Despite the fact that Cade heard stories like this all the time, he wasn’t immune to them. And while he certainly felt sorry for Torino’s two daughters, he’d learned a long time ago not to think about the families of the defendants he prosecuted. He had a job to do, one that he believed in, and he remained focused on that. “I’m sure those are factors the judge will take into consideration at your sentencing hearing, Mr. Torino.” With an efficient nod, he stood up from the table. “I think, gentlemen, that we’ve covered everything we need to discuss.”

“Hold on, Morgan.” Lockhart glanced at Wheeler, then at Torino, who nodded.

Cade knew instantly that something was up.

“What would you say if I told you there was another big fish in the pond?” Lockhart asked. “One you haven’t hooked yet.”

“I’d say that you probably should stop using fishing metaphors if you want to keep me in this room.”

“I’ll put it a different way, then.” Lockhart folded his hands on the table. “In exchange for certain guarantees, Mr. Torino could tell you about other . . . arrangements, shall we say, that he had with another government official.”

“Arrangements I made solely to serve the interests of the hospital,” Torino added.

Lockhart and Wheeler shot him a look, and Torino quickly shut up.

Cade kept his face impassive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Another corrupt politician. Imagine that. “Another senator?”

Wheeler shook his head, no. “State representative.”

“How much are we talking about here?” Cade asked. This conversation wasn’t even worth pursuing if all they were talking about was Torino trying to schmooze some state representative by buying him a few steak dinners.

“Enough for you to be interested,” Lockhart said.

“Try me. I’m a finicky man.”

Lockhart paused. “About three hundred thousand dollars.”

Cade maintained his cool façade, but that was a heck of a big bribe. If this was good information, somebody in the Illinois House of Representatives was giving Senator Sanderson a run for his money in the sleazy-politician department.

Reluctantly, that meant that Cade wanted to hear more. Just as Torino’s lawyers knew he would.

“You understand, of course, that we’re telling you this solely in furtherance of plea discussions,” Lockhart added.

Yes, Cade knew that. Which meant, per the Federal Rules of Evidence, none of this conversation would be admissible at trial should Torino decide not to plead guilty. He leveled his gaze on Torino, seeing the hospital CEO in a very different light now that he knew the man had spent half a million dollars buying off not one, but two members of the Illinois General Assembly. “A onetime mistake, huh?” he asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Torino shrugged. “Figured I’d try the sob story first.”

Cade shook his head disgustedly as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his secretary.

“Can you book this conference room for me for the next hour?” he asked Demi. “I’m going to need more time than I’d anticipated. And get a hold of Greg Boran from the Federal Defender’s Office and let him know that I’ll have to push back our call to later this afternoon.”

After thanking Demi, he hung up and faced off against Torino and his lawyers.

“Does that mean we’re going to talk?” Lockhart asked.

“No.” Cade tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his suit jacket, and then retook his seat at the conference table. “But it means that I’m at least willing to listen.”

* * *

“I’LL GIVE THE guy this: he’d covered his bases with both branches of the Illinois General Assembly.”

Cade sat across from his boss, U.S. Attorney Cameron Lynde, and relayed the information he’d gleaned during his two-hour meeting with Torino. “He had Senator Sanderson in one pocket, and as we learned today, Representative Bill Fleiss in the other. Together, Torino paid them roughly five hundred thousand dollars in bribes. Of course, he’ll tell you that this was all for the public good. He claims that because Parkpoint Hospital serves one of the lowest-income neighborhoods in Chicago, he was just doing what he needed to do to ensure that, quote “poor people had access to quality health care, too.’”

Sitting behind her desk, Cameron didn’t look impressed with that excuse. “He’s a regular Robin Hood out there in his four-million-dollar home.”

Cade wasn’t surprised by her sardonic tone. When Cameron had come on board nearly two years ago as the U.S. attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, she’d made it clear that she considered government corruption cases to be one of her top priorities. While likable and down-to-earth in person—characteristics Cade certainly appreciated in a boss—Cameron had earned a professional reputation of being tough as nails when it came to crooked politicians. As a result, she was well respected both inside and outside the office, and had quickly become a powerful woman within the Department of Justice.

