“Gordon, take Detective Hart for a walk to cool him down. Now!” Wyatt barked when the man continued his stare down with Chase. Hart moved away with reluctance, shooting a furious glare back at Chase as he left the room.
“Chase, give me three minutes,” Wyatt asked. “Three minutes alone with you and John. Please.”
With an explosive curse, Chase turned and moved back into the room. Grappling for patience, he walked to the corner and grabbed the back of the chair he had been sitting in. When he finally felt calm enough, he turned back to face Wyatt and the others. “Make it quick, Wyatt.”
“Stop the tapes, Stacy, and leave us,” the sheriff instructed. She did as he asked and pulled the door closed behind her. Wyatt moved to the table and sat on the edge of it. Sighing, he ran a hand over his hair.
“Chase, I’ve known you and your family a long time,” he said. “I like you, and I respect you. I hope that’s mutual.”
Chase looked at him. “You know it is, Wyatt. I’m pissed as hell about this, but I don’t blame you.”
Wyatt smiled briefly. “Good. Then I hope you’ll take what I’m about to say to heart. You need to finish this interview, son.” When Chase laughed bitterly, amazed at the suggestion, Wyatt held up a hand. “Hear me out.” He waited for Chase to calm down again before he continued.
“You’re absolutely entitled to walk out of here, and after that ass-hat’s attitude, I almost wish you would. But Chase, that’s what the guy wants. You’re playing straight into his hands if you walk out now. I guarantee you that if you leave, he’ll be on the phone to whatever judge he has access to, and you’ll be thrown in jail before you can blink twice.”
Chase walked over to stand beside Wyatt. He leaned up against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. With a tired sigh, he closed his eyes.
“Wyatt’s right, you know,” John said. The concern in his voice had Chase opening his eyes, and he was surprised to see that John looked as worried as he had ever seen him. “I know you’re upset. Hell, how you managed to not knock the bastard across the room, I’ll never know, but walking out now is the worst thing you can do. You need to see this thing through, Chase.”
With a frustrated groan, Chase brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes. “Do you know, until last year and all we went through with Beth, I really believed I was level-headed?” He laughed, a short, bitter sound that was anything but amused. “I appreciate what you’re saying, guys, but I’m just so tired. Tired of being stoic, of being pitied, of being ‘that poor Hudson boy’ who lost his girlfriend. I’ve reached my breaking point,” he said quietly. “I can’t do this anymore, especially with that jackass, Hart.”
“What if Gordon and Stacy finish the interview?” Wyatt asked. “Would that make a difference?”
“Damn it. There’s really only one answer I can give here, and you both know it,” Chase ground out.
“That’s a yes, then?” John asked.
“As long as you keep Hart away from me.”
Wyatt smiled, relieved. “Good. I’ll go let everyone know.” He stood and left the room.
When the door closed behind him, John said, “You’re doing the right thing, Chase. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”
Chase managed a half smile. “It’s worth more than you think, John,” he told his uncle. As they discussed strategy, Chase wondered how Gordon would feel about this new development. Chase wasn’t even sure how he felt, but it was somewhere between relief at not having to face Detective Hart again, and dread at what might happen with Gordon. It was a role they’d never played before, and Chase wondered if their friendship would survive.
Chapter 21
As Gordon and Detective Hart walked back inside the sheriff’s department, Wyatt met them at the door. Gordon saw the hard look on the sheriff’s face, and he mentally winced. Even though he hadn’t been in the room when the disastrous questioning had taken place, he still felt responsible.
“Here’s how it’s going to be, gentlemen. Chase has agreed to finish the interview, but only if Gordon and Stacy conduct it. So that’s what we’re going to do. Understand?”
“What the hell, Sheriff?” Hart demanded. “Hudson is my suspect. If anyone finishes that interview, it will be me!” Gordon couldn’t prevent a small smile from emerging as the look of surprise crossed Wyatt’s face. The sheriff was a big man, built along the lines of a fit John Wayne, and when he slowly stepped forward, his sheer physical presence overwhelmed the much smaller and less fit detective.
