Abby pursed her lips and considered his question. Jenkins had just filed papers to run for city council. She’d stayed awake for forty-eight hours straight trying to find a suspect and a motive or to ascertain where he’d been killed—all to no avail.
“Sorry, Gunther. I’ve hit a dead end. But I did send some evidence we got off his clothing to the feds. We don’t have the technology to process it, but they may be able to tell us something. It’s a priority for me, but you know they have their own timetable. I’ve got a new partner now, and that case will be back at the top of my list ASAP. I promise we’ll get right back on it.”
Gunther pulled out another cigarette and put it in his mouth but didn’t light it. “Dan and his wife are good people. I know you won’t let it go cold.”
“No, I won’t.”
The reporter smiled. “I might have some information that can help. When you have a minute, call me.”
“I will. But right now I have to get to—”
“The circus. Yep, I have to go find my spot too. Though I’m too big to ever be mistaken for a flea.” He gave her another mock salute and lumbered for the crush of press.
Abby followed him out of the garage but then veered off in a different direction, looking for familiar faces. She’d talked to all the granny murder relatives and apprised them of the situation with Sporty. The daughter of the first victim had indicated she would be at the press conference. Abby picked Marion Snyder out right away.
Taking a detour, she approached Marion. “Miss Snyder?”
The woman turned slowly. Suffering from rheumatoid arthritis, she was bent over from the waist and had difficulty moving her head. The joints of her hands looked more gnarled than the last time Abby had seen her.
“Detective Hart, do you have any more to tell me?”
Abby bent down to hold the woman’s gaze, not wanting to force her into an uncomfortable position. There were tears in her eyes.
“I’m certain we have the right man. But the court process may grind slowly.”
“No matter. This is an answer to prayer.” She grasped Abby’s hand in her bent and twisted fingers. “Thank you so much. I’ve forgiven the man in my heart, but he still must face justice. Perhaps that will save his soul.”
Abby acknowledged the woman’s words and scanned the crowd before continuing on to the podium. They were waiting on the governor, and a couple of the governor’s security staff checked her credentials as she headed to her place. She found Roper and stood next to him and half listened as he told her about security procedures because of the governor’s presence.
The words Marion Snyder had said stuck in her mind like a warp on a CD. “I’ve forgiven the man in my heart.” Abby’d had the forgiveness discussion with her aunt Dede many times. Abby always said she could forgive her parents’ killers but never felt it at her core, in her heart. It struck her then that Marion obviously felt the forgiveness.
Will I ever be at that point? she wondered.
When she saw the governor, she knew that no, she wouldn’t. He was her father’s age, and he’d had a productive twenty-seven years. What might her father have done if he’d not been stopped by a killer’s bullet? No, she thought, I won’t be able to feel the forgiveness. Not as long as the killers evade justice.
How do you forgive a monster?
Especially when the monster has never paid for his crime.
Content to stay in the background during the press conference, Abby studied the principals while Bill fidgeted next to her. She wished he’d relax. But she knew that most cops would rather face a carload of hostile gang members than a bunch of clamoring reporters, so she cut him some slack.
Cox wanted the spotlight and Abby was more than happy to let her have it. She focused on Governor Rollins, his wife, and the entourage around them. One person in particular caught her attention. Gavin Kent was the governor’s chief of staff, and she found his body language intriguing. Though there was plenty of security everywhere—they were in front of a police station for pete’s sake—Abby got the feeling Kent, a short, thickly built man, was tensed to body-block anyone he perceived as a threat to Rollins. He was very imposing with a hard stare and ramrod-straight posture, packing in a shoulder holster, she could tell. That surprised her as well. She’d have thought a glorified personal secretary would leave the firearms to security professionals.
