“Which one?” Jason said, pulling up the images.

“Give me the full-room shot.” Rebecca leaned down and pointed to one of two girls flanking a distinguished-looking man in his sixties.

He was fondling one girl’s breasts while the other girl worked the erection that jutted through his open fly. She pointed to the girl with her hand on his penis. “That’s her.”

“And that’s the Most Reverend Joseph Thomas,” Jason announced.

“He’s that bishop who’s been getting all the press for wanting to root out gay priests, even if they’re celibate.”

“Shit,” Rebecca muttered. If politics weren’t bad enough, now she had a high-ranking cleric in the middle of her case. “This has the makings of a real media nightmare.”

“You know,” Sloan said, “as soon as Clark gets wind of this, that’s the guy he’s going to go after. The church will want the priest to cooperate and turn state’s evidence. The other guys in this photo—they might get fancy lawyers to keep their names out of the paper, protect their interests. But with a priest, nothing has to be made public and he’s still completely fucked if they ship him off to some backwater parish. His political power and influence within the church will go up in smoke.”

“And once Clark gets his witness,” Jason added, “he’s not going to care about anything else. He might even convince the brass to pull the plug on our end of things.”

“Which leaves us with nothing,” Rebecca said, thinking about the men who would still be left to take advantage of girls like Sandy.

“Jason, print me out a copy of Bishop Thomas and his friends. I feel the need for a little salvation coming on.”

v

• 249 •

RADclY fFe

Rebecca knocked on the door to Sandy’s room. “You decent?”

“No. Come on in.”

Laughing, Rebecca pushed the door open. Sandy, wearing a PPD

T-shirt, sat up in bed, the covers pooled around her waist. She had an open magazine in her lap. The left side of her face was swollen and when she tossed the magazine aside, she moved carefully.

“Mind a visitor for a few minutes?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you anyhow.” Sandy patted the space beside her. “You can sit here. I’m too sore to jump your bones.”

There was no chair in the room, so Rebecca sat where Sandy indicated and clasped her hands around her bent knee. “How are the ribs?”

“They’re okay as long as I don’t move too fast or poke them.”

“I’m sorry about the other night.”

Sandy narrowed her eyes. “Why? You didn’t hit me.”

“You shouldn’t have been out without backup. Not on this operation.” Rebecca shook her head. “We should have placed an undercover cop with you. Someone from vice, maybe.”

“No way,” Sandy said dismissively. “You know these guys can smell a cop in the next state. Plus, you’re not going to have anyone young enough. These guys, they like them young. I’m surprised I made the cut.”

“You look young, Sandy.” Rebecca took a deep breath. “I don’t want you going out again.”

Sandy sat up straighter, then grimaced. “Fuck.”

Rebecca put her hand on Sandy’s arm. “Hey. Take it easy. I didn’t come here to upset you.”

“Then stop acting like you get a say in my life.”

“I get a say in what you do for me. And I say—”

“Look, I feel like shit. I don’t want to fight with you, okay?” Sandy covered Rebecca’s hand.

The contact was so out of character that Rebecca took a few seconds to react. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up right now. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I will be.” Sandy withdrew her hand. “But I’m glad you came by.

There’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I don’t want you to tell Dell.”

• 250 •

Justice for All

“Sandy.” Rebecca shook her head. “She’s my officer. Hell. And you’re my CI. I knew this was a bad idea.”

Sandy laughed and then caught herself, rubbing her side. “Just listen. Okay? You think you can do that?”

“I’ll try, but it’s not my strong suit.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Sandy hitched up the oversized T-shirt that had fallen down over her shoulder. “Here’s the deal.”

When she finished, Rebecca studied her for a long moment. Sandy held her gaze, looking years older than her age.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I really am.”

“Okay then.”

Sandy’s eyes flashed. “You mean it?”

“Yes. I mean it.” Rebecca squeezed Sandy’s knee. “But you have to deal with Mitchell. And soon.”

“Okay,” Sandy said with a sigh. “I will.”

• 251 •

• 252 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER TwENTy-FIvE

Alone in the office, Sloan stared at the screen. A lot more than a minute had passed since she’d traced the IP address for the computer where the images of Michael and Zamora had originated and pulled up a name and address for the account. Frye expected her to provide the details as soon as she was certain, preferably within sixty seconds. Before she took action. That was the part Sloan struggled with, because as soon as she turned over the information, what happened next would be out of her hands. And Michael’s safety was at risk.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, trying to sort through the labyrinth of choices, some of which would take her well outside the law.

“What’s the matter?” Michael said from behind her.

“I’m pretty sure if I open my eyes,” Sloan said, not moving, “I’m going to see the Sword of Damocles right above my head.”

“So if I’ve got this right,” Michael began to knead the bunched muscles in Sloan’s shoulders, “you know something you’re not certain you want to know. That’s not like you.”

“I know.” Sloan opened her eyes, swiveled her chair around, and tugged Michael onto her lap. Kissing her neck, she said, “I think I’m losing my edge.”

“No, you’re not. You’re finding a different edge.” Michael rested her cheek against the top of Sloan’s head. “Tell me.”

Sloan hesitated. Involving Michael went against every instinct she had. Her need for secrecy, her need to protect, her need to mete out justice according to her own rules. She’d lived by those tenets all her

• 253 •

RADclY fFe

life, and the one time she’d broken her own rules, she’d paid with her career and a huge piece of her heart. But all that had transpired before Michael. And now everything had changed.

