Mounting Evidence

by Karis Walsh

  Before Kira had time to wrap her mind around the half-told story and its implications, Abby was changing the subject. “What did you need to tell me? You left six messages on my phone.”

  Kira frowned. She had been anxious to talk to Abby about her discovery, but now that they were face-to-face, she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject or what Abby’s reaction would be. Still, if she had uncovered the information, the police detectives would soon know it as well. Better if Abby heard it now, from her.

  “I had one of the people in my wetland coalition check into Milford’s properties. It’s important to me—to the city—that we keep fighting to preserve the land he owned.” Kira didn’t want to admit her personal vendetta against Milford. He had nearly succeeded in getting her to derail the efforts to protect the wetland, and she felt ashamed at her weakness. She’d have done what he asked because Julie was in danger, but now she wanted to increase her efforts and reclaim some of the power he had wrenched from her. “Anyway, we needed to know who would inherit the deed to the land if he died, so we’d know what our next steps should be.”

  Abby nodded. “I get it,” she said.

  Kira had a feeling Abby really did get it, that she understood Kira’s deep need to protect this land because she hadn’t been able to protect herself during his assault. Abby understood violence, in all its forms.

  “Do you need me to do some checking for you? I might be able to find out—”

  “Abby, I know who’ll get this tract of land as well as quite a few others. They’ll all go to Tad Milford’s investment group. It’s small, only three people, but they’re all very influential in the city.”

  “And you had to tell me this because…?”

  “Because one of them is Richard Hargrove.”

  She watched Abby as she processed the information. Her expression wasn’t as unreadable as before, and now Kira could see a heavy weariness on Abby’s face. Was Abby too tired to conceal it well, or was Kira learning how to look at her? She stayed silent while Abby examined whatever thoughts were in her head.

  “Damn,” Abby said. Kira agreed. She had seen the list of properties to which Abby’s brother would have claim after Tad’s death. He’d have made good money as an investor, but his profit margin had increased significantly over the weekend. Before, as an investor, he’d have made one-third of half the profits Milford made. Now he’d jumped to a full third of all profits. He’d doubled his take with, what, one easy bullet?

  “I knew he’d invested with Milford, but I didn’t realize how heavily. Still, is it enough to kill for?”

  Abby shook her head, but Kira didn’t know if she was answering her own question in the negative, or if she was unwilling to picture her brother as the killer.

  “It’s a lot of money,” Kira said. “Milford seemed to have a sixth sense of when people were about to sell. My friend at the tax assessor’s office said he’d buy properties for a low price from people who wanted to build commercially but couldn’t because of one or two residential holdouts. Soon after, the holdouts would sell to him, too, and he’d make a huge profit.”

  “You have spies in the county offices,” Abby said with a smile.

  Kira grinned back, happy to see the worry lines on Abby’s face relax for even a brief moment. “I’m usually fighting a losing battle by trying to protect instead of destroy. I need all the information I can get about what’s going on behind the scenes. We have ears all over,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “So, Sage of Pierce County, what are some of these moneymaking ventures my brother and Tad had going?”

  “The new medical building on Twelfth and Union is one,” Kira said. “There’s also a strip mall on Proctor, a proposed apartment building near the university, yet another strip mall on—”

  Abby held up her left hand to stop Kira. “Twelfth and Union, near the church?”

  “Yes, it was—”

  Abby was on her feet and walking down the path before Kira could finish her sentence.

  “Where are you going?” Kira got up and jogged after her. “What is it?”

  “The address is familiar, but I need to check something at home.” Abby had seemed agitated by their entire discussion, but now she had the calm manner of someone who was on the cusp of answers. If they had anything to do with the person who had stood in the room with her and splattered her with Milford’s blood, then Kira had a right to know, too.

  “I’m coming with you,” Kira said. Abby looked about to protest, but Kira wouldn’t be swayed. Abby could be as bossy as she wanted, but Kira was going.

  Abby nodded, as if Kira had spoken her defiance out loud. She handed Kira her keys. “Okay. You can drive.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kira gave Abby her phone while she drove, and Abby skimmed through the long list of addresses Kira’s source had sent her. When she had first started her conservation work in Tacoma, she went to the courthouse on an almost daily basis to research records and zoning maps, and Keith—just out of high school at the time and working as an intern—had helped her untangle the messy county system. She’d shared some of the work she was doing, answering his eager questions and explaining her reasons for wanting to protect the vulnerable wetland areas, and he had eventually become one of her most loyal volunteers. He had helped her streamline the process of filing zoning permits with the county, and his technical knowledge made him a successful grant writer as well. Some of the people who joined forces with her only stayed until their own neighborhood issues were resolved, but some remained involved in a citywide capacity. She appreciated all of them, whether their motive was to keep a fast-food restaurant off the corner lot on their own street or whether they truly believed in the need to save these precious and endangered environments. Keith was one who saw the big picture, and Kira didn’t know how she’d managed before him.

  Abby whistled. “What’s the name of the kid who got you all this information? He seems like a handy person to know.”

  “Hey, keep your paws off him. He’s my…what do you call it?”

  “Your CI? Confidential informant?”