Rollins was average in height and thin. His features reminded Abby of a gaunt distance runner. He’d been a marathon runner in the past, but she’d read that a knee injury ended that hobby. His gray hair was neatly styled and his suit looked well-tailored and expensive. Obviously in his element, he appeared relaxed and unaffected by grief at the moment. Alyssa Rollins probably qualified as a trophy wife. A tad taller than her husband, dark-red hair set perfectly, she seemed to glow. But her face wore a fake, frozen smile. Abby bet she really didn’t want to be here.
When Rollins stepped to the podium, he was brief, to the point, and eloquent, almost the exact opposite of Chief Cox. Rollins’s tone was charismatic, bordering on mesmerizing, and Abby guessed that was one reason he was so successful at winning votes. When he spoke, she heard grief in his voice.
“My aunt Cora was a precious lady, dignified and independent. She lived a long, productive life, and it breaks our hearts to see it end this way. I have every confidence in the Long Beach Police Department to successfully prosecute the individual responsible.”
Abby tuned him out as he started to list the people he thanked for handling the homicide proficiently. She wanted five minutes with him but wasn’t certain she’d get them. She’d noticed over the years that when high-powered people were involved with the police, they didn’t want to deal with peons; they wanted the top dog. Since the chief was out of the country at the moment, the top dog was Cox, and she knew Cox would never give up any of her face time with Rollins, especially for Abby.
The governor yielded the podium to Cox for an update on the investigation. While Cox droned on, obviously not even going to let the district attorney speak, Abby reviewed the search warrant findings in her head. She’d spoken with the DA briefly before the conference and knew that she had no trouble with the circumstantial case they had right now and would proceed to file charges.
She heard Cox call for the last question and tuned back in, not wanting to miss a minute with Rollins if she had the chance. To her surprise, Kent approached her.
“Detective Hart, the governor would like a word with you, please.” He gestured toward the front door of the station and all but ignored Roper. A security agent moved to push the door open.
Abby looked into Kent’s focused, unreadable gaze. “Certainly. My partner as well?”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes and a muscle in his jaw jumped, but he nodded to Bill.
Abby turned and headed into the station, Bill on her heels and Kent behind him.
LUKE LISTENED to the press conference on the radio as he and Madison drove home from the park. Neither Hart nor Bill spoke; it was all Deputy Chief Cox and Governor Rollins.
Hot air, Luke thought. The gritty details of the investigation wouldn’t be made public; he knew that. Cox sounded as if she were preening for the cameras and was probably bucking for an appointment somewhere. She and the governor said a lot without saying a lot.
When it ended and the station resumed its regularly scheduled programming, he wondered if he’d have any chance to get to Rollins before the governor returned to Sacramento.
“Earth to Papa, earth to Papa.”
“Uh, sorry. What?” Luke glanced at his daughter in the backseat.
“I thought we were getting smoothies. You missed the turn.”
“I did, didn’t I? I guess my mind was elsewhere,” Luke said sheepishly as he pulled into the left turn lane to make a U-turn.
Madison gave him a silly grin, and he realized he needed to concentrate on what was most important now. Sighing, he prayed he’d get the chance to talk to Rollins but also reminded himself that
Maddie came first, followed by his work and most pressing case, and that was finding Nadine. Madison loved smoothies, and while Luke would rather have a triple shot espresso, he loved spending this kind of time with his daughter. He settled for a Caribbean blast and listened as she told him about her day.
Bill called while he and Madison were enjoying their smoothies.
“Got some good news for you, buddy.”
“You talked to the governor.”
Bill chuckled. “Not quite. But the governor had his chief of staff deliver an odd request for you and my partner.”
“Both of us? Don’t leave me in suspense. What was it?”
“He wants Hart to meet him at his aunt’s house and let him do a walk-through.”
“That doesn’t sound so odd. What does it have to do with me?”
“I’ll explain tomorrow night. Got to go.”
Luke protested to dead air.
Throwing his hands up, he made a face in the rearview mirror at Madison, who giggled.
“I’m getting my chance.” Abby heard breathing, but Woody said nothing for a long moment.
“I saw the press conference,” he said finally. “He’s gonna talk to you about the Triple Seven?”