She took a breath, and before she could question where this new path would take her, she said, “I know who sent the pictures of you and Zamora. I’m supposed to tell Frye.” She looked at her watch. “Twenty-two minutes ago.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Why aren’t you asking me who it is?”

Michael caressed the side of Sloan’s neck. “Because I care about you more than I care about them.”

“If I tell Rebecca, then what happens will be beyond my control.”

“What do you want to do that Rebecca would stop you from doing?” Michael asked as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing and she felt slightly sick to her stomach. She didn’t fear what Sloan was capable of, only what Sloan might suffer as a consequence of her actions. She felt as if she were walking through a minefield, but she would not be the victim of a misstep. Sloan would. Michael was certain of only one thing. All that mattered was helping Sloan find her way to a decision that would not destroy her. “Baby?”

“I want to pay her a visit.”

Michael stiffened. “Her?”

“Yes. The redhead you saw talking to me at the fund-raiser the other night.” Sloan laughed shortly. “I guess that wasn’t a coincidence.”

“Apparently not,” Michael said coolly. “What kind of game do you think she’s playing?”

“I imagine they’re hoping to buy my cooperation with a threat to you.”

“So why would she reveal herself to you at all? Why not a phone call? A message on your computer?” Michael walked a few paces away, then spun around. “She might be in league with Zamora, or someone like that. But she’s got her own agenda.” Michael pointed a finger at Sloan. “And you are on the menu.”

Sloan’s eyebrows rose. “Me?”

“Darling, you are so clueless sometimes.” Michael walked back and leaned down, gripping the chair arms on either side of Sloan’s body.

• 254 •

Justice for All

“I thought at one point the other night, when I noticed the two of you together, that she was flirting with you, but I told myself it was just my imagination. Obviously it wasn’t. She has designs on you.”

“Designs?” Sloan thought back to the business card and the phone number. “She gave me her card. With her home number on it.”

“Did she?” Michael studied Sloan through narrowed eyes. “Does that happen to you often? Women you’ve just met giving you their number?”

“Not anymore.” Sloan held up her left hand, where she wore a platinum band that matched the one on Michael’s finger. “But I knew something was off, that’s why I kept it.”

Sloan lifted Michael’s arms away from the chair and kissed her soundly as she stood up. Talia Ballenger had made a mistake by revealing herself. She’d misjudged just how meaningless Sloan found the attentions of any other woman except Michael.

“Not so fast.” Michael grabbed the back of Sloan’s shirt when she would have hurried away. “What are you going to do?”

“Why, I’m going to call Rebecca, of course.” Sloan pulled Michael close and kissed her once again. “What else?”

v

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Bishop Thomas,”

Rebecca said, taking the chair he indicated across from his desk.

The Most Reverend Joseph Thomas was even more distinguished looking in person than the poor-resolution photograph had conveyed.

He wore a black suit and dark shirt with a clerical collar. His steel gray hair was thick and expertly cut, his body fit, and his face tanned and healthy. His blue eyes regarded her with speculation.

“How can I help you, Officer?”

“Lieutenant.” Rebecca crossed her legs and regarded him silently for a moment, letting him look her over. She waited until his gaze flicked away. “I wonder if you could account for your whereabouts Saturday evening from, say, ten p.m. until three a.m.?”

“I can’t think why you would need to know that,” he said with casual confidence.

“I imagine if you gave it a little time, you would.” Rebecca smiled.

• 255 •

RADclY fFe

“Since it was only a few days ago, I suspect you remember. So perhaps you would just indulge me so that I won’t have to take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re busy.”

Bishop Thomas’s eyes became glacial. “Do I need to consult an attorney, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know.” Rebecca withdrew the photo from her inside pocket. She’d had Jason print it on photo paper, highlighting the date and time stamp. She slid it across the desk to him. “What do you think?”

He looked at the photo for a long moment without picking it up.

Then he pushed it back to her, obviously knowing that other copies existed and that keeping that one would not protect him. Rebecca was impressed with his control. He was faced with potentially ruinous exposure, and if they could find the girls in the photograph and prove their ages, he could be prosecuted for rape and would undoubtedly go to prison. Still, by all outward appearances, he was unruffled.

“The fact that you’re here and haven’t gone to my superiors or,” he laughed humorlessly, “simply arrested me, tells me there’s something that you want.”

“There are a lot of things that I want,” Rebecca said softly. “I would be happy just to see you in prison, and if that’s all I can get out of this, that will be enough.”

“But?” He steepled his fingers under his chin, as if waiting patiently for her to confess so that he could absolve her of her sins.

For a few seconds, Rebecca wondered if he really believed he was above the law. “Arresting you would make my day. But I’d rather make my week or even a whole month. I want the men who organized this little soirée.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “And you know who they are. If you want to plead ignorance, you certainly may.

But then I’m going to walk you out of this building in handcuffs and let the lawyers fight it out. And I guarantee you’ll spend time in a cell while they do.”

The bishop nodded. “I don’t suppose you’d care that I have some very important friends who might be unhappy if you did that.”

“Not a bit.”

“No, I didn’t think so. What do you want?”

“I want to know how it works. Who you call when you want…

What? A date?”

• 256 •

Justice for All

He winced. “A companion.”

Rebecca thought of the young girl with her hand on the man’s penis, and the fact that he could sit across from her as if it hadn’t happened. She had to struggle not to cuff him on the spot. “I want to know who you call. Who gives instructions as to where to go. Who do you pay? I want to know how it works.”