Stain of Guilt

by Brandilyn Collins

  “What about the residue on Bland’s own sleeve?” Delft asked. “He had to know we’d test both of your shirts. Residue would be on his hand too.”

  Edwin shook his head. “All I can think is that he had a matching shirt in his car. Somehow, before the police arrived, he planned on changing into it. He knew Mom and I would be busy trying to revive the men. And washing his hands would have been easy.”

  Delft sniffed.“Mr. Tarell, I have to tell you the truth. This story sounds a little far-fetched.”

  “And Bland’s story doesn’t?” Edwin expelled a puff of air. “Look at what he claims! He hangs around my town house when he knows everyone’s looking for him and waits for me to throw away my telltale shirt? After he’s called me and tricked me into doing just that? Come on!” Edwin swiveled his head from one man to the other. “By the way, have you forgotten he’s been on the run for twenty years? While I’ve been right here in town, being a good citizen? And if that doesn’t do it, how about his threats toward Annie Kingston? How about the fact that he kidnapped her at gunpoint?” Edwin pushed to his feet. “I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you two even brought me down here. This is outrageous!” He paced to the wall, then swung back. “Why don’t you just stop wasting time and go find Bland?”

  Oh, boy. This was not going as I’d hoped.

  My tired brain worked to sort through everything. I had to agree with Delft—Edwin’s story was hard to believe. But Bland couldn’t be telling the truth. Particularly after all he’d done to me. And seeing Edwin now—the anger and frustration that tightened his arms, creased his face—I had to believe his version over Bland’s.

  Delft and Chetterling watched Edwin, poker expressions in place. “Mr. Tarell.” Chetterling indicated the table. “Please sit back down. Let’s work through this.”

  Edwin glowered at both men in turn, then slowly took his seat.

  “All right.” Delft shifted in his chair. “Why did you lie about this?”

  “Because—” Edwin closed his eyes, as if amazed they couldn’t understand. “Because my father was dead. Because I was in the room when it happened. And I didn’t move fast enough to stop it. And there was my mother. How was I going to explain to her that I’d done nothing? That I’d stood there, frozen, while Bland jumped me. When she ran into the room, I was on top of Bland. She automatically assumed I’d attacked him in self-defense. I just . . . let her think that. And then when I had to make my formal statement to you, I didn’t want to change my story.”

  Delft drummed his fingers. “A man like you ought to know that lying to law enforcement about events of a crime is serious business.”

  “I do know that.”

  “Yet you’ve let this story remain for all these years.”

  Vaguely, my mind registered a car honking out front. Hadn’t it been going on for a while?

  “I—Okay.” Edwin held up both hands. “Yes. I lied to you. Do you want to hear me say that word? I lied, and I let the lie stand all these years. But so what? It’s a minor point! It doesn’t change the fact that Bland is guilty. All he’s done since then should convince you of that. The man deserves to rot in hell!”

  “Well, he just might deserve that,” Delft retorted,“but now we’ve got a fine mess on our hands. What if your lie—the lie you told to save your own face—ends up allowing Bland to go free?”

  Edwin tilted his head. “Oh, come on. That’s not going to happen. This little detail against everything Bland’s done?”

  “You’re our star witness, Mr. Tarell.” Delft’s voice sharpened. “Imagine Bland’s defense attorney questioning you about your little lie on the stand. He’ll tear you apart. He’ll tell the jury, ‘Hey, the guy lied about this, what makes you think he’s not lying about everything else? And by the way, the hard evidence of the shirt and gun backs up my client’s claims!’ This is assuming, of course, that we can charge Bland in the first place.”

  The honking continued. Who was that?

  Edwin’s indignant expression remained, but his cheeks paled. “This can’t be that serious.”

  “I’m afraid it is.” Delft pierced him with a long stare. “And we don’t like surprises in court. So in case you do get to testify against Bland, you’d better come clean right now. Any other lies you’ve told us?”

  Edwin’s face darkened. He smacked his palms against the table. “That’s it! This conversation is over.”

  Once more, he was on his feet.

