergast Bridge the day Emperor Cain blew it up. She wasn’t hurt but five seconds either way and she could have been. This city owes you several debts of gratitude.”

Hello, Good Cop. “And yet here I am having to defend myself against claims against my good character.”

“You have to understand, ma’am,” the African American Jackson says, “we need to pursue every lead. A name comes up, we follow the thread. You of all people can appreciate that.”

Oh, so we’re going with the “One of Us” tactic. Oldie but goodie. “So please tell me about the thread with my name on it. You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with the prison break considering how hard I worked, and how much I sacrificed, to get some of those men in there in the first place.”

“Well, while conducting our investigation, you know its customary to review the financial records of anyone suspected of having involvement in the crime. In this case that included the prison guards assigned to the Hardcore and Super-Max Units. During that review we uncovered monthly payments being made, beginning approximately a year and a half ago, to all guards in Super-Max. We traced the funds to a bank account linked directly to you.”

“Linked?” Martin asks. “Is it her personal account?”

I’m not that much of a moron. “The payments come from a charitable organization, the Lock-Up Foundation, and when we examined their financials we found nothing beyond a bank account and basic documents with the city,” Jackson says. “Your name appears all over those documents. And you’re the sole contributor to the fund Ms. Fallon.”

“My client lends her name, time, and money to multiple charitable organizations,” Martin says.

“Sixty million last year alone,” I add with pride.

“We also have a sworn statement from Guard Kemp who claims you had been in direct contact with him and the others,” Devitt says. “First a year and a half ago to offer them bribes, then again six months ago to set-up a weekly video chat with James Ryder.”

“Do you have any other proof of these allegations beyond this man’s word?” Martin asks.

“How about the word of two other guards?” Jackson asks with a half grin.

Dicks. I manage to maintain my poker face but inside my stomach flips. Prison orange is not a good color on me.

“My client fiercely denies any allegations of wrongdoing,” Martin answers for me.

“What I don’t understand,” Jackson continues, looking directly at me, “is why you’d want to talk to the man who tried to kill you and did kill your best friend. All we could come up with was phone sex. He is a handsome man.”

“I’d fuck him,” Devitt adds.

“Or maybe you’re actually grateful to the man. He killed the bastard who screwed with your emotions for twenty years. Maybe your way of thanking him was to break him out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snap.

“Joanna—” Martin says.

“Or maybe love and gratitude had nothing to do with it,” Jackson continues. “Maybe you saw a chance to wash away all the scum in one stroke. Abduct and kill the very kind who’ve made your life hell?”

“What else are we supposed to think, Ms. Fallon?” Devitt asks. “Regardless of the motive, the mastermind of this break would have needed massive funds, a way inside the infrastructure of the prison, and underworld connections. Does that sound like anyone in this room?”

“You’ve also recently undergone some drastic personal changes. Gave up your empire, dropped your boyfriend. Gives you plenty of time to focus on a new project. Perhaps that’s the kidnapping and torturing of over a dozen men.”

“If I wanted them dead, and if I had men inside the prison, why would I take all the trouble, not to mention money, to abduct them when I could just have them shot in the head in their cells?” I counter. “And how dare you bring my personal life into this? People break up all the time, and they don’t take it out on the prisoners either.” I turn to Devitt. “As for my empire, it wasn’t mine. I never wanted it. And I left it in more than capable hands to build something of my own. Which is precisely what I was doing while those men were sieging the prison. Bennett Stone and I were out to dinner at Komodo before retiring to his hotel room to begin work on our new foundation, The Guardian Society. The press release just went out this morning.” By design. “I was with him from nine until I received a call about the prison break when two GFPD officers escorted me home.”

“When you promptly gave them the slip and haven’t been seen since that morning,” Jackson adds.

“If the man who kidnapped, maimed, and tried to kill you suddenly was walking the streets with fifteen other madmen, you’d keep a low profile as well.”

“Ms. Fallon there’s at least one man dead,” Devitt says. “Tortured. A man with direct ties to you. A man who died so the psychopath who killed your best friend could go free. I would think you, of all people, would want to be helpful.”

“With the corroborating stories of the guards, the paper trail, bank accounts, we have enough to charge you with bribery, fraud, and possibly even accessory to murder and kidnapping,” Jackson says.

“And I’m sure we’ll be adding tampering with investigations, data theft, hacking Federal Databases and vigilantism when we execute our search warrants and impound your computers.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on the infamous Justice computer,” Jackson adds.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “I—”

There’s a knock on the door, and a moment later a familiar masked man steps in, much to everyone in the room’s surprise. As if this day could get any worse. Of course he’s here. I just cannot shake superheroes. Justin never halted his guard duty. I refused to look back, but I could sense him all the way to the hotel. To my lawyer’s office. To the apartment. Here. I don’t think he came inside here but can’t be sure. For all I know he’s behind the glass with Harry and the others. Doesn’t he have a new city of his own to protect? It needs him a hell of a lot more than I do.

Jem, in full dark blue and yellow Captain Moonlight regalia, commands the room’s attention without a single word needed. He does seem to become a totally different person when he dons the costume. Strong. Capable. Intimidating. Even I have the urge to shrink in my chair when he closes the door. Martin glances at me, but I shrug like I don’t know why he’s here. Devitt and Jackson seem equally surprised though their reaction’s real.

“Um, for the record, Captain Moonlight has entered the interview room,” Devitt says. “He has been deputized as a Marshall in this case.”

