“He’s staying at a secured location,” Syn said quickly.
“That’s not what he asked.” The prosecutor glared at his sergeant. “He said, where is the kid now?”
“We think it’s best not to disclose the witness’s location until you’re ready to take his statement. Then he’s leaving Atlanta. That’s what we promised his mother and we’re going to keep it that way,” Syn replied, but God could see his sergeant wasn’t appreciating the prosecutor’s tone by the set of his dark jaw.
“I wasn’t asking you.” The older man sat taller in his seat as if he was someone to cower away from. “Matter of fact, who are you? Are you the lieutenant?”
“No,” Syn said in a flat monotone.
“Okay then. Let me hear from the men who are making the decisions in this room.” The prosecutor turned to God as if Syn was a nobody and his words held no weight. “I’m asking you lieutenants. Where’s the witness?”
“We think it’s best not to disclose the witness’s location until you’re ready to take his statement,” God said through clenched teeth. “Then he’s leaving Atlanta.”
“That’s what we promised the mother and we’re going to keep it that way,” Day said, repeating their sergeant’s words verbatim.
They were a team. God was head of command, and they all had titles, but, no one was so-called... in charge. Everyone’s opinion mattered and was taken seriously. And God didn’t appreciate this big-wig shithead coming in and suggesting otherwise. His job was to prosecute the case, not determine who was in charge.
“I’m so glad I came all this way for you to tell me how it is, detectives. But, a special prosecutor is called in when there’s a presumption of abuse, or a conflict of interest, and I’m detecting both in you,” the man said bravely.
“What the fuck did you just say?” God slammed his hands on the table. “You better watch—”
“Enough! This isn’t productive. And my time is more valuable than sitting here listening to you defend your fragile-ass ego, Godfrey,” the chief said, his stern voice cutting off any insults God was about to hurl. The man rubbed his hand over his creased forehead, then turned to the prosecutor. “Mr. Rice. We need you to understand that this kid is going up against one of the most notorious gangs in Atlanta. The Warlords’ reach extends through our justice system and goes far beyond our jurisdiction.”
“I need that kid on the stand.” He shook his head.
“Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m letting anyone see that kid’s face.” God stood, feeling as if the meeting was over.
“God, sit down,” Captain Meyers snarled.
“God,” Syn added.
Day stood and put his hand on his shoulder and eased him back down into his seat, watching him cautiously. God knew why he was overreacting, and his team was picking up on his unease. But, he couldn’t calm his mind. He kept thinking of his visitors last night and how he was feeling like he may have made a big fucking mistake.
He’d been given the duty of protecting this boy until he could give his statement to a DA who wasn’t being bought. God had sworn to the mother that it’d be his sole responsibility. And yet God had gone and given the kid’s location to a couple of killers he knew nothing about—only what he saw in their eyes.
Fuck! What if I messed up? What if I was conned?
God gripped the handles of his chair and squeezed until the plastic began to creak. Day discreetly reached over and placed his hand on his thigh beneath the table, and when God made eye contact with his partner, he saw the trust he had in him.
Several hours had gone by when Vikki brought them lunch consisting of cold-cut platters for sandwiches, fruit and vegetable trays, and unlimited coffee, then they were right back to it. They’d convinced the special prosecutor that video testimony would be sufficient, especially when coupled with the Stewart brothers’ testimony. Lastly, they’d went over all the evidence that God and Day had been given on the dirty DA and his son, noting to the chief that they were hoping it would be enough to get a warrant.
“No judge will sign off on it if the information was obtained illegally,” the captain sighed. “You still don’t wanna tell us who gave you these photos, God?”
God shook his head.
“Yeah, but this can’t be refuted.” Mr. Rice was holding one of the photos of the DA taking a brown envelope from a known kingpin. “This is outside surveillance. Not taken from inside his home or his private office. It’s enough to have him questioned. I’ll take it to Judge Masterson. I had a couple interns do a clerkship with him. He’s a good man.”
“All right. This sounds like a plan,” the chief said. “Godfrey, I’ll get on that witness transfer. After Mr. Rice is finished with him, he can go into witness protection.”