“Do you remember anything unusual about Sunday’s service? Anyone new that attended, perhaps?”
She shook her head no. “Nothing comes to mind. I wish something did.” She paused a moment, reviewing the previous Sunday morning in her head. “We always have a little snack and coffee after the service.”
“Yes, that’s what I have been told.”
“I thought maybe I had eaten some bad food when I first felt sick.”
“Food poisoning was the first thought in most people’s minds,” Lieutenant Ross shared. “Anyone acting strange?”
“No, I can’t say that was the case.” Carla paused as she suddenly recalled something. “You know, no one drives a BMW at the church. There was one in the parking lot I noticed when I parked and walked to the church from the parking lot.”
Ross scribbled that down in his notebook. “Did you see the driver? Remember the color or anything about the car?”
“It was parked. I never saw who was driving it. It was a four door sedan; I remember that, because my nephew has one. And I think it was a dark blue or grey color.”
Lieutenant Ross stood. “I appreciate your time, Ms. Brody. I hope you’ll be home and feeling better soon.”
“And I hope you catch the bastard that did this to all of us.”
He interviewed the other two, Frank Turner and Bill Friar. Both relayed similar stories to the lieutenant; nobody noticed anything unusual. Like Carla Brody, Frank had seen the BMW in the parking lot---“nobody going to our church could afford it” he had told Ross, but he hadn’t seen the driver. Lieutenant Ross already knew that Jason Howard drove a midnight blue, four door BMW.
By the afternoon, the autopsy had been completed on John Morton. The cause of death was listed as multi-organ failure, caused by arsenic poisoning. The arsenic poisoning officially became a criminal investigation. Lieutenant Ross thought he had a good suspect in mind as to who had added the extra deadly ingredient to the coffee.
VI.
Grimes had to run, but caught up to Jason, his partner, in the parking garage. “Hey! Didn’t you hear me yelling at you?” Grimes questioned as he was bent over, trying to catch his breath.
“I’m in my own world, sorry.” Jason had his car door open but didn’t get in.
“What the hell have you done?” Grimes accused, taking in the indifference on Jason’s face. His partner looked tired and worn. Usually clean shaven and impeccably dressed, Jason’s shirt was rumbled and he sported stubble on his jaw from a few days’ worth of growth. “You’ve pissed somebody off royally.”
“You were there. You saw what I did to the perp. I just met with internal affairs.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s how I knew to find you here because you’re ignoring your cell and not checking messages, apparently.” Grimes finally stood, his breathing now unlabored and even. “There’s a search warrant being executed on your house right now.”
“What?!” Jason didn’t understand what a search of his home would have to do with roughing up an alleged murderer. “How do you know?”
“People talk, gossip at the court house. What the fuck, man? What is going on?”
“I intend to find out.” Jason climbed into his car and started towards home.
It took almost twenty minutes to make it through the Boston traffic. Driving up to his brown stone, Jason could see squad and unmarked cars littering the side of the street. He parked and quickly ran up the stairs, into the foyer and was greeted by a detective he didn’t know. “We have a warrant to search your place, Detective Howard.” Jason was handed a copy of the warrant, anger blazing in his blue eyes.
“What the hell is this for?” he demanded.
“Please, just stay out of our way and this will go easier.”
Jason glared at him and walked into the study. The room had already been searched; desk drawers were open, books on the bookcases moved and left askew, a framed photo of him and Mia had been dropped and lay on the wood floor. “Assholes,” Jason muttered as he picked up the picture and roughly set it on the desk. He glanced down at the search warrant and quickly read. He was looking for the explanation of what the search was hoping to yield. He was more than shocked when one of the items listed was ‘arsenic’. Without another thought, he yanked his cell out of his pocket and dialed Saunders.
“I can’t talk to you, Jason. You’re being looked at by IA---we can’t discuss anything without your rep present---“
“Stop the bullshit,” Jason demanded. “There’s a swarm of cops searching my house. Who the hell signed off on this warrant? What the hell is going on?”
