“I don’t get it. Were you protecting someone?”
Gabe’s eyes popped open and his gaze was fierce. “Yes. And I’m only giving you the documents now because we stick together. Family, police, it’s all we have. You give that to the ADA and get yourself on the investigation. But leave me out of it. I’m not ratting out a friend.”
“You know who killed Miss Remington and shot me?” Casio’s brain refused to believe his dad would close the case out of loyalty to the man who had shot his own son. “And you withheld information?”
“I never said that. He was sleeping with her, but he didn’t kill her. I would’ve been forced to bring him in and he would’ve been the prime suspect. Why ruin his life if he didn’t do it?” Gabe shook his head and repeated, “He didn’t do it, so why ruin his life?” He closed his eyes again. “You’ll never find out who the father was. Because I’m not ratting out a friend and I guarantee there’s no DNA on file to match the tissue samples from the baby. My gut says the man who killed BJ is long gone. You and the ADA are spitting in the wind. But if it’ll help my son, I’m okay with the autopsy report going public.”
Casio knew there was no point in pushing his dad for more information right now, but something didn’t add up. What Casio couldn’t reconcile was why his dad would have sat on this for so many years when his own son had been shot. How could he be sure the baby’s father and the killer weren’t the same guy? That wasn’t good investigating. His dad should have put this whole thing to bed years ago.
At the sound of Gabe’s snoring, Casio sighed. He clutched the envelope and headed toward the door. Whatever his dad knew or didn’t know, and regardless whether or not he’d be mad later when he sobered up, it was too late to go back. The document in this envelope was Casio’s ticket into the investigation.
Four
Most merciful God, I confess that I have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what I have done, and by what I have left undone …
How long have I been on the floor of the bus? The train is still rolling along the track outside. If I had known how soon my life would end, I might have resisted temptation. I would have focused more on others and less on my needs.
I hear the sound of adult voices. A lot of yelling and ordering this and that as cars have come up behind the bus and realized something is wrong with the kids. Someone is ushering them off the bus. Some have no choice but to step over me as they leave through the emergency exit. I hear them sobbing, begging to know if I’m alive.
I know there isn’t much time left for me. Claudia is still weeping, refusing to leave me. So much left undone, Lord.
I never told my mother how much I appreciated the chicken soup she made every time I got a really bad cold—even after I grew up.
Never apologized to Blake Simpson for giving him that F. It made him miss tonight’s game, when all of the college recruiters were there. I could have given him a C-, but he mouthed off too many times for me to overlook his poor writing on that last paper. Still, I didn’t have to deduct that many points for participation and tardiness. I should have been less stubborn when his dad came to my room and practically ordered me to reconsider. I’m sorry, Blake. You should have been with your team on the field, not in the bleachers with your dad. You still showed your team spirit. You are a better person than I am. I wish I could tell you that.
I never read all the way through the Bible—kept getting hung up on Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Lamentations. I really wish I’d pushed through the boredom. There’s a lot to be said for finishing what you start. I just couldn’t. Although there were parts of Deuteronomy I did like—chapter 28 in particular.
I never told my dad that I stopped being afraid of storms when I was ten, but faked my terror until I was sixteen. Oh, Dad, the only times I ever felt your unconditional love were those times when the thunder clapped hard, and you waited outside my door for me to run shaking into your waiting arms. Maybe you loved me better than you had the ability to show, but only during those frightening Texas storms did you reassure me that no matter how the storm raged, I was safe as long as your arms were waiting.
If only I could have told you about the storm raging inside of me. Would you have held me or hated me?
TUESDAY
Claudia
Claudia sat in the event planner’s office alone—without Vic to help her face the woman whose disapproval raised Claudia’s defenses.
Good Lord, one missed meeting. Get over the queen complex already.
But the party was only a month away, so Claudia tried hard not to be offended by the haughty look in Lindsey’s too-blue-to-be-real eyes. “My parents have been married for thirty-five years, the same amount of time they’ve been in ministry together. We want to celebrate that. So I want the party to be special. Elegant, but welcoming.”
She nodded, taking notes. “How many guests are you planning for?”
Claudia thought for a minute. She had to invite the family, of course. Then the staff who had been so loyal to her father, and a few friends.
“I’d say between fifty and seventy-five.”
Her expression didn’t change as she nodded and made a note of it. She passed a menu across the desk and for the next few minutes Claudia made decisions about each course. Shrimp appetizers, two meats, salad, dessert, bread.
Lindsey warmed up midway through the menu selection, and Claudia realized she was likely going way over the budget she and Victor had planned. The thought was confirmed when the numbers were crunched and the price per person was broken down.
“We’ll schedule a tasting for next week, and then I’ll just need half down.”
Claudia gaped. “Half?” Vic was going to kill her. Mentally she calculated how much was left on the Visa and knew with a sinking gut that there wasn’t enough on it. As a matter of fact, most were maxed or close to maxed out. And Vic had no idea. She used e-statements and did all the banking online, and he trusted her. That was the part that made her sad. She truly didn’t like lying to him. But what other choice did she have at this point? Vic had turned the finances over to her early in their marriage while he was working fifteen-hour days in the DA’s office. She’d proven herself capable. So capable that he never even questioned her. This was absolutely the last account she would open. She’d find a way to get balances paid off and he never had to know.
