by R. T. Wolfe
Tanner had been assigned to keep an eye on her.
"He told me he drew the short straw."
"I should have killed him when I had the chance."
"And make me miss out on all of our cozy prison visits? Psht."
She was joking. She was joking like she often did at times like this. He needed desperately to crush something, and she was making jokes.
"Look, there is information in here about when I took on your aunt's case. Zheng chose to put me in a small town, not expecting I would get in the middle of everything between her and Tanner. Not smart."
He stood and paced.
"You wanna take a break?"
Yes. "No."
Her head dipped closer to the coffee table before she snatched a page and pulled it to her face.
He didn't ask, but sat next to her and leaned toward the paper. "I don't see anything. Tell me."
He felt the heavy sigh from her shoulders and watched as her lids closed. Her chin dropped to her chest as she handed the paper to him.
It was like most of the other pages. It listed bits of pertinent correspondence copied and pasted from her emails and text messages. He didn't see it, damn it. She stood and laced her fingers over her head and through her hair.
"Who?" she asked the air.
The date stamp. There was a correspondence from someone on the inside updating Strong and Lewis on Nickie. It was dated after Tanner went to prison.
"Someone at the station." He said it to himself.
She chanted as she paced. "Don't let it be Dave. I can't deal if it's Dave."
"It's not." He stood and grabbed her forearms, making her stop and look at him. "You just said you know you can trust him. It's not," he said louder. "He's been friends with my uncle since high school. Rose is his step-daughter. His wife works at homeless shelters. He loves you."
Tears gathered in her eyes. "I can take anyone. Henery, Rickard, Vaughn. No Vaughn is too new. I could even deal with Eddy, but not Dave." She clasped her hands to his chest and laid her cheek to his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her as far as they would go and held on.
The sun was up fully now. "It is a new day. We will get through this. I am here for you."
Her chest expanded fully against him, then expelled slowly. Jostling her shoulders, she stepped back. Her eyes were angry. So many had betrayed her, still betrayed her.
"I can take anyone," she repeated, then stabbed him in the chest with her finger three times as she said, "Just. Not. Dave."
"Holy shit." She put her hands on the sides of her head like she was trying to keep it from exploding. "Duncan."
What now? He waited.
"The marks on Juracek's chest. The circle things. There were three of them," she yelled as if triumphant.
"You have me so damned confused."
She rattled her hands as if she was shaking something from them.
"Go through that crazy superhero mind of yours."
He would try to take that as a compliment.
"Gerald Jackson walks with a limp. Do you remember seeing a cane at the store?"
"You think Jackson killed Juracek?" The marks on Juracek's chest could most definitely be from the bottom of a cane thrust into a chest.
"Cane? Store?" she repeated.
He nodded. "The umbrella stand near the back door."
* * *
Nickie had driven—Duncan in his SUV and her in his Audi—all the way to his house to use his pool. The Audi may be embarrassing, but until she could convince the insurance company to keep her on her policy, she used a black and white by day and the Audi by night. The two house thing was stupid enough, let alone the two car thing, she had to admit.
She got to work ridiculously early, before everyone except overnight reception. It wasn't like she was going to get anything else done with this new revelation she'd had. The graveyard guys were still out. She sat tapping pencils in her office, waiting for Dave to show up, waiting for Eddy so she could tell him what she discovered, waiting for the okay to call Jackson back in here, hopefully in handcuffs. She was also trying to ignore the fact that someone who worked within these walls was stabbing her in the back every chance he got.
The workout had done little to burn off the buzz running through her body. Even minus a night's sleep, the last thing she needed was caffeine. She made her way to the soda machine regardless. She knew what Dave was going to say. It was circumstantial. Most canes had similar rubber foot patterns. But it was Jackson. She could get him to confess. She'd had almost two months to learn the ins and outs of this family, and she was sure she could get him to confess.