  “Oh, Jenna—” I pushed her—“we’d better go. He’s coming—”

  A deputy trotted around the corner, aiming for the interrogation room, an instinctive hand hovering over his weapon. With hardly a glance at us, he skidded to a stop and threw the door open. Chetterling’s head whipped around. Edwin drew to a halt.

  Noises from the building’s entrance escalated. More honking. Voices, shouts, someone else running.

  I froze, watching the detective and deputy exchange a few words. Chetterling’s face slacked. He motioned to Delft.

  “What’s going on?” Jenna leaned toward the glass.

  “I don’t know.” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. And I didn’t want to face one more thing on this never-ending day. “But we have to get down the hall before Edwin comes out of there. I don’t want him to see us.”

  With nervous glances over our shoulders, we slipped around the far corner, toward Delft’s office. Behind us, multiple pairs of feet hustled from the interrogation room.

  “What’s happening?” Edwin’s demand filtered to my ears.

  “Bland’s here!” I heard Chetterling answer, his voice fading as he headed toward the entrance. “He’s barricaded in his car with a gun. Says we’d better listen, or he’s going to kill somebody.”

  Chapter 42

  Confusion twisted through the air, disconnected sights and sounds bombarding Jenna and me as we huddled in our corridor. Sharp voices and commands tumbled from the entrance. The few personnel in the building hurried down the hallways. Distantly, I heard Bland yelling. What was he saying?

  I couldn’t believe he was here. Here. All they had to do now was capture him.

  “Last time he was willing to take down four people.” Sergeant Delft’s words ran through my head. “Just how many do you think he’d be willing to take down now?”

  Dull dread filled me as a premonition sank talons into my head—a knowledge surely as strong as Emily Tarell had felt twenty years ago. Someone was going to die tonight.

  Oh, God, please don’t let any of these men die. Please don’t take Chetterling!

  Bland’s voice raged on. Noises in the building fell to muted footfalls, lowered voices.

  My purse dragged at my shoulder. I set it on the floor. Jenna set hers down too. We looked at each other, shell-shocked. “What do we do now?” I hugged my arms across my chest.

  “I don’t know. But I have to see what’s going on.”

  “We’re safer here.”

  “Yeah, but . . . can you stand just waiting here, not knowing?”

  I envisioned gunshots, yells, the desperation of not knowing who had fallen.

  “No.”

  “Let’s just ease our way a little closer.”

  Jenna slipped back down the hall, pulling me behind her. We rounded the corner—and ran into Edwin. He jumped, then regarded us with delayed reaction, emotions from the last hour still playing across his face.

  “Annie! What . . . what are you doing here?”

  “We just came to talk to Sergeant Delft. But he was in a meeting.”

  “Oh. Well. I came to see him too.”

  We stared at each other.

  Bland was still yelling. What was happening out there? “Uh, Edwin, this is my sister, Jenna.”

  “Hi. Glad to meet you.” Edwin’s distracted gaze roamed toward the front of the building.

  More distant shouts. My breathing hitched. Bland this close to me—again. Even without seeing him, I could feel the malevolence of his presence. “This is . . . What do
we do now?”

  Edwin saw my pinched face, and his expression softened. He touched my hand. “Annie, forgive me. With all this going on . . . It’s so good to see you here, and safe. I’m so sorry for what happened to you. It’s just what I was afraid of—Bland getting to you.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you.”

  He nodded, then swallowed, a hardness creeping over his features. “I’m going down there until I can see outside. It’s been twenty years since I’ve laid eyes on that face. And you want the truth? I hope Bland gets himself killed.”

  “I can understand that.” Jenna sounded matter-of-fact, no doubt remembering her own vengeful thoughts. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill somebody else first.” She turned toward the building’s entrance. “Let’s go too, Annie.”

  “But it could be dangerous.”

  “We’ll stay out of the way.” She gave me a nudge, and we eased down the hall, Bland’s voice getting louder as we approached.

  In the lobby, Chetterling, Delft, and three deputies pressed behind walls, away from the vulnerability of the glass doors. “Stay back and out of the way.” The sergeant pushed his palm toward us. “Bland’s car window is partly open, and he’s got a gun.”

