Dead Center (The Rookie Club Book 1)

by Danielle Girard

  Tony reared his head, a painful cry exploding from his throat.

  People stared. Jamie waved them away.

  Tony dropped to his knees. "God, no. Jamie. Why did that happen?"

  She fell too, tucked her head into his shoulder as he gripped her. Beyond the pain, she felt herself let go. All those years ago. All those years of hiding it, of pretending it hadn't happened—of Pat and her father ignoring the blatant pleas for help.

  "I don't know, Tony. I'm so sorry."

  "God," he choked, sobbing.

  They stayed there, embraced until she felt the rocking of his chest still. Even then she didn't loosen her grip, didn't wipe her own tears. She let them remain where they'd fallen, long overdue.

  Finally, she spoke, "I'm here now, Tony. It's over. It's over for both of us."

  And, she thought, maybe for once she was telling the truth.

  Maybe they could finally begin the process of putting that horrible day behind them.

  Chapter 36

  When Jamie arrived in the conference room, Hailey was already waiting. Jamie was surprised to see the rookie, Mackenzie Wallace, was there, too.

  Mackenzie rose from the table and stepped toward her. Her brown eyes were wide and wise. She looked older to Jamie, more mature. Shit, the rookie had grown into a full-fledged cop. Mackenzie hesitated for only a fraction of a second before she wrapped her arms around Jamie. "I'm so glad you're okay." She squeezed gently.

  "Thanks, Mackenzie." Jamie closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm actually surprised to see you here."

  "I'm on loan to Hailey for a couple weeks," the rookie said.

  "Paperwork only," Hailey added before pushing a chair toward Jamie. "You sure you want to be here?"

  Jamie just smiled. There was no good answer to that.

  Tony had been surprised that she was coming in today. Jules had tried to deter her. But no one was going to forbid it. Not after yesterday.

  Jamie had waited until most people would be gone for the day. She wasn't ready to answer questions just yet, but she needed to stay in the game. She felt close and didn't want to lose ground. Or maybe it was because at home alone it was too easy to remember what had happened. She wasn't prepared to face it all yet.

  She and Tony had spent a quiet day in the house. He'd made grilled-cheese sandwiches for lunch, burning both of them. She didn't mind. He'd spent as little time learning to cook hot foods as she had. They had talked little, but the biggest piece of what needed to be said was already out. The rest would eke out over time. Mostly, she was relieved at the comfortable silence.

  Tony had intended to start his rehabilitation this week, but since her attack, it hadn't come up again. And she was thankful. He'd stayed with her last night, sleeping in the bed beside her. It had been decades since they'd shared a bed, but it felt the same as always. Tony was her brother, the closest thing she'd ever have to a sibling—the closest for either of them now.

  Every time she stirred, he woke too. She hadn't thanked him. She knew she didn't need to. They'd been apart for years, but they'd found each other. He'd found her. Thank God for that.

  Tony had driven her through the city, dropping her at the building at almost six in the evening and telling her he'd be back at nine. They had planned to grab dinner on the way home—take-out, probably. She couldn't see dealing with the stares she'd get at a restaurant, considering the cuts and bruises on her face. Plus, sitting too long hurt.

  Mackenzie and Hailey waited until Jamie was seated. Neither commented on how long it took her or on how bad she looked. Mackenzie's were turning greenish. Hailey probably had some, too. Sitting there, the three women represented three of Marchek's final four victims. The fourth was being sent home tomorrow. Jamie had already contacted the victim's husband to let him know Marchek was gone. Dead. No more women would suffer at his hands.

  Hailey spoke first. "The medical examiner called on the autopsy."

  Jamie knew Hailey meant Marchek's. She was thankful not to hear his name out loud.

  "He had an explanation for the aspermatic samples we got from his victims."

  Jamie took a slow, measured breath, tried to listen analytically.

  "Seems he had an anatomical anomaly called retrograde ejaculation. It's rare and, in his case, probably congenital. Instead of exiting through the urethra, the sperm is passed in retrograde fashion into the bladder."

