The Witness

by Dee Henderson

  “No word?”

  “He called the station shortly after midnight to confirm he had the latest news, and that was the last anyone heard from him. He sat with Tracey for a while last night in the morgue, went to see Marie after that, then went home. He refused my request to stay with him.”

  “He’ll be wanting a private place to say his good-byes to Tracey. The funeral isn’t going to be the place to do that, not with all the press around it. Try that place he and Tracey liked up by the lake.”

  “I’ll check there, thanks.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Caroline whispered. “He loved her too much to not stay and deal with finding who killed her.”

  Connor tightened his hand on hers. “I’ll bring him by here later today to see you.”

  “I’ll take that as a promise.”

  One of Jonathan’s men stood outside the doorway to Daniel’s apartment, and Luke found it reassuring as he walked down the hall after stepping from the elevator. “Has the press been a problem so far?”

  “We’re stopping most in the lobby,” the man replied.

  Daniel opened the door before Luke could knock. He was dressed conservatively in a suit, but his tie was loose and there was a kitchen towel in his hands. “Thanks for responding so quickly.”

  “I was on this side of town,” Luke reassured. “How’s Marie?”

  “Still sleeping.” Daniel nodded toward the kitchen. “I’m fixing a late omelet; would you join me?”

  “I’m okay, but I’ll take some coffee.”

  “Help yourself; it’s ready.”

  Luke poured himself a mug. “Thanks for this, having Marie here. It will be easier than the gallery flat, I think.”

  “She can stay here indefinitely, Luke. It’s not a problem at all. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “Your message sounded urgent.”

  Daniel picked up a file from the counter and handed it over. “Short answer—yes, there is a brother out there not recognized in the will.”

  Luke felt the first breaking piece of news slide into place. He opened the folder. He hadn’t thought it could be proven. He scanned an old lab test.

  “That shows father paternity to be a match,” Daniel said. “There’s no reference number on the lab work, the only identifying fact on the second party sample the notation that it was a blood sample. But the father paternity is a match to a male, the signature on the payment voucher is Henry’s, and it’s an old enough piece of paper it fits what you thought might be the case. Sam had never seen that document or heard of the lab which was used.”

  “The tests were run six years ago; and there’s no clue from this how old the son was when the test was made.”

  “Nothing there suggests the son’s age or name. He could have been two years old or forty. For what it’s worth, I went back to my own personal calendars for that period of time six years ago. Two days after Henry received that lab-test result, he called and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse to come in as a partner in the Benton Group. It seems clear that Henry never intended his biological son to be his heir.”

  “So let’s assume it was a surprise to Henry to hear he had a son and the boy was at least in his late teens when this test was run. What would Henry have done?”

  Daniel slid his omelet onto a plate. “Since Henry paid to have the claim checked out, and it confirmed he did have a son, he had to do something with that knowledge. My guess he paid either the mother or the boy off. That was his pattern.”

  “Any sign of the payment?”

  “I’m still looking. Now that I have an approximate date I should be able to find it.”

  Luke thought it through a step further. “What if it wasn’t just one payoff, but a series of them? Only six years later Henry dies, the money stops, and there is one angry relative out there who didn’t get recognized in the will. Pay me to go away—maybe it’s more accurate a message to say continue to pay me to stay away?”

  “I’m leaning that way.” Daniel rubbed his face. “We’ll pay him, Luke. If he shows up again somewhere or makes contact. That piece of paper says he’s Henry’s child. I’m not going to weigh it further than that. You can catch the guy whenever you can for the murders, but until then we pay him. It’s necessary to try to protect Marie at this point.”

  “I won’t fight you on it,” Luke replied, knowing this changed things and put a focus to some of the anger out there. “We’ll have to prove the connection from this test result to the two murders, but it does give a motive. It means the street shooting and the murders may be entirely separate threats.” He sighed, thinking about the growing complexities. Both theories were proving to be right. “To get in to see Henry just to make this claim of being his son—that couldn’t have been that easy to do. We need to find Henry’s schedule books, phone calls, anything for this time that might give a lead on someone who was persistent in trying to get a face-to-face meeting. And if Henry saw him long enough to have blood work drawn and this test run, you can be sure there was at least one more meeting shortly after the date of this test.”

  “I’ve got my assistant at the house searching for anything in that time period, six months before and after that date. Maybe there is finally some luck and we get a name for this relative. I’ve just realized I’ve got a cousin who may be a murderer. You have to admit my pedigree seems to be getting significantly worse with time.”

  “Have you told Marie?”

  “At this point keeping secrets from her seems like a waste of time. Connor was by last night to tell her what they had been able to find out about the cabdriver, to break the news about Amy having left.”

  “You’re prepared for the possibility Amy will appear here or call Marie?”

  “I’m hoping she does. We’ll arrange a quiet, private place for them to meet, and I’ll call you. Marie really needs to see Amy and know for absolute certain that she’s alive and okay.”

  “Is the shock passing?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Marie’s too quiet and contained even under normal circumstances to get that good of a read on how she’s doing now. Connor helped, got her talking a bit more, but you can tell the sadness is beginning to really take hold. I’m hoping she stays a touch numb to it all for a few more days while this plays out. Tomorrow is going to be early enough to talk about funeral arrangements.”