  We ducked behind the wooden partition of the receptionist’s area. I crouched down until my ankles started to shake, then lowered myself to the floor. Prayers chain-linked through my head. Please, God, let them catch him; please, God, keep everyone safe.

  “I want to talk to Chetterling!” Bland’s muffled yell was raucous. “I demand to know what happened to my evidence!”

  Peeking around the partition, I had a straight line of view through the front doors. Streetlights dimly illuminated the parking lot. Bland’s car sat in the center, its flashers pulsing into the night. His window faced the building. Sheriff’s Department cars were gathering near the street entrance, their red and blue lights washing the semidarkness. No doubt the deputies had slipped from their driver’s seats to hide behind their vehicles, weapons drawn and pointed at Bland’s car.

  What did Bland think he was doing? I didn’t care a whit for the man, but he had a wife and kids. Who apparently had no knowledge of who he was or what he’d done. I thought of my Kelly, Stephen, their stunned faces at the betrayal of their father three years ago. How much deeper the devastation of Bland’s family to learn he was a wanted killer.

  “Annie, get back here.” Jenna yanked at my shirt, pulling me fully behind the partition.

  “They’ve all got guns.” Edwin leaned against a back wall, facing me and Jenna, his jaw set. His breathing came quick and hard. His eyes closed briefly, as if he fought to convince himself this was really happening. “I say go for it. Shoot him and be done.”

  I watched him as an almost palpable anticipation began to seep from his pores. After what he’d been through, I couldn’t blame him. I envisioned a scene a few hours from now: Bland in handcuffs; Edwin calling his mother with the news, tears of weary relief and vengeance in his eyes.

  I leaned my head back against the partition. “But they can’t just rush out there; they might get themselves shot.”

  “Cut the lights.” Delft’s voice.

  Seconds later the building fell into darkness. An automatic, deep shudder overtook me. For a moment I was back in the forest, huddled and waiting, all alone.

  I forced the thoughts away, concentrated on my vision as it strained to adjust.

  Jenna pushed into a crouch, then slowly stood to her full height. I tried to pull her back down. She waved me away.“He can’t see us now.” Edwin rose up beside her. He offered me a hand. I hesitated, then let him help pull me to my feet. We stood side by side, his fingers lacing protectively through mine.

  “It’ll be okay, Annie.” He squeezed gently.

  Dim illumination spilled in from the doors and windows. The various car lights outside flashed white and blue and red against the walls. Chetterling was putting on a bulletproof vest, his movements disjointed and jerky under the surreal strobe effect. A bullhorn flashed visible, then not, visible, then not, on the floor beside him.

  I frowned through the pulsing lights. Delft hunched near a window. He checked outside and emitted a soft curse. “The media’s here.”

  The detective shrugged his shirt back on. “What do you see?”

  “White news van on the other side of our cars.”

  “How’d they get here so fast?” Jenna whispered.

  “They listened to the radio chatter.” I couldn’t take my eyes off Chetterling. He was going out there. Out to try to save Bland’s life, after all the man had done.

  Please, God, protect him.

  Chetterling spoke into a radio, coordinating his movements with men in the parking lot. His intended shield: a sheriff’s car close to the entrance. Two deputies inside moved into position by the door, ready to cover him. I knew the deputies outside would cover him as well.

  “I demand to see Chetterling!” Bland yelled again. “I have to talk to him!”

  Bullhorn in hand, Chetterling hunkered down. Someone pulled back the door, and he slipped outside.

  A deputy quickly secured the door open, in case Chetterling had to return in a hurry.

  Delft checked through the window. “He’s in place.”

  I rose to my tiptoes, staring at Bland’s car, trying to make out his form. Only the top of his head was visible as he hunched down in the front seat.

  “Somebody talk to me now!” Bland’s voice rose. “I know reporters are here. I want them to tell the world how you ignored my evidence. I want my family to know!”

  I caught a glimpse of his head as he leaned toward the passenger window.