Saunders sighed. Jason had always been an excellent cop and detective, never leaving any lead or detail left uninvestigated. He made Saunders’ life easy in comparison to some of the other homicide detectives, with big egos and smaller brains. But Saunders knew that lately, Jason’s personal life had been less than perfect. He hoped those events hadn’t led Jason to do something very stupid. “I can’t talk about this with you, Howard.” His voice was harsh. “Do yourself a favor and get a lawyer.” With that, Saunders hung up.
“Fuck!” Jason threw his cell across the room, the display screen cracking.
It was another hour before the detective let Jason know the search had concluded. Jason had collapsed onto the leather couch in the office, willing the invasion into his home and privacy to be over. “Am I under arrest?” Jason sneered, not bothering to get up.
“Don’t leave town,” was the reply. Jason heard the detective walk through the foyer and out the front door.
Jason made his way upstairs to survey the damage that had been done during the search. He had participated in enough searches to know cops got messy and never put anything back. Through-out the house, items were out of place. In the bathrooms and kitchen, items had been removed from cupboards and out of drawers. They now sat out and Jason would eventually have to put them away. At the moment, he was teetering between exhaustion and anger.
He changed, getting out of the suit, favoring jeans and sweater. Although he had been told to stay in Boston, Jason grabbed his car keys and headed out the door. He was going back to Maine. He had left his overnight bag at Mia’s cottage, which was exactly where he was headed.
Jason stopped along the way a few times. He replaced his battered phone and grabbed coffee, desperate for the caffeine to help keep his eyes open. The emotional toll of the past few months were starting to hit him hard.
***
It was dusk when Lieutenant Ross retuned to Mia’s cottage, accompanied by several other law enforcement officers and a search warrant. “Dr. Hitchcock, I am sorry for the intrusion, but we need to search the premises.” He handed her a copy of the search warrant, feeling a bit sorry for her. The only reason her cottage was being searched was because Jason had been there. He chose not to tell her that.
“Is this really necessary?” she demanded. “You said I wasn’t being accused of anything.”
Lt. Ross ignored the statement. “Did Detective Howard leave anything here? I understand he returned to Boston yesterday.”
Mia pointed towards the bedroom. She couldn’t believe Jason was being considered a suspect for poisoning. After all, he was a cop! “He has an overnight bag in the closet, some clothes in a few drawers.”
One of the officers headed into the bedroom and started looking through the drawers of the bureau. Another opened the closet was started to rifle through the hanging clothes and miscellaneous contents. Mia felt violated, watching her things being pawed through by strangers.
“Has Detective Howard done or said anything strange to you lately? Been particularly angry that you left Boston?” Lt. Ross asked Mia.
She hugged her arms around her middle feeling suddenly chilled. “I’m not telling you anything else without a lawyer.” Her dark eyes blazed at him. Without another work, the lieutenant joined the other officers in examining the contents of the cottage. Where the hell was Jason? She desperately needed to talk to him and have him explai
n what was going on.
He dialed Mia when he was on the outskirts of town. Mia had grabbed her phone shortly after the police had invaded her home and slowly made her way down to the harbor. She had been staring out at the cold whitecaps that lapped onto the shoreline when Jason called.
“There’s police at the cottage,” she told Jason, “searching through everything.” He could hear the panic in Mia’s voice. “Jason, what’s happening? They think you’re somehow involved in those awful poisonings. Tell me you had nothing to do with it. Please.”
Shit! Why was Mia being dragged into this?! Jason wondered how many innocent people he had subjected to such violation. “I’m almost there, Mia. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get there.” He paused and quickly added, “I love you.”
As he drove up the street, nearing the cottage, Jason swore under his breath as he the police cruisers out in front. It was bad enough, for whatever reason, he was being harassed but they didn’t need to drag Mia into this mess, although Jason wasn’t exactly sure what the hell was going on.
“Mia, are you okay?” Jason spotted her in the small backyard. She hadn’t wanted to witness the search going on inside.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.” There was sadness in Mia’s dark eyes. Jason didn’t like seeing it and he wondered if she was starting to think he had something to do with those poisoned patients she had cared for.
