A Steep Price (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 6)

by Robert Dugoni

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Sure. You know how it is. It’s all procedure now—hoops I got to jump through. I’m sure it will go to a review board and I’ll get cleared. Go to sleep. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Faz was glad the lights were off and Vera couldn’t see his face. He thought he was a good detective, but Vera could read his expressions like a well-read book. He thought again about the evening, and if there could have been any plausible scenario that he had yelled Gun!; if maybe he was the person misremembering what had happened. He was tired, and he’d been under a lot of stress, worried about Vera. It was possible, but . . . No, he couldn’t think of a plausible scenario.

  “Vic? Is anything wrong?” Vera asked.

  He wanted to run his doubts by her. Vera never let him overthink things. But he couldn’t this time. He just couldn’t add to her worries.

  “Nah. It’s all good.”

  “Because you didn’t brush your teeth,” she said. “And you’re sleeping with your socks on.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Friday, July 13, 2018

  By the time Tracy and Kins got back to the parking lot, it was early morning, and their day was just getting started. The first thing to do was the one thing Tracy disliked most about being a homicide detective.

  By law, the King County Medical Examiner had the responsibility of notifying next of kin of a death, but in situations such as Kavita Mukherjee, when Tracy had already spoken to the family, she took the responsibility upon herself. Other detectives had questioned why she felt the need. The job was hard enough. She had no clear answer. Perhaps it was a form of penance for failing to protect her sister the night Sarah had disappeared. Or maybe her reasoning was more practical. Maybe the fact that she’d been on the receiving end of such news and knew its devastating impact, gave her a perspective other officers lacked, one that she could share with the family members.

  Tracy and Kins arrived at the Mukherjee residence at just after six in the morning. She had called from the park to be certain they were home. The father, Pranav, had been preparing to leave for work. Tracy asked him to stay home. He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask if they had found Kavita, or if his daughter was alive. He didn’t want confirmed what he already suspected in that place deep inside, that place into which human beings pushed the kind of horrific news only a homicide detective could deliver.

  When Pranav opened the front door, he and his wife looked upon Tracy as if seeing the angel of death. They tried to read her facial expression, suspecting what she had come to tell them, the news they did not want to hear. As the seconds ticked by, resignation became reality, as it always did, and that reality hit them like a blow to the gut, knocking the breath from their bodies, and bringing a deep and painful grief. Tears trickled from the corners of Pranav’s eyes even before Tracy spoke.

  “We found Kavita,” she said. “I’m sorry. She’s dead.”

  Pranav and Himani grieved alone for a while, then quietly woke their family. They all huddled in their foyer—Himani and Pranav and their two sons, Nikhil and Sam, and Kavita’s grandparents. They wrapped arms around each other, consoling one another as best they could. Tracy and Kins allowed the family time, but they also watched their reactions, keenly aware that a significant percentage of victims are murdered by a family member or by someone who knows them.

  Nikhil appeared the most composed, as if he’d somehow been resigned to his sister’s fate. Sam looked stunned, seemingly not fully comprehending what his father had told him, not at such a tender age. Death was not yet supposed to be a part of his life, the concept still foreign to him. When the reality hit, Sam collapsed onto the bottom step of the staircase, wailing.

  Pranav sobbed, great gasps of pain. Himani’s grief was more subdued. Her shoulders shook, but she did not wail or moan. Subconsciously, Tracy’s right hand migrated to the bump beneath her jacket. She could think of nothing worse than the loss of a child, especially one taken so senselessly, by violence. And in that moment, as the family grieved, she realized what Kins had been trying to tell her in that conference room. Being a parent was not for the faint of spirit. Being a parent meant exposing a part of your heart to incredible joy and happiness, but also to the possibility of unspeakable despair and agony. It frightened Tracy to think that a knock on the door, so early in the morning, could bring news that would forever change a parent’s life.

  CHAPTER 32

  Faz waited until nine o’clock before calling the union representative and requesting to speak to a lawyer, in case he needed one. He then set up an appointment with the shrink who would hopefully clear him to return to work, though he knew nothing was ever that easy. Sandy Clarridge, Seattle’s chief of police, had recently gone to bat for his officers, arguing that investigations of officers be expedited, and that an officer cleared of wrongdoing be allowed to return to his position and his squad.

  Still, the process would take time.

  Faz initially thought administrative leave might be for the best, given Vera’s circumstances. He could provide her with emotional support as they navigated the medical system, but that wasn’t Vera’s way. She told Faz there was enough change in their lives. She didn’t want more. She said the best thing for them both was for Faz to be at work, keeping his mind busy and having a sense of purpose. Staying home, she’d said, would just make him stir-crazy.

  At the moment, however, he didn’t have a choice.

  The knock on his front door surprised him. He hadn’t been expecting visitors. When he pulled open the door, Del stood on the sun-drenched front porch. He wore a suit and tie and was on his way into the office.

  “Hey,” Faz said. “What’s up?”

  Del handed Faz his morning paper, removed his sunglasses, and looked past Faz to the interior of the home. “Vera home?”

