The Witness

by Dee Henderson

  Luke hoped Amy confirmed they were indeed the two men who had tailed her on and off since Minnesota—it would be another problem contained. If he couldn’t remove the danger she faced, then containing it was the next best option.

  He got to his feet. “Get your notes together I can use for the wiretap warrants. If the lab has success with that blood sample, we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

  They nodded, and he headed back to his office to place a call to the newspaper editor.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “CHIEF.”

  The head of the lab was in his doorway, and he was closing the door behind him.

  Luke hung up on the mayor. “What do you have?”

  “Henry Benton’s son—DNA came back with a match in the database. Kevin Sykes. The reporter isn’t talking to Henry’s son; the reporter is Henry’s son.”

  Luke scanned the sheet of paper to see it in black and white as he strode back to his door to pull it open. He stepped out into the outer office. “Margaret!”

  She was halfway across the office toward the elevator and immediately turned.

  “Connor and Marsh, as fast as you can find them. Then get me the deputy chief.” He looked back at his lab chief and smiled. “Tell me where you want that meal, and you and your wife are eating at the best restaurant in town tonight.”

  “Sargetti’s.”

  “Done.” Luke flipped around the phone on Margaret’s desk and punched in the number of the SWAT commander.

  Luke eased into the cluster of officers a block away from Sykes’ home. SWAT had deployed to give them a quiet look at the house from all angles. “Someone tell me this guy is at home.”

  The SWAT communications officer listening in to the radio traffic shook his head. “Sorry, Chief, everything inside is too quiet and his car is not here. Thermal doesn’t show a heat source big enough to be a person.”

  “The newspaper office downtown?”

  Marsh shook his head. “He’s not there. The deputy chief just sent enough officers into the newspaper’s offices to walk the pit aisles and into every restroom and break room before the editor in chief could protest our arrival and toss us out, and they confirm that Sykes is not at the office. We’ve got men watching every entrance to that building if he does show up. He’s on the street somewhere.”

  “We put him as being Henry’s son and doing two murders; he’s not going to be sitting idly waiting for us to show up and arrest him. Anyone else we need to worry about him going after with a knife right now? Daniel? Marie?” Luke asked.

  “Covered. Amy too. And we’ve got officers at the Benton estate and the Benton Group offices as another layer of precaution. Where else?” Marsh replied.

  “We don’t know enough about Sykes, his parents, places he vacations, friends. Find those facts and assume he’ll be trying to slip away and leave town. We need his phone records.”

  “An officer is standing at the shoulder of the employee running them as we speak.”

  “Chief, there are lots of calls to a number over on Barry Road,” the officer handling retrieving Sykes’ phone records called in. “I’m looking back sixty days. The calls start a day before the murders and have been steady since then, most between 2 and 4 a.m. This isn’t some sweetheart he’s calling, not in that area of town. And it’s incredibly close to where that Lincoln was found parked: two, three blocks north.”

  “He was calling our New York shooter and selling previews of his next day’s news article?” Connor suggested.

  Luke nodded. “We need something else as a match before we send SWAT to knock down a door. Review the phone-tip lines for sightings in that area, get a photo spread together, and put a couple plainclothes on the street showing it around. I don’t want a visible cop presence in the area until we are ready to seal the area and go knock on a door. What time was the most recent call?”

  “Three this morning.”

  “Yes, I think Sykes just led us to our shooter, and he was at that number this morning. Watch the details, people, and the security. Let’s get this guy on the first try. Marsh, Connor—you’re with me. I want a long-distance look at that building while we get the facts in place to go breaking down another door.”

  The SWAT team began to reassemble, and officers stationed to watch Sykes’ home for his possible return fanned out. Luke began to feel hope that this was coming to a close. “Connor, you drive. I remember the last time I offered the keys to Marsh.”

  His officer smiled but took the key ring.

  They would find Sykes by day’s end, Luke thought, if only because he had too visible a face to hide. People thought reporters were someone to notice. And to get the shooter the same day—it would be sweet. Change locations, get SWAT set up, study the layout to confirm where the shooter’s room was at, and go in and take him down.

  Sykes was their guy: it explained the depth of his knowledge about Henry and the sisters in his early news stories; it answered the question how he had the crime-scene photos and knowledge of the note text when they hadn’t been able to find a leak within the department. Sykes’ contact with the shooter out of New York also explained why they hadn’t been able to locate word of him on the street. He’d been able to lay low and still have everything he needed to know about the sisters’ movements fed to him.

  All of it because of money. Money Richard Wise wanted to stop Amy from turning into the authorities; money Sykes thought was his due as Henry’s son. Daniel’s comment that on some days he just wanted to burn the cash and be rid of it fit what Luke was feeling now. This had all been senseless. But it would be over soon. They would get the New York shooter, and they would locate Sykes. Hopefully without another officer ending up shot.

  Luke turned to the SWAT leader as they moved back to their vehicles. “Let’s get a couple SWAT officers watching this address on Barry Road immediately. I don’t want our shooter slipping out of town before we’re set up to go in and get him. News of our search for Sykes is going to be on the air soon, and our New York shooter will know his location is blown.”

