Slammer

He stood and motioned for me to follow. I was eagerly hoping he’d found something good. He led me to the records room. The room was large with boxes lining the walls—case numbers and names written on each one. It was an old school way to file, but it worked for them.

I sat at the table in the center of the room, placing my purse in the chair next to me. He set a box down on the table in front of me, and dust flew all around us. Pulling out a thick folder, he opened it and began laying crime scene pictures onto the table in front of me.

I’d seen them before, but still my stomach turned at the jagged flesh and blood before me. I schooled my expression, sure that he’d turn the pictures over if he knew how badly they affected me. The familiar mugshot of Christopher when he was just a boy was laid before me, and beside that was his confession.

“I looked over the pictures and after making some phone calls, I think you might be on to something, kid. His entire body is covered in blood, but his palms are clean. No cuts. No blood. Nothing.” He sat down, his eyes filling with excitement. “At first, I thought maybe he’d just washed his hands, but he was taken straight in and this picture was snapped before he was even fingerprinted in the intake area.”

Hope moved through my chest. I was right. I’d known it.

“That’s all well and good, but here’s where it really gets interesting.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “During the investigation, they uncovered DNA under his nails. None of that DNA matched any of the victims.”

I couldn’t believe it. This was the big break I’d been hoping for. Someone else had been there, and Christopher had taken a piece of them without even realizing it.

“Tell me about the victims.” I wanted to know everything I could about the case. I wasn’t a police officer, but I’d lived my entire life with one of the best.

“Sarah Rizzuto was his girlfriend’s name. This is the thing; her father was Anthony Rizzuto, one of the biggest mafia bosses on the East Coast. There are two families—the Lanza family and the Rizzuto family. The Rizzuto’s were being watched by the FBI and had been for the last two years. They were suspected of drug dealing and human trafficking.”

My stomach turned, and I felt the air around us get thick. This was more serious than I’d originally thought.

“And the other victim?” I asked.

“Michael Welch, a high school friend of Sarah’s. About a month before the murders, the FBI noticed a young boy hanging around the Rizzuto’s oldest daughter, Sarah. They suspected he was a recruit and took a bunch of surveillance photos of him.”

He laid the photos on the table in front of me, and I realized they were pictures of Christopher, young and carefree. One of the pictures was of him with his arm around a pretty blonde. He was smiling in all the pictures. He looked so happy, and my heart ached for him.

“And then a week before the murders, Michael came into the picture. Again, they assumed he was a new recruit.” He laid more surveillance pictures on the table of another young guy. He was walking along the sidewalk, looking down at his phone.

“I put in a call to a buddy of mine over at the FBI and he says when they busted the door in, Jacobs seemed disoriented and confused. He said someone had called in a tip about the murders, but they never figured out who it was. Before they even got the investigation under way, Jacobs had already signed a full confession. Case closed.”

My heart was slamming against my chest. “He was framed,” I whispered, my eyes scanning over the pictures once more.

“It looks that way.”

I stood, ready to run from the room and tell the world, but Charlie reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“Lyla, listen to me. This is serious shit. We’re talking drug cartels and human trafficking. If we open this case back up, it’s going to get nasty. Blowing the whistle on this could have repercussions. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I didn’t care about the repercussions. X was an innocent man serving a life sentence for crimes he didn’t commit, and I was hell-bent on letting the world know. I wanted him to be freed. He deserved a second chance at life, and if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to be a part of that.

I FOUND MYSELF outside Fulton on my day off. I probably should’ve waited, but the excitement of the things I’d just learned was too much. Walking into the warden’s office, I smiled at his secretary.

Curiosity moved across her aging face, streaks of grey working themselves into her loose bun.

“Can I help you?”