“I thought your job was to prove my innocence?”
Roth smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong. In the eyes of the law, you are innocent until proven guilty. And if the case goes to trial, we’re not interested if the jury thinks you are innocent. We only care that they find you not guilty.”
FIFTY-SIX
Callaway was awake even before the sun was up. He was not sure why, but he had a fitful night. He was a sound sleeper. No matter what was going on around him, he would be passed out like a drunken sailor.
There was something bothering him, but he could not put his finger on what it was.
He tried to go over the events of the past couple of days, but there was nothing that required his attention. Maybe he had neglected to do something. He could not think of anything. He completed the task he had been hired to do by Paul Gardener. He helped Mike Grabonsky out of a bad situation. He was able to make extra cash without Mason and Baxter coming after him. He provided Patti with much needed funds. He even spent time with Nina. All in all, he had a positive, productive past few days. These kinds of days did not come very often, but when they did, he tried to take full advantage of them.
Most of his days were spent waiting for a client to appear with a job that would cover his monthly expenses. They often did not, but that was the nature of the job. In times of great stress, when bills were piling up and he had gone without a client for months, he would resort to finding work outside his profession.
The worst was wearing a giant mattress costume and waving at cars that drove by. The store that hired him was having a mattress sale, and they need a gimmick to attract customers. He was on his last penny and desperate.
He shivered at the thought of doing something like that again. It was embarrassing on all levels. He had gone from being a deputy sheriff to being laughed and honked at by drivers. At first, he did not understand the reason for their derision until he spotted a yellow stain on the back of the costume. It looked like someone had peed on it. Callaway had a suspicion it was the store owner’s Rottweiler who had done the deed.
He hoped he would not have to do something like that ever again. He still had some money left over from Mike’s job. Plus, the five hundred Paul had given him would keep him on his feet for some time.
However, if the client whose beach house he was staying at decided to return unexpectedly, he would have to find other accommodations fast.
What he needed was a permanent solution to his financial problems, not to be reliant on the kindness of his clients.
When he could not go back to sleep, he got up and made himself coffee. With a hot cup in his hand, he strolled to the water. The weather was cool and a bit chilly this early in the morning. He shivered and returned to the beach house, where he found a spot on the deck where the sun was beating down strong.
He took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes.
He would go and sit in his office in case a client showed up. True, he had his telephone number on the front door, but sometimes, people were hesitant to speak on the phone. When they arrived at his doorstep, they were desperate, or in some cases, paranoid. They worried their telephone was bugged and that their spouse might be listening in on them. They wanted to speak in person. And if he was not there, they would leave.
Once I’m finished with this cup, he thought, I’ll head straight there.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Holt and Fisher were at a diner across from the strip mall. Holt stuffed eggs, hash browns, and toast down his gullet so fast, his cheeks looked like they were blowing air.
“You’re disgusting, you know that?” Fisher said. “I can’t believe you are married.”
“Neither can I, but I’ve been up all night, and I’m starving.” He paused and said, “Why aren’t you eating?”
“Just by watching you, I’ve lost my appetite.”
“You shouldn’t have too much coffee on an empty stomach,” he said.
She stared down at her cup. It was her fourth since she was awoken by a report of a dead body. She needed the caffeine to keep functioning, or else she would crash. There was also the half-digested bagel the garbage truck driver had thrown up. She could not get the sight out of her head.
Fisher took a sip.
The medical examiner had taken Pedro’s body to the morgue. She would conduct an autopsy and let them know what she found. Fisher doubted the autopsy would contradict what they already knew.
The crime scene unit had combed through the hopper, but found no murder weapon. She did not expect they would, unless the killer figured the garbage truck would end up crushing the body and the gun with it.
Whoever was behind this was fully aware of their actions. They chose a spot where there would be no CCTV cameras. The alley that lead from the front of the strip mall to the back was off to one side, away from the prying eyes of the tenants’ security.
Holt and Fisher had provided a brief statement to the press. They did not take any questions: one, because they were tired from an all-nighter, and two, they found out the press had gotten a whiff of their theory.
Fisher said, “You don’t seriously believe Gardener could have killed Kyla and Pedro on the same night. It’s just not possible.”
“Didn’t your friend Callaway have a case in Fairview where the murder victim was seen entering a hotel but was never seen leaving, even though her body was later discovered under a bridge?”
“I asked him about it, and even he agreed that was a bizarre one.”
“It seemed impossible, but it happened.”
Fisher said, “Okay, sure, but what you are essentially saying is that Gardener knew his wife was going to leave the house that night. He also knew exactly how long she would be gone and that the cameras would be off, which would allow him enough time to kill his daughter and her lover, and also dump the lover’s body far away from the house.”
Holt swallowed slowly, but he said nothing.
“There is also something else you forgot,” she said.
