Beg for Mercy (37 page)

Cole pulled up in front of a small ranch-style home. The garage was closed but the front window glowed with light. He got out and Megan did the same, shooting him a questioning look as she shut the door.

He pulled Megan into his arms and gave her a quick, hard squeeze. “Promise me,” he whispered against the top of her head, “you’ll keep a hold of yourself and let me do the talking.”

Megan stepped back with a miffed sound and followed him up the walk.

The door flew open at the first knock. Slater stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, chin tilted back. “This better be damn good, Williams. I have to prepare for court tomorrow and shouldn’t be out of the office at all—” Her mouth snapped shut when she caught sight of Megan, half hidden behind him.

Megan’s eyes narrowed into a feral glare. “Her? You’re coming to her with this?”

Slater’s already determined chin jutted out a few more notches. “Please tell me that cryptic phone call was not about Sean Flynn’s case.”

Megan’s hands balled into fists, but to her credit she didn’t launch herself at Slater. Instead she wheeled around and took two steps down the walk before Cole’s hand shot out to grab her. “We found some new information connecting Evangeline Gordon with the Slasher’s most recent victim.”

Slater’s arched brows snapped together over the bridge of her nose. “I’m listening.”

Cole drew Megan closer and gave her a warning look as Slater ushered them inside. He started by telling her about Stephanie’s murder while waiting to meet Megan and Megan’s subsequent attack. He then gave her a rundown on Megan’s theory about the video camera, the possibility the medical examiner had misinterpreted ordon witine Gordon’s knife wounds, and the speculation that Evangeline, Bianca, and Stephanie had been involved in a high-end prostitution ring somehow connected to Club One.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to reopen the
Flynn case based on the possibility that the Slasher is an ambidextrous psychopath capable of framing Sean Flynn for murdering a woman who may or may not have been a prostitute?”

“That and because Talia Vega has additional information regarding both cases.”

Slater grabbed her briefcase and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Which she’s already told Special Agent Tasso, right?”

Cole shook his head. “She’s afraid she and her sister will be in danger if it’s discovered she talked to the police.”

“Discovered by who? The Slasher?”

Cole couldn’t suppress a grimace. “Among others. She seemed to think he has contacts within the force. But she won’t say anything until her sister is secure, and then only to someone I guaranteed she can trust. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m flattered by your high regard for me, Cole, but I’m not sure I understand what it is you want from me.”

Megan started to open her mouth and Cole shot her a warning look. “Take her statement, find out what she knows. And then you decide what to do with it.”

He could see she was intrigued, could see the glint in her eyes as her mind snapped closed on the idea that something might have been missed in the investigation—or worse, that someone had deliberately misled them. Still, she wasn’t convinced. “I don’t like going behind Tasso’s back on this. The feds could really screw things for me down the road.”

“My brother is going to die in four days if we don’t do something,” Megan said. “I know you think he’s guilty, but are you
sure
?”

Slater’s mouth pulled into a tight line, and Cole could see the same doubt that was gnawing away at him settle in. She looked at Cole, her gaze coolly assessing. “What do you think, Cole? Do you think there’s a connection?”

He blew out a breath, Megan’s stare burning him like a laser as she waited for his answer. He wasn’t sold on Sean Flynn’s innocence, not by a long shot. But that didn’t banish the gnawing feeling that important details were missing. “Between what we learned from Craig Baranski and Vega’s admission that she didn’t reveal everything, I’m getting a bad feeling someone didn’t do all of their homework before sentencing Sean Flynn to death.”

“I’ll try to ignore that dig,” Slater said, then gave a short nod. “Fine. Set up a meeting with Vega and I’ll talk to her.” She accepted Sean’s case file from Cole, which included the new information about Craig Baranski, his FacePlace page, and copies of the photos of Evangeline with Bianca. Slater opened the folder and flipped through the first few pages. “Even if I do want to get involved, there’s no guarantee Benson will let me reopen the case. If you want to buy your brother some more time, you better convince him to file anothr appeal.”

Megan didn’t bother to say good-bye to Krista before slamming out the front door. Cole thanked Krista and caught up with Megan halfway down the driveway. Her shoulders were stiff as she took out her phone and dialed. “I need to speak to the warden.” She was silent a few seconds. “This is Megan Flynn, Sean Flynn’s sister. I want to put in a request for a visit this week.”

Cole looked over at Megan’s sharp gasp. In the gray afternoon light, her skin was chalk-white as she listened to the warden. “I see,” she whispered, and hung up. “Sean
got in a fight with one of the guards. The only person he’s allowed to see is his attorney.”

“It’s going to be okay—”

“It’s not going to be okay, Cole! I need to talk to him and tell him what’s happening before it’s too late. And what if he’s hurt? They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Cole repeated, firmer, as he guided her to his car. “I’ll take care of it.”

