Page 78 of Tough Justice

Beauchamp’s gaze flicked to Deck, then he warily eyed Brett and Evan leaning against the wall. He jutted his chin at Deck. “You the fed from the park?”

Deck took a few seconds to answer, wanting time to dig into the guy’s head, make him antsy. It worked. Beauchamp shifted in the chair. “We didn’t come here to answer your questions. Do you want to answer ours?”

He shrugged. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re wasting my time.” For effect, Deck stood as if he were about to leave. By virtue of consenting to the meeting, he already knew the guy wanted to talk.

“Look, man.” Beauchamp leaned forward, and the chain running through his cuffs rattled. “Nobody gave me a deal. I already talked to the cops, told them everything I know. I want a deal.”

Deck stared him down. This fucker and his friends tried to kill him. It took every ounce of willpower not to pound the guy’s face into the table. “You haven’t talked to me yet, and I have more questions. Are you willing to answer them?”

“Are you gonna give me a deal?”

Like Beauchamp had done, Deck shrugged. “Depends on your answers. No deal without cooperation.” Beauchamp had been arrested half a dozen times on drug charges and petty larceny. He knew the drill. “Talk to me, and I’ll tell the prosecutor you cooperated. Hold anything back or lie to me, and you’ll be an old man when you get out of jail.”

Beauchamp averted his eyes, but Deck wasn’t there yet. He smacked his good hand on the table, wincing as a shaft of pain traveled up his arm and across his chest, directly to his almost-healed shoulder. “You’re representing yourself, so I don’t think you fully understand the charges you’re facing. You could get life for attempting to murder a federal agent.”

Beauchamp wiped the sweat from his brow and lip. His shoulders sagged. Almost there.

“Your buddies took off and left you to hang for it,” Deck continued. “You’ve been through the system—talking is the only way to help yourself, and you know it.”

The man hung his head. “What do you want to know?”

“Read this and sign it.” He pulled out a waiver of rights form and a pen from his pants pocket and dropped them on the table. Without a signed waiver, anything the guy said would be inadmissible.

A minute later, Beauchamp signed the form, with Deck and Evan as witnesses.

Deck took the chair opposite Beauchamp. His plan was to start with the easy stuff then work his way up to attempted murder. “Do you know a dealer named Jack?”

“Yeah. I used to run with him, guard the cash while he did business.”

“Was Loveland his turf?”

Beauchamp nodded. “Until he got a tip that the feds were looking to bust up his operation.”

“Who tipped him off?” When Beauchamp didn’t answer right away, Deck began tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. “Who was it?”

“A guy called him that night. Said not to show up, so Jack offered up his turf to a coke dealer.”

A guy. Deck exchanged looks with Brett and Evan. “How do you know it was a guy and not a woman?”

“Cause I was there when Jack got the call. He put it on speakerphone.”

“You sure it couldn’t have been a woman?” Just because the caller Beauchamp had overhead was a man didn’t mean that guy hadn’t gotten tipped off by a woman.

“Yeah, man.” Beauchamp frowned. “There’s no chicks working this ring. If there were, I’d know it.”

Deck held back an audible sigh of relief. This was probably enough to get Tori off the hook. Now for the hard stuff. “You told the cops ‘the doc’ ordered the hit. What do you know about this person?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I already told the cops I never met the doc. We were paid to do a job, that’s all.”

“What’s the going rate for murdering a federal agent?” Deck asked.

“Five grand. A piece.”

“Who else was there with you?”

Beauchamp began shaking his head. Sweat dripped down his temples. “I can’t tell you that.”