  “Yes, and I found him first. Besides, he’s the type who needs a cause, not just a paycheck or a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  Abby didn’t answer. Kira glanced at her and saw she was no longer scrolling through the list. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to imply that what I do is noble, and your work isn’t.”

  “I know. So, no, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just tired.”

  “Ah. Code for I’m not going to talk about it.” Kira wasn’t sure what had happened to make Abby shut down, but she let it go. Abby had been through a hell of a night, and Kira herself was barely recovered from Saturday. She had slept enough to enable her to get through her daily routines as if nothing was wrong, but she still felt the effects of her time in Milford’s office. The fact was, they were both tired. Kira was prepared to leave it at that, but Abby seemed to want to explain.

  “It’s just…some of my family members have used bribes as a way to get information. I never would, but people hear the name Hargrove and…” She shrugged.

  And they judged Abby by the low standards her relatives had set. Kira had done something similar when they’d first met, but she thought she knew Abby better now. “I can’t imagine you ever crossing a line that way, but I can see why you’d be sensitive about the subject. The get-out-of-jail card thing was just a joke.”

  “I know,” Abby repeated. “I guess that’s why I told you it hurt. Come inside. I need to tell you more about my family.”

  Kira got out of the car and walked up the path to the faded but graceful Victorian. She was interested to see the inside of Abby’s house. Would it be like her office, all black-and-white and pointy? Or would it match the exterior of the house in a shabby-chic style?

  Or would it be nearly empty? Kira stood in the doorway and looked around the grand living room. She could easily see the original features like the intricate crown mo
lding and the dark-grained hardwood floors because the room was completely bare.

  “I don’t spend much time in this room,” Abby said.

  “Obviously. So why bother furnishing it?” Kira said. She followed Abby through the narrow hallway to the eat-in kitchen. At least there was furniture in this room. A card table had been set up near a huge bay window. There was a coffee mug on the table, and a newspaper, but Kira forgot about the monastic feel of the house when she saw the back patio. “Wow, I expected you to have a decent view in this neighborhood, but this is gorgeous.”

  She went through the back door and took a deep breath. She caught a whiff of the industrial Tideflats, and just the merest hint of fishy odor. Wonderful. “I love the smell of the sea,” she said. The mountain was partially covered with a high, thick layer of clouds, but the view was phenomenal. Abby had a set of plastic deck furniture and a fancy grill that looked like it could fit an entire kalua pig. Who cared if she didn’t have anything in the rest of the house. Kira would spend all her time out here if she…

  She couldn’t stop herself in time. As soon as she had pictured herself living here, she had a vision of being in Abby’s bed—did she even have a bed?—with Abby’s hands on her. She turned to find Abby watching her with a curious expression. She must not entertain much, unless she had people over for a barbecue, so maybe she was uncomfortable having someone in her space.

  Kira sighed. She doubted it. She figured plenty of women would be happy to spend time here with Abby, couch or no couch. She followed her back into the house.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Abby went over to the fridge and pulled it open with her good hand.

  “Do you have a couple of rib eyes in there?” Kira asked. “Kidding. Just wishful thinking after seeing your grill. A beer would be good.”

  “I’ll have you over for a steak dinner sometime,” Abby said. She got two beers out and set them on the counter. “I don’t cook much in here, but I can grill the hell out of anything out there.”

  “I’ll bet you can. Here, let me open those for you,” Kira offered quickly. She ignored Abby’s polite mention of an invitation, but she wouldn’t hold her breath waiting for a real one to come. Abby pulled away from her every time she got a step closer. Kira couldn’t fault her for it since she was guilty of doing the same thing. She twisted off the tops of the Alaskan Ambers and handed one to Abby.

  She followed Abby up the wooden staircase. The house would be stunning if Abby only took the time to fill in some cracks and repaint the walls. Maybe sand the floors and replace the worn carpet in the hallway. Add a chair or two and some photos—Kira stopped. No wonder Abby hadn’t done much with the house. The list was daunting, and she wasn’t the one who’d have to do the work.

  Abby opened the door to a room at the top of the steps, and Kira stared inside in amazement.

  “Holy Bat Cave, Batman,” she muttered as she slowly walked around the perimeter of the room and studied the charts and pictures pinned to the walls. Abby had furniture here. A desk, a chair, a large table. Three tall file cabinets. An office-sized copier, a fax machine. “What is this place? Do you control an army of spies from this command center?”

  Abby set her beer on the desk and opened one of the file drawers. “I do a little extracurricular work here,” she said.

  “Hmm. Family history?”

  One of the walls was completely covered with corkboard tiles. There were two names listed, Richard Hargrove and Albert Hargrove, and each one had a string reaching across the wall with different colored pins spaced at intervals. Small pieces of paper with dates written on them were pinned along the timelines. Albert’s line spanned long-past decades, but Richard’s was much shorter and more recent.

  Abby came and stood beside her. “I come from a long line of cops,” she said. “They haven’t been very good people, so I’m trying to make things right.”

  Kira opened and closed her mouth several times. She wanted to respond somehow, but she didn’t know what to say. Abby’s voice was casual, but the set of her jaw and the whiteness of her knuckles where she gripped a file folder were anything but. It clearly hurt her to make that judgment against her relatives.