“And what’s that?”
“How did he pull this off while intoxicated? Someone would have reported a drunk on the road in the middle of the night, would they not?”
Holt blinked. “Are you sure you’re not working for the defense? That’s exactly what you sound like right now.”
“I sound like someone who’s not trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.”
“I never said my theory was without errors. I’m only going based on the facts. Gardener had a fight with his daughter on the day she was murdered. The text messages prove that. She had called Pedro that same day, and both she and Pedro were murdered on the same night. The times of death support this. You don’t have to be Einstein to put two and two together.”
“I still think we are pinning all our theories on one person.”
“So you think there are two killers out there?” Holt asked.
Fisher was about to say something in reply, but then she thought better of it.
Holt went back to finishing his breakfast, and she went back to emptying her cup.
A man approached them. He was wearing a stained apron. “Are you the detectives investigating what happened across the road?” he asked.
“We are,” Holt replied.
“My name is Josh. I’m the diner’s cook,” he said.
“Okay. What can we do for you?” Holt said.
“I’m not sure if this is important, but I was at the diner a couple of nights ago.”
Holt dropped his fork and said, “Go on.”
“The kitchen stove had stopped working, and I figured I could try to fix it. It took longer than I expected, and by the time I left, it was really late at night. I remember when I was locking up, I saw a car pull out from the back of the strip mall. The only reason it caught my attention was the way the car sped away like it was in a hurry or something. I could hear the squealing of tires.”
“What did it look like?” Holt asked.
“It was a black sedan.”
“Did you get the license plate number?”
He shook his head. “It took off fast, and I was too tired to pay much attention to it.”
Holt turned to Fisher. “What car does Gardener drive?”
She knew where he was going with this. “A black Audi,” she replied.
Holt smiled and turned to Josh. “Thanks for your help. By the way, the food was excellent.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
Before heading to his office, Callaway decided to check his emails in case a potential client had contacted him. This way, he could go straight to the client instead of making a stop at the office and waste time and gas.
He turned on his laptop and quickly browsed through the unread messages. Most were spam and went straight to the junk folder. Some were downright bizarre and got deleted. One or two held potential. He jotted the information down. He checked his watch. It was still a bit early. He would contact them later in the morning.
He then checked the news online. The breaking news revolved around a body being discovered in a dumpster behind a strip mall. The body was identified as belonging to a Pedro Catano. The name did not mean anything to Callaway. He was about to move on to the next headline when he sat up straight. The reporter stated that Catano and Kyla Gardener knew each other and that their deaths may be linked. The reporter did not mention any names, but Callaway had a feeling she might be referring to Paul.
Callaway got up and moved to the bedroom. Right above the bed was an air vent. He pulled out the metal cover and shoved his hand inside. He pulled out a small box. He used to keep the box in his office, but when he fell behind on his rent, he feared his landlady would change the lock on the front door. He started carrying the box with him wherever he went.
The box contained DVDs of all the cases he had worked on.
He always told his clients he never kept any relevant information on him. The hard drive on his laptop was empty. Anyone who accessed it without his permission would find nothing. He did not want to be held responsible in case anything happened to him or the client’s information. He made sure to burn a copy for safekeeping, however. It was more of an insurance policy than anything else.
He once gave photos to a client that showed an affair his wife was having. The client wanted him to destroy all the copies that he had. Callaway agreed, but something did not feel right. It turned out the client was planning to murder his wife and blame it on Callaway, as he was seen following her around the previous week. Callaway alerted the authorities before the client was able to take any action. The photos he took proved he had been hired by the client for a surveillance job and nothing else.
This was why Callaway had gone straight to Paul after he found out Paul was a murder suspect. Callaway was at the scene on the night of the crime. He did not want Holt or someone else from the Milton PD. knocking on his door. He wanted to be proactive rather than reactive. This way, they could not point any fingers in his direction.
Even though the authorities could compel him to hand over a client’s information, and some did take him to court, the judge always sided with him. The judge wanted the detectives to build their own case and not rely on information from a third party. The underlying reason was that the information provided by the private investigator may not be complete, and the detectives should not make assumptions based on a few photos taken at different times.
When it came to a serious offense such as murder, Callaway took no chances. Judge or no judge, he would make sure nothing ever led back to him.
Callaway searched through the box and pulled out a DVD with the name Paul G written across it in black marker.
FIFTY-NINE
On the night I was at the Gardener residence, did I see something that could be crucial now? Callaway thought. This was something he had asked himself the moment he found out Paul had been charged with murdering his daughter. Callaway was not convinced Paul was guilty, but he was not convinced of his innocence either. The evidence against him was stacking up fast. Callaway strongly believed the link between Pedro and Kyla could have only come from Holt. He wanted an airtight case, something the prosecutor could use to get a verdict in the state’s favor.
