No One Left to Tell

by Karen Rose

  Her cell buzzed. “It’s a text from J.D.,” she told Hyatt. “He’s with Latent. They got a match on one of the prints from the car CSU found behind the crime scene.”

  “The one with the explosive traces in the trunk?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Print matches Harlan Kapansky. He’s on Donovan’s bomber list.” She winced at the next text. “Kapansky’s arresting officer was Silas Dandridge.”

  Hyatt sighed. “Hell. This just keeps getting worse. Where’s Fitzpatrick now?”

  “Going to Dispatch to listen to last night’s 911 calls. A woman was close enough to see that Paige and Grayson were okay. Maybe she saw somebody else.”

  “Lieutenant.” It was Sergeant Doyle, who’d been in the hotel room when Paige had told her story. Only yesterday. “There’s a floor safe in his bedroom.”

  “I’ll call in a tech,” Gutierrez said.

  “Wait,” Stevie said, her heart in her throat. She brought up the article Paige had sent to her e-mail. “Try one-twelve-five. Cherri died on January 12, 2005. And Violet was born.”

  “Very well.” Hyatt’s expression had gone cold. People thought he didn’t care. Stevie knew that he did. He’d been her commanding officer for more than six years now. He could be a complete jerk, but the man cared deeply.

  When Doyle went upstairs, she, Hyatt, and Gutierrez followed. Doyle knelt on the floor, a throw rug folded and laid to the side. He twisted the dial. The latch sprang open.

  “Damn,” Stevie whispered. “I was hoping it wouldn’t work.”

  “I know,” Hyatt said quietly. “Open it, please.”

  Doyle shot them a sympathetic glance, then began to pull items from the safe. Ten handguns. Ten. He looked up. “All of these have the serial numbers filed off.”

  Stevie nodded, her throat aching. Silas had saved throwaways? “I didn’t know.”

  “I know you didn’t,” Hyatt said. “This is going to be a fucking nightmare.”

  “Yes, it will,” she said tightly. Every case she and Silas had worked together would be scrutinized. I’ll be scrutinized. How many of their cases had he tampered with? How many killers went free? Silas, I could kill you right now and feel totally justified.

  Doyle pulled out a small bound book. “It’s a bankbook.” He flipped through the pages. “Deposit dates begin seven years ago. The account is with a bank in Turks and Caicos.” Doyle’s eye twitched slightly. “There’s a quarter mil here. No withdrawals appear to have been made. That’s all.”

  “Where could he be?” Gutierrez said.

  Stevie shook her head. “I don’t know. We had a diner we liked. We’d go to the shooting range together. Other than that, we didn’t really socialize. I was busy with Cordelia and he and Rose were raising Violet. I called Violet’s school. They said she wasn’t there and that they’d heard nothing. He didn’t have any other family.”

  “Did he have a favorite spot he’d go on vacation? Maybe a getaway cottage somewhere?” Gutierrez persisted.

  “He did,” Hyatt said, “before Cherri died. Up north. Canada. That’s all I know.”

  “Did you know that Violet was his granddaughter?” Stevie asked Hyatt.

  “Yes. Cherri’s death hit him and Rose so hard. That baby was his salvation. When Cherri was cleared of that robbery charge, he was so relieved. He thought she’d make something of herself. Have a second chance. If I weren’t standing here, looking at this with my own eyes… I still wouldn’t believe it.”

  Doyle stood up. “What next?”

  “We put out a BOLO,” Hyatt said grimly. “We arrest him. We also trace those funds.”

  “And run the guns through Ballistics,” Stevie said. “He left them for us to find. I imagine they’ll tell a story, too.” She sighed. “We also have to locate Rose and Violet. They’ve run or Silas has them hidden. If we find them, we can lure him.”

  “We can get Rose’s cell phone number from Silas’s file,” Hyatt said.

  “I’ll get it,” Doyle said. “Who should call Rose Dandridge?”

  “I will,” Hyatt said.

  “No,” Stevie told him. “Let me. If she thinks we’re on to Silas, she’ll clam up. I can ask her about the clown she hired for Violet’s last birthday party. Cordelia’s got a birthday coming up. Rose just might answer a call like that.”

