Victoria met her gaze. — They’re not getting out of this. You have my word.
The woman covered her face and cried. It was the first sound she had made in a week. Whitaker finished his call and came over.
— Internal Affairs is on the way. So are state investigators and the attorney general’s office. In an hour this place will be full of people with badges these men can’t buy.
— Good, Victoria said quietly. She looked at the crooked officers now lying bound in their own station.
She looked at Missura, still unconscious on the floor with a broken jaw. At the pale faces of the others. — This is just the beginning.
— The major who runs it is still out there. The judge is still sleeping in her own bed. And God knows how many places are running the same scheme right now.
An hour later, the county station in Silver Creek looked like a hornet’s nest someone had kicked open. Black SUVs from Internal Affairs, state investigators, forensic vans—one after another.
The building and grounds were locked down. Serious people in uniforms and plain clothes moved everywhere. Victoria sat in an upstairs office.
The team medic had cleaned her wounds and wrapped her wrists. Her face still hurt, but she refused to go to the hospital yet. There was something more important to do first. Across from her sat Special Investigator Ian Bell.
He took her statement carefully, asking precise follow-up questions. — So you’re certain this has been running for years? he asked. — Yes.
— One of the women told me they bring in somebody almost every week. If that’s true, we’re talking about hundreds of victims. Bell nodded grimly and wrote it down.
In the next room, forensic techs were already working through the seized computers and phones. Whitaker stepped in there and came back twenty minutes later looking grim.
— They found encrypted messages on Missura’s phone, he said to Victoria and Bell. — Everything’s in there.
— Victim lists. Dollar amounts. Who got what cut. This has been going at least three years. More than two hundred documented extortion incidents.
Victoria closed her eyes. Two hundred innocent people. Two hundred lives bent or broken.
— Are there names? Bell asked. — Full names, Whitaker said.
— Who paid. Who refused. Who got sent to prison. Exact amounts. They were taking anywhere from five thousand to sixty thousand dollars a person.
At that moment, Senior Investigator Paul Morozov entered the room, face tight with focus. — We’ve got one talking. Wants a deal.
— Greer. Says he’ll tell us everything if it helps his sentence. Bell exchanged a look with Whitaker.
— Then let him talk. We’ll decide what that’s worth later.
