All the way in the FBI field office, Special Agent Cross was pacing angrily inside the office of the Deputy Assistant Director Miller.
He was waiting for word on the material witness warrant, the only legal tool they had left to drag Livy Reed out of the Don’s gril before her forced silence became permanent.
”Stop pacing, Cross.
You’re making me dizzy,” the Deputy Assistant Director Miller said.
Cross stopped in his tracks, turning to glare at his boss.
“We are wasting time, sir.
Every hour we sit here, her life is in danger.
She’s the key piece of our entire case.” “And if we storm a powerful syndicate boss’s mansion demanding his legal wife without a judge’s signature, his high-priced lawyers will have our case thrown out before it even reaches a courtroom.” Miller leaned back in his chair.
“We do this by the book, or we don’t do it at all.” “He murdered a high court judge in cold blood,” Cross said.
“Who knows what he’s done to her?
She could be dead for all we know.” Before Miller could respond, the landline on his desk buzzed sharply.
He reached out and snatched up the receiver on the first ring.
“Miller,” he barked, his eyes fixed on Cross.
Cross held his breath as he watched his boss’s expression.
For several agonizing seconds, Miller listened, nodding once or twice as the voice on the other end delivered the news.
“Understood,” he said finally.
“Send it over right now.” He placed the phone back on its cradle and looked at Cross with a tight, humorless smile.
“The judge just signed off.
The warrant is active.” Miller stood and reached for his jacket.
“Get your team ready.
We’re going to the Don’s front door.” Before Cross could respond, the office door suddenly flew open.
Another FBI agent rushed inside.
“Sir!” Miller turned sharply.
“Harold, what is it?” “She’s here.” Miller frowned.
“Who?” “Livy Reed.” “Livy Reed?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir.
She just walked into the field office.
I have her in Interview Room Two.” Cross was already out the door.
Miller grabbed his jacket and followed him down the hallway.
“Is she alone?” he asked Harold.
“Yes, sir.” They reached the interview room.
Through the glass, Miller saw Livy sitting at the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
On the surface, she looked unharmed.
Cross opened the door and stepped inside.
When Livy saw him, she gave him a tight smile.
“Agent Cross.” The moment the detective saw her, the heavy knot in his chest vanished.
A huge wave of relief washed over him.
Ever since she had disappeared from his protection, he had barely slept, terrified of what the Don will do to her.
He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Livy nodded.
“Yes.” “What happened to you?” “I won’t testify against him,” Livy said, her voice completely flat as she stared straight at him.
“I made a mistake.
It wasn’t the Don I saw that night.” Cross froze.
The relief that had flooded his chest a second ago turned to ice.
“What?” Livy didn’t blink.
Her hands were clasped so tight her knuckles were white.
“I said I won’t testify.
I made a mistake.
It wasn’t Don Antonio I saw that night.” “Livy,” he said carefully, “you’ve been under federal protection for eight months.
You gave a sworn statement.
You told us about…” “It was dark ok,” she cut in, her voice a little too fast.
“The hallway was dark.
I was scared.
I thought I saw him, but…
I was wrong.” Cross stared at her.
He knew that look.
He’d seen it a hundred times on witnesses who had suddenly changed their stories after being threatened.
“Livy, look at me,” he said slowly.
“Did someone tell you to say this?” “No.” “Did he threaten you?” “No.” The door opened, and Miller stepped into the room.
“Where have you been for the last seventy-two hours, Ms.
Reed?” he asked.
“And how did you escape the Don’s captivity?” “I left on my own,” she said.
“I wasn’t imprisoned or anything.
I simply fell in love with the Don, and we got married.” The lie left her mouth smoothly, but even she could hear how absurd it sounded.
Fell in love with the Don?
The words sounded ridiculous, even to her own ears.
Cross shook his head.
“So you were kidnapped for three days, and in that time, you married a murderer you were supposed to testify against and ended up in his bed?” Cross immediately regretted the harshness of his words when he saw her flinch.
Miller put a hand on Cross’s shoulder.
“Easy.” He pulled out the chair and sat down, folding his hands on the table like he was talking to his own daughter.
“Livy, your mother was moved out of St.
Mercy last night by an unknown woman, while undergoing a chemotherapy session.
We haven’t been able to reach her.” He watched her face carefully.
“Do you know where she is?” Livy’s eyes filled instantly.
She looked down at the table and swallowed hard.
That was it.
That was the string.
For a second, Cross thought she was going to break.
Then she lifted her chin.
“My mother is fine,” she whispered.
“She’s with my husband.” The word husband, landed like a slap on Cross’s face.
“He’s using her life against you, isn’t he?” “No,” Livy said with a straight face.
Cross leaned back, and exhaled sharply.
“He married you to seal you up.
You know that, right?
Spousal privilege.
He thinks if you’re his wife you can’t testify against him.” “I know what spousal privilege is, Agent Cross.” “Then you also know it doesn’t work that way in this city.
Since the crime happened before the marriage, we can prove coercion.
Livy, we can still protect you, but you have to tell us the truth right now.” She shook her head.
“I have told you the truth.
It wasn’t him.
I don’t want protection anymore.
I want to amend my statement, and go home.” Miller and Cross exchanged a look.
“Home where?” Miller asked.
“To my husband’s house.
He is waiting for me outside.” The room went dead silent.
Cross shot to his feet and went to the window.
He pulled the blind just an inch.
A black Rolls-Royce was parked directly in front of the precinct.
Leaning against it, in a dark suit, smoking calmly like he owned the entire street, was Antonio D’Angelo.