  “I had the same thought. I’ve got two spotters already on the way over there now.”

  “Chief, I’ve got Kevin Sykes exiting the back door of that apartment building and walking west.” The remark from the SWAT officer watching the building with a spotter scope electrified the gathered cops preparing to make a move in on the apartment. They were half a block away, taking advantage of the fact abandoned buildings were common on this block.

  “He drives a blue four-door Chevy or a white Dodge company car,” Marsh alerted the officer.

  “White Dodge, east side of the street; he just unlocked doors,” the SWAT officer confirmed. “He’s going to be heading west on Park Avenue, and that will put him into one-way traffic at Lincoln Avenue. You’d best stop him before that merge or he’ll be able to use the heavy off-ramp traffic to his advantage.”

  “Mayfield, take him as soon as he passes Piedmont Road,” Luke ordered.

  “10-4.”

  Luke looked at his SWAT leader. “Move inside the apartment building and take that room as soon as you’re in position.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Luke moved forward with the communications officer to the SWAT departure point and watched the team slip into the apartment building and head for the third floor. The waiting began. Four minutes, Luke thought, able to think through the moves he had made so many times himself in the past.

  Shots rang out.

  Irishman, that was Luke’s first impression, and the second, overwhelming relief. There wasn’t an officer down.

  “He was shooting before we popped the lock on the door—two through the wall, four into the door as it opened. Frank took him down with one shot to the chest. Sorry, Boss. He’s not going to be able to help us identify his employer.”

  Luke’s own assessment of the scene was showing more personal courage than that concise review wanted to assign. The men had not hesitated to deal with the incoming fire
and respond as a unit; that spoke of solid leadership and honed teamwork. “You did the job with dispatch and no one else hurt. I’d say that was a solid success. Tell your guys to debrief separately with the deputy chief, then stand down; they’ve got my personal thanks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Jim?”

  “Sir?”

  “Tell them to give me their personal wish lists on equipment and training. I might as well use the mayor’s coming praise for the success as a way to push for a dollar-amount thank-you in the budget.”

  Jim smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  Luke took the smile in the way it was intended. He’d been co-opted to the politics of the job, but it no longer felt like a burden—it was a necessary part of the job. He was beginning to feel comfortable being the chief. Sending the SWAT guys in had been his weight knowing one might take a bullet, and dealing with the politics of the shooting was also his job. Maybe Amy would understand when he tried to explain it to her tonight. He thought she might. He figured she was right—it would take a forced retirement one day due to old age to get him to leave the job.

  “Marsh, Connor, where are you?”

  “Watching the doors, sir.”

  “Don’t grouse at me, Marsh. I let you stay within a city block as promised. Join me back at the station. You’ve got a conversation to have with Kevin Sykes, and I intend to be on the other side of the interview glass when you do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought that would make your day. You have a plan in mind?”

  “Psych him out, sir. I know more information about what has been going down the last month than he does. A reporter will never be able to stand it.”

  “Thank you. For a while there I wasn’t sure you were ready for this.”

  “Born ready, sir. Born a cop.”

  Luke smiled at the reply. “Let Connor drive while you write your notes. You go in as soon as Sykes comes through processing.”

  Luke clicked off his radio. “Glad to have you back, Marsh,” he said softly. Luke turned to locate his evidence chief and put a plan in place to process this scene. Marsh might have taken a big loss, but he was going to survive it as a cop. That mattered. There were friends on the force to help him pick up the pieces and deal with Tracey’s being gone.

  “Someone have a suggestion for who gets to write this scene up?”

  Several officers near enough to hear the question groaned, but one bravely raised a hand. “Fields, sir. I’ll take coordinating it.”

  “Good. The officers with you just became your deputies for the day.”

  Fields smiled but nodded. “Thank you, sir. They’ll make my life miserable.”

  “Command always does that. Jim, where are you?”

  “The roof, sir. I think I just figured out how he focused in to plan that street shooting. I can see the restaurant through the scope.”

  “I’m on my way to you.” He headed for the stairs and the roof. For the first time there was true relief that they had this contained.

  God, there isn’t a word to express the relief. Two killers located and contained—it’s not much justice for Tracey or an end to the troubles Amy faces, but it is progress. What next, God? I’m too tired to think right now, much less pray with eloquence. Carry me. Carry Marsh and Marie and Amy dealing with a grief so deep I can’t find words to express in sympathy. The need just gets bigger to have You guiding our lives. It hurts so much, the losses that have to be accepted. There are some days I don’t know how to keep moving with any optimism for the future. This is one of those days.

  Luke stepped onto the roof, where Jim was kneeling by the edge and studying the streets around them.

  “The shooter could see the restaurant from here and watch the sisters come and go. And standing at the right spot, he could watch the Lincoln he had parked,” Jim noted. “You wonder if he really thought he could get back the money Richard Wise wanted, or if he just came to deal with the fact Amy could ID him as the one who killed Greg. Killing the sisters would bring Amy into the open—maybe that was his entire plan.”

