“What do you know?”
He exhaled.
Then the story came.
Three years.
Keller had approached him after a major seizure.
Evidence technician shortage.
Temporary transfer.
Pike moved narcotics boxes.
Later, Keller instructed him to sign an amended inventory.
Small discrepancy.
Nothing seemed huge.
Then another.
Then cash.
Then a threat.
Then Pike was inside it.
That was how systems recruited people.
Rarely with:
Would you like to become corrupt?
Instead:
Fix this.
Sign here.
Move that.
Don’t ask.
You’re already involved.
By the time the person understood, shame became another restraint.
Pike cried during the interview.
Naomi did not comfort him.
Not cruelly.
She simply refused to convert remorse into innocence.
He had choices.
So did Keller.
So did everyone.
But Pike’s cooperation mattered.
He identified a warehouse.
A retired evidence clerk.
Two deputies.
And Rabbit.
Rabbit was alive.
That surprised everyone.
Official records suggested the informant had relocated eighteen months earlier.
Pike said no.
Rabbit lived under another name forty miles away.
Agents found him the following morning.
Rabbit’s real name was Malik Turner.
Thirty-one.
Thin.
Nervous.
He opened the door and immediately tried to close it.
Naomi stopped it with her foot.
“Malik.”
His eyes widened.
“FBI.”
He laughed without humor.
“Of course.”
“You expecting us?”
“No.”
“That sounded like yes.”
He looked behind her.
“Where’s Keller?”
“Not here.”
“Then I’m not talking.”
Naomi lowered her voice.
“He can’t help you anymore.”
Malik smiled.
“You think that’s what I’m worried about?”
Naomi waited.
Malik looked down the hallway.
“Come inside.”
The apartment was almost empty.
Mattress.
Television.
Plastic table.
No photographs.
No decoration.
A place designed for leaving quickly.
Malik sat.
“Keller ever touch you?”
The question surprised Naomi.
“Yes.”
Malik nodded.
“He likes that.”
Naomi said:
“Tell me.”
Malik described four years.
He had become an informant after a drug arrest.
At first, legitimate.
Introductions.
Controlled buys.
Locations.
Then Keller demanded more.
Information Malik did not have.
Keller started supplying it.
“Go tell detectives this.”
“Say you saw that.”
“Name this warehouse.”
Malik asked why.
Keller told him not to ask.
Sometimes drugs appeared where Keller said.
Sometimes weapons.
Malik realized police were planting their own intelligence trail.
Then he threatened to quit.
Keller showed him photographs of his younger brother.
School.
Bus stop.
Basketball court.
Naomi’s stomach turned.
“He threatened your brother?”
“Never directly.”
Malik laughed.
“He just showed me pictures.”