by Diane Burke
“Think about it, Sheriff. Rizzo’s been handling the investigation of this case. He hasn’t had any leads for us. Ain’t that right?”
“I don’t believe any of this. Who is this snitch? I want him brought in. I want to interview him myself.”
“No problem. I’ll arrange it. But he’s gonna want immunity for his testimony. He’s pretty nervous about snitching on a cop.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes and her throat threatened to close.
Please, God. Help me. This can’t be happening. Not Sal.
Liz closed her eyes and took several long, deep breaths. She leaned against her Smart car before she collapsed but still fought with everything in her not to let Tom see how devastated she was by his news. When she turned her head and looked at him, she’d have given anything to be able to snatch those stupid mirrored glasses out of his pocket and hide the pain she knew he’d see in her eyes.
“I suppose you’re going to try to tell me that Sal is responsible for the Henderson murders, too?” Her strained voice barely squeezed out the question.
Tom shrugged. “Haven’t figured that one out yet. But we did find a bag of cocaine under the mattress. There’s some kind of drug connection. We just don’t know yet what it is. But there’s something there. Too coincidental, don’t you think? A cop kills a drug dealer…and then that same cop is involved in the investigation of these other two killings that have some connection to drugs. Yet, he hasn’t been able to find any usable evidence in either case. Smells fishy to me. Would have raised your daddy’s hackles, for sure.”
Liz bristled beneath the last remark.
“I want you to leave, Tom. Right this minute. Pick up that snitch and have him waiting for me at the station and don’t you utter one word, not one word, do you hear me, to anyone about this. Especially not a word about this location or I’ll have your badge.”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
Before either of them could move, a sharp, piercing scream filled the air. Both of them looked toward the house. Jeremy stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and his hands slapped against his cheeks, and he screamed again.
Liz shot a look at Tom. “Your uniform. I told you never to wear a uniform around Jeremy.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to get you alone so I could tell you what I found out. I didn’t know you were with the boy.”
The second Jeremy started screaming, Rerun started barking and howling. Charlie and Adam joined the group at the door and both of them were shouting above the din in an attempt to calm Jeremy and silence Rerun.
Liz threw her hands over her ears and screamed at Tom, “Go! Get out of here now. Don’t you open your mouth about any of this. If you do, I promise you’ll be on the unemployment line so fast you won’t ever see that pension you keep talking about.”
“I know you’re not happy about the news, Sheriff, but you don’t have to be mad at me for delivering it.”
“Just go!”
Tom pushed off from the car and hurried to the driver’s side.
Before he could slide inside the vehicle, Liz yelled, “You better have that snitch waiting for me in the interrogation room when I get there. Understand?”
Tom nodded and within seconds all she saw were taillights and dust clouds disappearing in the distance.
Fighting the roiling of her stomach and the taste of bile in her mouth, Liz turned toward the chaos in the house. She sprinted up the porch steps and flung open the door. Charlie had silenced Rerun and had him lying quietly at Jeremy’s feet. This time neither Adam nor Rerun had been able to subdue Jeremy and, to her surprise, the crying child threw himself at her.
She dropped to her knees and embraced the boy. She held him tightly, remembering what Adam had told her about the calming effects of swaddling. “It’s okay, Jeremy. Shh. It’s okay.”
Rerun whined and squirmed a bit. The dog wanted to try to soothe Jeremy as he’d been trained to do but Charlie enforced her “stay” command.
Adam closed the front door and took control of the situation. “I think everyone needs to move into the living room, sit down and regroup. It’s been a highly upsetting few minutes and we need to catch our breath and discuss what happened out there.”
Agreeing with his assessment of the situation, Liz stood up, still clutching Jeremy tightly in her arms. She crossed into the living room and settled into the nearest rocking chair and rocked.
Charlie perched on the arm of the nearest sofa and waited for Liz to explain.
“What’s going on?” Adam shot her a perplexed look. “How did Tom Miller know our location? I thought we agreed that no one would know about this location but the three of us.”
Liz heard the exasperation and tinge of anger in his voice.
“I didn’t tell him.”
“He followed you?” Charlie’s eyes looked like saucers. “But aren’t you his boss? Isn’t it a big no-no to sneak around and follow your boss?” Before Liz could answer, she leaned forward. “You’re going to fire him, right? I never liked that guy, anyway. He’s old as the hills and walks around like a cowboy from a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western. It’s time to put him out to pasture, don’t you think?”
Leave it to Charlie to bring a smile to her face—if only for the briefest moment. Her eyes shot to Adam. “I didn’t tell him our location. He put a tracking device on the bumper of my car.”
“Wow! That’s definitely grounds to kick his butt to the curb.”
“Charlie!” Both of them shouted her name in unison.