Anytime a jury was faced with doubt as to the guilt of the accused, they always ruled against the prosecution. They would rather let a killer go free than let an innocent person rot in prison.
Callaway had seen all types of people in his profession. From liars to cheaters to sadists, and Paul did not come across as any of them. He could turn out to be a manipulative sociopath, but Callaway had a feeling he was not.
At least, he hoped not.
In order to satisfy his own intuition, he wanted to do his due diligence and make sure he had not missed anything.
If Paul was guilty, he would pay for his crime. The detectives and the DA’s office would make sure of that. But if he was innocent, Callaway wanted to clear his conscience and say that he did everything he could to help him.
He stuck the DVD in the laptop and pulled up the photos from that night. The first image was the front of the Gardener residence. Callaway was parked across the street, so he had a clear view. There were no cars parked in the driveway. The lights in the entire house were off.
He moved to the second photo. It showed a Lexus parked on the driveway, and Sharon was removing grocery bags from the trunk. The third photo showed Paul getting out of his Audi with a briefcase in his hand. The fourth photo was of the house again. This time, the lights were on, but only on the main floor. The second floor was dark. Kyla’s bedroom was on the second floor. He was not sure if it faced the front of the house or the back. He could not be sure if she had gone to sleep or not.
The next photo showed Sharon leaving the house in the middle of the night. Callaway was up all night. He had dozed off at one point, but the headlights from Sharon’s car had awoken him. He was lucky to snap a photo of her driving away before he tailed her.
He clicked on another photo. It showed her parking behind an apartment building. She then got out and disappeared inside the building. A couple of hours later, he snapped her leaving the building with a man. The man escorted her to her car, where they kissed before she drove away. The man left the parking lot a moment later. Callaway snapped a picture of the man’s license plate in case Paul wanted to know who he was. Callaway later found out the man was Sharon’s yoga instructor, Kenny Goldman.
Callaway had then driven to the beach house, only to find out the next morning that something terrible had happened at the Gardener residence.
SIXTY
Fisher tossed and turned on the sofa. She was in the breakroom of the Milton PD. After an all-nighter spent gathering evidence from the scene of Pedro’s murder, she decided to close her eyes. She did not want to drive all the way home. She figured she could get some sleep here, although she could have used a shower. Going through the hopper had left a strong odor on her. But she was used to foul smells.
As a law enforcement officer, she was often confronted with all kinds of situations. Homeless people who had not bathed in weeks who needed to be escorted out of a building. Finding an unconscious man in his apartment who had soiled himself after consuming too much alcohol. Examining a dead body that had been discovered after several days. For her, the latter was the worst of all.
A dead person’s organs stopped working, and the body began to release all forms of liquids. And if decomposition took over, the smell was downright unbearable. To make matters worse, the smell of death lingered with you for a very long time.
Fisher changed position on the sofa in order to get more comfortable. It was a futile attempt. The sofa was over ten years old. The coils had begun to poke out of the fabric, and the sofa had a stale odor.
Holt would not be caught dead sleeping on a sofa such as this one. He much preferred his own bed. Fortunately for him, he lived only twenty minutes away from the police department. He easily popped in and out whenever he wanted. Also, he needed to see Nancy.
Wheneve
r Fisher would fall asleep, something would stir her up. After a few tries, she finally got up. She checked the time. She had been on the sofa for a couple of hours. Even though her sleep was interrupted, it was enough to get her through the day. She could always go home and catch up later.
She headed to the ladies’ bathroom. She splashed cold water over her face. Whatever lethargy she was feeling was suddenly washed away. After freshening up, she moved to the kitchen. Someone had left the coffee to brew. The aroma was inviting as she waited for the coffee pot to fill. She poured herself a hot steaming cup and then walked to her desk in the corner.
She was surprised to see Holt seated at his desk. “I thought you’d be in your bed snoozing away.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What about you?”
“I couldn’t sleep either.” She took a sip from her cup. She waited until the caffeine coursed through her body before she said, “What’re you looking at?”
Holt was staring at a stack of paper. It was stapled together at the top corner. He had a tiny smile on his lips.
“What’s so funny now?” she asked. “You found actual evidence that Pedro Catano was having an affair with Kyla Gardener?”
“Even better.”
She stared at him.
“The blood found on Paul Gardener’s shirt matched the victim’s.”
“And you were surprised by that?” she said. “I could’ve told you that just by looking at it.”
“No, that’s not what I was surprised by. It was something else.”
“What?”
“When we arrested Gardener, we took a swab of his saliva. Well, the DNA test came back.”
“Okay.”
“Paul Gardener is not Kyla Gardener’s biological father.”
Fisher blinked. “Excuse me?”
“She’s not his daughter.”
“Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
“And it gets better.”
“How?”
The Dead Daughter Page 15