  “I doubt we’ll ever know.” Luke walked over to where Jim stood and studied the area. “At least the one man not currently in jail who has the most motive to want Amy dead is now removed from the equation.” Luke thought about the pieces still in play; he looked around the area one last time, then nodded to Jim. “The scene is yours; I’m heading back to the department to meet up with Sykes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE INTERVIEW OF KEVIN SYKES had been going on for five hours now, still without the reporter requesting a lawyer. Luke watched through the glass as his officers worked, Marsh and Connor switching around the conversation with the ease of being able to read each other’s thoughts, putting Sykes on videotape walking back over himself on details only the killer would know without ever trying to get him to directly confess. That would come, Luke knew, but not before they had the man so twisting in the wind he couldn’t remember what lie he had told to cover another. They would get him talking about the knife he had used soon. If he wasn’t the police chief and if those weren’t two of his own officers, he would be trying to hire them in an instant.

  “They’re good.”

  He glanced over at his deputy chief. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Luke drank more of his coffee. “Do we have room to move them up another pay grade?”

  “I don’t think either one would see a promotion to head of major cases as a move up, even with the increased rank. And Marsh is going to get dragged into administration when the time comes.”

  “Elliot is ready for something bigger than head of homicide—I plan to move him up to criminal investigations as a whole at his next review. Maybe move both Marsh and Connor up to share head of homicide? Goodness knows the job needs two people to cover the hours. Marsh is going to grieve Tracey by pouring himself more into the job—we might as well use that reality and give him more territory to handle. It will be harder to think about a personal loss when he’s grousing at 6 a.m. update meetings and hand-holding rookies learning homicide. We’ll let Connor make sure Marsh doesn’t end up firing the entire lot of detectives under him.”

  The deputy chief smiled, thought about it, and nodded. “I’m for the move; it’s solid. Elliot’s been dealing with the narcotics murders, and it would be good to have that background in the overall criminal-investigations slot. And the detectives reporting up to Connor and Marsh will take the move to be a good one, promoting from within the group.” He nodded to the interview going on. “How long do you think it takes before the whole story comes spilling out?”

  Luke watched them work. “Look at Connor. He’s begun to do his two-steps-forward, two-steps-back, lean-against-the-wall pacing. You can see Connor using Marsh’s questions like a one-two setup, five questions from Marsh, one from Connor, and always a new fact getting pushed with each group of questions. An hour tops, and they’ll have Sykes confessing to the two murders and then writing it all down—his one last great journalist coup—he’ll write his own arrest story and his unveiling as Henry Benton’s son.”

  “Think Connor will spin it that way?”

  Luke smiled. “I would. And they think like me.”

  “There’s a compliment in there, I think.”

  “I miss being down in the trenches. You?”

  “I’ll always have a fondness for traffic duty. Crashes and chases and lots of drunk drivers, but it was my turf as a rookie. I was keeping the streets safe and proud of it.” The deputy chief watched the interview for a few more minutes, then nodded to the clock. “Want me to take the nine o’clock press briefing?”

  Luke glanced at the time and figured he could let the press wait another two minutes. “I’ll do it. I want to do some public congratulating of the SWAT group; they did a nice job today. And this—” Luke nodded to the interview and let himself shrug—“reporters will love nothing more than tearing apart one of their own in custody, but
I can do the dance around with no comment for an hour and get away with it while Marsh and Connor get everything on tape. You can call that press conference in the morning to announce the arrest and the charges against Sykes. I’m planning to sleep in.”

  The deputy chief smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’ll have to do it without Marsh and Connor too, I’m afraid. I’ll give them twenty minutes after the interview concludes to scrawl together their report, and then they are going to give me the good-bye salute and take two weeks’ vacation and probably call in and request to make it three.”

  “Let them have it; then promote them when they return.”

  Luke laughed. “I like how you think. Page me when it looks like this is wrapping up. I’ll go fence words with the press for a while.”

  “Sure thing, Chief.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “YOU LOOK PLEASED with yourself tonight.”

  Luke smiled at Amy as she joined him, sliding down into the cushions at the other end of the couch in Daniel’s living room. She’d talked him into letting her stay in town one more day, with Marie, with Daniel, and he’d been in the mood to be convinced. The fire Daniel had left burning in the grate had turned to bright coals and steady heat, and Luke was enjoying watching the occasional blue flame flicker between the logs. Occasionally life needed to burn like that, quiet, hot, and comfortable after blazing flames and popping bark. The tasks of the last few weeks were wrapping up, and he was in no hurry to move into tomorrow.

  “Not thinking much, just enjoying.”

  He settled her feet closer to his leg and tugged the throw blanket down to keep her warm. The floors were too chilly when she persisted in walking around barefoot.

  “Connor came by?”

  “He arrived a few minutes ago. Marie slipped downstairs to talk with him rather than invite him up. I can wager a guess why she was interested in the privacy.”