by Lisa Harris
Avery took another sip of coffee. She’d gone back and forth in her mind on the drive over, unable to decide if she should tell Jackson that Michael was alive. Because once he knew the truth, he’d be honor bound to turn him in. Putting Jackson and his career at risk wasn’t something she was prepared to do.
But on a personal level, neither did she want to start keeping things from the man she was about to marry.
“Avery …” He stopped and caught her gaze. “When I asked you to marry me, it meant I was ready to go through everything in life with you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. We’re in this together.”
“Then I don’t know how else to tell you but to just come out and say it.” Her voice caught. “Michael’s alive, Jackson.”
“He’s alive?” She clearly had his full attention now. “I don’t understand. How is that possible? The ME signed his death certificate, there was DNA evidence …”
“Trust me, I’m still struggling to figure everything out myself.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“I told you about the video of the gas station robbery and the rumors that he’d been spotted there.”
“Yes.”
“They aren’t just rumors. I met with him this morning.”
“You met with Michael?” Jackson asked. “What did he tell you?”
Avery started walking again, thankful it was too cold for most shoppers and dog walkers to be out in this weather. “It’s a long story, and I don’t have a lot of time to tell you everything now, but I do need your help. His life is in danger.”
“You know I’ll do anything I can, but I’m not sure how I can help. You know I wasn’t working for the ME here when Michael … died.”
“I know.” She nodded. “But now, not only does the cartel have a hit out on him, there are people in the department who are convinced that if he really is alive, that he’s guilty of murder and more. If he lets the chief know he’s alive, he’ll be arrested.”
“What can I do?”
“You did the recent autopsy on Russell Coates, and as you know, we suspect that his death was an inside job, handled by someone who didn’t want the information he had to get out, and if Michael’s arrested …”
“They could just as easily do the same thing to him.”
She nodded. “I can’t lose my brother again, Jackson, but the police now believe he’s responsible for the death of an FBI agent and for the convenience store shooting.”
“And you believe he’s telling the truth?”
“I know you’ve never met Michael, but trust me. He’s not guilty. I’ve known men who’d betray their own mother if it was to their advantage, but nothing—not even the evidence stacked up against him—will convince me of Michael’s guilt. Michael would die for his country before betraying it. And we’ve also got Ivan’s eyewitness account of Agent Kendall’s murder.”
“Who else knows about all of this?”
She tossed her empty cup into a trash container as they walked past. “Mason. Emily. Tory, Levi, Carlos, and my father. We’re holed up in a hotel, trying to figure out how to clear his name.”
“You haven’t brought the captain in on this?” he asked.
“I’m supposed to be working the case to track Michael down, but until we know what’s going on and who’s behind this, I’m afraid to trust anyone.”
“You could lose your job over this, Avery.”
“I know. And so could you, if you do what I ask.” She studied Jackson’s face as he struggled to take in what she’d just told him. “Which is why you can walk away from this right now, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
“What do you need me to do?”
She let out a sigh of relief at his response. “Donald Longhurst, the medical examiner who signed off on Michael’s death, has already been interviewed, but I need to know what you know about the man.”
“Longhurst …” Jackson slowed his steps. “He was a member of the committee that hired me, but I can’t say I know much about him. He was a bit reserved, but not unfriendly. Very knowledgeable. He left a month … maybe six weeks after I was hired.”
“What do you know about him personally?”
“Not much. He wasn’t very social. Never saw him hang out with colleagues. I remember his mother was sick. Not sure what was wrong with her, but I know he took care of her. Don’t think she was supposed to live much longer, but after he retired I never saw him again. I believe he has a daughter in the Atlanta area. He had a photo of her on his desk. I think her name was Sally … or Molly. I don’t remember.”
“Did you notice anything strange about him around the time of his retirement?”
Jackson shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t really know him enough to recognize any changes in his behavior.”
“How hard would it be to alter DNA evidence, falsify a death certificate, and not get caught?”
“You’d have to breach the chain of evidence, but I suppose it wouldn’t be impossible. Foolish and even risky, but not impossible.”
“Enough money can make all kinds of things happen.”
“So you think Longhurst was paid to change the results on the death certificate?”
“Yes.”
“That’s quite an accusation.”
Avery hesitated, praying she wasn’t running in the wrong direction. “I know, which is why we have to move carefully. But on the other hand, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“You know I’ll do anything I can to help, Avery.”
“I know, but before you agree too quickly, let me tell you exactly what I’m asking you to do. The captain knows that I’m looking into the possibility that Michael faked his death. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve found him,” she said. “I’ve been given permission by the captain to open up Michael’s case. I need you to go back through the autopsy reports and see if you can find anything that stands out. If necessary, we’ll exhume the remains of the body that’s in the casket.”
Avery’s phone rang. “Mason?”
“We found Longhurst and the information you wanted from the files. He’s living at his daughter’s house.”