  “I’d like to be here for that and have at least Connor here if not Marsh. If Marsh shows up here, keep him here, would you, until Connor or I can come over?”

  “He’s got you worried.”

  “He lost his fiancée. He’s got cause to react however it’s going to hit him. I’d just prefer to be hanging out with him as it happens than have him out on his own.”

  “I’ll call you, Luke,” Daniel reassured.

  Luke set aside his coffee. “I’ll slip out before Marie wakes up, and I have to say there is no news. I’ll call later with whatever update I’ve got.”

  “Okay.” Daniel walked with him to the door. “Don’t worry about the time tonight, for when you call or come by. You’ll be welcome, as will Connor and Marsh.”

  “Thanks.”

  Luke walked back to his car and checked with the dispatcher for messages, then stood and watched the drifting clouds in the clear, cold sky. He wasn’t cut out to carry the weight of being the police chief, not on days like these. He hadn’t tried to say a prayer in the last forty-eight hours—sometimes the words were just too shallow. He could feel himself pushing the weight on his shoulders from himself to God and wordlessly handing it on to stronger hands. Too many people grieving today. Too many people grieving.

  He got in and started the car. He had to find Amy. He would have another death to deal with if she stayed out there on her own; he couldn’t handle it. Marie couldn’t handle it. Where did you go, Amy? Where did you decide was safe?

  Marsh wasn’t moving much, just sitting watching ducks land on the water and bundled-up joggers traverse the paths around the park. Amy
sat down on the ground beside him and pulled up her knees to rest her chin on her folded arms and thick coat sleeves.

  “You hung back long enough I wasn’t sure you would come over,” Marsh said.

  “Connor is looking for you.”

  “I know,” Marsh said tiredly, stripping another twig of leaves. “You called. I’m here. How can I help you, Amy?”

  “Don’t feel so sad. Tracey was happy until that last moment she died. How many people get to be so lucky in life? She slipped into heaven laughing with you about Christmas gifts.”

  He wiped away a tear but said nothing.

  “I can’t come to the funeral,” she whispered. “Someone has to break that news to Marie. Someone has to be with her.”

  “She’s staying with Daniel.”

  “I guessed that when she didn’t return to the gallery last night.”

  “You okay for cash?”

  “Yes. It’s just easier to do what I need to do without company.”

  “You can’t find this guy on your own, Amy. The entire police force wants him—let them find him first.”

  “Someone sent him, and after him there will be another. The shadows are going to be safer for a while. Will you take care of Marie for me? really make sure she gets through this okay?”

  “Connor will do that for you; he’s falling in love with her, I think, even though he hasn’t said it in so many words.”

  She picked up a blade of grass from the cold ground and shredded it. “And you? What are you going to do?”

  He shrugged.

  “Caroline could use some help getting back on her feet. She’s been a good friend to me. She didn’t deserve to get clipped just because she was helping me out.”

  “I thought she looked so cute as she left the restaurant ahead of us: bold red hat, long black coat, those twirly earrings she loved. She gets shot, and the only people pacing the hall to make sure she’s pulling through are cops, an uncle, and a few friends. It didn’t seem right.”

  “I thought the same thing. Go see her for me, Marsh; she needs a friend around. And go see Marie. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent this. Tracey was in God’s hands, and He decided it was time.”

  He wiped at tears that turned the lake into a washed-out pool of color.

  “You can’t wish for it to have been you,” Amy said softly. “You can’t carry that wish around with you for the next decade of your life, letting yourself die slowly because you didn’t die quickly on a sidewalk instead of Tracey.”

  “Let up, okay? It’s my right to have wanted to be the one to protect her, and I failed her that. The most important thing I needed to do, and I failed at it.”

  Amy leaned her head against his shoulder and then took a deep breath. “I know. I brought the trouble her way to begin with.” She got to her feet. “Tell Connor I said hi.”

  “And the chief ?”

  Amy dropped the blade of grass she had shredded. “It’s not that big a town; he’ll find me before long. I just wanted to say how sorry I am, Marsh. Tracey loved you a lot.”

  He nodded.

  Amy rested her hand on his shoulder for a hard moment and then was gone.

  “You want to stop for something to eat?” Connor asked, feeling out what Marsh was thinking behind the silence. Marsh had shown up at Daniel’s to see Marie shortly after 4 p.m., and Connor had driven over to meet him there.

  “Maybe a sandwich after we see Caroline,” he replied.

  Connor didn’t like the quiet or the grief. His friend had changed from cop to someone more focused on his own thoughts of the past than caring about the case that had to be solved. Connor needed him focused, despite the loss, despite the pain, because there was no one better at putting the pieces together than Marsh, and Connor needed that help right now. Too many threads of the murders and the shooting were piling up, and he was drowning in the details knowing he wasn’t putting them together as quickly as he should to see the big picture.

  “I could use you at the office for a few minutes to take a look at the phone-call reports coming in. The sketch Caroline gave us went out to the public shortly after 10 a.m.”

  “Tomorrow, after the funeral arrangements are made.”

