“The truck is in the lab, ma’am,” the young agent said to Special Agent in Charge Annabel Hicks.

Annabel had been in New Orleans for five short years, but they seemed like a lifetime when she thought about everything that had happened in that time. “What did the coroner say?”

“He ruled it an accident when you consider the blood alcohol level. There’s no doubt Newsome was drunk, but our lab said it was no accident.” The guy placed some photos of Newsome’s car on her desk and pointed to various spots.

“Someone bumped him over the guardrail?” The old white sedan was a piece of shit, but the white paint was a godsend. Nothing on the guardrail would’ve left streaks of blue along the driver’s side of Newsome’s vehicle.

“Someone did, and the cameras along the bridge got a license plate.”

The next set of pictures were of what Annabel guessed was a blue SUV with Louisiana plates coming up beside Newsome’s car. “Did the bridge police have any video?” The Causeway had its own police force, and years of tolls had given them an impressive budget to spend on things like being able to do surveillance on the whole span.

“I emailed it to you, which makes me curious as to why the coroner ruled it an accident. Of course it could be that their office didn’t show up with subpoenas either, so that might have done it.”

“Newsome put in a call to me and said he had some information I would want, and he was willing to trade to give it to me. He said the FBI agents he was working with had ruined his career.” She flipped through the pictures again. “There had to be some truth to it if he thought it would get him his job back, and then someone ran him off the road. Who those agents were wasn’t something he was willing to give up until we talked.”

“I wasn’t on that case, but Shelby gave me a quick rundown when I sent all this to her.”

“Give me a minute,” she said, buzzing for her assistant and asking her to get the NOPD police chief on the phone.

“Annabel,” Chief of Police Fritz Jernigan said, sounding cheery. “How are you?”

“I’m actually reviewing one of your former officers, and I need a favor.” She smiled at the agent still sitting in her office, then put her finger to the side of her head and tapped. Local law enforcement in the city was pretty good when it came to working with them. “Are you feeling generous today?”

“For you, always,” Fritz said and seemed to pull the phone away from his mouth to cough. “Sorry, this is my yearly head cold. What can I do for you, and who are you talking about? Please tell me I’m not about to be the leadoff story on the news tonight.”