Confidential informant number CI-411.
The man federal investigators believed had been feeding them information about Keller’s extortion network.
Marcus stared at the screen.
“Our informant is Vance’s source.”
Nia shook her head.
“Or double source.”
They brought Ross in.
He denied everything for nine minutes.
Then Marcus placed the gas-station photograph on the table.
Ross stopped.
He was forty-three, thin, anxious, with the posture of someone accustomed to living between dangerous people.
“I didn't tell him FBI.”
Marcus said nothing.
Ross looked toward Nia’s empty chair behind the observation glass, unaware she was there.
“I swear.”
Rebecca asked:
“What did you tell him?”
“That a woman would be through.”
“Description?”
Ross looked down.
“Yes.”
“Vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“Clothing?”
“They asked.”
“Who is they?”
“Vance.”
“Why?”
Ross rubbed both hands over his face.
“My brother.”
Rebecca waited.
“Your brother what?”
“He's in state prison.”
“For armed robbery.”
“We know.”
Ross’s eyes filled.
“Vance has a cousin in corrections.”
“He said my brother could get hurt.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“So you betrayed a federal operation.”
“I gave him a description.”
“You gave him Agent Brooks.”
“I didn't give him her name.”
Nia felt no comfort.
Rebecca asked:
“What did Vance think was in the case?”
“Cash.”
“How much?”
“Twenty grand.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
Ross hesitated.
Marcus’s voice hardened.
“What was supposed to happen?”
“They were going to stop her.”
“Find something.”
“What?”
Ross whispered:
“Cocaine.”
Behind the glass, Nia went completely still.
Rebecca stared.
“They intended to plant narcotics in a federal agent’s vehicle.”
Ross nodded.
“Vance said if she was just a courier, they keep the money.”
“And if she was federal?”
Ross began crying.
“He said a drug arrest destroys credibility before anybody figures out the rest.”
Marcus stood abruptly and left the room before anger made him say something dangerous.
Nia met him in the hallway.
“They weren't improvising.”
“No.”
“They had product ready.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
Nia looked toward the interview room.
“Ross does.”
Marcus shook his head.
“He says Keller carried it.”
Nia remembered Keller opening her SUV door after spraying her.
The black case.
Her handbag.
His body blocking the camera for several seconds.
“What happened to Keller’s gloves?”
Marcus frowned.
“What?”
“He was wearing black patrol gloves when he opened the door.”
Marcus thought.
At the station, after the FBI arrived, Keller’s hands had been bare.
“Search his cruiser.”
They found the cocaine inside the patrol car’s passenger-side door.
Thirty-one grams.
Sealed in plastic.
No department evidence number.
No field-test kit.