“Ideally,” Moore muffled through the door, “I’d like you to open up.”
Evie sighed, found something to wear, and pulled the door open.
Captain Moore stood in his uniform, his briefcase tucked up under his arm. It looked as though he’d been on his way to the station to start a day’s work, but his mouth curved into an uncomfortable frown. “Bed hair, Miss Black.”
Ashamed of her appearance, Evie let out an exasperated breath and waved him in while she found a brush. “So, what’s going on? I take it you’re not here to make small talk about my hair. Unless you want me to recommend a good stylist?”
He laughed at that, if only for a second. “I need a favor, actually.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve just discovered that John Matthews has a flight to Paris at noon…” Moore took a pair of glasses from his pocket, breathed on them, rubbed them clean, and placed them on his nose. “It’s a one-way ticket.”
That sneaky son of a bitch! Evie wanted to scream but found herself only mumbling as she reentered the room with a hairbrush gripped tightly in her hands. “Why are you here, then? Shouldn’t you be stopping him from leaving the country or something?”
“That’s precisely why I am here. IA told us to keep our hands away from Matthews and Little. I can put in a request to have him stopped, but I doubt it would go through the system in time.”
“What do you suggest?” Evie asked, although she had a feeling she already knew.
“It has to be you, Miss Black.”
“I can’t. I have to be at Durant’s trial.”
“To watch what you could be preventing? Listen to me.” He placed his hand softly on her shoulder, gazing into her eyes. “If you can find a way to have him arrested, we can keep him overnight. Of course, the charges won’t amount to anything, but it would give you your window of opportunity, wouldn’t it?”
Evie supposed he was right. She could stop him, and that would keep him in the country until after the trial. But it wouldn’t prove anything—not unless Internal Affairs managed to uncover something from Detective Little. “Fine,” she said, grabbing her keys. “Which airport?”
“JFK, Miss Black,” said Captain Moore. “JFK.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Airport security did nothing but dismiss her with a curious look of suspicion on their faces that she would later identify as their thinking she was a crazy person. But she was nothing of the sort. At least she didn’t think so.
Noon was coming close, and Evie had her eye on John Matthews. He was traveling alone, with only a small bag slung over his shoulder as he joined the line to check in. She wanted to approach him, to tell him that he was a bag of shit, and then make a citizen’s arrest. Did she even know how? She had an idea that she didn’t.
The line shifted, and Matthews moved forward. There were only ten or so people in front of him now. It wouldn’t be long before he handed over his ticket, and that would be the end of it—bye-bye, John Matthews, and with him, the truth about Sadie and Emma Durant.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Evie turned to the deep, commanding voice, only to see another member of airport security. Although it probably made her look suspicious, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the gun on his hip. “Yes?”
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“No.” Her eyes now wandered nervously all over the place. “Why do you ask?”
The guard laughed and lowered his gaze. “Between you and me,” he said, “the other guards have their eyes on you. And I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t looked away from that man in over ten minutes.” He was pointing, of course, at Matthews.
But that gave her an idea.
She tried to remember what Captain Moore had said—that she only needed him detained long enough for the trial. So if only a couple of hours would be enough… “Yeah, something odd is going on there,” she said, playing what was perhaps her only remaining card.
“Something… odd?”
“That man—I know him. Well, I know who he is. He’s been stalking my friend a lot lately. See, they were dating up ’til recently.”
The guard crossed his arms, and his head dipped as he listened closely.
“Every now and then he turns up at her house, telling her that if she doesn’t get back with him, then he’s going to kill himself and that he’ll take a lot of people with him. It was crazy talk.” Evie licked her lips, wondering just how false this bullshit story of hers sounded. “I didn’t believe him until now, but you don’t suppose…”
“Just so we’re clear,” the guard said, lowering his hands to his hips, “you’re making an accusation that this man might have plans to sabotage the aircraft?”
It sounded so threatening coming from his deep voice—so final. “Yes,” Evie said. “I guess that is what I’m saying.” She stepped back then, watching the guard squeeze through the crowd and head toward John Matthews.
This could be good, she thought, watching, or it could get me in an awful lot of trouble.
Chapter Thirty-Six
There was only an hour until the murder trial when Evie turned up at the police station in a cab. Having phoned ahead, Captain Moore was waiting for her on the front steps, Starbucks cup in hand.
“Well done,” he said as he opened the door for her and paid the driver.
“I just hope it’s enough.”
“Oh, it should be. They’ve made a move on Detective Little.”
Evie stopped, mouth open, staring. “I thought… I thought you said it was too soon.”
“It was, but Internal Affairs picked up on his phone records.”
“And?”
Moore escorted Evie through the police station, stopping only when they reached his office door. “You were right. There were phone calls between Little and Matthews, so they definitely knew each other. There were even some text messages talking about ‘clearing up the mess.’”