“What are your thoughts on moving forward?” she asked.

Cade had been anticipating this question, and therefore had spent some time thinking it over before dropping by Cameron’s office to discuss these new developments regarding Torino.

“We obviously need to talk to the FBI about launching an investigation into Representative Fleiss. And, reluctantly, I think it’s in our best interests to cut a deal with Torino in exchange for getting his statements on the record.” He wasn’t pleased to see Torino get off with a lighter sentence, but sometimes that was how the game was played.

Still, he didn’t intend for the hospital CEO to get off scot-free. “I told Torino and his lawyers that I won’t drop the charge in the Sanderson case. I did say, however, that I would consider agreeing to petition the judge for a Rule Thirty-five reduction in light of Torino’s cooperation and ask for eighteen months’ incarceration in a minimum-security facility.”

Cameron mulled this over. “It’s sad, really. Torino served as chairman on two of the most powerful hospital lobbying organizations in Illinois. He could’ve used that influence for so much good instead of resorting to bribery.”

“Even if we don’t agree to the reduced sentence, Torino likely won’t get more than four years,” Cade said. “It’s his first offense, and his lawyers can point to all the supposed good he’s done in the community. This way, at least we get Representative Fleiss, too.”

Cameron toyed with a pen, taking her time to think through the options. She sighed. “As much as it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, I agree. Make the deal.”

Cade gave her a nod. “Done.”

Cameron leaned back in her chair, studying him. “You’re making quite a name for yourself with these corruption cases. People are going to be watching you with even more interest.”

“Good. At least it gives them something to focus on besides the damn Twitter Terrorist case.”

Cameron laughed at the reference to the infamous computer hacking case, one that Cade had been assigned while working under Cameron’s predecessor. It was something of an inside joke between them, a reference to the days when they’d been AUSAs in the special prosecutions division together, working for an egomaniac boss who’d turned out to be corrupt himself. Thankfully for Cade and everyone else in the office, things were much better now that Cameron was running the show.

“I think you’ve given people plenty to be interested in besides the Twitter Terrorist case,” Cameron said. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you stopped by today. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She folded her hands on top of her basketball-sized stomach, using it as a shelf. “Assuming all goes according to plan, Baby Boy Pallas will be here in about eight weeks. Which is a good thing—if it went much longer than that, I think Jack and I would be blacklisted at every baby store in the Chicago area.”

Cade chuckled. To say that Cameron’s husband, FBI Special Agent Jack Pallas, was a bit protective of his pregnant wife and unborn child would be an understatement. “What did Jack do now?”

“In addition to returning our third baby monitor in a row for having ‘questionable security controls,’ this weekend he interrogated the guys who delivered the baby furniture for forty-five minutes on their ‘training and special skills in the crib-installation arena.’”

Cade laughed at the image. He’d seen Pallas’s interrogation face—it wasn’t for the faint of heart. “Did they pass?”

Cameron shook her head. “Nope. So now I’ve got a box the size of a refrigerator sitting in the baby’s room instead of a crib. Jack asked Nick and Sam to come over this weekend,” she said, referring to two other FBI agents in the Chicago office. “Apparently, they’re going to put it together themselves.”

“What do McCall and Wilkins know about putting a crib together?”

“Exactly.” Despite Cameron’s wry tone, there was an unmistakable sparkle of happiness in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve told the attorney general that I plan to take three months off for maternity leave, and we’ve agreed that the logical course is to name an acting U.S. attorney while I’m gone. The smoothest transition would be to temporarily promote someone from within the office, so the attorney general asked for my top recommendation. Which means . . .” she paused, with a sly expression, “that if you’re interested, the position of acting U.S. attorney is yours.”

Cade blinked. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Cameron said. “You’ve earned it. You’re an excellent trial lawyer, and we have the same agenda in terms of cleaning up Illinois politics. I’m happy—and, candidly, relieved—to know that you’ll be holding down the fort while I’m gone.” She pointed, her gaze firm. “But it’s just for three months, Morgan. I will be back.”