Split Second by David Baldacci Page A

man works for you. Maybe he was stealing, or maybe he found out you were stealing from clients and tried to blackmail you. You arrange to meet him and kill him.”
    “Nice theory, only he wasn’t stealing from me, and I wasn’t stealing from my clients because I don’t have direct access to any of their funds. Check it out.”
    “Oh, we will but that’s just two possibilities. Another might be that you somehow found out Jennings was WITSEC, and you let that slip to the wrong people.”
    “And they killed him with
my
gun that was in
my
holster?”
    “Or you did it to pocket the fee.”
    “So now I’m a hit man.”
    “Did you know Jennings was WITSEC?”
    King hesitated an instant too long, at least to his thinking. “No.”
    “Care to take a polygraph on that?”
    “I don’t have to answer that.”
    “Just trying to help you out,” said Parks. “I mean you’ve already admitted having the murder weapon on you at the time Jennings was killed.”
    “Just so you know, you haven’t advised me of my rights, so I doubt anything I’ve said to you is admissible anyway.”
    “You’re not under arrest. You haven’t been charged,” pointed out one of the FBI agents. “So we’re under no obligation to read you anything.”
    Parks said, “And if called to testify, we can merely repeat what you said in our presence.”
    “Hearsay,” said King. “And I don’t really think you can get it in under an exception, because it’s prejudicial. I’d get a mistrial in a heartbeat.”
    “You don’t practice criminal law, do you?” said Parks.
    “No, why?”
    “Because what you just said was a crock of shit.”
    King didn’t look as confident now. Parks pressed on.
    “So are you retracting your statement that the gun was with you at that time?”
    “Am I under arrest?”
    “It might depend on how you answer my question.”
    King rose. “From now on, all discussions will be with my
criminal
defense attorney present.”
    Parks rose too, and for a moment King had the feeling that the big man was going to come across the table and throttle him. Yet he just smiled and handed the bagged gun to one of the FBI agents.
    “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you,” he said pleasantly. “Just don’t make any travel plans for outside the area; that won’t make me happy.”
    As they were leaving, King pulled Williams aside.
    “Todd, why is Parks running the show? The FBI takes a backseat to no one.”
    “The dead guy was in witness protection. Parks is really high up at the Marshals Service. I think he was actually the one who placed Jennings in this area. And he’s ticked off that he’s dead. I guess he pulled some strings in D.C.” Todd looked uncomfortable and his voice dropped. “Look, not for one instant do I believe you’re mixed up in this…”
    “And you were about to say
but
?”
    Todd looked even more uncomfortable. “But I think it would be best…”
    “If I suspend my duties as a deputy pending the outcome of all this?”
    “I appreciate your understanding.”
    After Todd left, King sat at his desk. What was bothering him was that he hadn’t been arrested on the spot. In truth, they had enough to charge him. And how had the gun he’d been holstering on that night been used to kill Jennings? King could think of two scenarios, and when the other thought struck him he almost put his fist through the wall. How could he have been so stupid?
Joan Dillinger.
    He picked up the phone and called an old friend in Washington. The man was still employed by the Secret Service and had remained on King’s side throughout the Ritter ordeal. After some personal and professional chitchat King asked him how Joan Dillinger was doing.
    “Don’t really know.”
    “Oh, I thought you two worked closely together.”
    “Well, we did until she left.”
    “Left? Left the Washington field office?”
    “No, the Service.”
    King almost dropped the phone. “Joan is no longer with the Secret Service?”
    “She left about a