Off the Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia 3)

“Wait.” Annika rests her hand on my arm. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go into a prison to see a killer.”

I blink down at her. “Why not?”

“Because he’s a killer, Rafe.”

“He’s in prison,” I reply. “It’s not like I’m going to pose as an inmate and try to talk to him on the inside, for God’s sake.”

“I don’t like it,” she whispers with a mutinous scowl on her gorgeous face.

“Hey.” I take her chin in my hand and lean in to kiss her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Who do we know who can get Rocco into the prison?” Shane asks.

“Archer’s cousin, Matt Montgomery, might be someone to talk to,” Carmine says. “He’s a top cop in Seattle and probably has connections.”

“Let’s call Archer.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and put the call through to Elena’s husband. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, Rocco, what’s up?”

“I have a question for you. Do you think your cousin Matt would speak with me?”

He’s quiet for a second. “I guess that depends on what you want to talk about.”

“We’re doing some digging into Elena’s parents’ deaths,” I say, quickly filling him in. “I’d like to go speak to Danvers in person. But you can’t just show up to a maximum-security prison and ask to speak to someone on death row, you know?”

“Makes sense. I’m sure Matt would talk to you, especially about this. Let me give him a call and give him your number.”

“Excellent. Thanks, man. Let him know he can call anytime.”

“Will do.”

He hangs up, and I rub my hands together. “This doesn’t suck. This is a plan. I can’t just sit here and read old notes. It’s making me crazy. Is anyone else hungry?”

“Mom’s making breakfast burritos,” Annika says. “She’ll call out for us when they’re ready.”

“Your mom can cook,” Ivie says with a grin. “I’m so glad she’s here.”

“Me, too.”

My phone rings in my hand, surprising me. “That was fast. Hi, Matt, this is Rocco.”

“Archer filled me in on what’s going on. I have a buddy who used to work with us here at the force who moved to Walla Walla a few years ago. His wife’s family is there. Anyway, he’s the warden at that facility. I’m sure I can get you in.”

“Can we make it happen today?”

“I’ll give him a call and ask. Are you driving over? It’s a long way.”

“I’ll take the helicopter.”

“Would you mind if I rode with you? I’d like to observe your interview. I work homicide now, and I’d be interested to hear what he has to say.”

“Doesn’t bother me at all, especially if your friend can help me out.”

“I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything. I can be ready to leave in about an hour.”

“Great.”

I click off just as Annika’s mom walks into the room carrying a big tray heaping with steaming breakfast burritos.

“We could have come fetched these,” Curt says, jumping up to take the heavy tray from her.

“You’re busy,” she says with a smile. “I’ll be right back with some plates and stuff.”

She bustles out and quickly returns with all kinds of condiments.

“This is like a delicious buffet,” I mutter, my stomach growling. Before I can take even one bite, my phone rings again.

“Rocco.”

“It’s Matt. We’re good to go. Just tell me where to meet you.”

* * *

The small airstrip outside of Walla Walla is only a couple of miles from the prison. There’s a car there, and a tall, dark-haired man waiting for us.

“Montgomery,” he says with a smile as he walks toward us. He puts his hand out to shake Matt’s. “It’s damn good to see you.”

“You, too,” Matt says with a smile. “You look great, Middleton.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the armpit of the state here, but the wife’s happy.” He shrugs and turns to me. “You must be Martinelli.”

“That’s right.” I shake his hand. “Thank you for letting us come today.”

“Matt’s an old friend. It’s not a problem. I’ll drive you over.”

We all pile into the car, Middleton in the driver’s seat and Matt next to him. I’m in the back, which I don’t mind because I can get the lay of the land around us.

It’s flat. Not much to see. And certainly nowhere for someone to hide, should they escape.

“Couple of things to remember when you get inside,” Middleton says. “First, we’ll take your weapons off your hands and return them to you when you’re ready to leave. Next, this guy’s an asshole. He’s not physically violent, but he has a mouth on him. He’ll be secured to the chair, unable to move about the room. Matt and I will be on the other side of the observation glass, and we have three armed guards on standby should he decide to get physically violent.”

“Has anyone else come to see him since he’s been in?” I ask.