The Intern(73)

Oh, shit. Mom.

More than an hour had passed since their phone call. Mom didn’t know where she was. She’d be in agony worrying. Just like with Danny. Argh, Danny. Madison finally, truly understood how her brother felt, and it was unbearable.

She had to get out of this situation. Not just for herself, but for him. And for Mom.

She put her head between her knees to get her breathing under control. By the time she raised it again, she knew what she had to do.

“Excuse me, Officer. Can I have my phone call now, please?”

“What d’you think this is, a hotel?” the woman said.

“I’m entitled to one phone call. I’m a law student, and I know that’s the law. I’d like it now, please.”

“Well, too bad. I’m swamped with paperwork because of you. You’ll get your call when I’m done. Now be quiet.”

“I can make all that paperwork go away. Let me have the call, and I guarantee the feds will come pick me up. They’ll take the case over before you lift a finger.”

“I got news for you, honey. The feds aren’t about to come pick you up at this hour when they could wait for us to bring you to them tomorrow. I’ll have to book you anyway.”

No. Getting booked would create a criminal record. She had to head it off.

“I promise they will, because they’re looking for me, and they’re really anxious.”

“I just entered you in the database. There’s no federal warrant out for you.”

“They want me as a witness. That’s why there’s no warrant. They don’t want it getting out, or I won’t be valuable. I’m telling the truth, I swear. The U.S. attorney is Andrew Martin. Call him yourself if you don’t believe me.”

The officer was wavering. Madison went with her gut, hoping this time, it would work.

“Just, whatever you do, ma’am, don’t tell Wallace that you called the feds,” she said. “That would piss him off so much, because he’s in a competition with them to make this case.”

“Me calling the feds would piss off Charlie?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Guy’s an ass.” The officer picked up the desk phone. “What’s that U.S. attorney’s name again?”

A couple of hours later, Madison was dozing on the bench when a dark-haired woman in a gray pantsuit walked up to the desk officer and flashed a badge.

“I’m here for the prisoner transfer on Madison Rivera. Special Agent Olivia Chase, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Olivia.

Madison’s head snapped up.

“That’s her,” the officer said. “I’ll need chain-of-custody on both prisoner and evidence.”

“Just show me where to sign.”

Agent Chase took custody of Madison’s wallet, phone, and the bag of drugs. Hauling her to her feet, she marched her out to an SUV in the parking lot.

“Let me see those cuffs.”

Taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the handcuffs. As Madison shook out her hands, tears glazed her eyes. She was free.

Or was she?

“I’m no longer under arrest?” she asked.

“I’m tasked with bringing you to DC for an interview, and I want you to be comfortable. Doesn’t mean your status has changed, so don’t try anything.”

“Oh,” Madison said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

Olivia’s face softened. “So you understand, no charges have been filed yet. Who knows, maybe they won’t be. That’s above my pay grade. The prosecutors will decide.”

She opened the passenger door. “Hop in, we’re booked on the first flight. There’s folks at Main Justice who are dying to talk to you.”





27


The plane came in for a landing as the sun was rising over the Washington Monument. The view would’ve been thrilling under better circumstances, but she just felt sad. Outside, the air was soft and balmy, like a different country in a different season. A car waited to whisk them to the Justice Department. She recognized the building from photos she’d seen, the trapezoidal hulk of it looming over the block, its white marble glowing pink in the morning light. She’d imagined arriving there in glory as an attorney on a high-profile case. Instead, she was being escorted in custody, to give evidence against a woman she’d once revered.

How the mighty have fallen.

They passed through heavy metal doors that belonged on a bank vault, into a dark, imposing hallway where they presented identification, through a metal detector, up in a secure elevator to an entry floor with a plexiglass window, where they were given visitor passes and told to wait for their escort.

“I understand why I have to go through this,” Madison said to Olivia as they took seats in uncomfortable chairs lined up against a sterile, white wall. “Why do you? You’re FBI.”

“They’re careful. Have to be, when the targets have been known to assassinate prosecutors,” Olivia said, quirking an eyebrow.

That reference—to the car bombing of that prosecutor years ago—caused the bottom to fall out of her stomach. She wasn’t in the clear yet. Even if the feds believed that Wallace had lied about finding drugs on her, there was still the matter of conspiring with Judge Conroy. Did they know she’d delivered that warning to Doug Kessler at the reception? With Kessler and the judge missing, would they care that she did it out of fear for her brother’s life?