I waved in the direction of the break room. “Go that way past Parker’s office, and look for the ugly orange cabinets on the right.”
He nodded and stepped away, and I snatched up the phone just before it clicked over to voicemail. “Crime desk, this is Clarke.”
The other end of the line was silent for half a second, followed by a heavy sigh.
“Hello?” I leaned my elbow on the desk, retrieving my pen. Eight times out of eight, when people call a reporter and are reluctant to talk, what they have to say is pretty damned interesting.
“Hey.”
My stomach twisted into a knot. Just one word, but I knew my favorite detective well enough to read in his tone that whatever followed was going to be bad. And I had a hunch I knew what it concerned.
“Good morning, Aaron,” I choked out, pausing to clear my throat. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a Sheriff Rutledge in my office, Nichelle, and I’m wondering if you’ll do me a favor and bring your friend Grant Parker down here to talk to us.”
My eyes fell shut, the plastic of the handset biting into my fingers as they closed tighter around it.
“Y’all are wrong, Aaron,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, Nichelle. I can’t tell you how sorry. I know the timing is shitty, but we have evidence here we can’t ignore.” He sighed. “You know how this works. It’ll be easier all the way around if you can get him to come to us, but Landers will be there with a warrant in an hour if you can’t.”
“I’ll see you in forty-five minutes,” I bit out. “Do me one favor and don’t call Charlie—or anybody else—until I’ve had a chance to talk to you.”
Another sigh. “Nicey, I know he’s your friend…”
“I’m good at what I do, Detective White. And so are you. Just trust me.”
Long pause. “Text me when you get here and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
I cradled the phone and bit my lip, curling my hands into fists and pulling in enough deep breaths to keep from chucking my stapler across the room.
Whatever was going on here, Parker didn’t have anything to do with it.
I couldn’t believe it.
I wouldn’t.
Not with nothing more than a few emails and some circumstantial crap to go on.
So how was I going to convince Parker of that when I’d been elected to drag him through an Aaron White interrogation?
21.
Buried secrets
I found Parker at his desk, phone pinched between his cheek and good shoulder, taking lightning-fast notes and grunting “uh-huh” at thirty-second intervals. I paused in the doorway and he waved me in, pointing to the gray chair on my side of his desk.
“But Dale—” He fell quiet, tapping the pen on his notepad. “Agree to disagree. But in that case, why not use someone with a better reputation?” he asked, his hand poised to write again. “Got it. Thank you, sir.”
He plunked the phone back into the cradle and flashed me the famous megawatt grin. “Morning, sunshine. You look very Audrey Hepburn today. What’s the occasion?”
I bit my lip. His tone was so…up. What karmic contest did I lose to be the one to bring it down?
He ducked his head and caught my eye. “Nichelle?”
I opened my mouth, but couldn’t force my lips around the words.
“Oh, God.” Parker leaned back in his chair, toying with the strap on his sling. “What now? Did the baker get the flu? The flowers come in dead?” The color drained from his face. “Did Mel change her mind?”
A laugh escaped my lips despite the utterly shitty reason I was sitting across from my friend. I shook my head, giving him a few more seconds of thinking a problem with the wedding was his biggest worry.
“Mel is over at City Hall listening to people argue about the new ballpark. Potential new ballpark.”
He nodded and opened his mouth, but I plowed on before I lost my voice again. “And as far as I know, everything is golden for this weekend. But…” I faltered, clearing my throat. “Parker…”
I had to tell people hard things on the regular. You’d think I’d be better at it after so many years. But Parker wasn’t just anyone.
“What’s up? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you look like that when you weren’t mired in some insane web of a story that would end up landing you in the hospital.” He paused. “You’re not, are you? Because one of us getting shot the week of the wedding is enough.” He winked.
I would take that bullet in place of what I was about to tell him in two taps of a Louboutin.
“Parker, I just got a call from Aaron White at the PD. They want me to bring you down there. They have some questions about Mitch Burke.”