  “No. Some girlfriends took her out for the day to try to get her mind on something else.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good moments and bad,” Faz said. “She gets emotional when Antonio calls or if we talk at all about the future. I’m learning to stay in the present and take it one day at a time.”

  Del nodded. “Did she get the surgery set up?”

  “Three weeks from yesterday.”

  “That long?”

  Faz shrugged. “After the mastectomy, her case will go to a tumor board. They’ll decide the best course of treatment, probably chemo is what the doctor told us. But you didn’t come over here to talk to me in person about Vera, did you?”

  Del shook his head and nodded to the newspaper. “Have you seen the morning paper?”

  “I’ve been avoiding it.” Faz stepped back from the door. “Come on in.” Del stepped in, still moving gingerly because of his back, and shut the door. He followed Faz through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen. The smell of banana bread still permeated the room, along with fresh-brewed coffee.

  “The article is on an interior page of the metro section. It mentions the shooting of an unarmed Hispanic man, and there’s an op-ed piece calling it contrary to the Justice Department’s recent pronouncement that we’d made significant progress.”

  “That was to be expected,” Faz said. He held up the coffeepot. “You want a cup? Vera brewed it this morning.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

  Faz got a couple mugs from the cabinet and filled them, handing one to Del. “I was hoping that with Gonzalez and Lopez both being Hispanic, it might at least deter the papers from insinuating the shooting was racially motivated.”

  “It’s never that way, is it?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  The news tended to label all police bullets Caucasian, no matter who did the shooting. Faz asked, “How’s the back?”

  “Yeah, it’s better. I still got to be careful how I move for a while, but the pain isn’t as bad.”

  “You want a piece of banana bread?” Faz asked.

  “I better not. Vera’s banana bread, I’m l
iable to eat the whole loaf.” Del followed Faz’s lead to a chair at the kitchen table. The refrigerator hummed and clicked. Out the back door, the neighbor’s golden retriever barked, and a Frisbee sailed across the neighbor’s yard just above the fence line.

  Del sipped from his mug but Faz could tell he was buying time. His partner looked nervous, the way Faz’s son used to look when he was about to tell Faz he’d done something stupid.

  “What’s going on?” Faz said. “Does your being here have to do with last night?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  Faz shrugged. “Something about last night is bothering me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pinnacle kept asking me questions about whether I was certain Gonzalez had yelled Gun!, like he didn’t believe me. Didn’t believe what I was telling him.” Faz shrugged. “Why would I lie?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “It pissed me off. I thought about it most of the night.”

  Del set his mug on the table. “Billy called me this morning,” he said. “Apparently, your story and Gonzalez’s story don’t match.”

  “I figured as much. What did Billy say?”

  “He said Gonzalez told the FIT investigators she wanted to have a SWAT team serve Lopez—that she was worried he could have a gun and things could go sideways. She said you indicated SWAT wasn’t needed.”

  Faz frowned. “That’s pretty much true. I mean, SWAT wasn’t needed. It was a noncustodial interview. Not that she really pushed for them.”

  “The implication is that maybe it shouldn’t have been noncustodial.”

  Faz shook his head. “Don’t you find it ironic—they’re worried about us using excessive force and now they’re going to question whether we should have descended on Lopez’s apartment with tanks and assault rifles? Talk about overkill.”

  “I agree.”

  “We had a handprint on the hood of a car, Del. We had no credible evidence Lopez was the shooter or that he was armed. Everything was circumstantial. He had a record for buying drugs, not even selling, and he had no convictions for violent crimes.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Pastor Faz.”

  “We low-key it, talk to him, tell him we’re just looking for information about the shooting and whether he’d been in that area and if he saw or heard anything. Maybe catch him in a lie. You and I have done it a million times.”

  “I know, and I agree, but Gonzalez made you sound like a cowboy. She made you sound like you wanted to take Lopez down.”

  “A cowboy? Me? Shit, I can’t even get on a horse.”

  “She said you told her Rodgers was our only open case and you intended to close it.”

  “She said that?”

  Del nodded.

  “Wait a minute. I didn’t say that,” Faz said.

  “Doesn’t sound like something you’d say.”

  “Why would I tell her Rodgers was our only open case?”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “How’d she even know?”

  Del shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Faz sat up, more interested. It was one thing to question his actions. It was another to put words in his mouth. “What else did Billy say she said?”

  “Billy said Gonzalez told the FIT investigator that she was about to knock on the door of the apartment and identify herself as SPD but that you stopped her.”

  “That’s true. I did. I heard someone speaking Spanish and thought it was from inside Lopez’s apartment. Now I don’t think it was. I think the voice was from next door, from the apartment Lopez came from.”

  “There was nobody inside Lopez’s apartment, according to Billy.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I think the noise was from next door. What else did Billy tell you she said?”

  “She said she was focused on the door, and that you were standing to her left and behind her so that you had a view of the hallway.”

  “That’s not right. I was on the other side of the door frame with my back to the other apartment so when Lopez opened the door to his apartment I could see him and see into his apartment, in case anyone was behind him.”