  “Can you…can you walk me through exactly what you do here?”

  “It’s simple,” Abby said with a shrug. “I go over my grandfather’s old case files whenever I get a chance at work. And Rick’s now, too. If I see something fishy, I look into it more closely here at home. If someone was harmed in some way by one of them, I try to make it right.”

  Kira wasn’t sure what part of this stunned her more. The sheer volume of cases Abby was reviewing—if the pushpins and notecards were any indication—or the way she’d devoted her whole world to this project. Hundreds of cases spanning a cop’s entire career. And now Rick’s, to add fresh pain to Abby’s solitary labor. Kira understood why Abby had been so touchy about her little joke, and why the rest of the house was bare. This room was Abby’s home. She lived here with her guilt. No, not her guilt. Her family’s. “Do you wear a cape and tight underwear while you do it?”

  Abby laughed at her comment. “Yes. I have a big H on the front of my chest, and a little mask so no one recognizes my alter ego.”

  Kira took a drink of her beer. “Abby, this is not normal. Do you get that?”

  “Of course I do. But it’s my life, so it’s my normal. Here’s the file I was looking for. Come over here and read this.”

  She set the folder on a large bare table and opened it. Kira wasn’t ready to return to business as usual, so she stayed where she was.

  “Abby, is my file in there somewhere?”

  Abby had expected the question. She’d never brought anyone here before, had never even hinted about what she did in this place, but she was glad Kira had seen it. Abby could have said no when Kira insisted on accompanying her from Snake Lake. She could have left her downstairs while she came up here alone and got the file. But she wanted Kira to know everything. Why Julie had been given Nirvana, and what Abby had done to make things right for them. Kira deserved to know the truth about their relationship. While Abby was in it, she had to be in it all the way. Like she did with everything else in her life—everything that mattered.

  “Yes. I have a copy of the report Rick wrote that night in your folder. I also have notes I took about you and Julie, as well as the essay she sent. Do you want to see it?”

  Kira shook her head slowly. “No. Julie wanted the essay to be private, and you gave me a hint of what she wrote in it. The rest…well, I’d rather not read it.”

  “The contest was a front for giving her Nirvana, I admit that, but she’d have won hands down even if my decision hadn’t already been made. I read all the essays, and there were some touching ones, but Julie’s was special.”

  Abby didn’t know if she’d have parted with Nirvana in the end if she hadn’t been moved by what Julie had written. She’d felt the threads binding them together even then. She’d needed to do more than her normal fix for Kira, and she’d needed to share her beloved horse with Julie. She didn’t know why they had stood out from the seemingly endless files in these cabinets, but they had.

  “How do you decide what will make things right, in your mind? How do you put a value on the lives that have been ruined?”

  “I don’t have a magic formula,” Abby said. She’d struggled with her inability to truly make amends every day of her professional life. “I do what I can. What feels appropriate for the situation.”

  Kira turned toward her with an angry expression. “Help me understand here,” she said. “You know your grandfather and Rick have done bad things. You have charts listing the dates and times. So why don’t you go to the authorities with this? Make them really pay for what they’ve done instead of making yourself suffer?”

  Abby watched the fury seethe in Kira’s eyes. Was she angry because of her own brush with the Hargrove family, or because of the principle of the matter? Or was she actually concerned with the weight Abby
made herself bear?

  She took her time before answering, wanting Kira to truly understand. “By the time I joined the department, my grandfather had died. Even if I gave my notes to the chief, nothing would change for most of the people who’d been hurt. Don’t you see? Nothing would happen except what I make happen. And Rick? I’m still trying to sort through his cases. I might be wrong about him. And if I’m right, there’s still a chance he can be stopped. He could change.”

  Abby rubbed her temple. She didn’t like to bring Kira’s personal case into this, but she had to make her point. “You know what happened the night you called the police because of Dale. You were there, you have the facts. Can you, right this moment, prove beyond a doubt that my brother’s report was wrong?”

  “I know it was—”

  “Yes, and I know it, too. That’s why I have your file here. But can you prove it?”

  Kira was silent, but she gave a jerky shake of her head.

  “Right. And neither can I. So I do what I can to fix things. But this”—she tapped the folder lying on the table—“this connection to Tad Milford is something I can prove. If Rick killed him, it’ll have to be made public. I promise you, if he had any part in your abduction, if he’s truly crossed the line into corruption, I will take everything about him to IA.”

  “But you don’t want that. You want to protect him.”

  “Not him. My name. It’s different.”

  “I don’t know if it is.”

  They watched each other in silence. Abby pulled the desk chair over to the table and gestured for Kira to sit. “No matter what you think of the way I handle these other cases, this one is something we can solve together. We can find out who killed Milford, and whether you’re involved beyond the kidnapping or not. I’ll do it on my own if I have to, because I’m used to it, but it’d be easier if you help me. You know the work you’ve been doing on his property and you are more familiar with his business than I am. You might notice clues in these files that I wouldn’t. Your safety might be in jeopardy here, so put aside your negative opinion about my life and let’s get to work.”