Parker blinked. “What kind of questions?”
I sighed. “Bob showed Chris Landers the emails he got from Burke last week. He was worried about Melanie. The police think—” I sighed. “They think the emails give you motive, Parker.”
Parker’s face went blank. “Motive.” His eyes fell shut, his voice going monotone. “So what do we do now?”
“I know you didn’t do this.” I leaned forward and laid a hand on his arm. “But Aaron has to ask. It’s his job.”
Parker nodded, his face more wooden than I’d ever seen it. “Can you drive?”
“Of course.” I stood, pulling my bag over my shoulder and taking his arm.
“Nichelle? Does Mel know about this?”
“No,” I said, leading him to the elevator. “Chin up, Captain Charisma. We’ll fix this. I’m not letting all the work I’ve put into this wedding go to waste.” I smiled up at him as the elevator doors closed.
He nodded, staying quiet until we were turning out of the Telegraph’s garage.
“I didn’t hurt Burke.” His voice was low, with a hard edge that made it sound like someone else was talking. “I wanted to. But I couldn’t find him.”
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “You—you couldn’t find him?”
Parker’s golden head dropped into his hands. “God, Nichelle. Did Bob show you? What he said? I’ve never been so…Angry’s not the right word. Furious? I’m not sure that covers it, even. I think I went a little crazy for a few minutes. I jumped into my car and stormed over to Burke’s loft.”
Oh.
Shit.
I swerved into a parking lot and cut the engine. “You what?”
“I went over there. Wouldn’t you? Bob told me the whole story, how he’d been sending these BS emails about me for years, and Bob had the tech guys look into it and decided to ignore him. He’s tried a hundred times to make it hard for me to do my job—having him in the Generals’ PR office was the only thing I didn’t like about this gig for a long time. But I got around it because the coaches and players and Dale, they all like me, so I just didn’t deal with the PR folks. Burke purposely left me out of the loop on two press releases a few years ago, and the second time Dale almost canned him.”
My brain was still back on Parker going off to Burke’s home in a blind rage.
Talk about damn to the hundredth power.
He was still rambling. Focus. “I really thought we were past all this. It was such a long time ago,” Parker muttered to the floorboard.
My eyes fell shut. Something in his voice said there was more than a few lost baseball games between them. “What was so long ago?”
“Mari.” The two syllables held so much sorrow, I reached for Parker’s hand. If only I had clue one what the hell he was talking about.
“I think I’m behind on background, here, Parker,” I stage-whispered.
He let out a shuddering breath. “Burke’s sister. Younger sister, by a year. A couple of the guys decided it’d be a good way to get under his skin to ask her out. Having his sister cheering against him would mess with his head, we thought, with our high-school understanding of sports psychology.”
I nodded, my stomach closing around the Pop-Tarts I’d scarfed in the car a lifetime ago. Something told me I wou
ldn’t like where this was going.
“So I ‘bumped into her’ at this pizza place near her school. Asked her to a movie.”
“Oh, Parker.” I sighed.
He nodded, not looking at me. “She turned me down. Not because of her brother—she didn’t know who I was. Because, she said, I wasn’t her type.”
I arched an eyebrow. I’d bet the number of women who would turn Parker down flat could be counted on one finger. If you counted Miss Burke.
“She was pretty, but not super into her looks.” He leaned his head against the back of the seat, his face softening as he talked. “She didn’t need a ton of makeup and hairspray. And she was so quiet, but she had the sweetest voice when you listened to her.”
I watched his profile, my ears tickling at the familiar softness in his tone.
Because it was how he talked about Mel.
“I kept after her, and the more times she told me to beat it, the more I liked her. She was funny and honest and didn’t care what anyone else thought. Smart too.”
I glanced at the clock, wanting to ask where the “but” in this story was coming, yet not wanting to pull him from the memories that were clearly all he could see at the moment.