Krista closed the door behind Cole and Megan and shook her head. She might have thought this was a sick joke, but Williams wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor. She had always liked him and the way he worked. His cases were rock solid, the evidence clean and everything done by the book. If he thought there was something more to Sean Flynn’s case, some key piece of information Talia Vega could provide, she couldn’t in good conscience dismiss him out of hand. Even if it was possible he was thinking harder with his little head than his big head.

Krista would have liked nothing more than to blow Cole off as horny at best and delusional at worst. Despite her conviction that they’d convicted the right man, it wasn’t an easy thing to know she’d helped sentence a man to death.

She already had trouble shutting her brain down enough to sleep at night. The last thing she needed was to add doubt to the equation.

She wanted nothing more than to push it aside, but she trusted Cole and his instincts as a cop. She’d never forgive
herself if she didn’t at least humor him, talk to Talia Vega and review the case with the new information in mind. She sat down at her kitchen table, flipped open the folder, and started skimming the familiar contents.

Crime scene photos. Witness statements. Court transcripts. It was all here, in black and white. Every shred of evidence, down to the fingerprints on the knife pointing to Sean Flynn.

She picked up a page of Talia Vega’s testimony, and as she did so, a photo slid out onto the floor. It was a picture of Flynn, decked out in his full army dress uniform. With his dark green eyes, chiseled features, and dark hair clipped close to his skull, he looked like a hero. The exact kind of man you wanted on the front lines protecting truth, justice, the American way.

He didn’t look like a cold-blooded murderer.

Yet she’d never doubted they’d nailed the right man. And there was nothing in the evidence to make them think otherwise.

A perfect case, gift wrapped and handed to them.
So perfect that Detective Suarez, who’d taken over as lead investigator after Williams was off the case, had never seriously pursued any other suspects.

Too perfect?

What if Williams was right? What if Talia Vega hadn’t told them the whole story? What if there was a connection between Evangeline Gordon and the Slasher’s other victims?

Coincidence. A connection doesn’t make Sean Flynn any less guilty.

But what harm could come from taking a second look?

The streetlamps cast an eerie glow through the fog as she and Cole pulled up in front of the Walls. It was after midnight, but Megan was keyed up even after the long drive. Cole parked across the street from the entrance gate and pulled out his phone. “We’re here.”

On impulse, Megan leaned over from the driver’s seat and gave Cole a quick hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this.” She had no idea what kind of favor the head guard owed Cole; all she knew was that he was cashing it in for her. And for Sean. “I still don’t totally understand why you’re doing all of this for me.”

She could just barely make out Cole’s rueful smile in the shadows. “Because I didn’t before.”

A man appeared at the gate and motioned to them before Megan could get her brain wrapped around that.

“Let’s go,” Cole said.

Megan got out of the car, shivering a little as she followed Cole. Cole and the man who introduced himself only as Joe shook hands.

“Thanks for doing this,” Cole said as Joe led them between two buildings of the compound. Megan had never been to this part of the prison before.

“Anytime.”

“We’ll go in through the infirmary.”

“Stay close,” Cole said, and wrapped his hand around her arm.

Megan didn’t need to be told twice. Joe led them through a maze of dim, silent hallways, around corners and through reinforced steel doors. At the end of a long corridor, Joe opened a door that led to a covered passageway
connecting the medical wing with the IMU where death row inmates were held.

The passage opened up to a cavernous two-story room with cells lining the top floor. In the silence, Megan could hear deep breathing, snores, the sounds of bodies shifting in sleep.

Joe led them through the common area and out toward the visiting area. “You can wait here.” He ushered them into a small room containing a table and two chairs.

Minutes later, Megan heard the metallic clank of handcuffs as Joe led Sean into the room.

She burst into tears. His face was mottled with bruises. His right cheekbone was purple and swollen, and he had a line of stitches over his right eyebrow.

Megan flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh God, it’s so good to see you.” It took her several seconds to realize Sean was flinching away.

“What are you doing here?”

Her stomach dropped. He didn’t sound happy to see her.

“And what the fuck is he doing here?” Sean asked, his angry stare locked on Cole.

“He’s helping me,” Megan said, and reached out to put a reassuring hand on Sean’s arm. He jerked away and she felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “What happened?” She reached a hand toward his face but dropped it before she touched him.

“I lost it on a guard and got the shit beat out of me,” he said coldly. He turned again to Cole. “Why the hell am I being dragged out of my cell in the middle of the night? I don’t want her to see me like this.”

She winced at his tone. Sean didn’t want to see her again before he died. Period. He’d made that clear.

“I needed to see you and make sure you were okay, and try to convince you to call Brockner to file an appeal first thing tomorrow,” Megan said.

Sean shook his head. His dark brows drew into a frown as he shook his head. “I’m not doing that. I don’t know what the cop’s part is in all of this, but unless you’ve found the real killer and enough evidence to back it up and get me out of here, I don’t want any part of it. I’m done with this.”