  Thursday, April 7, 10:25 a.m.

  From the driver’s seat of the Escalade, Paige glanced over at Grayson for what seemed like the hundredth time since leaving his mother’s apartment. They’d switched places, Paige driving to their appointment with Reba so that Grayson could run his queries on Anderson through the state’s attorney’s database on Joseph’s laptop.

  Daphne had come through with Anderson’s user name and password and a call to Joseph had reassured them that no searches Grayson did on the Wi-Fi card he’d provided could be traced back to them. No need to tip their hand until they had to.

  Paige had asked Joseph if she could keep it after the case was over and he’d just laughed. She’d taken that as a no.

  Grayson hadn’t looked up from the laptop screen in thirty minutes, absorbed in whatever he’d found. And whatever he’d found wasn’t making him happy, based on the scowl he wore.

  A tinny trumpet blast suddenly pierced the silence in the car, startling them both.

  Grayson’s head jerked up and he glared. “What the hell was that?”

  “It wasn’t me.” She hadn’t touched the horn. “I think it came from the laptop. Maybe you have mail.”

  He checked, then blew out an irritated breath. “I do. Joseph set it up to trumpet when I get a new e-mail. It’s from J. D. Fitzpatrick. He says they have a suspect on the bomb. Name’s Harlan Kapansky, arrested by Silas years ago, sent up for twenty-five, got out a year ago on good behavior.”

  “Then we follow the money,” she said. “Somebody paid him to kill us. Chances are that the same somebody paid to have Ramon framed so that Rex would go free.”

  “And Cherri Dandridge,” Grayson said grimly. “And the others I’ve found who went free when someone else took their blame.”

  She glanced at the computer in his lap. Apparently his search of the state’s attorney’s database had been fruitful after all. “How many have you found?”

  “Charlie Anderson and Bob Bond tried cases against each other ten times in the eight years before Bond’s death. In five of the cases, the charges were dismissed because somebody else was discovered to have done it. Evidence was found leading to the conviction of other people.”

  Paige blinked. “Half? Wow. That’s a lot. Why didn’t anyone catch that?”

  “Nobody was looking and they spread it over eight years. Those are the cases that actually made it to arraignment. I’d need to get to a different part of the database for the cases that weren’t charged at all.”

  “Of those five, one was Cherri Dandridge,” Paige said. “What about the others?”

  “Three are robbery and/or assault. One rape,” he added bitterly. “Most of the accused are young, from wealthy families who could afford to buy their freedom.”

  “How many times did you meet Bond in court?”

  “Just that once, on Ramon’s case. He died the year after.”

  “Anderson gave Ramon’s case to you. Why didn’t he keep it for himself?”

  “Partly because it had the potential of being high profile, especially if we’d discovered that Rex didn’t have an alibi. Someone might see that he’d done it before.” He hesitated. “But Anderson said my zeal made me the perfect choice to prosecute.”

  “Why?” she asked, although she knew.

  “I look at every murderer I prosecute and see my father. I look at every victim and see that young woman my father shackled to that wall, trying to beg me to help her. Ramon’s case was no different. I prosecuted like I always did. No mercy. And in so doing, sent an innocent man to prison and drove his wife to activities that led to her murder. I have to live with that.”

  “But you didn’t know Ramon was inno
cent. If you had, you wouldn’t have charged him to begin with. You’re not a machine, Grayson. Our history, all of our life experiences… they stay with us. Become part of who we are. You prosecute murders with an almost religious zeal, that’s true. But the zeal that worked against Ramon has worked for so many victims and their families. How many killers have you put away?”

  “Dozens. At least I think they were killers.”

  “Ah. And there’s the rub. Your confidence is bruised. So is mine. I lost more than a friend the night Thea died. I lost part of myself. The part that roared.” She smiled to herself, sadly. “My old sensei used to say I had ‘the tiger within.’ Now it’s a scared little pussycat that hasn’t set foot in a dojo in nine months.

