by Chris Taylor
If circumstances were different, he might even ask her out. It had been a long time since he’d felt like pursuing a potential relationship. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever felt as interested as he did with Danielle. But she was a relative of the victims of a terrible double homicide and as such, she was off limits. At least until after the investigation had come to an end. Just another reason why he needed to make an arrest as soon as possible.
“All right.” Her voice was sure and firm.
He blinked back his surprise and did his best to ignore the jolt her words gave him. Anticipation surged through him at the thought of seeing her again.
“Give me fifteen minutes to get to the station,” she added. “Will there be someone around to let me in?”
* * *
Ben stared at Dani and shook his head.
Feeling self-conscious, she averted her gaze. “What?”
“You know what. Did I just hear you say you’re going to the station? At this time of night? Are you mad?”
Irritation stirred inside her, along with the residual anger left over from her phone conversation. She looked back at Ben. “You were the one who told me to call him, to find out what the hell was going on.”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean for you to go charging out in the middle of the night, demanding answers. There’s nothing he can tell you tonight that he can’t tell you in the morning.”
Stubbornness surged through her. She clenched her teeth and glared at her friend. He knew her well enough to know he wasn’t going to change her mind. “You said yourself it wasn’t too late. It’s barely eight-fifteen.”
“I wasn’t talking about making house calls,” Ben replied, his voice dry.
“I’m not making house calls. I’m going to his office.”
“The police station,” Ben said.
Dani shrugged. “I guess. He called it his office.”
“Do you even know how to get there?”
“No, but he works at the State Crime Command in Chatswood. How hard can it be to find? I’m sure I can plug it into a search engine and come up with an address.”
Ben sighed and rubbed a hand through his thick, dark hair, leaving it standing on end. Her tension eased. She moved to sit beside him and put a reassuring hand on his arm.
“I’ll be fine, Ben. I’m going there to get some answers. The detective invited me down. He’s going to show me what progress they’ve made on the investigation.”
He opened his mouth on another protest, but she held up her hand. “I need to see it, Ben,” she said quietly, pleading with him to understand. “For once, I need to go to bed comforted by the fact the investigation into who killed my sister and niece is in good hands.”
“Okay, honey, I understand.” Ben’s voice was gentle.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. He did understand. He understood like no one else could. He knew all about her tawdry past and how Sabrina had saved her from it. Her sister had given Dani back her self-respect.
And now, Sabrina was dead and there was nothing Dani could do about it, except make sure the person responsible was made to pay for their crimes. If that meant marching on down to the police station on a Saturday night, then so be it.
She’d predicted locating the building that housed the State Crime Command would be easy, and it was. Dani parked her Prius on the side of the road opposite and waited for a gap in the traffic to cross. Even at this time of night, there was a reasonable amount of traffic passing by in both directions. She could have walked a little further up and crossed at the lights, but just as the thought formed, a gap opened in the traffic and she hurried across.
In deference to the fact it was a Saturday night and she’d gone over to Ben’s for dinner, she’d traded her usual sensible flats for something slightly more glamorous. Her three-inch heels clattered against the pavement. She looked around her, grateful that the street was well lit. Chatswood was one of the nicer parts of Sydney, but she wasn’t a fool. Nowhere was completely safe for a woman to be walking on her own at that time of night, even a woman headed toward a police station.
The automatic double glass sliding doors remained closed upon Dani’s approach. Spying an intercom off to one side, she pressed the button and waited. Almost immediately, it crackled to life.
“Can I help you?”
The familiar voice, rich and well-modulated, came through the speaker. She cleared her throat of a sudden rush of nerves.
“Yes, it’s Danielle Porter. We spoke on the phone.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
The intercom crackled again and went silent. Less than thirty seconds later, the glass doors of the State Crime Command headquarters swished open and Detective Jett Craigdon stood before her, looking every bit as tall and good looking as he had the first time they’d met.
He was dressed in another dark-colored suit, though this time, his tie was loosened and the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone. He looked mussed just enough to be sexy and her heart skipped a beat.
“Danielle, it’s good to see you again. Thank you for stopping by.” His voice was dry as sandpaper and she immediately went on the defensive.
“You invited me, remember?” she snapped.
His expression didn’t alter. His gaze remained steady on her. “You’re right. I did. I guess you’d better come in.”
And with that, he indicated that she precede him. The glass doors slid open at her approach and he paused to relock them as he passed through. Inside, the only illumination came from the occasional security light.
“Are you working solo?” she asked, looking around the reception area which was dim and deserted.
“Yes. I’ve been putting in extra hours on your family’s murder case. As you said, it’s been three weeks.” His pointed stare seemed to last a lifetime, but finally he turned away. “The rest of the crew left hours ago,” he tossed over his shoulder as he made his way across the darkened foyer. “Follow me. I’m upstairs.”