Lindsey’s eyebrows rose and Claudia could see she was this close to rolling her eyes. “If that’s a problem, Mrs. Campbell, maybe you can cut back on the number of guests and order a less expensive menu. We have a barbecue ribs and chicken buffet that gets high praise each time we serve it for an event such as this one.”
Claudia knew that was exactly what she should do. But the thought of her mother’s disappointment in seeing chicken and barbecue pork instead of prime rib and lobster tails, or something equally elegant, made her decision for her.
She thought of the new, preapproved Visa she had ordered and tucked away in a drawer. The limit would be more than adequate for the entire meal even if she chose a menu in the most expensive range. This is the last one, she promised herself. And she wouldn’t be doing it if the anniversary weren’t so important. What else could she do?
“Mrs. Campbell?” Lindsey slid another menu across the desk. “Would you like to look over the menu again?”
Claudia looked up with a decisive smile. “No, Lindsey. That won’t be necessary. Do you need any payment today? Or shall I pay next week at the tasting?”
Her eyebrows rose as though Claudia had caught her off guard. “Next week is fine.”
Standing, Claudia feigned a confidence she was far from feeling. Of course, she’d been feigning her real feelings and hiding her real thoughts her whole life, so she was good at it. “Now, I’d like to see the room, please, so we can discuss seating arrangements.”
“Certainly.” Lindsey led her to the elevator, and they waited in awkward silence until the bell dinged and the doors swished open.
Lindsey pushed th
e lighted 3 and the elevator started downward. Her cell phone buzzed in the holder at her waist. She glanced down and pressed a button. “I apologize,” Lindsey said. “I meant to leave it in my office.”
Claudia waved away her apology. “Don’t worry about it. I’m practically surgically connected to mine.”
A breath lifted the young woman’s slim shoulders and the tension between them lifted as the doors opened. Lindsey motioned toward the right, and they walked a few steps down an elegant hallway to an empty room. “Do you have an idea of how you would like things arranged?”
“I’m thinking one rectangle table at the head of the room with my parents and their top staff members. And round tables for everyone else.”
Lindsey’s eyebrows went up. “You and your husband won’t be at the head table with your parents?”
Claudia smiled ruefully and shook her head. Mother would think her presumptuous. As though she thought she had anything to do with their years of successful ministry.
“No, but I was thinking of inviting God. I’m pretty sure Mother would have no objections with Him at her table.”
For the first time Lindsey smiled in a real way that touched her eyes. “I understand. Don’t worry, Mrs. Campbell. We’ll throw your folks an anniversary dinner that will make you look like one of the apostles, at the very least.”
“You can call me Claudia.”
Victor
Vic had trouble staying in the same room with Casio Hightower, let alone making small talk. He had seen the photographs of the woman Casio had brutalized, and every time he looked at the officer, he saw Claudia’s face instead, bruised, battered, bleeding. Had this jerk ever put his hands on her in that way? His heart hurt at the thought.
He should never have accepted this appointment. But after he’d okayed the meeting, integrity demanded he keep it. He motioned for Casio to sit in the vinyl chair across from his desk. Gathering his most professional voice, he met the officer’s gaze. “What can I do for you, Officer Hightower?”
“I understand you are reopening the Remington case.”
Vic sat back in his chair. “What makes you think that?”
“Two things. I spoke to Claudia …”
The sound of Claudia’s name on those lips sent a jolt through him. “Leave my wife out of this conversation, please.”
Casio frowned and confusion clouded his eyes. “Is this because we dated in school?” He put up the hand that wasn’t captured in a sling. “Seriously, dude, I helped her out the other day, but that was the first time I’ve talked to her since graduation.”
“This has nothing to do with your childhood romance with my wife. Nor does it have anything to do with you helping her off the road and sharing a cigarette with her.” A sense of satisfaction went over him at the surprise in Casio’s eyes. “My wife has no idea we’re opening the case. I haven’t told her.”
“She mentioned you were going to run for DA when Slattery retires. I put two and two together.”
Claudia shared private details with a stranger? He hadn’t even told his own mother yet.
“That remains to be seen. But I don’t see how that information has any bearing on why you think I’m opening the ten-year-old case. What’s your other reason?”
“Everyone knows I was on the bus that night, and that my dad was the lead investigator on the case ten years ago. Word gets around in these situations. At least three of my friends from the station told me you asked for the files.”
“Interesting. We’ll probably be conferring with your father, so if you’re curious, he’ll probably fill you in on all the details. But you can forget about joining my team.” His “team” being himself and his sixty-something assistant, Isobel.
“My father wants nothing to do with this case, so good luck even getting an interview with him. But I do want in. I’d like to help try to wrap it up once and for all.”