“I’m on my way.” Avery reached up and kissed Jackson’s cheek. “We might have just caught another break. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
Thirty minutes later, Avery knocked on Molly Parker’s door. A pretty woman with bright blue eyes opened the door, letting the scent of pine and baking cookies escape from inside the house.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Avery held up her badge and introduced herself and Mason. “We’re looking for Donald Longhurst.”
“Just a minute.” Ms. Parker stepped back into the house. “Dad, someone’s here to see you.”
A moment later, the former associate medical examiner, Donald Longhurst, a skinny man with a matching thin face and crooked nose, stepped into the doorway. “Is there a problem?”
“Dr. Longhurst,” Avery began, “we’re currently investigating the death of a Michael James Hunt, and we need to speak with you. You were in charge of his autopsy eight months ago and signed off on his death certificate?”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t remember that case in particular …” Longhurst slipped his hands into his front pockets. “You must realize that I handled hundreds of cases a year. But I’m retired now and am no longer with the medical examiner’s office.”
“How long did you work as a medical examiner?” Avery interrupted.
“Thirty-five years, but—”
“I understand you had aspirations to be the chief medical examiner.”
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with this.”
“Just answer my questions, please, Dr. Longhurst.”
“I once had that career goal, but working as an associate was very satisfying.”
“Satisfying, maybe, but not nearly as lucrative. I understand you have a bit of a gambling habit you struggle to support.”
Dr. Longhurst pinched the bridge of
his nose. “You know, that’s none of your business.”
“But you would agree that your finances are in a bit of a mess?” Avery asked.
Dr. Longhurst shut the door behind him and stepped out onto the long veranda. Definitely nervous. Definitely hiding something. “What does my financial situation have anything to do with any of the hundreds of autopsies I performed over the years?”
Avery pulled out a photo of her brother from the file she held. “This man was declared dead after a bomb explosion in a warehouse eight months ago, but we now have information that he is actually very much alive. Does that ring any bells?”
“I … yes … remember that case. While there was little left of the bodies, we found the DNA of Mr. Hunt at the crime scene.”
“While I don’t doubt that Mr. Hunt was at that warehouse that day, I do, however, question the fact that he died there, which brings me back to you. I want to know why you falsified Michael Hunt’s death certificate.”
“I don’t know anything about falsifying—”
“I find that hard to believe, because according to your record, the case involving Mr. Hunt wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Your tenure, Dr. Longhurst, was, in fact, marked by questions about accuracy several times, isn’t that correct?” Avery said, not waiting for a response before she continued. “And if anything else were to show up, formal disciplinary action would have been taken against you.”
“I told you, I don’t know—”
Avery held up a piece of paper. “We have evidence that eight months ago, there was a payment deposited into your bank account in the amount of seventy-five thousand dollars.”
Longhurst patted his front pocket and pulled out his reading glasses. “I’ve already spoken to the police about this case, and I explained that the money was from my mother’s estate. She died this past year.”
“This is not a statement from your local bank here in Atlanta, Dr. Longhurst. This is a deposit of seventy-five thousand dollars in an off-shore account we were able to link to you.”
“No.” Dr. Longhurst reached for the paper. “The only money I received was from my mother’s estate.”
“Those funds were deposited by the insurance company into your personal banking account.”
“Then there must be some mistake.”
“Like the mistake of falsifying autopsy papers?”
“No, I would never—”
Dr. Longhurst flipped over the paper as if looking for something to exonerate him, but it was too late.
Mason spoke up. “Game’s over, Longhurst. We have further evidence of another large deposit into that same account eighteen months ago, and even more incriminating, we have records that prove who put it into your account.”
Longhurst’s face paled. “If you know who it is, then you’ll know I’m going to need protection. They’ll kill me if they know I’ve been talking to you.”
“First tell us exactly what you were told to do.”
“He told me I would find DNA at the scene from Mr. Hunt, and that I needed to ensure that he was listed as one of the fatalities in the explosion. But I never thought anyone would get hurt. You have to believe that.”
“How very noble of you, Dr. Longhurst,” Mason said. “But is that what you really thought? What about Mr. Hunt’s family, who watched their son and brother buried, never knowing that he was alive out there somewhere, maybe even needing their help?”
Dr. Longhurst rubbed his fingers against his temples. “I figured if I was doing a favor for the cartel, he deserved whatever he got just for being mixed up with them.”
“And did you know if that man was, indeed, ‘mixed up with them’ as you put it?”
“No, but—”
“But you decided to play God.”
“I didn’t have a choice. He threatened to hurt my daughter if I didn’t comply.”
“I know how hard that had to have been, trust me. A week ago, I almost lost my daughter,” Avery said, pulling out her handcuffs. “But you could have gone to someone instead of taking a payoff that hurt other innocent people.”
Dr. Longhurst’s expression darkened. “So is Mr. Hunt alive?”
“You know how the cartel treats its victims. There’s a good chance that they tortured him and you helped them cover it up.”
