Free Dead to the Last Drop by Cleo Coyle Page B

A frame job would be easier to prove. But her intel is spot-on and ninety-nine percent accurate—and she always comes up with a way for me to exploit it in my stings so it will get her an entrapment prosecution. In law enforcement, it’s called parallel construction . You might obtain information illegally, but you don’t use it in court. You use it to find other evidence, and you prosecute based on that—which is why Katerina is in love with my ability to create effective stings. It shields her from a ‘fruit of the poisoned tree’ charge.”
    Quinn got quiet again . . . too quiet.
    “What else?” I pressed. “What could be worse than using illegally obtained information to entrap otherwise good people?”
    “I did a little digging,” he confessed, lowering his voice as if he feared someone was listening. “And when I stepped back from all of our prosecutions, it seemed to me there was a pattern. Many of the people Katerina targeted have either openly campaigned against the current President or given large amounts of money to his opponents.”
    “You mean . . .” My whole body went cold. “Your boss is using the Department of Justice for political payback?”
    “It’s not an easy case to make from the outside because her targets are across the political spectrum. But from the inside, what I see is a woman who owes her position to the current President and is looking to advance herself through a reign of terror on his rivals, followed by a government-fundedguillotine. I can’t prove it yet, but I think Katerina used those same ‘mysterious connections’ to dig up dirt on President Parker’s opponents before his first election.”
    “Hold on a second. Isn’t opposition research legal?”
    Quinn’s blue eyes turned glacial. “Not when a government official abuses the power of her office to do it. Then it’s a felony.”
    “Mike, do you realize what you’re telling me? If that woman is using your years of experience to help her do political dirty work, then . . .”
    I closed my eyes, seeing an image of Mike, walking into a congressional hearing room, cameras rolling, his distinguished NYPD career over, reputation shredded, the college savings for his kids in the pocket of defense attorneys. And that was the good scenario. Worst case? The man I loved, this very good man, would be heading to federal prison.
    “There’s no dodging it, Clare. No walking away. I’m guilty, too. My fingerprints are on some of her most recent prosecutions. I didn’t figure out her game until it was too late.”
    “There must be something you can do!”
    “I can. And I will. But I need hard evidence, not just theories and accusations.”
    “Does Katerina know you’re onto her?”
    “That’s why she keeps making passes. She doesn’t care that I’m in love with you. She wouldn’t care if I were married. She figures if I’m in her bed, then she can keep me in her camp and manipulate me any way she pleases.”
    My stomach lurched remembering my only encounter with that woman. At least I had a little toughness in my soul, and a lot of trust in Quinn. I felt terrible for the wives or girlfriends she may have played that number on before me.
    “There’s got to be a way to bring down someone as powerful and connected as Katerina. There’s got to be . . .”
    “This town isn’t kind to whistle-blowers, sweetheart, but I’m working on it.”
    He moved his chair closer to mine. “And while I’m working, I want you to know how grateful I am to have a woman like you in my life. Trusting me, loving me, backing me.”
    “You’ve got it as long as you want it.”
    Quinn touched my cheek. “How about forever?”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    We smiled, despite our troubles. And then we were kissing—sweetly at first and then not so sweetly.
    I didn’t want to resurface, but I did, tipping my head at the dirty plates. “I’ve got to clean up,” I whispered.
    “Leave it. I’ll help you—in the morning