“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?
Andrew Martin came out to get them.
“Madison, nice to see you again. Come on in.”
He smiled like an unusually handsome dentist, reassuring her before he drilled her teeth. The conference room he took them to was out of central casting. The long table, the whine of the HVAC, a smell of burnt coffee, and—as she’d feared—an enormous bulletin board marked “McCarthy Assassination.” So, the focus of their investigation really was this crime Madison hadn’t known about until yesterday. Not something bloodless like bribery or corruption, but the murder of a prosecutor, with graphic photos of a burned-out car and bloody bits of flesh that made her stomach heave. And that wasn’t the worst part. She took a step closer, her mouth falling open. Among dozens of photos of suspects, most of whom she didn’t recognize, she saw Judge Conroy, Detective Wallace, Ray Logue, and Nancy. But Danny’s mug shot was also there. And next to it, Madison herself, her Harvard Law School ID photo with “The Intern” written under it.
She was on a bulletin board for assassinating a prosecutor.
“Madison, so glad you could join us.”
She turned, noticing for the first time the petite, pretty female prosecutor at the head of the table. With a sleek, black bob and immaculate clothing, she looked ready to address a jury. Meanwhile Madison hadn’t slept, showered, or combed her hair since yesterday.
“Morning, boss. Special delivery,” Olivia said, dropping the plastic evidence envelope full of drugs on the table in front of the woman.
“How’d you get that on the plane?”
“I have my ways.”
“Thanks, it’ll make a nice conversation starter. Miss Rivera, Brooke Lee. Department of Justice.”
Brooke Lee. Wallace had mentioned her.
“I work with AUSA Martin on this investigation. I’m sorry we’re meeting under such unfortunate circumstances. Not long ago, you would’ve been someone I’d love to hire. But now.”
Picking up the evidence, she clucked her tongue. Madison’s legs went weak, and she fell into the closest chair.
“You can’t possibly believe those are my drugs,” she said.
“I admit, Detective Wallace has been known to lie. On the other hand, your brother was arrested for selling Rocket heroin, so it would make sense that you’re involved in his operation. Despite the Harvard Law pedigree.”
“Danny is innocent. The drugs were never his.”