Crush - Alan Jacobson [83]
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I figured he just wanted to scare her.”
Bullshit. You fucking scumbag. I’d like to wring your goddamn neck—
“Because it would destroy the tourism industry?” Dixon asked.
“The tourism industry?” Silva chuckled. “Heck no. He was worried about Congressman Church.”
Dixon leaned forward. “Worried how? Why?”
“The congressman is going to run for governor.”
Dixon sat back in her chair.
Vail’s anger vanished like an extinguished candle. Her focus was immediately laser thin on Silva’s words. And it wasn’t good. She’d totally missed that one.
“So what if the guy wants to run for governor?” Dixon asked. “He’s a politician.”
But Vail suddenly got it. If Church is in office, he takes his cadre with him. And he wouldn’t be the first California governor to win the United States presidency.
Silva spread his hands, as if even an imbecile should understand. “If he’s elected governor,” Silva said, “he takes his people along for the ride.”
Vail was exhausted and felt weak, spacey. She needed caffeine, calories, and glucose for her brain to burn. But she couldn’t walk out now. “Okay, Walton. I think I’m seeing this come into focus. Why don’t you spell it out for me. Church—Congressman Church—is going to run for governor, and what happens then?”
“Scott would get a high-level law enforcement position, like Deputy Director of Homeland Security, I’d get Commissioner of Financial Institutions, and Tim would be his Chief of Staff.”
“Tim,” Vail repeated. The “surprise” Dixon referenced earlier. “Timothy Nance?”
“Yeah.”
Dixon said, “And if Special Agent Vail, that FBI agent who was threatening to go public with this killer, went to the media, it’d hurt Congressman Church’s chances?”
“Well, yeah,” Silva said, as if it were obvious. “Any negative publicity would be a bad thing. Things get blown out of proportion in political campaigns. This serial killer happened under his watch. They’ll say he didn’t do enough to protect the People, didn’t come down hard enough on the police to find the guy. Of all his territory, Napa is his top cut, the prime rib of his district.”
“Okay, Walton.” Vail nodded casually, as if it was all just a misunderstanding. No big deal. “I think we’ve got the picture. Get that agent out of the way, and the problem is eliminated.”
“That’s about it.”
“But,” Dixon said, “you didn’t think ‘elimination’ meant death.”
Silva looked from Vail to Dixon.
Gotcha, asshole.
He thrust his chin back, as if Dixon’s comment was a most absurd conclusion. “Of course not.”
“All right, Walton. Thanks so much. That does help.” Dixon pulled a pad and pen from a drawer beneath the table and slid it across to Silva. “Go ahead and write all that down, starting with Scott planning the fire and what he wanted to accomplish. Don’t leave anything out. When you’re done, you can go.” She rose from her chair. “Thanks again, Walton. You’ve really put this whole thing into focus for us.”
Silva was already busy writing. Dixon walked out, following Vail into the conference room.
“That was a pleasure to watch,” Brix said.
“I like that Class A foam shit,” Robby said. “That chemical marker stuff was brilliant.”
Brix laughed. “That rapid screen DNA was even better. Where did you get that?”
“That was good, wasn’t it?” Vail said. “We thought of it right before we went in.”
“Good work, Roxxi,” Brix said. He sighed, rubbed his forehead. “So now we go pick up Nance, hopefully get his confession and wrap this thing up.”
Vail turned to the monitor and watched Silva put down the pen. “I’ll be right back.” She headed into the interview room, glanced at the pad, and asked Silva to sign the bottom. After he scrawled his name and handed Vail the pad, he said, “Can I go now?”
“Absolutely. We’ve got a car and driver waiting outside for you.” She extended a hand and Silva took it. “Thanks for your cooperation. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Karen Vail. Special Agent Karen Vail. FBI.”
Silva’s hand went limp. “You—”
“Yeah, that’s me. And yes, I’m fucking pissed.” She forced a smile. “But it’s been great