  Jamie listened. "So there would be DNA sample in his urine but not in his semen."

  Hailey nodded.

  "He probably figured it out after his first arrest." She paused. "Or maybe not." We'll never know now, she thought. Thank God. "How about Devlin?"

  "We're focusing on the list of awards," Hailey told her. "Roger tested Natasha's trophy for transfer evidence and confirmed Tim wasn't hit with her trophy."

  Jamie nodded. "That's encouraging. Tim didn't win anything. So maybe the killer hit Tim with his own trophy. Who else is on the list?"

  Hailey slid a piece of paper across the table. Jamie turned it around and scanned the names.

  Someone had made a small hash mark next to David Marshall's name. Jamie looked up, raised a brow. "Your captain?"

  Hailey shrugged.

  She returned to the list. Cameron Cruz had received an award. Linda James. She recognized most of the names but none stood out. "You have the other list?"

  "There are no other crossovers," Hailey said. "Just Marshall."

  "The only other person who touches both lists is Devlin herself," Mackenzie added.

  Jamie frowned. "What do we do about Marshall?"

  "I had his trophy sent to the lab."

  "Does he know?"

  Hailey shook her head.

  Christ, she hoped the captain of Homicide wasn't Devlin's killer. Jamie stared at the list again. She scanned the titles on the names—captain, lieutenant, sergeant. "This is the whole list?"

  Hailey nodded.

  Jamie frowned. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed the lab's number. "Roger, please," she said when someone answered.

  Hailey and Mackenzie exchanged a glance.

  "Roger here."

  "Roger, it's Jamie."

  "Hey. How are you?"

  "I'm alive."

  "Yeah. I heard about what happened. Your gun's down in ballistics," he added awkwardly.

  "Roger, I'm calling about something else."

  "Sure." He sounded relieved.

  "You won an award at the banquet, didn't you?"

  "Uh, yeah. I used it to test against the mold we cast of Tim Worley's head injury."

  Jamie nodded. "That's what I thought. Thanks, Roger."

  "Is that it?" he asked, sounding perplexed.

  "That's it." Jamie ended the call and set her phone on the table. She touched the paper between them. "That's not a complete list."

  Hailey frowned, scanning the list. "It only includes police."

  "Right."

  "You think we're looking at someone from criminalistics or administration?" Mackenzie asked.

  She shrugged. "Natasha's list includes a guy in the lab, doesn't it?"

  Hailey nodded. "And another from administration."

  "I'll get the rest of the names together now," Mackenzie offered.

  "I've got to finish up some things before I can head home," Hailey said. "We'll talk in the morning?"

  Jamie nodded.

  "You going to be okay?" Hailey asked.

  "I'll live."

  As Hailey stood, there was a knock at the door. It swung open to reveal a young man, looking terrified.

  "Hey, Dave," Mackenzie said.

  The officer looked at her, wide-eyed. "Hey."

  "What are you doing here?" Mackenzie asked.

  He scanned Hailey and Jamie and seemed to stumble on his words. "I'm looking for Jamie Vail."

  Jamie knew exactly who he was. "David Priestley."

  He nodded.

  She waved him in.

  Hailey looked at her and motioned to the door, but
Jamie shook her head and explained, "Officer Priestley is Scott Scanlan's partner. He's going to tell us about the night he was at my house."

  Priestley glanced at them, then studied the floor.

  Hailey shut the door behind him.

  He focused on his hands as though there were something written there that he could use to get out of there.

  "Just tell us what happened," Jamie prodded.

  Priestley glanced at the others in the room.

  "They're staying," Jamie said firmly. "We're all involved." She nodded at him to tell his story.

  He hesitated and then, shoulders sinking, began to talk. "Scanlan said he wanted to play a trick on someone who'd been giving him a hard time. He made it sound like a joke." Priestley looked up at Hailey and Jamie but avoided Mackenzie's gaze.

  They were in academy together, Jamie figured. He was embarrassed. She didn't care.