  “Do you hear, newspeople? Do you know I brought the Sheriff’s Department evidence that proves I didn’t do those two murders? I brought them the shirt that Edwin Tarell wore and the gun with his fingerprints on it. And what have they done with them? Nothing!”

  “Mr. Bland!” Chetterling’s deep voice boomed through the bullhorn, echoing off the cars and nearby buildings. “This is Detective Ralph Chetterling. I’m here to talk to you.”

  More patrol cars were pulling into position on the street, both from the Police’s and Sheriff’s Departments. Bland disappeared beneath his window.

  “Chetterling! What have you done with my evidence? You promised me you’d test it.”

  “We did test it, today. It all checked out, Mr. Bland, just like you said it would.”

  “Then why wasn’t that on the news? Why’s everybody chasing me?”

  “You’ve got to come in. Then we can talk. You’re not doing yourself any favors, sitting out there with a gun.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “You can trust me.” Chetterling’s words bounced across the lot.“You trusted me with your evidence, didn’t you? And I took care of it, like I said I would.”

  Silence. I could hear Edwin breathing. He still held my hand. The pulsating colors were lasering right through my head, to the back of my brain. I closed my eyes.

  “Then why haven’t you arrested Edwin Tarell?”

  “We did arrest him. The news you saw went out too soon. We just got through questioning him.”

  “What? How dare he say I’m in custody!” Edwin’s whisper was hoarse, his fingers tightening in mine. “It’ll be all over the media.”

  Edwin was right. He didn’t deserve this. “I know, but they’ll clear that up later. Chetterling’s just trying to get him to surrender.”

  “Who needs him to surrender? Why don’t they just shoot him?”

  He turned to me, and I saw hatred glitter in his eyes.The intensity chilled me. It occurred to me then—Edwin’s fear of what he would face if Bland went to trial. Sneering questions from the defense attorney, publicly having to admit his own lie. The anxious hours spent waiting for a verdict.

  “If you arrested him,” Bland cried, “why didn’t I see his face on the news?”

  Movement at the far end of the parking lot caug
ht my eye. Two officers, ducking behind cars, sneaking in closer. A second later, voices filtered from the blackened hallways behind us. Three men, with the vests and rifles of a SWAT team, filtered around the corner.

  “Delft,” one said softly, “we’re here.”

  Time ticked by, surreal and swollen. Voices collided in my head—Chetterling and Bland outside, Delft consulting with his men, Edwin’s whispers of vengeance. The SWAT team faded away into shadows, seeking positions. Then Delft was barking commands into a phone. He hung up, hovering over the receiver. Outside, the lights pulsed, figures skulked, and my skin pebbled. Again I felt the sickening knowledge that this scene could only end badly. Holding tightly to Edwin’s hand, I tried to pray.

  “Bland!” Chetterling again. “Come on out. We’ll talk face to face, no guns, no distance between us.”

  “I want to see the test results first! And I want to see Edwin behind bars.”

  “How do you expect me to show you these things when you’re barricaded in a car? Come out. Then we can show you everything.”

  A phone rang. Delft snatched it up, his words an undertow to the current of the standoff outside. Carrying the receiver, he edged toward the door, softly calling Chetterling’s name. “We got his wife on the line.” He held up the phone. Chetterling scurried to get it, shoulders hunched, head down, then returned to the shelter of the sheriff’s car.

  “Bland, your wife is on the phone. She wants to talk to you. Listen, and you can hear her.” Chetterling held the receiver to the bullhorn.A woman’s voice, tinny but distinct, wafted over the parking lot, pleading with her husband to give himself up, to keep himself safe for the sake of their sons.

  “I didn’t do it, Beth!” A sob shook Bland’s voice. “I didn’t kill those men. You have to believe that.”

  “I do believe you, I do.” His wife’s words cracked. “Just get out of that car so they can talk to you. Everything will be all right.”

  I brought a hand to my mouth. This was terrible. I could feel the woman’s pain.

  Edwin scoffed. “Don’t feel sorry for him,Annie. So he has a family. So did my father.”