In silence, they climbed the stairs to the next floor and entered an open concept office space with numerous workstations divided by partitions spread across the floor. Jett led her to a desk that was cluttered with loose papers, photographs and files. He indicated a chair and without waiting for her to be seated, he sat in its twin across from her and crossed his arms over his chest.
“All right, you wanted an update. Here’s what I have so far.” He pointed toward the spread of files and other documents on his desk and then reached for a sheaf of papers.
“Here’s the interview we conducted with Kevin Thompson, the maintenance man. He was seen outside the door to your sister’s condominium in the hour prior to her death.”
Dani was shaking her head even before he’d finished. “I know Kevin. There’s no way he did this.”
Jett eyed her steadily. “After speaking with him, I tend to agree with you. Nevertheless, we collected the clothes he was wearing on the day in question and sent them to the lab.”
“What are you testing for?” Dani asked.
“Blood. Whoever murdered your niece and your sister didn’t do it without getting soaked in the process. And not only blood, but a particular kind of blood spatter that only being in close proximity to a stabbing such as this would achieve.”
As he spoke, Dani’s stomach churned. She didn’t want to think about the suffering her family members had endured, but at times like this it was so difficult to ignore. She’d known that her demand to be brought up to date on the investigation would more than likely entail listening to information she didn’t want to hear, but there was nothing else for it.
She needed to know what was happening. She wasn’t exaggerating when she’d told Ben she hadn’t slept properly since the day of the murders and wouldn’t until the perpetrator had been caught. With an effort, she forced herself to remain still and kept her gaze steady on the detective.
He picked up another sheaf of papers and tossed them back on the desk. “And here is the intervi
ew I conducted with Roger Barber.”
Dani frowned. “Who’s Roger Barber?”
Jett’s mouth compressed into a grim line. “Roger Barber is a builder’s laborer most of the time. At least, that’s the way he earns a living. But in his spare time, he’s the self-appointed leader of a group of anti-Islamic supporters and goes out of his way to protest all things Islam that cross his path. His latest vendetta is against your brother-in-law. I’m afraid for the past six weeks, he’s had Franklin firmly in his sights. His fingerprints and palm print were found on the wall outside the door to your sister’s condominium.”
Dani’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “Oh, my God! He was there? Why?” The very thought horrified her.
“He told us he wanted to scare your sister. It was meant to be a warning to Franklin.”
Dani shook her head, speechless. She’d had no idea someone had taken such a personal campaign against Sabrina’s husband. She struggled to understand it. “You mean, this Barber has a vendetta against Franklin because he’s representing that teenager—the one who was planning a terrorist attack?”
Jett nodded.
“Does Franklin know about this Barber guy?”
“I’m not sure. He was certainly aware of the protestors who’ve targeted his law firm and the courthouse ever since he took on the Al-Jabiri case. In fact, he’d received a threatening letter at his office only a few days before the murders. Though the letter was anonymous, it appears likely it originated from Barber, or one of his supporters.”
Another wave of shock ricocheted through Dani. “Franklin received a death threat only days before my sister and niece were murdered? Did he tell anyone? Call the police?”
“I’m not sure if he told anyone. He certainly didn’t call the police. He said he put it in his briefcase and forgot about it until a couple of weeks ago.”
Dani stared at the detective in disbelief. “How does anyone forget about something like that?”
Jett shrugged nonchalantly. “Apparently it’s not the first time he’s received such a letter. He didn’t put much stock in it.”
“But with everything going on—the protestors, the anger, the media hype… He must have had some concerns the threat could be legitimate.”
“I can’t say, Ms Porter. You’ll have to take that up with your brother-in-law. The truth is, I don’t think Roger Barber’s responsible.”
She blinked in surprise. “You said his fingerprints were found outside the condominium.”
“Yes. I also told you Kevin Thompson was seen outside the door and yet, neither of us think he’s the man we’re looking for, either.”
Dani held his gaze. “What makes you think it wasn’t Barber?”
“I interviewed him. Though he initially denied any involvement, we were able to prove through security camera footage that he was there. Along with the fingerprints, we were able to bring a fair degree of pressure on the man. We didn’t get a confession, but my gut tells me we got the truth.”
“Which was?” Dani asked quietly.
“He said Sabrina was already dead when he entered the condo. He found her in the bath. When we questioned him about your niece, he claimed not to know anything about the child. I believe him.”
She opened her mouth to protest. There were so many other possibilities. The man could be lying. He could—
The detective held up his hand as if to ward off her thoughts. “I get it. My gut could be way off. It’s why we asked for the clothing he wore on the day of the murders. It’s also at the lab, along with your brother-in-law’s.”
Dani closed her mouth and nodded. She’d been there when Franklin had handed over his clothes.
“Do you have any results?”
“No, but even without the lab results, I have renewed interest in your brother-in-law.”
Dani started in surprise. “You mean, as a suspect? No, I refuse to believe Franklin’s capable of such a thing. He loved Sabrina and Marnie. He couldn’t possibly be the killer.”