The Diet Coke was sold out. The horror. She recognized the thump of Dave's shoes. At six-foot-four, they were unmistakable. Without the soda, she hurried toward him. He paused at his door and lifted a brow to her.
"Early morning, Nick?"
"Yep."
"You need something?"
"Yep again."
His hair was damp and his tie still hung undone around his neck. "Who did it?"
"The Juracek case?" He always could read her when it came to their work. "What makes you think I know who did it?"
"You're bouncing."
She was not bouncing. Exactly. "What if I'm wrong?"
He gave her the look like that would be silly. Points for him. "Juracek had three gunshots and three red, circular marks."
He nodded as he turned on lamps and booted up his computer.
"I believe the circular marks were made from the end of a cane. Gerald Jackson walks with a pronounced limp."
Dave dropped in his chair and stared at her. "I'm not going to say this case has dragged on and you're grasping. You don't grasp. And you don't point fingers unless you're sure. But a limp? Talk to Vaughn before you make a move."
She threw her head back and let it lay along the top of the back of Dave's guest chair. "Not Vaughn. Anything but Vaughn."
"Jackson has no previous criminal record. Play nice."
This was worse than no Diet Coke.
"But he knew about the safe. Knew about the gun. It's been confirmed that bullets shot from the gun match the ones we pulled out of Juracek. It's the murder weapon. And he thrust his finger at me three times during interrogation. Three times."
"He thrust his finger? What about motive?"
Okay, it was starting to sound stupid even to her. "I have a hunch."
"What did you say?"
"I know, I know. Just give me a chance." She explained her theory on Jackson's motive. It made even more sense to her hearing it out loud.
"Vaughn first."
* * *
"Captain Nolan asked me to come see you?" Vaughn said it like it was half-question/half-irritation.
"Don't shoot the middleman, Vaughn. I don't like it any better than you do."
Vaughn stood in her burgundy suit and matching pumps in front of Nickie's desk. "I don't like being summoned." She said the last word with spite.
"I don't like answering to lawyers." Nickie refused to stand or offer her a seat.
"Listen, Savage. I'm not just a lawyer. I'm the assistant district attorney. In fact, in these parts, I'm the assistant district attorney. You need me. Don't piss me off."
Well, shit. After all that, Nickie was forced to respect her. Her day was going to hell.
"Sit down, would you?" Nickie offered. "I want to bend the rules a bit and need to know if it will hold up." It didn't even kill her to say the words.
Nickie went on to explain her list of evidence, as circumstantial as it was, to Miranda.
"I can crack him. I know I can. I just need the okay to bring him in and permission to possibly mislead, trick and lie to him while on police property." She went on to elaborate as Miranda nodded.
The A.D.A. took a deep breath. "The lobby is public. Go for it." She rose from Nickie's guest chair.
"Vaughn," Nickie called before she left. "Between us girls, you're a female in a building full of mostly men. That makes you fresh meat, a
nd I don't mean for bitchy detectives."
Miranda sighed and sat back down. "You mean Eddy."
Ah. So, she wasn't completely stupid.
"I mean Lynx and Parker."
"Parker?"
"Yep. As a favor, I'm going to tell you that if you decide to dabble, it's a free country. Lynx is fine if you're looking for a roll. Parker is the real deal. Hurt him and I'll kill you in your sleep."
"It sounds like you're speaking from experience."
"Not with Parker, no. But Lynx? In fact, I say go with Lynx. It'll get him off my back."
"You're engaged, aren't you?"
"Yeah." It made her smile, damn it. Right there in front of the new girl. "Doesn't mean the fiancé and Lynx don't throw jabs at each other now and then, sometimes the kind that include fists."
"Good to know, although I don't mix work with... extracurriculars."
Not stupid at all. "Oh, and one last thing, Vaughn. Stop calling people by their first names. You're in a police station. It's embarrassing."