“How long have they been here?”
Mia ignored the question. She wanted an explanation and was now irritated that she had to ask for one. “They told me you were put on administrative leave from work. Tell me that you asked for the time off and you came up here because you wanted to see me.”
“Mia, don’t let them convince you of things that aren’t true.” He sighed, wishing he had told her the truth the other night when he had arrived. “I was put on leave, for an incident with a suspect. But I came up here to see you, because I needed to be with you.” Jason’s eyes pleaded with her to believe him.
A shiver ran through Mia. She had on a sweater but it wasn’t enough against the damp, chilly air. “Where did you go yesterday?”
“I went back to Boston. I was pissed, wanted to think about things.” His voice rose. “Jesus, Mia, this whole situation is killing me. I’m so in love with you. I know that you love me too, but you keep pushing me away and I don’t get it.” Jason turned away from her, frustration building and ran a hand through his hair. He felt her hand on his shoulder and his jaw tensed. “Do you think I poisoned those people?” Jason asked her.
“No.”
He turned back to look at Mia. “Someone is setting me up. They searched the brownstone, too. If they had found anything, I’d be in jail right now.” Another shiver coursed through Mia. With the searches, she felt that her entire life had been rifled through both here and back in Boston.
Lieutenant Ross interrupted the conversation as he stepped from the house out into the backyard. “We’re finished, Dr. Hitchcock. I appreciate your cooperation.” He looked in Jason’s direction. “Detective Howard,” he acknowledged.
“Leave her out of this,” Jason warned the lieutenant. He had moved closed to Ross, he towered over him, and Jason had wanted to be intimidating. It didn’t work.
“Just doing my job,” Ross replied. “I am sure we will be in touch.” He walked away.
Jason ushered Mia into the cottage. He wanted to tell Mia about his dealings with internal affairs. At first glance, the officers that had executed the search here hadn’t been as messy as those who had searched the brownstone back in Boston. Jason was grateful Mia didn’t have to see her belongings strewn everywhere. She was wandering around the cottage, checking the rooms.
“Come sit with me,” Jason called to her in a gently voice. He was on the couch. Mia said nothing but sat next to him. “Are you still cold? Want me to build a fire?”
“No.” Mia studied him, thinking he looked tense. His jaw muscles twitched and his eyes showed his fatigue. She looked at the beginnings of a beard, thinking Jason never went a day without shaving. He isn’t acting like himself---because of me?
“I roughed up a suspect,” Jason began. “It was stupid and that’s why I was put on administrative leave. His lawyer is threatening a police brutality lawsuit; they’ve gone all Rodney King. But it wasn’t like that. The guy didn’t get hurt, it’s all bullshit.”
“Why? You’ve never been violent.” Her voice was mixed with concern and accusation.
The disappointment that he saw in Mia’s eyes almost did him in. “I don’t know.” Jason let out a long breath. “For a split second, I lost it. I had been able to keep everything separate, work and all the stuff we went through, all the feelings. And then I couldn’t.” He looked at Mia, grasped her hand into his. He needed her to understand and believe him. “I’m sorry,” Jason whispered. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore. I just want us to be okay…like we used to be before the baby.”
“I want that, too.” Mia answered. She moved into Jason’s arms, against his chest. He hugged her to him and Mia was confident she was where she should be. She left her head resting on his solid chest for several minutes, listening to his heartbeat. And then without a word, Mia pulled away slightly. She moved her hand underneath the sleeve of Jason’s T-shirt, exposing the small tattoo high on his bicep. When he had first become a cop, he had his Boston police shield inked on, with the date. Mia kissed it and her mouth gravitated towards his jaw and she kissed and nipped to the hollow of his shoulder, her hands had snaked under the shirt and up his hard chest. She loved the salty taste of him and the slight groan that he made. And then he pulled away.
“No, Mia. Stop.”