“Three weeks of begging, and she finally agreed to dinner.” He sighed. “I fell for her, Clarke. Harder than I thought I’d ever fall for a girl in my whole life.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
“It was a wonderful thing. My dad and coach kept saying she was distracting me, but I played better that spring than I ever had. I was happy, and it came through in my game.” His hands went back to his head. “We won State that year.”
Ah. Against Burke. “Did she find out why you’d asked her out?”
He shook his head. “She…” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow as he shook his head. “She died. In an accident. I couldn’t save her. Mitch never forgave me.” The last word nearly disappeared into a half-sob, and he put a hand over his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
Oh. My. God.
I wanted the rest of that story, but wasn’t sure what kind of rabbit hole it would lead to, and the clock said I had to move. There’d be time to pry after we got through this police interview. I patted Parker’s arm and put the car back in gear. “Oh, Parker. I’m so sorry.”
Fighting to keep at least part of my attention on traffic, I white-knuckled the steering wheel. This would up everyone’s conviction that Parker had motive. It was possible to explain away threatening letters from an old sports rival. Even messages as horrifying as the ones Bob got about Mel. A joke gone wrong, a prank in ridiculously poor taste. But if Burke had spent years blaming Parker for his sister’s death, Melanie had been in very real danger. And that made it more likely that Parker—who knew this other part of the story—might kill Burke to protect her.
I glanced over to find pleading emerald eyes fixed on my profile. “I didn’t do this, Nichelle. I never saw him.”
“I believe you.” And I still did. But could I convince Aaron? Right then I wasn’t sure I’d be able to convince my own mother. The fact that Kyle was on our side for the moment was just about all I had going for me.
Kyle.
I stopped at a red light and dug in my bag for my phone. “Let me see if I’ve got one more miracle rescue in me,” I mumbled, patting Parker’s hand.
Truth be told, the wedding had just officially become the least of my worries.
Kyle must’ve made every light and sped too, because he was pacing in front of Police Headquarters when we pulled up.
“I’m not sure I can pull this off, Nichelle.” He ran one hand through his burnished bronze curls.
“You can bluff with the best of them, Agent Miller. All I need you to do is misdirect the conversation such that they believe there’s an open investigation into Calais Vineyards and you’re interested in this case.” My smile was more confident than I felt.
Kyle rolled his eyes at me and nodded to Parker, who still looked dazed. “How you holding up, Grant?”
Parker shook his head. “Saturday’s supposed to be the best day of my life.” He snorted, and my heart squeezed at the broken note in his voice.
“It will be,” I said. “Today’s only Monday. We got this.” I glanced at Kyle. “Don’t we?”
“I’m going to give it my level best shot.”
I gestured to the door with one hand and took Parker’s arm with the other. “Aaron’s waiting inside.”
I hadn’t had time to tell Kyle much, just that I needed his help keeping Parker out of a cell. But my gut and years of experience with Aaron told me Parker’s best bet was to tell them about his relationship with Burke’s sister before they dug it up. It was almost always better to be honest with the police—when you were innocent, especially.
“Nichelle.” Aaron waved from the other side of the metal detectors, raising an eyebrow when he saw Kyle behind me. “Agent Miller. Grant.”
The men shook hands all around and Aaron gave everyone an apologetic shrug as he punched the elevator button.
“This isn’t awkward or anything, right?” I chirped, drawing a chuckle from everyone but Parker, who only managed a half-smile.
“I’m sorry to have to drag you down here.”
Aaron was looking at Parker, but his face told me he was more focused on wondering why Kyle was in the elevator with us. I don’t suppose too many people bring a federal agent to a police interview, to be fair.
Parker nodded. “Nichelle tells me you’re just doing your job.”
“But that doesn’t make it feel less insulting,” Aaron said with a nod.
“Just a few things that need clearing up,” I said, pleased that the confidence in my voice didn’t falter.
Aaron caught that, I knew. And if he walked into the room with his mind leaning toward misunderstanding, this thing would be a lot easier.
