Third Person
"You're looking at twenty-five years to life, minimum."
Victoria's jaw dropped as she glared at the detective. "What? Why?"
The man gave her a bored look and counted them off in a bored monotone. "Accessory to murder, money laundering, and conspiracy. And that's before the feds finish digging through your secret accounts."
"Twenty-five years?" Victoria's lawyer, Stan, leaned forward.
"She's cooperating. She's been sitting here for six hours answering questions. That has to count for something."
The detective was not amused.
"Cooperating? She's been giving us crumbs and names we already know. All the locations she mentioned, we've already raided." He slapped a file folder onto the table.
"We want Wolfe. We want him tonight. And she's going to get him for us, or she's going to die in prison."
Victoria remembered Finnegan's threat and knew the detective was working with him.
"What are you offering?"