“Maybe you should repeat yourself, Detective, because I know I didn’t hear you correctly. I know you didn’t just contradict how I choose to handle an interview taking place in my department. Especially considering that you’re a guest in my county,” Wyatt drawled.
For the second time that day, Gordon wondered whether Hart was going to start a fight or back down. He had to admit he was a little disappointed when he chose the latter.
“Fine,” the detective grated. He shot an angry look in Gordon’s direction. “Am I allowed to observe?”
“Keep running your mouth, and you’ll be escorted out of this county, never mind have the chance to observe,” Wyatt warned. “Do we understand each other?”
Detective Hart gave a curt nod. “I need to use the restroom, if you gentlemen will excuse me.”
They watched him go, and Wyatt released a long breath. Without speaking, he went back down the hall toward the interrogation room. Gordon followed, and when they passed the conference room, the sound of voices drew them to the door.
Stacy walked into the hall as they approached. “Sheriff, are we ready to go back in?”
“In about three minutes, Stacy.” He moved to stand just inside the door and greet the room’s occupants. Gordon heard Beth ask a question, and he stepped closer so that he could hear her better. Stacy moved back a couple of steps to give him better access, but she didn’t retreat completely.
As Wyatt talked with Beth, Gordon looked down at Stacy. “I’d like to make sure this is a more productive interview than that earlier fiasco,” he told her in a low voice. “I didn’t expect things to get quite that heated.”
Stacy didn’t respond, but pointed toward the observation room. Gordon stepped back and allowed her to precede him across the hall. When she closed the door behind them, he was surprised.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Agent Gordon, but aren’t you responsible for bringing that man here?” She crossed her arms and leaned up against the wall opposite the door.
Hands in his pockets, Gordon nodded. “I am.”
“Then why are you so surprised that everything went to hell in there?”
Gordon pulled his hands free. He crossed his own arms, unconsciously mimicking her pose. “I’m not really surprised that it deteriorated, just the level it fell to.”
Stacy was incredulous. “You mean you expected Hart to fail?”
“I did,” Gordon admitted. “I didn’t come here to trap Chase in some interview from hell. I came here to help get Hart off his back once and for all.” He met Stacy’s gaze and immediately felt the room’s temperature rise. He took a step closer to her, and Stacy straightened. When Gordon saw the faint flush that crossed her cheeks, accompanied by an increase in her respiration rate, he felt like a small piece of the world had righted itself.
Stacy cleared her throat nervously. “You think he’s hiding something, then?” When Gordon sent her a questioning look, she clarified, “Detective Hart, I mean.”
“Oh. Yeah, I do. I’d bet the farm on it. I think he has some kind of agenda, and that concerns me. It doesn’t bode well for Chase.” Not taking his gaze from hers, he reached out and touched a finger to the access card hanging from her belt. He tugged on the card, and when Stacy placed her hand over his to stop him, Gordon drew in a sharp breath. As she started to speak, they heard voices approaching the room. Gordon sprang back several feet, and Stacy hurried toward the door without looking at him.
“I’ll see
you in the other room,” she threw over her shoulder. Gordon didn’t reply, instead turning toward the two-way mirror. He was surprised to see Chase, who was sitting on the edge of the table, looking back at him. When Chase saw the startled look on Gordon’s face, his grin widened, and he waved. The thought that they might have been visible to the occupants of the interrogation room hadn’t occurred to Gordon, he had been so intent on Stacy. He cursed roundly, feeling his own face heat, and when he watched Chase burst into laughter at his expense, he felt a weight lift off his chest. Not wanting Stacy to know they’d been observed, Gordon moved quickly to flip the light switch. When Stacy entered the interrogation room scant seconds later, he felt like he’d dodged a bullet. It was one of the many he’d been trying to avoid all day.
