Page 15 of Dead Air

Five years of self-destruction flashed through her mind. The drinking, the fights, the recklessness that had become her trademark. Richardson hadn't saved her. He'd only prolonged the inevitable fall.

"Did you know about us?" The question escaped before she could stop it.

His expression shifted, confusion replacing anger. "Know what?"

"Monica and me. That we were …" She couldn't finish the sentence.

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "No. That I didn't know."

Lawson's legs suddenly felt unsteady. She sank into the visitor's chair, the leather cool against her back. "We kept it quiet. Department policy against partners being involved."

Richardson ran a hand across his face. "Jesus, Lawson. That would have changed everything about the investigation."

"I know." Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears. "That's why I never told anyone."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the ticking of an antique clock on the mantel. Richardson finished his bourbon in one swallow.

"This Blackwell woman," he finally said. "She's dangerous."

"Because she's asking questions or because she might find answers?"

"Both." He set the empty glass down. "She's not just after a story. Someone's feeding her information. Specific information designed to implicate you."

The thought had occurred to Lawson, but hearing Richardson say it made it real. "Who benefits from destroying my reputation now? Monica's been dead five years."

"The Rafferty case touched powerful people. Money laundering operations with political connections. Maybe someone's worried you're still digging."

"I am."

Richardson's expression hardened. "Then maybe this podcast is a warning. Back off or get buried."

"I don't respond well to threats."

"No, you respond with a bottle and self-destruction." The words came out tired rather than accusatory. "You're four months sober, Erin. Don't let this drag you back."

His concern felt genuine, and that somehow made it worse. Lawson stood, needing to escape the suffocating walls of his study. "I need a name. Someone who could access that recording."

"I've been retired three years. The department's changed."

"Your connections haven't." Lawson moved toward the door. "You still play golf with the chief and Judge Byrd. You still have breakfast with Walsh every Wednesday at Martin's Diner."

Richardson's eyebrows rose slightly. "You keeping tabs on me?"

"Old habits." She paused at the threshold. "Find out who leaked that tape. I'll handle Blackwell."

"How exactly will you handle her?"

"By giving her what she wants. An exclusive interview with Monica's partner."

Alarm flashed across Richardson's face. "That's playing with fire."

"Fire's all I've got left." Lawson turned to leave. "Someone's using this podcast to come after me. I'm going to find out who. Even if I have to burn down everything to do it."

Richardson moved with surprising speed for his age, blocking the doorway. "Listen to me. This isn't just about you anymore. If what Landry suspected was true, if someone insidethe department was protecting Rafferty, then they're still there. Still powerful enough to silence threats."

"Like Monica."

"Like Monica," he agreed. "And maybe like you, if you push too hard."