  "He said he was going to let the air out of a couple of tires—that's it." He shrugged. "I didn't want to go, but shit, I didn't want to get into a thing about it. It was our lunch break—or dinner break, I guess, because of how late it was. So we drove up there. I knew it was going to take longer than an hour, but he promised not much—" He stopped, stared at the white wall, continued..."When we got up there, he told me to wait in the car. He just got out. I stayed. I didn't even see the knife until he came back.

  "Back at the car, he pulled a T-shirt out of the trunk and wiped it off. That's when I saw the blood. He said a dog tried to attack him—that he was just defending himself. I freaked out. I didn't know what to do." He shook his head. "He knew it, too. He made me swear not to say anything. He said it was lucky he got to the dog first because it probably would've killed some kid." Dave looked up then. "I've been trying to figure out a way to get a new partner, to transfer. He's such a prick, but his father's—" He stopped then, silent.

  Hailey nodded to Jamie.

  "You can go," Jamie told him.

  He looked up, relieved. "Really? Are you going to—"

  "No," she interrupted. "But don't say anything about this yet. I'll be in touch."

  He nodded, avoiding Mackenzie's gaze, and left the room.

  Hailey spoke first. "We should start by telling IA and the DA's office."

  Jamie nodded. That probably made sense.

  "I'll talk to IA," Hailey offered.

  Jamie nodded. "I'll go talk to the D.A." She glanced at her watch. "I might be able to catch Chip Washington. Call my cell and we'll touch base. I'll be here until nine—at my desk or on my cell. Tony's picking me up then."

  As she made her way up to the D.A.'s office on the eighth floor, Jamie prayed one of these leads would end in an arrest. They had to be close. She just hoped they weren't somehow looking at Devlin's murder all wrong.

  Washington's secretary was gone and Jamie considered for a second that he might be, too. It was late, after all. She knocked on the door, but no one answered. She started to turn when she heard it open.

  Washington emerged, wearing his coat and carrying a bulky leather attorney-style briefcase with a brass snap at the top.

  "You heading home?"

  He nodded. Yawned.

  "You okay?"

  He nodded to her bruise. "I should be asking you that."

  She touched her cheek.

  "I'm sorry about what happened," he offered.

  "Thanks."

  "I've got time," He said, turning back. "Come on in." He led the way into his office, set the case down by his desk and shrugged out of his jacket.

  She heard the click of his bag opening as she moved into the office, shutting the door behind her. "I'm here because of another Scanlan incident."

  Holding a notepad, he looked up, frowning. "What now?"

  Jamie told him about David Priestley's confession.

  Washington shook his head. "That kid is a menace."

  "He wouldn't be here if it weren't for his father."

  "His father's a menace, too." He lifted the yellow legal pad and began to make notes. "Let me get the specifics."

  Jamie repeated the date and time of the attack, gave him her vet's name and number. As she spoke she glanced over at his shelf, scanning the pictures of his wife and daughter she'd seen dozens of times before. She started to ask about the girl when her eye caught an award at the end of the shelf. A trophy from the banquet. She felt fear. Adrenaline flooded her chest and belly in a rush of heat. Washington won an award.

  Jamie pictured Washington in the meeting with Daniels and Scanlan. He'd been uncomfortable. Just like Daniels and Marshall. She stepped toward the award, heart drumming.

  Daniels and Marshall had known about Deputy Chief Scanlan's affair with Devlin. That's why they had been uncomfortable. But Washington? She couldn't see the deputy chief telling a district attorney.

  Jamie swallowed a breath. Washington was Devlin's killer. Calm. She had to stay calm. She moved down the book shelf, took the time to stare at a picture of Washington with the police chief. Tried to slow her breathing. She took hold of her right shoulder, turned back around, rolling her neck slowly. "Damn. I hurt."

  Washington was watching her.

  "I need to take some meds and sleep," she told him, taking a step for the door. "Let's just do this in the morning."

  She started across the room, but Washington moved faster. Blocked the door. In his hand was a revolver, the barrel leveled at her.

  Air seeped from her lungs like from a punctured inner tube.

  "I'm sorry you figured it out," he said, wiping the beads of sweat off his upper lip. The gun trembled slightly in his hand.