  “I have to get myself back, Grayson, and so do you. Yes, one of the men you incarcerated was innocent, but dozens more were guilty. By putting them away, you made the world a better place. You got justice for the dead. Don’t lose confidence in your judgment. I saw you with the victim’s family in court on Tuesday morning. You had compassion for them. Maria said you had compassion for her. It’s your zeal, tempered with compassion and your personal integrity, that makes you so good at what you do.”

  She heard him turn, knew he was studying her profile. She kept her eyes on the road. “I’ve seen you fight,” he finally said, his voice husky. “That was no scared pussycat in the garage on Tuesday or taking Rex McCloud down a notch last night.”

  “That was instinct and reflex. Different from the tiger. I really miss the tiger.” She cleared her throat. “We’re almost there. You asked me to tell you what I’d read about Reba McCloud.”

  “Then tell me what I need to know,” he said gently, letting her change the subject.

  “I told you a lot of it Tuesday night. It’s the tale of two daughters. Claire and Reba.”

  “You said Claire makes the money, Reba gives it away. But what does Reba have to do with Rex’s troubles? She’s not his mother—she’s his aunt.”

  “From what I’ve read, Reba’s always been the family good girl. Claire’s life’s been a little more checkered. Claire went wild as a teenager, running away from home and marrying a guy from a rock-and-roll hair band. Rex was born five months later. She later divorced the rocker, moved home, and married Louis, the son of a Texas oil tycoon. Big wedding splash in the society pages. Lots of gossip about past wildness with the rocker ex and how she was settling down, back in the bosom of her family.”

  “The time I met them, Claire seemed to have Louis on a short leash.”

  “Claire kept a lot of people on a short leash. She was known to be ruthless in business—Gordon Gekko in Gucci shoes. But she made investors a lot of money. Now she runs the family’s domestic and international holdings.”

  “I knew she managed the business, but didn’t realize she managed so much.”

  “She didn’t have the international holdings until a few years ago. Her second husband, Rex’s stepfather, did. But remember I told you that Louis was dismissed? He lost a lot of money in bad investments, so now he works for Reba and is considered by most to be a figurehead.”

  “You got all this online?” Grayson asked and she nodded.

  “While I was waiting for Clay’s clients’ spouses to do whatever nasty behaviors we’d been paid to capture on film. Some of this came from the newspaper. Some from birth, death, marriage, and divorce records. I pieced it together. Not really that difficult. I was trying to find out all I could about Rex and the McClouds because I knew Rex had been Crystal’s date, but he was barely mentioned at the trial.”

  “You thought I’d given them special treatment,” Grayson said, but without heat.

  “I did. At the time. When I started to reconstruct the case, Rex caught my eye. I wanted to know what kind of family he came from that would allow such behavior.”

  “So what about Reba?”

  “Like I said, Reba was the family good girl. I needed information on Rex and considered talking to her. I thought maybe with all of her charitable activities that she’d be more likely to care about Crystal Jones.”

  “Did you ever talk to her?”

  “No, I hadn’t gotten that far. So, the scoop on Reba. Dianna and Jim McCloud got married when Claire was eight years old. Reba was born a year later. While Claire had her wild phase with the rocker, Reba stuck close to home. She went to college locally, undergrad and graduate school, then went off to the Peace Corps in West Africa. Cameroon, I think.”

  “Huh. She really was the family good girl.”

  “Exactly. Reba left home around the time Rex was fourteen.”

  “Betsy said that’s when he started getting wild and got sent to military school.”

  “Maybe Reba was a good influence on Rex. When Reba came back from Africa, she and her mother started the nonprofit foundation. Dianna retired and now Reba runs it. She’s done a lot of good work around the city. According to her Web site anyway.” Paige slowed the SUV, looking for an empty parking place. “It won’t be easy finding parking for this thing. Why does Joseph have to drive such a big vehicle?”

  “This is the one that has the touch-sensor alarm. Once I activate it, the car will screech if anyone touches it. Or any bombs are placed beneath it.”

  “Oh. I like that.”

  “I thought you might. Look, there’s a spot. You don’t even have to parallel park.”