“There’s a discrepancy in his story.”
Dani stared at the man who sat across from her. Her heart skipped a beat and then took off at a gallop. “What are you talking about?”
“When we spoke to him at the crime scene, he told us he’d arrived home about one-thirty. The security camera footage shows him arriving at the building at twelve forty-three.”
Dani frowned and did the math. A forty-seven minute discrepancy. It was a fair amount of time. Franklin had gone home for lunch. She would have thought he’d have been more aware of the time. Still, she refused to believe he had anything to do with the death of his wife and daughter.
“It doesn’t prove—”
“No, it doesn’t,” the detective interrupted. “That’s why I asked him about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me he’d received a phone call on his way inside the building. He said he remained in the foyer, talking to his mother, for more than forty minutes—which would put him upstairs around one-thirty. Of course, his phone records don’t record incoming calls, only the calls he makes. We’ll check the phone records of his mother to determine if he’s telling the truth.”
Dani’s mind snagged on Jett’s words. She frowned in bewilderment. “Did… Did you say Franklin was talking to his mother?”
“Yes. That’s what he said.”
“No, you must be mistaken.”
Jett lifted a single dark eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
Dani shook her head vehemently, needing to make the detective see. “No, I’m telling you. You must have misunderstood. Franklin has no mother. She died before he and Sabrina met.”
* * *
Jett stared at the woman before him. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath came fast.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“Franklin’s an orphan. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was twenty. Like I said, you must have misheard.”
Jett’s eyes narrowed and his pulse picked up its pace. There was no way he’d misheard. He’d even left a message for Franklin only a few days earlier requesting further details about his mother so that Jett could track down her phone records.
He leaned forward, holding his gaze steady on Danielle’s. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure. I’ve known Franklin for years. He and Sabrina started dating when she was only eighteen.”
Jett sat back, his mind reeling. Why would Franklin tell him he’d talked to his mother when it was obvious he hadn’t? Surely he would have realized, sooner or later, Jett would discover his deceit? And there was a gap of more than forty-five minutes. That kind of anomaly would never be overlooked. Franklin must have known the police would check his story.
Jett stared at the papers scattered on the desk in front of him, trying to get his head around it. If Franklin were responsible for the death of his wife and child, why wouldn’t he have come up with an airtight alibi? It didn’t make sense. Unless Danielle Porter was the one who wasn’t telling the truth.
He lifted his gaze and stared hard at Sabrina’s sister, dread forming a cold, hard lump in his gut. “Tell me again where you were the day your sister was murdered.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Franklin stared at the happy images that filled his computer screen. Sabrina laughing at the camera, smiling, clowning around. Earlier pictures, of baby Marnie, all wrinkled and red and screaming as she greeted the world. He remembered her birth like it was yesterday. And there was their wedding, with Sabrina beautiful and glowing in a sparkling white dress. It was the happiest day of his life.
Tears burned behind his eyes and leaked down his cheeks. They were gone… His angels, dead and buried, now watching over him from above. Never again would he hear their laughter or see the love and happiness in their eyes. Never again would he hold his wife close or make silly faces at his daughter. In a few fatal moments, his perfect life was over and there was no way to get it back. The very thought brought forth another ro
und of tears.
Giving in to the overwhelming sadness, he hunched forward, holding his head in his hands. The tears came faster, pouring out. Sobs wracked his body. He gulped and gasped and howled out his pain and then cursed out his grief and anger.
How had it happened? Why did it happen? He didn’t know and the knowledge only exacerbated his suffering. What was worse, he wasn’t the only one without answers.
The police investigation was going nowhere. It was obvious they were clueless. They were chasing their tails, going after this one and that one. First it was the maintenance man, then Roger Barber. Even he was in their sights. The last message from the detective was a request for further information about Franklin’s mother. His mother! What a joke.
* * *
Jett scanned his emails with eyes that were gritty and tired. It was barely eight in the morning, but he was already weighed down with frustration and fatigue. He’d worked late, for a few hours after Danielle left and when he finally headed for home, his mind had given him no rest.
Upon Danielle’s abrupt departure the night before, he’d gone online to research Franklin’s parents. Sure enough, they’d died in a car crash in 2008, just as Danielle had said. The discovery that Franklin had lied about his phone call filled Jett with disquiet. He had no direct evidence linking Sabrina’s husband to the crimes, but his gut still insisted the man should remain on the suspect list. There were anomalies in his story and there was something about him that didn’t sit right.
His thoughts drifted to Franklin’s beautiful sister-in-law and he wondered again if it were possible she’d been involved in the brutal crimes. Last night, after refusing to answer his question, she’d stormed out. At the time he’d wondered if she lied about Franklin’s mother to shift the blame from herself, but her story had been corroborated again by several newspaper reports. Indeed, Franklin’s parents were dead.
Jett rubbed a hand across his eyes and blew out his breath on a heavy sigh. It was time to pay Franklin Cook another visit.