White Night

Chapter 47

"What the hell... How?" Connors shook her head at the news coming from her cell phone. Detectives pushed past her to retrieve their lunch from the local restaurants or, for the less fortunate, the department vending machine.

"The ballistics from the bullet in Tanner's shoulder don't match Nikolai's gun?" she repeated.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Janey replied.

"Sorry."

"The bullets near the parts store matched the gun, but not the one in your victim."

"Okay." She hung up.

It was impossible. Why would Nikolai care about a witness to a murder he hadn't committed?

With no physical evidence to tie him to Weston's murder, they had him on a weapons charge and assaulting an officer. They wouldn't be able to hold him past forty-eight hours, if that, with the Romano lawyer snapping at their heels.

Her ears still rang from the blasting Reyes gave her for not following protocol when transferring Michael. She'd managed to partially convince Reyes that with the Romanos looking for Michael, it was necessary to conceal the move, but it was a wasted effort. The captain informed Connors she would still consider adding a command discipline to her record for not at least informing her of the move, and reminded Connors that if she wanted to preserve her career she needed a result on this case.

"You ready?" Ross asked her as he met her gaze. The chill returned to her spine. She still had no lead on the cop that allegedly attacked Michael the night Weston was killed, but it couldn't be Ross, not after what they'd been through on this case.

There were things you learned as a cop: keep domestic disputes out of the kitchen, you can never stop your squad car fast enough to stop the drunk from puking in it, and you had to trust your instincts. And hers told her Ross was telling the truth about his PTSD.

The problem was she no longer trusted her instincts.

If she was wrong, then Michael had lied when he said he didn't know who the cop was, and she was about to go up against Nikolai and the Romanos with a dirty cop by her side.

Ross was still waiting, smiling at her as they entered the interview room.

Maria sat across from them, scowling already. Ramirez had confirmed that she was not happy at being picked up, and local uniform described the journey from Morristown as exhausting.

"Why did you bring me here?" she pouted.

"Maria, you sent us a note about a conversation you'd overheard in the coffee shop," Connors said firmly.

Maria folded her arms. "I have no idea what you mean."

She was defiant but lying, overusing eye contact and leaning back from them.

"White Night?" Connors slid a copy of the note in front of Maria. "We've done the handwriting analysis and we know it's yours," she lied back.

Maria shifted in her seat and Connors let the silence hang in the air.

Ross leaned forward and smiled softly. "Maria, we are trying to save lives here. Without your help, people could be killed."

Maria looked at him and Connors saw a trace of a smile. She clearly liked Ross.

"Please, Maria." Ross smiled again.

Maria uncrossed her arms and rested them on the table.

"A few days ago, Nikolai came into the coffee shop with some of his people."

Ross looked at Maria like she was the only woman in the world. He was good. It didn't hurt that he was six feet tall with dark blonde hair and the subtle good looks of a man who meant every flattering smile. Maria smiled back at him.

"He said: 'White Night in three days. Make sure my family is not in the area. Any harm comes to them and you will die every day for a year.'"

"Did he say what it was, where it was?" Ross asked gently.

Maria shook her head. "But please stop it. I don't want people to get hurt."

Ross nodded slowly, but they had nothing to act on. Neither the FBI nor Homeland had any record of anything relating to White Night, although both wanted to be informed immediately if they found anything.

"He talked about this right in front of you?" Ross asked.

"In Russian, he didn't know I spoke the language."

Neither did Connors. Maria had a perfect American accent, but was she right about what she'd heard?

"How did you know it was White Night with an 'N,' not White Knight with a 'K'?" Connors asked. "He could've been talking about a person."

Maria glared at her as if she was interrupting a date between her and Ross, not an interrogation.

"The words are different. Night is 'noch' and Knight 'rytstar.' They're not the same in Russian."

Connors smiled at Maria, who didn't smile back but returned her gaze to Ross.

"I think we're done here for now." Connors stood.

Ross also stood to leave. "Thank you, Maria. You've been extremely helpful. If you think of anything else, please call me." He handed her his card and Maria clutched it, smiling eagerly.

But Connors couldn't smile; they had nothing. White Night would happen tomorrow, but they still didn't know where, when, or even what the hell it was.

Nikolai's lawyer had already petitioned to have him released tomorrow afternoon and they had nothing to stop the son of a bitch walking, no connection to Weston's murder or White Night.

An elderly mother was counting on her for justice for her son and potentially dozens of others were counting on her to prevent their deaths in the next twenty-four hours. She'd spent time suspecting her own partner, a move that almost resulted in the death of her witness and Tejo, and still had no proof that Nikolai was involved in anything.

It was time to stop bullshitting herself. She wasn't even close to the cop she was before, but it was too late to pull out now—she couldn't hand this mess over to anyone else within a day of White Night.

Whatever happened in the next twenty-four hours, Reyes was right—it was on her.