  She glared at him. “I can parallel park just fine.” Still, she was happy she didn’t have to prove it. She got out of the car, eyes drawn upward by movement on the side of the building. Two men stood on a platform, boarding up a massive window that hadn’t been broken when they’d come the night before. “Look at that.”

  He joined her on the sidewalk, looking up. He did a double take. “Must have been one hell of a foul ball. I pity the kid that has to go asking for that baseball back.”

  She looked at him uncertainly. “You’re joking. Right?”

  He laughed. “Yes. If a kid hit a ball up there, the Orioles better be knocking on his door. Must have been a bird.”

  She looked up again as he activated the car alarm. “One hell of a bird.”

  “So,” Grayson said, “to summarize the reason for our summons, we’ve accused someone in the McCloud clan of aiding and abetting Rex in murder because we pointed out that the video was phony, and only a family member could have provided it.”

  “Which must have irked Reba. Scandal’s bad for business. Reba’s and Claire’s,” she said as he placed his hand on her back, partially moving behind her. He was shielding her again. She frowned up at him. “You’re not wearing Kevlar today.”

  “Yes, I am,” he answered. “I have an old vest. It’s a little tight across the shoulders, but I’ll live. Joseph’s located one for you, too, a spare from one of the female agents he works with. He’s picking it up from her now. We’ll meet him back at my place when we’re done here to get it. Until then, I’m your bodyguard.”

  The slightly naughty way he said it made her smile. “You’re bad. I like it.”

  “Thought you might,” he murmured.

  “What’s our game plan when we get to Reba’s office?”

  “Find out why she really called me in. I doubt she’d waste her time bringing me for just a scolding. The McClouds are in scandal-control mode.”

  “You think she’ll try to bribe you?”

  “Or threaten me. Or maybe try to find out how much I know. Mostly I want to get her talking about the family, see what I can glean. Somebody switched those videos. It might have been Rex acting alone, but if he had help from the family, I need to know. Someone supplied the fifty thousand dollars that was paid to Sandoval. The more I can narrow it down, the easier it’ll be to get a warrant to trace that money.” He followed her into the lobby. “Daphne says Reba’s office is on the tenth floor.”

  Thursday, April 7, 10:25 a.m.

  Dr. Charlotte Burke stepped back from the table wearily. “Malone, Betsy. Time of death, ten twenty-five.” Gently she closed t
he woman’s eyes. “Can you clean her up? Her parents are waiting outside.”

  “Sure,” the nurse said. “You okay, Burke?”

  “No. Woman makes it through rehab, gets clean, only to OD and choke on her own vomit. What a waste.” Win some, lose some, she told herself. It was part of working in the ER. But she hated to lose.

  “You saved one earlier, the Jane Doe with the stab wounds.”

  “We’ll have to see. We got her stable enough for surgery at least.”

  “She was dead when she came in, but you brought her back. You did good.”

  “She fought hard to stay alive. I hope she makes it through surgery and wakes up enough to tell us who she is. But I have to tell this one’s parents now. I hate this part.”

  Bracing herself, she pushed through the doors. The Malones immediately wheeled around to stare at her, anguished. Parents always know, she thought.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “We weren’t able to save her.”

  Mrs. Malone’s knees buckled, a sob ripping through her body. Mr. Malone caught her, holding her close. “Thank you,” he managed. “We saw how you tried. We just… we’d hoped this time she’d make it. We had our daughter back for a while.”

  “The nurse will take you to see her. Take all the time you need.” Her heart heavy, Burke made her way to her desk to get the next patient’s folder. “You hear anything on Jane Doe up in surgery?” she asked the triage nurse.

  “Not yet. But I’ll call up again in a while to check.”

  “I’d appreciate it. She wanted to live. I hope she does.” Shoving the next folder under her arm, Burke squared her shoulders. Win some, lose some. I hate to lose.

  Thursday, April 7, 10:45 a.m.

  They walked into Reba’s office ahead of schedule. Grayson approached the receptionist, hoping Reba had information to impart whether she intended to or not.

  “I’m Grayson Smith and this is my associate Paige Holden. We have an appointment with Ms. McCloud. We’re early, but we hoped she might see us now.”