“From when?”
“The night of the murders.” Moore took a sip from his cup, hiding his smile badly.
“Good,” Evie said, looking around her. The adrenaline was flooding through her now. It was making her restless. “What about Little? What’s the next step?”
“Being interrogated as we speak.”
“And his house is being searched for evidence?”
Captain Moore shrugged. “We got an arrest warrant. The search warrant is pending. Problem is”—he looked at his watch—“it might be too late by then. You might just have to take what you have and run it over to Durant’s attorney.”
Evie took a deep breath, mulling over her choices. The captain was right—she could head into the trial and give what she had. But would it be enough? She doubted it, and that only left one option. “This time I need a favor from you.”
Moore opened the door and waved her in, setting down his cup. “Go on.”
“We have less than an hour until the trial. I can be in and out of Little’s home by then. I’ll need you to do two things: turn a blind eye while I obtain some evidence.”
“You want me to let you break the law?”
Evie leaned over his desk, giving him the courtesy of eye contact. “Yes.”
Moore looked over her at the open door. “And the second thing?”
“You’ll have to be at that courthouse. Any evidence brought in late probably won’t be admissible. If you’re there, Durant stands a much stronger chance of being heard.” When Evie said this, it suddenly became clear to her that she believed Calvin Durant—she somehow knew that he was innocent. The final hurdle was to convince everyone else, and that was no walk in the park.
For the first time since she’d first met him, the captain looked stressed. He sat back in his chair, interlaced his fingers, and brought them down on his head, rubbing hard. With a sigh, he looked up at her and said…
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Two weeks later
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The lawy
er cleared his throat. “Would you tell us when you came to discover this new evidence?”
Captain Moore straightened his tie. “The judge approved a warrant for the search of the property the morning that the trial began.”
“This was two weeks ago, correct?”
“Correct. We conducted a routine search of Detective Little’s residence and recovered the bloody clothing at that time.”
Judge Dupuis gave a stern look to Captain Moore. “Very well, then. Any further evidence must be submitted now, and not a moment later. A separate hearing will be held to address the matter of John Matthews and Dennis Little. The DA can organize that in due course. You may step down, Captain Moore.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Moore came back to the gallery, where Evie put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing harder than she should have. It was only nerves, but they weren’t easing up.
“We’ve done everything we can,” Evie whispered. “Right?”
Captain Moore simply nodded, eyes straight ahead, looking at the judge.
Evie, however, was less calm. She noticed her hands were shaking terribly, but it didn’t much surprise her. A man’s freedom—an innocent man’s freedom—had been entrusted to her. In hindsight, she could have done a lot more for him if she’d trusted him fully from the start. But that was easier said than done, wasn’t it?
She looked over her shoulder at the crying people in the pews. Most of them seemed as keen as she was to get this over with. Probably friends of Sadie and Emma, Evie thought, turning her head to look at the gallery, where Detective Little was standing as the aggressor—not as the defendant. That would come later if Calvin wasn’t found guilty first.
The newly processed evidence had been submitted to the court just hours ago, along with the signed search warrant, although nobody had to know that the timing was off by a few hours. The evidence itself consisted of a men’s polo shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of size eleven shoes. All were bloodstained, and none would fit Detective Little’s bulk. In the intervening two weeks, the lab had conclusively determined the blood on them belonged to Sadie and Emma Durant, and purchase receipts for the items had been found in Matthews’s home. Under interrogation, Little broke and admitted he’d offered to get rid of the bloody evidence for his pal, but had instead kept it as an insurance policy.
As Sam Fitzgerald called Calvin Durant and Detective Little to the stand, working his own science on them to make them state their own facts, Evie sat quietly. Her foot kept moving, her knee bobbing up and down. She watched the entire trial like that.
This was, without a question, the longest day of her life.
Finally, the jury was excused to find a verdict. While everybody filed out, Evie remained with Captain Moore in the gallery for a few moments, praying everything would be okay.
Before the guards took Calvin Durant back to his cell to await the decision that would define the rest of his life, he looked over to her with tears in his eyes. “Miss Black,” he said. “If I’m found guilty, I want you to know that I’m grateful for your help. I understand you tried your best, and I… Thank you.”
Speechless, Evie gripped Moore’s hand. The captain gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one who was scared.
Two hours later, everyone filed back into the courtroom and found their seats again. The verdict was in. The jury shuffled in with indefinable expressions on their faces. Evie could only think the worst now. Moore squeezed her hand again, and Durant turned to give her a look somehow filled with both hope and terror.
Try as she might to focus on the jury, she could only imagine how painful it would be to write up the article later. Evie could picture her own misery as she explained to the world what had happened to Calvin. And she would write it, whether that be for Vision Magazine, another company, or even her own blog.
Judge Dupuis addressed the people to his right. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
From her spot behind him, Evie could see Calvin’s back hitch with his panicked breathing. Evie couldn’t have breathed if she wanted to.
