Getting Jones to abandon the man who’d betrayed him would give them huge leverage with Wilson—and all the grounds required for prosecution with or without Wilson’s cooperation.

And Zeke was doing a masterful job of persuasion. He’d always been an impressive interrogator, but his skills had gotten even sharper over the years.

“The way I see it, loyalty to a man like that is misplaced.” Zeke closed the passport, keeping his tone conversational. “He was going to let you go to prison while he enjoyed the good life on a tropical beach.”

Jones didn’t speak, but he fidgeted in his chair.

Zeke was getting to him.

He pulled several other pieces of paper from the folder and laid them on the table. “In case you want more proof about your friend’s plans. His airline ticket and boarding passes.”

Jones skimmed them. Swallowed again. “Those are fake. You’re just trying to get me to talk.”

“Let me disprove that theory.” Zeke’s thumbs worked on his cell, and he held it up. “My colleague took this at the airport as I arrested him.”

Jones muttered a word that burned Cate’s ears.

“He wouldn’t do that to me.”

There was a collective exhale in the monitoring room.

With that one sentence, Jones had admitted to their collaboration. Zeke had cracked the man’s protective shell.

Now all he had to do was wedge it open.

“The evidence proves otherwise.” Zeke folded his hands on the table and moved in for the kill. “Do yourself a favor and answer this question. Was he your boss?”

Several beats of silence ticked by.

Cate squeezed the arms of her chair.

Please, Lord, let him talk. Help Zeke solve his case . . . and help me solve mine too.

Jones raked his fingers through his hair, and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

Two of the agents in the room high-fived each other.

“Let me clarify that.” Zeke remained calm and in total control. “You were the number two man in the St. Louis operation. That would indicate Tyrone Wilson was in charge of the organization. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

The DEA had what it needed—but Zeke wasn’t finished.

“Explain to me why a man like Wilson, who was loved and respected, would run a drug ring.”

“I don’t know. I never asked. He never told.”

“How did you get involved?”

“I came through his rehab center. He got me off drugs. Helped me find a job. He saved my life. I stayed in touch. When he recruited me after he started his operation, I signed on. The money was huge, and he was always fair to me.”

“Until now.”

The man’s face hardened, but he remained silent.

“Tell me what you know about Stephanie Laurent and her boyfriend.”

Cate’s pulse picked up. That wasn’t a DEA investigation, but Zeke was taking advantage of Jones’s sudden willingness to talk—for her benefit.