Brushing past Detective Hart and Wyatt with a nod as they came in, he hoped Chase wouldn’t reveal that he’d seen what had gone on. If he did, though, Gordon could hardly blame him. He knew he had a lot to make up to Chase, especially for what was still to come.
~ * * * ~
When Stacy walked into the interrogation room, she was surprised to find Chase smiling and chuckling. She scowled, and he quickly turned somber, though a faint grin still played around his mouth.
“You’re suddenly in a good mood,” she commented.
Chase apologized as he resumed his seat. “Sorry, Stacy,” he told her as John and Gordon came in. “It’s been a long day.” By the time everyone had sat down, Chase’s humor had fled and been replaced with the quiet watchfulness Stacy was familiar with. She hit the buttons that started the recording again and laid a DNA swab kit on the table.
“Just in case you change your mind,” she said. “No pressure.”
With a frustrated sigh, Chase capitulated. “Just get it over with.”
Stacy smiled and opened the kit. As she administered the test, she thanked him for his cooperation. “We could use the saliva sample you so graciously provided, but this will be better,” she said, tongue-in-cheek.
With the DNA swab out of the way, Gordon started the interview over. “Chase, you know the reason we’re here is because there have been some developments in Kiely’s case. The first inkling we had that the investigation was heating back up was the letter you received. I’d like to discuss that.” He went into the details of the letter and card, and then the discussion segued into the package Amy Lynn had received.
“We’re sure the same person sent both mailings,” Gordon said. “The cards you and Amy Lynn received, the style of the writing of the letters, all of it was identical. I have to ask you this, Chase. Did you have anything to do with mailing those packages?”
A muscle ticked in Chase’s jaw as he answered, “No, I did not. You know I have an alibi for the day my card was mailed, and probably for the day Amy’s was sent, as well.”
“That’s true,” Stacy agreed. “But you could have hired someone to mail them.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Chase insisted. “What else do you have? There’s no way you pulled me in just for that.”
“No, there’s more,” Gordon said. “We exhumed Kiely’s remains last week.” He watched Chase’s face closely, gratified to see the exact reactions he had been hoping for—anger, shock, disgust and a little bit of hurt.
“God, Gordon!” Chase managed. “Why? Hasn’t she been through enough? And her family… I can’t believe they agreed to it.”
“They weren’t happy about it,” Gordon admitted. He gestured to Stacy, who pulled out a copy of the letter from the casket. She slid it across the table to Chase.
“That’s a letter we found in the casket with Kiely. Have you ever seen it before?” Gordon asked.
Chase looked at the copy, reading the contents. “No,” he said slowly, “I haven’t.” He paused and sat back suddenly with a sharply indrawn breath. Stacy could see his throat work convulsively.
“This came from her casket?” Chase asked. When Gordon nodded confirmation, he continued, his voice thready, “Then these stains on the paper, they aren’t water, are they?”
Stacy shook her head. “No, they aren’t, Chase.” Horrified, Chase just stared at her, and she could see the blood drain out of his face. He grasped the edge of the table and scooted his chair backward. For a minute, she was afraid he was going to pass out.
John placed a hand on the back of Chase’s neck and pushed him so that his head was between his knees. “Take some deep breaths, Chase, that’s good. Can we get some ice water?” he asked Stacy. She turned to look at the mirror, and a quick tap from the other side let her know that the message had been received.
“It’s on its way,” she said.
“I’m okay,” Chase told them, his voice muffled and ragged. “Just give me a minute.” When he gave a wet sniff, Stacy grabbed a box of tissues from the mirror ledge behind her and pushed it toward him. John grabbed a handful and handed them to Chase under the table.
After a minute, Chase straightened, his eyes red-rimmed. He was still pale, but he looked a little more stable. “Sorry about that,” he said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting… that.” A shudder wracked his body.
“I take it you didn’t write this note, then?” Stacy asked.
“No. I wonder, though… have you talked to the guy who got her pregnant?” he asked.
“Her family won’t tell us who that was,” Gordon said. “Her sister swore she didn’t know.”