The thought of spending time with this guy made Victor’s stomach turn. Victor leaned forward, clasping his fingers on his desk. “Well, I’m of the understanding that you are suspended until the allegations against you are cleared up. Am I wrong?”
Embarrassment flooded Casio’s face. “I’m suspended from the force for now. But that wouldn’t keep me from helping you on a cold case, if you decide to use me.”
“Which I’m not going to do.” Vic shook his head. “Look, Hightower. The most despicable kind of person in the world to me is someone preying on anyone weaker. Child molesters, wife or girlfriend beaters, abusers in general. So I can’t allow you to work on this case.”
Anger deepened the color in Casio’s face as his eyes narrowed and glared. “Listen, Campbell. I figured you wouldn’t hop to work with me. But if I’m so despicable, why am I still walking around free? You can have me charged and arrested anytime.”
“Because, despite my personal opinion, the investigation isn’t finished.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Wrong. Mainly it’s because Harper isn’t willing to testify against me.”
Vic would have loved nothing more than to shove his fist down this guy’s throat. “Did you threaten her?”
“I didn’t have to.” He pointed to his shoulder. “Did anyone bother to mention that she came after me with a knife first?”
“Yes. And I think that’s a lie. I’ve looked at the doctor’s report. They haven’t ruled out that the wound was self-inflicted.”
“But they can’t rule out assault either.”
“But you’re not willing to testify against Harper, right?”
“Let’s put it this way, as long as she doesn’t testify against me, I won’t testify against her.”
“So there’s that proverbial crossroads.”
Casio shrugged. “I’d have called it an impasse. But you’re the educated one.”
Vic shoved back from his desk and stood up. “Our meeting is over, Officer Hightower.”
“Come on, Campbell. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Get out of my office.” Vic dropped back into his seat and opened his laptop.
Casio leaned on the desk. “ADA Campbell, I don’t think you want me to do that.”
“Clearly you don’t know me.” The guy just didn’t go away. “I always mean what I say.”
“I don’t want to pop your chain, but I know for a fact you’ll change your mind when you hear what I have.”
A sigh pushed through Vic’s lungs. “Okay, fine. You have two minutes. Convince me why I should allow a bad cop and an even worse human being to help me solve a ten-year-old murder.”
Casio sneered. “Either charge me or get over yourself.”
Methodically, Vic closed his computer and stood again until he looked Casio in the eye. “Back off, man.” No way would he be spoken to in such a manner by a thug with a badge. He was this close to charging him just to run him through the system. “Either tell me what you have that might help find the man who shot you, or get out of my office and don’t come back.”
Casio lowered his gaze and straightened up. He hesitated, then scowled. “Fine. I found a file that wasn’t in the boxes from the original investigation.”
“What do you mean it wasn’t in the boxes from the original investigation?”
Casio’s smirk returned. “Those boxes that you had sent over from the PD? I found a file that should have been with them, but wasn’t.”
“Are you saying you stole a file out of the evidence so that I’d allow you to join this investigation?” Indignation swarmed over him. “That’s low, even for a woman beater.”
Vic’s cell phone buzzed.
“And that comment is low even for a self-important ADA with no real case against me—no matter how much you dislike me.” Casio turned and reached for the door. “Enjoy your pointless reinvestigation.”
Victor watched him slam out of the room. On the off chance that the officer actually did have something to add, he came this close to going after him.
Instead, he answered his phone.
; Five
The day the bomb went off at the capitol building and rocked Oklahoma City, I was home from school with cramps, watching the soaps and eating everything in the house. The news cut in, and I, along with the rest of the nation, watched the unfolding of a horrendous terror attack on American soil.
I’m not sure why this event slips into my mind right now. My dad watched the scenes replay over and over, and I watched right alongside him, until my mother insisted he “turn it off, for God’s sake, and sit down at the table for a decent meal.” White-faced, hands shaking, she served slightly burned, fried catfish and slightly lumpy mashed potatoes. She pushed her food around and didn’t say a word. I shouldn’t have done it, but the silence in the room made those images big and loud in my brain, and even though I was eighteen years old, I needed the kind of answers only a girl’s parents can give.
“Why do you think he did it?”
My father’s warm hand covered mine. “Not now.”
“But didn’t he know all those little kids could get killed? Could it have been an accident?” Mama’s fork clattered to the table with such force that I jumped as it bounced.
“An accident? Oh, this was no accident. He did it because he is an evil man. He didn’t care who he destroyed. He didn’t care about the families he was tearing apart.” Tears flowed down her cheeks and I stared at her, mouth agape.
“Not now,” my dad said firmly, his eyes so intent on my mother that I realized they weren’t talking about what was going on in Oklahoma.
My dad should have been proud of me for pressing. He was a successful journalist, so he’d taught me to ask the questions, get the story. “But why are some people born evil and others aren’t?”
My mother silently grabbed her plate and removed herself to the kitchen. I turned to my dad, expecting to find a frown. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he silenced me with an understanding smile. In that moment, I found a spark of camaraderie. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel like the extra branch in our family tree.
The Crossing Page 5