* * *
Nickie had Duncan cleared to be the one to stand by the entrance with a tray of mini-water bottles. It was the funniest damned sight she'd ever seen. Duncan Reed, who had graced the cover of a number of magazines. Granted they were tabloids, but still. There he stood, handing out bottles of water like he was on probation doing community service. She would owe him sex with outfits for this.
Parker took point at the security check. He was instructed to add bottled liquid to the list of things not allowed past the security checkpoint. Guns, knives and bottled water. It didn't have to make sense. Parker just had to enforce it with a straight face.
It would have been much more fun to be a fly on the wall in the lobby, but she needed to be ready upstairs. She thought of the discussion she and Duncan had about communication. He was right. If they were going to be a married couple, they needed to work on it. He needed to trust her, and she could admit she should remember to give him a heads up as to which part of the country she was in.
In Jackson's case, more was at stake than a plane ride across the country or a pissed off man who didn't hear from his girlfriend. It was murder. Overly confident, self-motivated murder.
She spotted Eddy as he escorted Jackson up. Eddy glanced her way and winked. Jackson turned toward interrogation one, and Eddy placed his hand on his elbow, steering him toward two. Jackson jerked his arm away and limped toward the right room.
Ten to twelve groups of girls were subjected to Zheng's torture. More people than Nickie could count had betrayed her. A woman lost her husband, a child her father. The world was a hard, hard place. The result wasn't going to allow for much peace, but she would do her best to at least find justice.
She needed Jackson off balance and let him wait to sweeten his frustration and suspicion. For a solid hour, she did what she never thought she would need to do. She used her personal tablet via satellite to do background checks on each and every person at the station who had been there since Tanner was captain. Everyone except Dave. He was family. She had to draw the line somewhere.
George Henery was an OCD poster child and an excellent sketch artist. Leslie Rickard may have been aloof and too smart to be human, but she was solid. Or she seemed to be. Eddy was her partner, although she would never say that out loud. He cared about her and put his neck on the line for her more times than she could count. Bird was their bomb guy. Li was the profiler they brought in from the city when they needed to. It was all confusing. The desk bitch who liked to stir things up between Nickie and Duncan was too obvious.
When it had been enough time, she pushed away the confusion to do what she did best. Standing and stretching, she grabbed the file she prepared and made her way to interrogation two.
She opened the door and poked her head in using her softest voice. "Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Jackson? I remember you offered me cranberry juice. I made sure to stock some in the fridge in case you'd like some."
"Do you know how long I've been waiting here?" he yelled. "I don't want any damned juice."
Which was a good thing since she didn't have any damned juice.
"I want to know why I'm being held in here," he barked.
Nodding, she opened the door, carrying a walking cane that she then hung by the handle on the side of the table. "I know it seems like it's been a long time. I apologize. It gets busy here."
She placed the file on the table and sat carefully in the chair across from him. His eyes went to the cane, to the file and back again a few times. It wasn't his cane. Probably wasn't even the same color, but as Miranda so annoyingly reminded her, almost all canes had the same circle-inside-a-circle pattern at the bottom of the rubber gripping end.
"I'm afraid I have some news about your grandson."
His eyes opened wide. "Tommy? Is he okay?"
"Oh yes, sir. He's at work right now."
"He isn't scheduled to work today."
"Not the jewelry store, Mr. Jackson. I don't know how to tell you this, but Tommy has sort of a second life." She opened the file and took out a picture of the front of T & A's. Beneath the neon T & A's was the name Tommy and Angie's.
In great theatrics, Jackson moved his head from one side to the other. "Miss Savage, do you think there might be more than one Tommy in Northridge?"
Cracking her neck, she chanted in her head, 'I will not correct the title he used to address me. I will not correct the title he used to address me.'
Instead, she pulled out the next photo. It was the picture she took of Tommy with her cell phone when he sat in the bar booth with blood gushing from his nose from where she'd head butted him.
Jackson's face fell. "What happened to him?"