She looked at him with confusion. “What’s wrong? I thought---“
“I won’t be able to stop. So don’t start anything.” His voice was hoarse and he was painfully hard. Jason quickly rose up off the couch, the memory of the last time they had made love in his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Mia gave him a wry grin. She got up and tackled herself into his solid chest. She had caught him off guard, and they tumbled onto the area rug that covered the wood floor. She could feel his hardness beneath his jeans. Without another word, she was on top of him, her mouth on his. Jason ripped off her sweater and her bra, then rolled over, pinning her beneath his weight. He got rid of his T-shirt and then his jeans and briefs all in one motion. Mia’s jeans and panties soon followed. Jason buried himself into her. “Tell me you love me,” Jason demanded as he roughly kissed her.
Mia moaned, as her legs wrapped around his narrow waist. “I love you, Jay,” she said. “God, I missed this.”
“Promise you won’t leave me again.” Jason stopped his thrusts and looked into Mia’s eyes. He needed her reassurance---he needed her, all of her.
“Never,” Mia promised her eyes full of desire. As soon as she answered, Jason grabbed her hips and crushed her towards him as he thrusted deeply into Mia, letting out a groan of pleasure. He was finally home.
VII.
Lieutenant Ross studied the large white board that covered most of the back wall of his office. Photos of the poison victims hung on one side and on the other, a listing of clues and leads. His eyes were caught by the string of leads that were potentially pointing towards Detective Howard. A strange BMW had been seen in the church parking lot by more than one parishioner. Howard owned a BMW. So far, no alibi had been uncovered for where Howard was the morning the poisoning occurred. There had been two anonymous calls, stating a man who matched Jason’s description had been seen in town. And Howard had been acting unlike himself, displaying great anger since his woman left him. Was that enough of a motive to explain why this sterling cop had turned and potentially committed such a heinous crime? So far, there was no definitive proof Howard had been in the small town on the morning in question. If he had been here, shouldn’t there be some security footage of Howard from a convenience store or a traffic camera? No video existed that Ross could locate. A
nd the subpoena for Howard’s cell records had been issued---no pings from any cell tower anywhere near town that morning. The phone had been completely shut off. Ross was unsure, but knew there was more digging that would have to be done to answer that question.
Ross studied the list of all of the church members who had been at the service Sunday morning. Could he be missing something---another potential suspect, perhaps? Tyler Daniels was listed. Dr. Tyler Daniels. Ross looked through the parishioner statements, not finding any given by Daniels. It seemed a little funny that the doctor hadn’t mentioned anything about actually being at the church the day of the poisonings during the initial conversation at the hospital.
“Dr. Daniels, I just need a minute of your time.” Lt. Ross had driven the short distance from the police station to the hospital after confirming Daniels was on shift.
“Okay.” He led the lieutenant to his office. “What can I help you with?” He didn’t offer Ross a seat.
“You never mentioned that you were at the church Sunday morning.”
For several moments, Tyler was quiet. Ross studied his face but the man was a born poker player; he gave nothing away. “I was there,” Tyler said as he thought carefully about his words, “but I left early. I wasn’t there after the service when it seems the poisoning actually happened.” He sat behind his desk. “I didn’t see anything unusual,” he added.
“Why didn’t you mention this the morning after the poisoning, when we spoke?”
“I didn’t think it was all that important. Like I said, I didn’t see anything strange. And I had left early to get ready for my shift at the hospital.”
Lt. Ross scribbled down a few notes and looked up at the doctor. “Thanks for your time, Dr. Daniels. I know how busy you are.” As he left Tyler’s office, he quickly took inventory of the contents, noting the degree from Philadelphia.
It didn’t take long to have a neatly packaged synopsis of Tyler Daniel’s life in front of him. Ross glanced through it, noting the important details. Daniels had come from a middle-class home, second child. He had always been smart and had gotten a scholarship into medical school. He had completed medical school and worked in Philadelphia as a physician for a few years. And then had gotten into trouble. The trouble was why he had left Philadelphia was now in Maine.
Dare to Trust Page 12