How many had paid? How many hadn’t, and were now sitting in prison cells because of these men? — How often do they run this scam? Victoria asked.
The younger woman wiped her face with shaking hands. — All the time. I heard them talking.
— Every week they bring somebody in. If you pay, they let you go. If you don’t, they send you to court.
Victoria stood and walked to the bars. She looked down the dim hallway. Empty.
The desk officer at the far end was asleep in his chair. — What’s your name? she asked the younger woman. — Lena.
— Hang in there, Lena. This is going to end soon. Lena looked at her skeptically.
— You sound awfully sure. Victoria sat back down on the cot. — Let’s just say I’m counting on the right people showing up.
Lena gave a bitter little laugh. — Around here, the right people never show up. It’s just money and badges.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the cell. Men’s voices. Victoria recognized Greer’s voice right away.
— Lieutenant, this one’s stubborn. Won’t talk sense. — That’s fine, Missura said lazily.
— We’ll talk to her in the morning. Let her spend the night in there. By then she’ll be easier to deal with.
— And if she isn’t, we’ll do what we did with that one last year. Remember her? The one who kept pushing back.
— I remember. She got three years. This one can too.
— Or she pays. Her choice. Their footsteps faded away.
Victoria sat on the hard cot and listened to the silence. So this wasn’t one ugly incident. It was a machine.
It had been running for years. And nobody had stopped it. Lena curled up on the cot and closed her eyes.
— Try to sleep if you can, she whispered. — Morning’s worse. Victoria had no intention of sleeping.
She sat still and counted time. How long since she sent the message? An hour? Maybe a little more?
Whitaker had to have gotten it. His team could mobilize in twenty minutes flat.
Then there was the drive. Seventy-five miles from the city. If they pushed it, maybe an hour.
Maybe a little more on bad roads. So help should be close. She just had to stay alive until dawn.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the cold wall. Maybe forty minutes passed. Maybe more.
Victoria sat on the metal cot, listening to the sounds of the station at night. Doors slamming. Somebody cursing. Lena drifting into an uneasy sleep.
The older woman never moved. Then came footsteps again. Keys rattled.
The heavy door opened. Greer stood there. — On your feet.
— Lieutenant wants another word. Victoria stood without speaking. She followed him down the dark hallway.
A different desk sergeant was on duty now, older this time. He didn’t even look up as they passed. Greer took her to Missura’s office and knocked.
— Come in, a muffled voice said. Victoria stepped inside. This time there were two men in the office.
Missura sat behind the desk. Beside him stood a thin man in glasses, around fifty, flipping through paperwork.
— Meet Detective Sergei Vinokurov, Missura said with a smirk. — He’ll be handling your case.
— Unless you come to your senses first. Vinokurov looked up over his glasses. His expression was tired and indifferent.
— Sit down, ma’am, he said dryly. Victoria sat. Vinokurov pulled a thick file closer and opened it.
— Victoria Holden. Thirty-two. City address. Illegal substance found in the trunk of your vehicle, approximately eight ounces. That qualifies as a serious felony.
— Possession charge. You’re looking at anywhere from three to ten years. He spoke in a flat, practiced tone.
To this man, she was just another file. Another manufactured case. — It was planted, Victoria said calmly.
— I want an independent lab test. Vinokurov gave a thin smile. — There will be a lab test.
— Ours. And it will confirm the presence of narcotics. Then comes the formal charge, the hearing, and the sentence.
— Everything by the book. — By what book?