He nodded and put a hand in front of the elevator doors when they opened, waving us off in front of him. “My office,” he said. I led Parker and Kyle that way, wondering how the four of us plus I’m sure Landers and Sheriff Rutledge would fit in Aaron’s cluttered little closet of an office.
I strode past the rows of cubicles, feeling every eye in the room following us. Good cops were way nosier than any reporter ever thought about being. Well. Most any.
I rounded the corner and saw that Aaron had indeed squished four chairs between his desk and the wall. I might bump knees with Landers, long legged as we both were, but I kind of liked that Kyle would have to stand. His height would make him that much more imposing if everyone else was sitting.
Landers nodded a hello, not bothering to hide his surprise when Kyle stepped aside so Aaron could shut the door. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“Tactful as ever, Detective,” I said.
“The location of the body discovery is interesting.” Kyle shrugged, and I bit down on a giggle, wondering how many times he’d rehearsed that in his head. I shot him a wink while everyone else turned to Parker.
“Mr. Parker, I’m Jim Rutledge, the sheriff out in Augusta.” He drummed his fingers on the brim of his giant hat, which rested across his knees. “I understand you’re getting married this weekend.” He shot me a look that said he wasn’t happy I’d played dumb about this connection, and he knew I’d done it on purpose. Yay.
I smiled at the sheriff as I put reassuring pressure on Parker’s arm. Small talk was a good sign. They didn’t know much, or they’d start with questions instead of trying to get him comfortable enough to feel chatty.
“Yes sir.” Parker cleared his throat. “We’re so sorry about the tragedy out at Dale’s place last weekend, but everyone so far has told us there’s no need to relocate the wedding. I’d like to know how you feel about that.”
“I can’t imagine why you’d need to. Unless being there makes you uncomfortable for some reason.” His eyes strayed to the sling on Parker’s arm, but the words were calculated. Tread carefully, Parker.
; Parker wasn’t stupid. “I’m sad for the Burke family’s loss, but that’s it,” he said, meeting the sheriff’s gaze straight on.
Landers opened the folder on his knees. “According to Bob Jeffers, the victim didn’t like you very much, Mr. Parker.”
My eyes followed Parker’s to the emails.
“He didn’t seem to, no.”
“Why is that?” From the sheriff, who sat back with an interested smile. My brain flicked to Ella Jane. Didn’t seem like the sheriff was too big a Burke fan himself.
I pinched my lips together to keep from asking him about his daughter’s relationship with the victim and the potential conflict of interest there. Rural departments often have cases concerning people the cops know—it’s one of the things you just have to accept if you live in a smaller jurisdiction. And this wasn’t the time or place for that question.
Parker sighed. “It started with baseball. I beat him in a couple of important games back in high school and college.” He cut a sideways look at me and I nodded ever so slightly.
“It’s hard for me to fathom someone writing threats this graphic over a decades-old sports rivalry,” Landers said. “I told Bob Jeffers as much last week.”
“Burke didn’t have a reputation for being the most stable guy around,” the sheriff said, and Kyle nodded.
“Or the most reliable,” he added.
Kyle’s tone made it sound like he knew more than what passing interest would dictate about Burke, and Aaron’s face said he didn’t miss that. Good. That’s exactly why I wanted Kyle in the room—if my local guys and the BFE sheriff thought the Feds were investigating the victim, Parker wouldn’t look so interesting.
“He was…different,” Parker said, an I’m-not-speaking-ill-of-the-dead way of calling Burke an ass that nobody in the room missed.
Landers rested his elbows on his knees and bent his head to catch Parker’s eye. “Explain this to me, Mr. Parker. Why was Mitch Burke so focused on you? And why did my forensic team find your fingerprints all over the door to his apartment this morning?”
Landers’s tone was low. Dangerous. He knew something he wasn’t saying. I glanced at Aaron.
Lethal Lifestyles (A Headlines in High Heels Mystery Book 6) Page 16