  “Yeah, well, she said she was facing the door and heard you yell Gun! She says that’s why she shot Lopez.”

  “I figured she must have said I yelled Gun!” Faz said.

  Del didn’t respond. He sipped his coffee, but again, he was using it as a cover, to give himself something to do.

  “You think I could have yelled Gun!, Del?”

  “No. I mean . . . You didn’t, right?”

  “What’s bothering you?”

  Del set his mug down. “Look. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately with everything going on with Vera.”

  “You’re wondering about that Force Science class they made us take, if maybe the stress of the situation and the stress from Vera’s diagnosis are making me misremember what happened.”

  “I thought about it,” Del said before quickly adding, “but I didn’t say anything to Billy. You thought about it too?”

  “Of course I thought about it. How could I not?” Faz put down his mug. “Here’s the thing, Del. I had my back to the apartment next door. I know because I was looking out the window behind Gonzalez at the dark clouds rolling in. There’s no way I could have seen Lopez. I also remember Gonzalez’s eyes getting as big as saucers, and her stepping toward me and raising her gun. How could I have seen that if I’d been looking the other way?”

  “You couldn’t.”

  “And, if I had been looking at the apartment when Lopez came out, doesn’t that beg another question?”

  “Why didn’t you shoot?”

  “Exactly.”

  Del nodded but he also diverted his gaze.

  “What?” Faz asked.

  “Witness agrees with her.”

  “What witness? There was no witness. We were the only two people . . . Wait, the woman inside the apartment?”

  Del nodded. “I think so. Billy told me a woman said she heard a man yell Gun! and then a woman asking, ‘Why’d you say Gun? Why’d you say Gun?’”

  Faz sat back from the table and took a deep breath, exhaling a slow stream of air. He thought for a moment. Then he said, “No way, Del. That woman was screaming and crying, and she had a child in her arms. They were both hysterical. No way she could have heard anything or been paying attention to anything but the child.”

  “Maybe not, but Billy says that’s not what she told the FIT investigators. Look, Faz, Billy said that with the Justice Department investigation hanging over the department, this is going to be scrutinized until we’re all sick of it. So I got to ask, is there any chance you could have got it wrong?”

  “What?” Faz said.

  “Like you said, you’ve been under a lot of stress these past couple of days.”

  Faz couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I didn’t say that. You did.”

  “Hey, I’m just asking, Faz. Don’t shoot the messenger. You know your mind has been elsewhere and understandably so.”

  Faz didn’t want to take out his anger on Del. “I didn’t get it wrong, Del. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I didn’t get it wrong. I didn’t yell Gun! I didn’t even see a gun.”

  “You remember Gonzalez talking to you, saying anything?”

  “I don’t know, Del. Shit, I couldn’t hear a damn thing—my ears were ringing so bad from her firing her gun over my shoulder. When I could finally hear again she was asking if I was all right. That’s it. Are you all right?”

  “Did you tell that to Pinnacle?”

  “Yeah. No reason not to—” Faz stopped. The implication set in. “Shit. She’s going to say I didn’t hear the woman and I didn’t hear her asking me why I yelled Gun!”

  Del nodded. “That’s what Billy said too.”

  Faz rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I don’t need this crap right now.”

  “I’m sorry to have to drop it on you,” Del said
. “Maybe the witness also got it wrong, like we learned in that class. Maybe she didn’t hear what she says she heard, but just thought she did.”

  “Or someone suggested what she’d heard,” Faz said. “Gonzalez was the first person to speak to her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know. I was in the hall cuffing Lopez and looking for a gun. When I went in Gonzalez was already talking to her, in Spanish, but I’m pretty sure she was asking the woman the name of the body in the hallway.”

  “Maybe she was, but maybe she asked her what she wanted her to remember too. You know? Did you hear a man yell Gun!?”

  Faz nodded. “If she did, Del, then she isn’t just misremembering what happened. She’s lying, and she’s getting a witness to lie to support her version of what happened.”

  “The question is, Why?” Del said. “Protect her career?”

  “Maybe,” Faz said. “I don’t know, but I’m damn sure going to try to find out.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Pranav broke from the family’s huddle. He removed his eyeglasses and wiped at his red and swollen eyes. He spoke to Tracy in a voice barely above a whisper. “Do you know what happened?”

  “No,” Tracy said. “I’m sorry. Not yet. We’re waiting for experts to complete their reports.” It was, perhaps, the cruelest part of Tracy’s job, her inability to tell the family everything she knew, what their investigation had revealed. She had to wait until she knew for certain what had happened, and even then couldn’t tell them everything, not without first exonerating each of them.

  “Where did you find her?” Himani asked.

  They would know the location soon enough, either from news reporters calling or from neighbors, though not the details. “She was in the state park, just down the street.”

  “Bridle Trails?” Pranav asked, his eyes becoming wide. “She was here, in Bridle Trails?” Tracy could tell that the information, his daughter so close to home, cut like a knife.

  “I take it you know the park well?” Tracy asked, wanting to confirm what Aditi had told them.