Dark Room (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 2)

“The reason I pushed back our appointment today is that I’m not here to discuss my social life. I’m here to discuss a plea bargain the Brooklyn D.A. struck this morning. It directly affects you. It concerns your parents’ murders and who did—or didn’t—commit them.”

She went very still. “Go on.”

“Nate Schiller’s confession was bogus. He didn’t do it; he was too busy killing a cop and a gang leader at the time of your parents’ homicides.” Charlie paused to gauge Morgan’s reaction, interpreting her silence as initial shock. “I’m sure this news is hitting you like a ton of bricks, and for that I apologize. As for why you’re hearing it from me, there was a daylong political haggling session between my office and the Brooklyn D.A. Our side argued professional courtesy; theirs argued professional jurisdiction. Our side won. So here I am.”

To his surprise, Morgan gave a humorless laugh. “Your side won. But you lost. What happened—did you draw the short straw?”

“Huh?” Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

“Who am I kidding?” She answered her own question. “The D.A. just handed you your instructions and showed you the door. It makes perfect sense. You and I are acquainted. We have a comfortable, positive working relationship. Plus, you knew my father, maybe even worked a few cases under his direction. Therefore, you were the logical choice to break the news to me. How civilized of both D.A.s. Or how self-serving, depending on how you look at it. Is it my reaction they’re worrying about, or is it Arthur’s? Because I’m stunned and unnerved. I have been for the past few hours, since I got word. As for Arthur, he doesn’t know yet. But if I had to venture a guess, I’d say he’ll be infuriated to find out that my parents’ murder investigation was botched and that whoever really killed them is still out there walking the streets.”

Charlie stared. “You already knew about Schiller?”

“A friend told me. He wanted to spare me the pain of hearing about it from a stranger, or worse, from the press.”

“I see.” A long pause as Charlie regained his composure. “You either have a very well-connected friend, or we have some serious leaks. This news wasn’t supposed to get out before you were told—personally.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But at this point, it’s immaterial.” Morgan forced a tight smile. “Stop looking like you’re about to face a firing squad. I don’t believe in shooting the messenger. The news is out, its initial impact over, and I’m still in one piece.”

He eyed her speculatively. “We’ve never really spoken about your parents, other than the niceties. You know I was fresh out of law school when I came on board at the Manhattan D.A.’s office. Your father was an icon. Every newbie hero-worshipped him, including me. He was a brilliant prosecutor, with dead-on instincts. I never met your mother, but I heard she had a heart of gold.”

“She did.”

Charlie blew out his breath. “Their murders sent shock waves through the entire system. I can’t imagine what it did to you. You were a ten-year-old kid. Not only did you lose your parents, but you were at the crime scene.”

“I found their bodies,” Morgan supplied tonelessly. “And you’re right. You can’t imagine. But you can guess. It changed me forever.”

“And now you’ve got something new to deal with—this news about Schiller.”

“True. But my coping skills are a lot stronger now. So’s my will. I’m not going to sit passively by and let the job of finding my parents’ murderer become another item on someone’s to-do list. I’m going to move it along.”

That got Charlie’s attention. He went very still. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m going to start out by assessing just where this matter stands in the various law enforcement offices.” It was her turn to lean forward. “Tell me, Charlie, how ticked off is the Manhattan D.A.? Angry enough to push Brooklyn to initiate a whole new investigation? Or is this a back-burner case, icon or not?”

He was walking a thin line and he knew it. “I’m not sure how this will play out. The old-timers are ripping. Especially the ones who were close to your father. They want resolution. The younger crowd’s a different story. They only know Jack Winter as a name. Bottom line is, reopening the investigation will require resources. Lots of them. It’s been seventeen years. The trail is cold. So is the case.”

“We could heat it up. Or rather, you could.” Morgan reacted to the wary expression on Charlie’s face. “I’m not suggesting you play Deep Throat. Or even that you step on toes. I’m just asking that you dig up a little information for me about what cases my father was working on at the time of his death.”

“Who might have had it in for him, you mean.”

“Exactly. It would be a start.”

“I’m sure Brooklyn’s Cold Case Squad will kick in and cover that territory.”

“Eventually. Once the turf war is over and the files are dusted off. I don’t want to wait for that. I want to cut through the red tape. Starting with the old-timers, as you put it. You could talk to them, see what you could find out.”

“There are two problems with that strategy. For one thing, whatever cases your father was handling are now spread out all over the place—from solved and filed away, to cold and in storage, to wide open and reassigned. And for another thing, you’re assuming this crime was a personal vendetta. It could still be a robbery gone bad.”

“We won’t know until we check. But that brings us to the third problem—or rather, the fundamental problem—the one that’s really causing your reluctance. Politics. The battle over which jurisdiction gets—or wants—this case. Till you’re sure of that, you run the risk of pissing people off. Well, relax. I’ll take care of it. I’ll talk to Arthur. He’ll make sure you’re given the green light, and that just enough of the powers that be are made aware of that.”

A hollow laugh. “You make me sound like a self-serving bastard.”

“No. Just a guy who values his professional future. I don’t fault you for it. Now, will you help me?”

Charlie steepled his fingers in front of him, lowering his gaze to study them. He couldn’t look Morgan in the eye and remain unswayed. Actually, he couldn’t remain unswayed even without eye contact. Too many personal feelings were involved here—complex, multifaceted personal feelings. Staying impartial was an impossibility. It had been then. It was even more so now.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I’ll see what I can find out.”