Chase was stunned. “What do you mean, Amy Lynn doesn’t know? She was all too happy to throw him in my face ten years ago,” he said. “When was she last asked about it?”
Gordon thumbed through the notes Detective Hart had given him. “It looks like she was asked about it after she received the package, and she denied having ever known who it was. I don’t think there’s ever any mention of the man’s name in the original interviews, either, from what I can recall. What did she tell you about him?”
Chase considered the question, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand as he thought. “It was Kiely’s birthday, I guess, the first one after she died. So about four months after everything. I had gone down there to the cemetery, and Amy Lynn was there. Things got pretty ugly,” he admitted. “We both said some things we shouldn’t have, and part of her diatribe at me was to throw the pregnancy in my face again. She’d first brought it up after Kiely disappeared, but she’d never mentioned the father before.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention that to anyone, Chase?” Stacy asked.
“I did,” Chase said, shocked at the question. “I told the detective who was handling the case, Detective Farris. He checked into it, and the next time I talked to him, he told me it was a dead end. Remember, that’s when I was still in close contact with the cops. I was at UK, so it wasn’t hard to do.”
“Farris is retired, but he shouldn’t be too hard to get in touch with,” Gordon said. “Do you happen to remember the father’s name?”
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Chase groaned. “It was ahhh, crap. Terry, Tony, something like that. Tim… no. Tommy. Tommy Mullins,” he exclaimed. “Yeah, Tommy Mullins, I’m pretty sure.”
Gordon wrote the name down, and then he paused for a long moment. With a mysterious look, he passed the pen and a sheet of paper to Chase. “Do me a favor. Copy that note, just the first few lines.” Chase shot him an unreadable look but did as he was asked.
When he finished, he started to lay the pen down, but Gordon stopped him. “Now copy it with your left hand.”
Chase frowned. “Why?”
“Just humor me.”
“I’ve been doing that all day, and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere,” Chase muttered, but he complied. Task completed, he waited for Gordon’s next instructions. Gordon gestured for the paper, and when he looked at the lines Chase had written, he smiled. He passed the note to Stacy.
“This isn’t even close,” she said. “And you are definitely right-handed. I can barely read this chicken scratch of the left-handed version.” She looked at Gordon, who was stil
l smiling. “Why does that make you so happy?”
“Because the day after Kiely disappeared, Chase broke his arm. His right arm,” Gordon explained. “There is no way he wrote that note. The handwriting’s too smooth, and it isn’t even remotely close to Chase’s style. The note we found had to have been written around the time Kiely’s body was found, probably afterward. Chase physically couldn’t have created it.”
John spoke up. “You know it isn’t that simple, Agent Gordon. Certain people,” he said, shooting an icy glare at the mirror, “will probably argue the point.”
“Let them,” Gordon said. “Chase is a lawyer. That means there are copious amounts of writing samples we can pull from over the years, probably even some from ten years ago. It would be child’s play to get a handwriting expert to do a sworn affidavit. Every theory Detective Hart had hinged on this note, the DNA, and Chase’s alibi. Without the first two, there’s not a leg to stand on. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done here.”
There was a loud thump from the observation room, followed by raised voices. In seconds, Stacy was out of the room, Gordon right behind her. Everyone had spilled out of the conference room, as well, drawn by the commotion. Chase and John hurried to join them. As they reached the hall, the door to the other room slammed back on its hinges and into the wall.
Detective Hart rushed out and went straight to Gordon, getting in the taller man’s face. “What the fuck was that?” he screamed. “Do you know what you just did? Do you?” He pushed a finger into Gordon’s chest. Before anyone else could react, Gordon had the detective shoved face-first into the wall with his arms pinned behind his back. Hart cursed, and Gordon tightened the hold on his arms.
“Greg, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Gordon growled. “Are you trying to lose your badge?” When he felt the detective relax, he moved back slowly and released his grip with caution. With so many law enforcement officers crowded into the hall, most of them already emotionally primed, the tension was palpable.
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