Paper Trails 2 | Draft

48.

"The first casualty of war is innocence."

*****

He leaned back in the seat, eyes set on me. I could see it in his face, he wasn't sure if he should trust me or not. After a moment, he stands up, goes to the door and opens it.

"Officer Barren!"

"No," I snapped, making him look at me through narrowed eyes. "I will only speak to you. Nobody else in the room. Nobody else hears this."

"Relax." He turned just as the officer came into view. "Lock the door. No one comes in. And turn off the intercom."

There was hesitance before Barren nodded and the door clicks shut. After a second, I hear it lock. Rochester sits back down, tugging at his jacket so it stays straight. He's looking at me curiously, like my being here was a strange occurance. Clearly it was the last thing he expected. But I'd made a decision. And I'd follow through.

This wasn't just for me.

This was for Felix Doss. For that woman who ended up paying for him. For John Castio. For the family of five that burned to death in their house.

And for all the other people I pretended didn't exist because I didn't want to think about the terrible things he's done.

"What changed your mind?"

"Who cares?"

"I care. If you're trying to sabotage this investigation—"

"The deal. I want full immunity. I don't care how you have to spin it. No jail time. And I want to be placed in Witness Protection."

He raised an eyebrow. "I...will consider—"

"No. It's a yes or a no. If you can't promise me that, I will get up and walk out of here and you will never get him."

He scoffed and shook his head. "Okay. Let's talk."

"Wait. Also...no one else is involved. This is about Niccoló."

He shook his head. "This is about Niccoló's entire empire. Everyone is involved. I will grant you immunity, but I will do no such thing for anyone else."

My jaw locked. I'd have to figure something out later.

"What do you want to know?"

"Who shot you?"

I raised my head high, keeping my face emotionless. "Marino."

"You said—"

"I know what I said."

He inhaled. "Why did he do it?"

Immediately, I was thrown back in time. Back to that day. I could feel it. The weight of the bag, the weight of the gun. The pressure of having guns pointed at me in three different directions. The cold air, blowing my face. The snow beneath my feet, making me stand at an awkward angle, one foot higher than the other.

"Do not shoot her."

"She's got a fucking gun on you—"