“I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“Dr. Longhurst,” Avery said, “you’re under arrest for falsifying autopsy reports and—”
“Wait, I need protection, and if you cut me a deal—”
“You lost out on making a deal the moment you signed on with the devil.”
24
Olivia stood up and paced the beige carpet of the hotel room as Michael debated with Avery—who’d just returned with Mason—on whether or not it was time to bring in the captain. She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time, realizing that this decision wasn’t the only thing bothering her. Ivan had been gone twenty-six minutes with Gizmo. And the fact that they’d sent an officer with him did little to ease her worry. She kept giving them more minutes. Believing that any second they’d come in the door, reminding her once again that she was overprotective when it came to him. Reminding her that there was nothing to worry about.
But after all that had happened over the past few days, not worrying was getting harder and harder. She wished she knew how to get rid of the constant knot in her stomach that had settled there over the past twenty-four hours. The only thing keeping her going was the reality that she didn’t have to go through this alone. Michael, his father, his sisters, and the rest of them had swept in and set up the place until it looked like a war room. And they’d promised her they wouldn’t stop until this was over.
“Olivia?” Emily called to her from the small kitchen. “Would you like some hot chocolate? I for one am tired of coffee.”
Olivia joined her in the kitchen, thankful for the distraction. “That would be great. Thanks.”
Emily dumped two packets of powder into empty mugs, then filled them with hot water. “Are you hanging in there?”
Olivia hesitated, wondering if she should stay quiet. Michael had been right. Ivan wasn’t a child anymore, and she did tend to overreact.
“I guess I’m doing just that … hanging in there.”
“I know this is hard on you.” Emily’s gaze softened. “I have a feeling we’re a lot alike.” She leaned against the counter. “I don’t even want to be in that other room right now, because I think too much, and definitely worry too much.”
Olivia grabbed a spoon and started stirring the lumps of powder, thankful she wasn’t the only one who overprocessed everything.
“I’ve been thinking what you said about fear … and Michael.” Olivia felt a heat cross her face at the thought of Michael. “My main concern is—and has always been—making sure Ivan is okay. Michael’s entrance into my life has been—well, like you said—completely unexpected.”
“I’m the perfect case in point. Sometimes love comes unexpectedly. So the question becomes, what does your heart say?”
Olivia didn’t even have to try to imagine those blue eyes smiling down at her. Or what those eyes did to her heart.
“There’s a chemistry between us I can’t ignore,” she said. “In some ways I feel as if I’ve known him forever, but the reality is, I haven’t, and that’s where my heart starts warning me to back off.”
“That’s fear speaking again.”
Olivia nodded. “But Michael and I … we live in two different worlds. I’m not sure I could handle waiting for him to come home every night, not knowing if something might have happened to him. Even now, I find my stomach in knots, worried that something’s going to go wrong. That in the end my father and whoever else is involved will win, and I’ll lose him before I ever know what might have been between the two of us.”
“Don’t borrow trouble, as my father always used to say. This situation won’t last forever. And when it’s over, I’d say both of you will have earned some time
off to explore whatever feelings have come to the surface.”
Excitement mixed with sweet anticipation spread through Olivia. So much had changed over the past few days, both good and bad. Only time would tell which was going to outweigh the other.
“I have no idea what the future holds,” Emily said, “but Michael needs someone in his life like you. I can see it in his eyes. You make him happy.”
“The question is, can I be with someone who lives on adrenaline? You thought you lost him once, and the chances of him finding himself in another situation like that are very, very real.”
“You’re right.” Emily nodded. “Michael’s a cop, and nothing’s going to change that. Not even falling in love.”
“So how do you live with the fear that he might not come back? Or that Mason won’t come back? My life is predictable. Michael’s life is more like a constant firecracker in a hornet’s nest. I’ll be honest, the thought terrifies me.”
“I might come from a family of cops, but you can bet it scares me too. I’m a teacher with a pretty predictable life. I might spend my days teaching about revolutionaries and wars, but my own day-to-day life is routine. I eat oatmeal and blueberries for breakfast, drive the same route to school every day. I buy Chinese takeout on Tuesdays and eat dinner with my family on Wednesday nights. Falling in love with an undercover cop who also thrives on adrenaline wasn’t exactly on my to-do list.”
“Maybe a bit of unpredictability isn’t such a bad thing for the two of us after all.” Olivia’s smile faded as she glanced toward the door.
“So what else is bothering you?” Emily asked.
“Ivan … he’s been gone too long.”
Michael stepped into the kitchen with an empty coffee cup in his hand and grabbed the half-full pot off the counter. “I’m sure he’s fine. This hotel was chosen because of the security.”
Olivia frowned, hoping he hadn’t heard the first part of their conversation. But no matter what Michael thought about the safety of the hotel, they shouldn’t have let Ivan take Gizmo out. These weren’t ordinary circumstances. Whoever was after them was involved with the cartel, which meant these weren’t run-of-the-mill thugs involved in petty crime. If they found Ivan … if they knew he’d witnessed a murder … knew he was the son of Antonio Valez …