“I apologize for the disruption, but I can shed some light on Ms. Fallon’s actions,” Moonlight says. My eyes narrow at my ex. He ignores me. “She speaks to James Ryder at my behest.”

“What?” Jackson asks.

“The man has been instrumental in helping me close several cases. He’s my informant, but will only speak to Ms. Fallon. She has been gracious enough to ask him a list of questions I prepare and email to her. It was the only way he would cooperate. As for data theft, hacking, tampering, and vigilantism those are my quote, unquote crimes alone. When I arrived in the city from New Urbana, I wanted to hit the ground running. I approached Ms. Fallon about using the database and computer Justin Pendergast built. Ms. Fallon has not been using it since the death of the Triumvirate and Emperor Cain, according to her for personal reasons. Since then I have seen no activity but my own on the system beyond the video chats with Ryder of which she records and I review. In fact, beyond those interviews and use of the computer, Ms. Fallon has refused my many requests for her assistance. Her boyfriend even once threatened to call the police to have me removed from their domicile.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say.

“No, I apologize. And please extend that apology to Dr. Ambrose as well,” he says, smooth as wet ice.

“If I ever see him again, I’ll do it right after I slap his face,” I say with a huge smile.

“Very well.” Jem returns his attention to the Marshalls. “Gentlemen, I do not claim to know Ms. Fallon well, but like you, I can gage the measure of a person better than most. It is the blessing and curse of those of us in law enforcement. And you and I both know Ms. Fallon had nothing to do with the release of these fugitives. Like us, Ms. Fallon has made it her life’s mission to stop the agents of evil from walking the streets. And if she was providing money to the guards I am more than sure it was done with that good in sight. Many prisoners have escaped by bribing guards, men who can barely afford to make ends meet on the paltry salary they make.
If
she is guilty, I would wager she enacted the payments as a form of insurance or incentive for them to do their jobs and not give into temptation as many have before. Isn’t that right, Ms. Fallon?”

“No comment,” I say with a smile before rising from the table, “save for I have committed no crimes, have no involvement in these events at Xavier Prison, and as a taxpayer I am sickened to see my money wasted on wild goose chases such as this. Martin?” My lawyer pulls out a piece of paper and slides it across to the men. “Those are a list of my movements the night Mr. Garr was killed to the morning after the prison break. I’ve also included the names and phone numbers of those with me who can verify said activities and my state of mind. If you require anything else, speak to my lawyer or arrest me. But I think we all have better things to do, no?” I turn my gaze to the superhero. “Good to see you again, Captain. Good hunting. Martin?”

My attorney rises as well. I nod at the Marshalls then begin toward the door. As I pass Moonlight, he whispers. “Doris,” but I don’t look at or acknowledge him. I don’t acknowledge anyone as I stalk out of the squad room or precinct. When I step outside into the snowy, gray day, I let out the breath I held. I really thought I wouldn’t be walking out of there a free woman. But I’m free. For the moment.

“Thank God he showed up when he did,” Martin says as we descend the steps.

“How bad is it?”

“They pretty much have you dead to rights on bribery, possibly tax fraud if you declared the Lock-Up money as a charitable contribution.”

“I didn’t.”

“But I think this was a fishing expedition. They’re hunting sharks and you’re just a guppy. A high profile guppy who can make them all look even worse which is the last thing they want right now. On the flip side, if they really have nothing else, which is looking to be the case, you do make a good suspect. And they can always bring charges after this has all blown over. If you have any favors piled up, I’d call them in now. And stay out of trouble. Stay away from this case. Don’t give them any more ammunition.”

“I’ll do my damndest.”

“Do better than that.”

On that ominous note, I flag down a cab to go do the very thing I was just warned against. Interfere with the case. The taxi takes me back to the hotel where I collect my Acura and start toward Galilee Gardens just over the bridge. Pendergast Bridge is still a month from re-opening, so as always Dini Bridge is gridlocked, but it gives me time to make an uncomfortable yet necessary phone call. Bennett picks up on the forth ring.

“Miss Daniels. You saved me the trouble of phoning you. My press office has been fielding calls about my new international foundation. Care to comment?”

“I did try to call you last night and left a message. The announcement just couldn’t wait. I’m sorry. I’ve found myself in a bit of trouble, and I may have dragged you into it.”

“This should be interesting.”

“You may or may not be getting a call from some Federal Marshalls about my whereabouts on the night of the prison break, my general demeanor, if I disappeared for long periods of time, took phone calls, things like that. Just tell the truth. Except for how I found out about the break. With that, if you could just say an unknown man called you, that he didn’t ID himself, I’d really owe you.”

“Why? Do they think you had a part in the break? That’s ridiculous.”

“I know. It’s just…complicated.”

“Happens to you a lot. Complications.” He pauses. “You didn’t, did you? Have anything to do with the escape?”

“Of course not.”

“I wouldn’t care. I’m sure you would have had your reasons. It’s not as if the world’s better with them in it,” he says nonchalantly. “You know I’m right.”

“Right, wrong, it’s got fuck all to do with me. That shit’s above my pay grade. Just tell the cops the truth, alright?”

“Save for the one omission,” he says. “And what will be my reward for my compliance?”

“Eternal gratitude?”

“Think I can come up with something a little more…fun than that next time we meet. Which should be sooner rather than later. You’ve sped up our timetable with the announcement. We now need to get lawyers, advisors, accountants, legislators, and the Holy Spirit involved. This needs to be a priority, Joanna. Both our reputations are on the line.”