One woman stood, chubby cheeked and pale of skin. “In the case of the New York versus Calvin Durant, on first-degree murder of Sadie and Emma Durant, we find the defendant…”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Five days had passed since the trial. Evie sat in the good company of Captain Moore, with the printed article rattling in her hand. “Can I read it to you?”
Moore set down two glasses of whiskey, one for each of them. “Go ahead.”
Evie took a moment to check for typing errors, cleared her throat, then began. “America. The Land of the Free. It’s well renowned throughout the world for its justice system. The structure of the law is thought to be impeccable by many. But if that’s true, then where was justice in New York during the spring of 2016?
“Calvin Durant—an innocent man who suffered blackouts due to a condition known as fugue—was facing a murder charge when he woke up to find that his wife and child had been bludgeoned to death with a hammer. His statement to the police had been refused by Dennis Little, who had more secrets than he cared to admit.
“Make no mistake—this is corruption in its rawest form.
“Only too late did it surface that the oldest of the two victims—mother of one, Sadie Durant—had been sexually harassed by her murderer years before he had taken her life. John Matthews—former employee of Stop and Shop Groceries, where his obsessions for Sadie first began—had been known for stalking women and intruding on their marriages. When Sadie moved to Brooklyn with her family, she had been followed by Matthews, and the unhealthy obsession continued.
“Within a month of the move, the murders took place at the Durant residence, and Calvin was arrested almost immediately after waking from unconsciousness. All evidence suggested that he was the killer, until Captain Moore of the NYPD and I looked further into this mystery.
“John Matthews, as was later discovered, appeared to have been in cahoots with the detective the whole time. Cell phone records showed a connection between these two, including text messages that they’d sent to keep of track of their framing of Calvin Durant.”
Evie put the paper on her lap and took a large gulp of whiskey. It burned a tunnel down her throat, but she didn’t care—she needed it.
“Detective Little’s home was also searched, where bloodstained shoes were found. When interrogated, he’d said nothing, but later broke down in court, confessing to the cover-up of John Matthews’s crime. Now, they each serve a life sentence. This, in every way, is what’s known as justice.
“Calvin Durant, now a free man, has been vindicated, and he plans to visit his family tomorrow at Highfield Cemetery. For his sake, we should all say a prayer that he can bury his guilt of their fate with them.”
Captain Moore shook his glass, the ice cubes clinking around in the empty bottom. “It’s good. I mean, it needs some work, but it’s good.”
“That’s just my first edit. But it’s okay?”
“It seems short, but it’s only a column, right?”
Evie shrugged. “I don’t know just yet. But we’ll soon find out.” She picked up her bag and slid the paper inside. Zipping it up, she stood and shook Moore’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for having heard me out in the first place.”
“Nonsense. It’s what I’m here for. You just take care of yourself, Miss Black.”
“Of course. You too.” Evie gave a grin that she felt came out all too cheesy. There was no denying it—she felt proud of herself. Not for the half-hearted article, but for having had a part in freeing an innocent man. Calvin, she hoped, would find a way past this and try to work toward rebuilding his life.
“Miss Black,” Captain Moore said, stopping her as she was halfway through the door.
“Yeah?”
“Keep in touch.”
Evie smiled again. “I will.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
/> Evie was shown straight up to the penthouse of Vision headquarters. The last time she was here, she’d been ganged up on, humiliated, and was earning a wage by making coffee for people—one of whom would later try to rape her. Upon returning, however, she had her chin up and walked with a confident grace to Conan Reed’s office.
“Ah, Miss Black,” Conan said, with one hand on the boardroom door.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I… I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”
Evie watched the pain in his face as he said this. “Yes, you do. But let’s do it another time, okay?” She let him off the hook. Evie was feeling particularly kind today, after all—her article had been published in a different magazine. It hadn’t brought in much money—freelance wage—but the truth was out there. That was all that mattered.
“Sure.” Conan lifted the magazine for their rivals—the one to which Evie had sent her article. “I gave it a read. You know, I really thought this Durant guy was guilty. Which was why… Oh, heck. I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. First, everyone in here was rude to you, then something happened to you—something bad, which I’ll never fully understand.” Evie had an idea that he was talking about Troy Bukowski and that incident. “And finally, I dismissed you. You were up against it, for sure, and you still showed us all what you’re made of.”
“I’m just flesh and bone, like everyone else.”
Conan sighed. “If you insist. Anyway, there’s another reason I called you in.”
“Oh?”
“Troy’s job is still available. If you want it, it’s yours.”
Evie appreciated the gesture—she really did—but wasn’t sure if she could do it. “It sounds great and all, but… last time I was here… I can’t work with those people. Not after the things they said. It made me feel so small.”
Hard Press: The Evie Black Files Page 7