  "I didn't want to kill anyone."

  Jamie eyed the door. Buy time. Find a way out. "That morning in the meeting about Devlin's murder—you knew about her and Deputy Chief Scanlan."

  He didn't respond.

  "But not because anyone had told you," she went on. "You knew because you caught them together that night."

  His thumb drew back the hammer.

  "Right before you killed her."

  Chapter 37

  It was almost eight and Hailey had been in the office for eleven hours without a break. For lunch, she'd eaten a stale muffin from a vending machine and since then, all she'd had were two Diet Cokes.

  When her cell phone rang, she thought it was going to be Mackenzie or Jamie.

  "Yeah."

  "It's Stephanie Rusch at the lab."

  "You're there late."

  "Yeah, I guess. Listen, Sydney asked me to call. She said you should get over here as soon as you can. Are you home?"

  "No. I'm at the Hall. Is everything all right?"

  "Uh, yeah. There's just someone here you need to see," she add, sounding nervous.

  "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

  "Uh, I don't think so. It's a guy from the sheriff's department up by Lake Tahoe."

  "Tahoe?" she repeated.

  "Uh, yeah."

  Hailey sighed. "Okay. I can be there in fifteen minutes, but do you know—"

  "I've got to get back," Stephanie said, cutting her off. The call ended.

  Hailey grabbed her coat and headed out of the station. John called on her way out. "Another late night?"

  "I'm sorry, babe."

  "Be careful, okay?"

  She told him she would and started to promise it would be better one day. She couldn't promise that. It would be a lie and she told enough of those already.

  The streets were quiet. She made it into Hunters Point in less than fifteen minutes. She showed her badge to the guard, wound down the road to the lab. As she pulled into a parking spot, she thought about all that had happened since the day she'd been assigned Natasha's murder. What to do about Buck entered her mind. She pressed it out. Now was not the time to figure it out. Soon, though, she thought.

  When she entered the lab, both Sydney and Stephanie were at work behind microscopes. A man Hailey didn't recognize was cutting apart a big piece of carpet with a box cutter.

  Another man sat at
the table where she and Sydney had been just days before, working on Abby and Hank Dennig.

  Sydney turned and stepped toward her, speaking to the man as she pointed to Hailey. "This is Inspector Wyatt."

  The man rose from his chair. He was short and stout. A pair of black elastic suspenders clipped from his jeans and ran over his shoulders. He laughed as he put out his hand. "Sorry. I was expecting a man."

  She smiled. "No apology necessary. I think my mother was, too."

  He laughed.

  Hailey shook his hand and waited for someone to explain why she was there.

  Sydney didn't speak.

  Stephanie and the other tech continued to work.

  "My name's Carl Watson," he said. "I'm a deputy with the Placerville Sheriffs Department."

  "What can I do for you, Deputy Watson?"

  "Please. Call me Carl."

  She nodded.

  "We had a suicide up there that we thought may interest you."

  Hailey frowned. "A suicide?" She scanned her memory for any questionable death that had recently been deemed suicide. Came up empty.

  "Deceased is named Colby Wesson."

  "Wesson?"

  "As in the gun maker. This guy's the grandson or great-grandson. Still in the business—or was."

  Something with the weight of a tank sank in her gut. Leaning against the table, she crossed her arms and dropped her shoulders. He was there about the Dennigs. They hadn't killed each other. If there was another victim, it meant the Dennigs had been murdered. "Wesson," she whispered.

  The man nodded. "Right. He's somewhere down the line from the original gun maker."

  She glanced at Sydney, who gave a tiny nod. "When did this happen?"

  The man fingered his mustache, frowned. "Three weeks ago—three and a half now, I guess."

  "How'd he commit suicide?"

  "Car in the garage."

  She waited.

  "We didn't think anything of it until we found some traces of a drug in his system. Took us nearly three weeks to get the tox reports back. Once we had 'em, we reopened the case and looked into the possibility of homicide. That's when we got the state lab involved. They linked it to a double homicide you worked recently."

  "Abby and Hank Dennig," she supplied.