  “You heard from the chief, that your hunch about Henry’s having a son was right?”

  “Not now, Connor. Right now it just doesn’t matter.”

  Connor racked his memory for some clue Marsh might have said in the past about where he kept his backup piece. The man wasn’t ready to go through another midnight on his own. It didn’t matter if this was tiredness or grief; it was simply the fact Marsh was no longer acting in predictable ways. He’d disappeared for over twelve hours and never said where he had been. Connor couldn’t take another slice of the worry. Not about Marsh. He pulled into the hospital parking lot. “I’m coming up with you.”

  Marsh nodded. “How was she, Caroline, when you saw her earlier?”

  “Tired beyond words, pretty weak. But you wouldn’t know it for her eyes and the way she wanted to know answers to her questions.”

  Marsh gave a small smile. “That’s true to form.”

  “Hold on.” Connor stopped his partner and opened the back door. He lifted out a big bunch of flowers. “They’re from you. I already stuffed another dozen roses into the vases around her room earlier. She got a kick out of them.”

  “Thanks, Connor.”

  He squeezed his partner’s shoulder. “Rag on me, get angry, even sweat a few tears, but just don’t go disappearing again, okay? I’ve been around you too long—I don’t know what to do when you’re not there to bug me.”

  Marsh blinked, then smiled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer. Tomorrow afternoon, Connor. I’ll look at everything you’ve been able to tug together.”

  “I’m holding you to it.”

  Connor knew the way to Caroline’s room and punched buttons on the elevator. “Watch out if she offers to let you taste what Scott brought her. Whatever he smuggled in would put a guy back into the hospital. Some mint sugar thing that would make your eyes roll back it’s so sweet.”

  Marsh chuckled and shifted the flowers to straighten his jacket and turn back the collar on his shirt.

  “You look okay, like you slept in the clothes, but okay.”

  “Thanks a lot, buddy; they were clean and from the closet this morning.”

  “Then you don’t look so good.”

  Marsh snorted and pointedly waited for Connor to exit the elevator first. “I hate hospitals.”

  “I seem to remember,” Connor replied, relieved to hear the complaint return.

  Marsh leaned over the bed to kiss Caroline’s cheek. “You look like paste, friend. What are they doing to you in here?”

  She smiled up at him. “You should look in the mirror. Thanks for coming; I ordered Connor to bring you by.”

  “He did. These are for you.” He rested the stack of flowers on her chest so she could enjoy them without moving her head. “Amy’s worried about you, but I told her you had steel in your insides and the bullet kind of bounced back out.”

  She giggled and groaned. “You’re as bad for me as you ever were. You doing okay?”

  “Getting smothered with that question,” he replied without replying and took a good look at her. She’d been a lot closer to dead than anyone had been putting into words. There wasn’t much life in her body beyond the eyes, too much blood lost, too much weakness. He just held her cold hand and smiled at her. “It’s not doing you any good to pretend you are laying here unable to get up when we both know you could be out dancing a waltz right now. You want me to bring over breakfast in the morning so you don’t have to eat the hospital concoction you get offered and maybe whip you in a game of checkers while we ignore the morning news?”

  Her eyes laughed. “Just don’t bring one of your spicy skillet creations and have me stuck here an extra week.” Her hand tightened on his. “Yes, come over. I need to see your craggily face annoying me.” She coughed and
closed her eyes against the pain.

  “Bullets are a pain in the—”

  She interrupted his words with a laugh. “I think it was the surgeon’s knife that hurts more.” She looked over his shoulder. “Take him home, Connor, after you feed him something, and shove a couple sleeping pills down his throat.”

  “Right, as if anyone would dare try.” Connor smiled back at her as he dropped a heavy hand on Marsh’s shoulder. “We’re going and you’re going to get some sleep.”

  “Probably. I like the drugs they have here. Sleep gets to be more floating,” she remarked, smiling even as her eyes closed again.

  “Come on,” Connor said softly.

  Marsh waited for one more minute until he was sure Caroline had slid back toward a sleep that wasn’t full of bad images, then kissed the back of her cold hand and picked up the flowers to slide them into a vase. Old friends couldn’t die on a guy; it was too much of a pain to say good-bye. At least Caroline was surviving this.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “SHOW ME THE CALL-IN LOG AGAIN, CONNOR.” Marsh held out his hand for the binder, trying to focus on the overall picture of the last forty-eight hours while keeping one ear on the television newscast.

  SWAT had busted down the door of the place the guy had been staying two days ago only to find the apartment cleaned out. They were at least getting closer to the man in time.

  His head hurt from crying too much, and his heart was too heavy to take a conversation on what was coming next after having spent an hour with Marie on the funeral arrangements. Three days, and he was going to be putting Tracey into the ground. He didn’t think he’d be eating in the next two days the way the nausea of that thought lingered.

  “What time did you say that call came in on the room they went and raided?”

  Connor flipped back a sheet. “Eight twenty-two.”

  “There’s another one in here roughly the same time; a grocery store clerk thought she saw a guy matching the description buying a two liter of soda and a can of peanuts. She remarked that he crossed the street after he left rather than getting in a car.”