She threw her hands up in the air. “Okay, I get it. I’ll leave the two of you to talk and I’ll take the dog out to do his business. I don’t know if the chaos excited his bladder or not but it did a number on mine.” She stood up, signaled Rerun and started walking toward the back door. They could hear her muttering under her breath as she left, “Just when things start to get exciting they always send you and me away, Rerun.”
Adam shook his head.
“There’s only one Charlie.”
“Thank God.”
Both of them laughed.
Liz looked down at the child nestled in her arms. The slow rhythm of the rocker had lulled him to sleep. He looked younger than his five years. She traced a finger down his soft skin and inhaled the lingering scent of baby shampoo on his hair. She’d fallen in love with this child, so much that just the thought of anything happening to him brought her to her knees.
“Here.” Adam lifted the boy from her arms. “Let me lay him down. He’s had a rough morning. I’ll be right back.”
When he was gone, Liz replayed the morning’s events in her mind. Could it be true? Had Sal accidentally killed the drug dealer? She still couldn’t wrap her mind around even the possibility of such an event.
But Tom had a witness.
Insofar as a drug-addicted snitch could be considered a reliable witness.
But if the man had been there and witnessed the fight…
The more she thought about it, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, the more the story seemed possible. Sal was the lead investigator on the drug dealer homicide. He’d been very mysterious about this hunch of his and he had offered her very little information when pressed about it. He hadn’t turned up any viable leads in either the drug dealer or the Henderson homicides. Yet, he was front and center in each investigation, able to manipulate evidence, possibly cover his tracks, so he’d know exactly what they had—and what they didn’t.
Still, this was Sal they were talking about. Her best friend. Her right hand.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Adam stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed, his gaze probing.
“Not this time, Adam. Not now.” She sprang to her feet. “I’ve got to go.”
“Liz, wait. Something’s going on. Something really difficult for you.” He stood in front of her. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener if you want to talk about it.”
She shook her h
ead no.
He reached out and tugged at her hand. When she was standing close enough to see his eyes, he said, “I have faith in you, Lizzie Bradford. You’re one of the smartest, bravest women I’ve ever met. Whatever you’re wrestling with, you’re strong enough to get through it. When you do, just remember I’ll be right here, waiting for you when it’s over.”
She didn’t want him to be kind right now or understanding for fear she’d break down crying and not be able to stop. She offered him a feeble smile, brushed past him and hurried out to her car.
“Liz?”
He had followed her onto the porch.
When she turned, she knew he’d see the tears streaming down her cheeks but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting back to the station and finding out if it was true. “I have to go.”
THIRTEEN
Sal was sprawled in a chair in her office waiting for her when she arrived at the station. She tried not to meet his eyes and circled behind her desk. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“How’d you know I was coming in to the office?”
Sal alerted. Nothing got past him. He sat up straight and stared at her. “What’s the matter with you? Get out of bed and walk into a wall?”
Where were Tom’s mirrored sunglasses when she needed them? She couldn’t look at Sal. She couldn’t let him see the doubt and the suspicion in her eyes.
“I’m not in the mood for jokes. Have Darlene and Paul left yet for the airport to pick up Grimes?”
She could feel his probing gaze.
“No. I saw Paul in the break room just a couple of minutes ago. Darlene was at her desk looking at files.” His words were clipped and she heard the undercurrent of anger lacing them. “Something wrong, boss?”
She straightened her shoulders and glared at him.
“How did you know I was coming in to the station?”
“I was walking past Dispatch when you called it in.” He stood up and returned her stare. “What’s going on?”
“I want you to drive out to the airport and pick up Grimes.”
“But Paul—”
“You do it, Sal. I have another assignment for Paul. Take Darlene with you.”
“I don’t understand. You—”
“What’s there to understand? I just gave you a direct order. Now do it.”
An angry red flush crept up his neck. He looked like he wanted to say something but fought to refrain from doing it. He stared hard at her. “Anything you say, boss.” He spit the words through clenched teeth and sauntered out of the room.
Liz collapsed into her chair.
It was not true. Couldn’t be true.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up again and headed to the interrogation room to speak with Tom’s snitch. It was time to find out.
* * *
Who did she think she was talking to him like that? He didn’t give a rat’s butt if she was his boss or not. Nobody talked to him like that and got away with it. Nobody.
His fingers tapped his gun.
Enough was enough.
He’d decided long ago he was going to kill the boy. If the sheriff had been killed in the car crash, it would have been collateral damage. But not anymore.
She was a target now. One he could hardly wait to bring down.
* * *
Liz didn’t know how long she’d been staring out the window—no more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours, seeing everything, registering nothing. She felt dead inside, as if her heart had stopped beating and she was only a shell of a human being.
She needed to turn in her badge.
She couldn’t trust herself to make good decisions anymore. She had been wrong about both Adam and his father. She had misread signs that might have saved Luke. She had tried so hard to be the “son” her father wanted, even devoted her life to following in his footsteps, made excuses for some of his decisions, overlooked his moments of cruelty. She had been wrong to put him on a pedestal.