Oops. No need to confess she was the one who did that. "I'm not sure, sir. T & A's is his bar. We're sure of this. I'm so sorry to have to be the one to tell you, and I'm afraid there's more."
"Tommy's a good boy."
She nodded. "I really think he is," she lied. "But I need to show you something." She took out the copy of the check made out to The Guest House. "This is the nickname of the bar Tommy owns."
"He does not own—"
"Well, it's the nickname people use for the bar called Tommy and Angie's." She turned over the check. On the back, it was signed, 'Pay to the order of SS8.'
Jackson's mouth fell open. He didn't try to hide it. She took the moment to take the cane and lay it across the table.
She let Tommy's SS8 habit and the cane sink in as she dumped more on him. Without opening the file completely, she slid one of the ME's shots of Juracek's chest. Three bullets and three circular wounds. She recalled the last time she had him in interrogation when he thrust his wrinkly finger at her three times.
"I know this is difficult to see. He was such a good man, but I need you to look here at these circular wounds. If you look closely." She bent over, putting her nose nearly to the photo. "You'll see there is a distinct circle inside of a circle." Tilting her head, she pulled back. "I suppose it might be a crescent inside of a crescent. Regardless, it is the markings of the end of a cane."
He was sure now; she could see it in his face. He knew she knew he was the accused. If she hadn't hit him with Tommy's nasty habit, he may have bolted on her. There would be nothing she could have done to stop him.
His wrinkled hands began to shake. "There must be thousands of canes with that pattern. Millions." Ugh. That was almost exactly what Vaughn had said.
Lifting her phone, she pretended to notice the time or get a text. It didn't really matter which. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Could you excuse me a moment, please?"
Chapter 24
She went to the door and cracked it open. Parker was there and handed Nickie a mini-water bottle zipped in a plastic bag. 'Where's Duncan,' she mouthed. Parker nodded toward the room on the other side of the one-way glass from interrogation two.
Duncan was watching. Now, she was just embarrassed. Biting her lip, she took the bag and made her way back to Jackson.<
br />
It really didn't matter if his fingerprints were on the bottle or not. They didn't find a single usable print anywhere on the body, the body bag, the safe, the gun, or unused bullets to compare them to. She just needed him to think they did.
He looked honestly pained. She could almost feel sorry for the guy if he hadn't premeditatedly put a handful of bullets into the chest of his daughter's husband.
"I wanted to let you know, it was a misunderstanding. Anyone would have thought so."
He remained statue still, his attention frozen on the water bottle.
"You see, your son-in-law wasn't visiting the girls at SS8. It was Tommy. William met with one of the girls who Tommy liked. Her name is Wendy. She has a little girl. About the age of your granddaughter." The lies were coming out as smooth as silk now. "Wendy told us your son-in-law met with her to ask her questions about Tommy."
"No."
She took his trembling hand in both of hers. He didn't pull away. "I'm so sorry, sir. William was trying to save your grandson."
Sadly, this was the part that was the complete truth.
"He wanted Tommy to get his life together. Just like you do. To inherit Jackson & Juracek Jewelers, just like you wanted."
Jackson pulled his hand back and held both to his chest like a girl. "I didn't know." He sucked in air. "I thought William was..."
"It was a misunderstanding, I know. We all know. It could have happened to anyone. Get it out now."
He sucked in air. "I thought William was using prostitutes behind my Sylvia's back. I thought he was lying. Who knew what kind of deadly disease he could have brought home? You understand, don't you, Detective?"
She pulled out a tablet of paper and a pen from the file. "I do. Write it exactly the way it happened. Make sure to include the misunderstanding. I'm confident it will make a difference to the A.D.A." When hell freezes over.
* * *
Nickie sat at the largest, most stunning oak table she'd ever seen. Duncan and his uncle were bent over laughing at the story of when Andy and Rose were catching crawfish in Black Creek as children. Apparently, Andy was scared as hell of the pinchers, and Rose was picking them out, one after another, and tossing them into a bucket for dinner.