She had loved her father…she loved him still…but he had been human with character flaws she had refused to acknowledge.
She had proven herself to be a terrible judge of character.
And now…
How could she have been so wrong about Sal?
She could hear his voice coming down the hall, heard him joking with the dispatcher, teasing Paul as he passed. She swiveled her chair around to greet him.
Sal poked his head into her office and hung on the doorjamb. “Boss, I put Grimes in interrogation room one. You want to do the interview or do you want me to do it?”
“You do it. I’ll observe.”
Sal hesitated, straightened up and stepped into the office. He glanced over his shoulder and started to close the door.
“Don’t. Leave it open.”
He shot her a questioning glance. “I just wanted to speak to you privately for a moment.”
Liz pushed her chair away from her desk and stood up. “It will have to wait. Don’t you have an interview waiting for you?”
He stepped closer.
“You’ve been crying.” It wasn’t a question. “Liz… Let me help.”
“Detective Rizzo, you have an interview to conduct. I suggest you do it.”
He jerked his head back as if she had physically slapped him. She could hardly bear the hurt she saw in his eyes. Giving her a mock salute, he headed out the door without another word.
Liz followed behind, her feet dragging like they were encased in cement. She took her place behind the two-way mirror in the observation room.
Sal sat with his back to the mirror. His body language and the force he used to slap the folder on the table in front of him revealed his seething anger.
She understood. She was angry and hurt, too. Everything that Tom told her, the snitch had verified. The man had been scared out of his mind during the interrogation. It didn’t take a load of brain cells to figure out that snitching on a cop to the sheriff was the last thing he wanted to do. But once the D.A. had agreed to immunity, snitch he did. He gave dates, places, times that Sal supposedly met with the dealer to buy drugs prior to the murder. He gave specifics of the crime that only someone present when the murder occurred could know.
Liz had personally pulled all the Dispatch records and time sheets looking for something, anything, that would prove Sal couldn’t have done these horrible things. If she could place him on a call or in the office or anything…
None of the times the snitch gave her—not one—could she place Sal in a legitimate spot doing police business.
She had to face facts. There were no leads in an investigation Sal was heading. He had no alibi for the time of the murder or for the alleged buy times. There was an eyewitness ready to testify against him.
But was it enough to prove that her most valuable detective—and best friend—was a murderer? Was it enough to arrest him and humiliate him in front of his peers? Put his career in jeopardy and his reputation in question? If he was innocent and she arrested him, even when cleared, suspicion would linger over his head for years. Most people believed the old adage “where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
And if she didn’t?
Convictions had been won with less circumstantial evidence than she had already collected. Could she
really turn a blind eye to what was staring her in the face simply because this time the case hit closer to home?
The one thing she was absolutely sure about was that she couldn’t risk Jeremy’s safety—not even to protect Sal.
For now, she was going to watch this interview. She stared at Joe Grimes through the glass. He was a man in his mid-forties, with a slight touch of gray at his temples, a little thickening through his waist, a man losing hold of youth and primed for a midlife crisis. Could she believe he’d decided to have a fling with a twenty-something teller in his employ? Yes. But was he a cold-blooded killer?
Never before had she hoped so hard that that would prove to be true.
“How was your trip to Zurich, Mr. Grimes?” Sal spoke to the man in a friendly, relaxed manner, as though Grimes were a long-lost friend he was welcoming back from vacation. “Was the trip business or pleasure?”
“Business.”
“Really? That’s funny. I checked with the bank. They told me that you took a couple of personal days. Then I checked with your wife and she told me that you were away on business. So, which was it? Business or pleasure?”
Joe shifted in his chair. Liz could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he weighed his words.
“What’s this all about? Why am I here?”
So, he’d decided to go on the defensive. Good. Sal was a master at this type of chess game.
“Just answer the question, sir.”
Grimes pushed back from the table, propped an ankle on the opposite knee and clasped his hands on the knee. He was trying to appear nonchalant, unconcerned. It wasn’t working.
“It was business…personal business.”
Sal nodded his head, flipped open the manila folder in front of him and took an excessive amount of time to read the contents.
“You can’t just keep me here.” Grimes blustered, dropping both feet to the floor and waving an index finger at Sal. “I know my rights. Tell me right now why you are detaining me.”
Sal closed the folder and went for the jugular. “You’ve been having an affair with Stephanie Murdock for over six months. When were you planning on telling your wife?”
The bluster went out of Joe Grimes as quickly as if someone had popped a balloon, but still he tried to hold on to the lie.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t know about the every-other-Saturday rendezvous at the Marriott in St. Louis? You don’t know about the diamond bracelet and watch placed on your personal charge card?”
Sal stood and picked up the folder.
“Okay, I’ll go next door and have this same conversation with your wife. Maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe the diamonds were a gift for her.”
Sal had his hand on the doorknob before Grimes recovered enough to speak.
“Wait!”