“Not yet, but he wants to meet me at Cora’s house for a walk-through.”
“One-on-one?” He let out a long, low whistle. “You lucked out. Just be careful once who you are gets out.”
“Of course. You trained me; how can you not trust me to take care of myself?”
“It’s not that. It’s just . . .” He paused. “I guess sometimes in my mind’s eye you’re still that little girl wrapped in a wet towel. Even after all these years I can’t get my mind around the fact that someone wanted you to burn to death.”
“It’s past time they paid.”
He sighed—with resignation, Abby thought.
“Be ready for the attention. You’ll be a story for a bit.”
“I’ve been ready, Woody, since the day I pinned on the badge.”
Abby worked to quell her rising excitement as she ended the call. Rollins had been interviewed three times by Puff and Puff More right after the murders. She’d memorized every word of every interview. He knew nothing, was shocked that such a horrific crime could happen. The two Puffs believed his shock and grief to be genuine.
Her burning question had also been asked by the Puffs, but she needed to ask it again. Who hated my parents so much that they would murder them and then incinerate everything about them?
When she’d promoted to homicide, she tried to talk Asa into reactivating the investigation. He told her they’d need something big.
“Be patient,” he’d growled, killing her optimism.
As her optimism resurrected, she could see a light, a reason to believe her patience had paid off. It didn’t even bother her that she’d have to call Murphy.
It had amused her to see Cox’s face change colors when Rollins specifically requested her and a civilian for the walk-through. But Abby didn’t like that someone else was calling the shots in her investigation. And it bugged her that all the requests were made by Kent as if the governor himself were speaking. Maybe it was protocol, but to Abby, it was weird.
AT MIDNIGHT, Luke was back in the westside neighborhood near Destination X. He spent most of the early morning hours in or around the place looking, asking questions when people would allow it. He came up empty and called it a night about 3 a.m.
In spite of the big case and putting in a lot of his own time learning his new assignment, Bill joined him to search on Saturday night. Luke anticipated something important from his buddy. He was not prepared for the magnitude of Bill’s announcement.
“I’ll answer all your questions now,” Bill said as he hopped into Luke’s truck.
“I oughta smack you for making me guess for twenty-four hours. You can’t imagine what’s been going through my mind. What’s up?”
“Kent would like you to be there when Rollins does a walk-through of his aunt’s house with Hart.”
“Me?” Luke pointed at his chest with his thumb, certain the astonishment showed.
“Yep, it’s a royal flush, dude. Kent had a lot of conditions for the meeting at Murray’s home. You were one of them.” Bill shook his head. “Am I jealous. He wants to thank you for making the 911 call. Says the governor realizes his aunt may have stayed undiscovered for a while if you hadn’t made that call. I also got the vibe that he feels a bit guilty about not keeping in touch with his aunt.”
“Considering how rich he is and how she lived . . . from what I saw, maybe a little guilt is justified.”
“Maybe. Anyway, he claims he wants to be certain the meeting is well out of the spotlight because it’s a private matter.”
“I don’t know what to say. This is beyond what I expected.”
“Count your blessings. It’s happening tomorrow and has to be at the drop of a hat. Kent will call Hart, she’ll call you, and you both have to be ready in like twenty minutes to meet him at the scene.”
Luke frowned. “That’s for security reasons?”
“That’s what he said, but that guy is a tad paranoid. Maybe it goes with the territory. You can always say no.”
“Not likely.”
Bill grunted. “Don’t I know it. I’d love to be there. Regarding your uncle’s murder, this may be the break you’ve been waiting for.”
“A divine appointment?” Luke smiled and thought for a moment. “He give any indication when he might call tomorrow? Early? Late?”
“No. Last I spoke to Hart, she said she was hoping to get it out of the way early.”
“I was out late last night and plan the same tonight. I sure hope when I get the call, I’m awake.”
Luke remembered the promise he’d made to himself to concentrate on Nadine, so he changed the subject back to her as they drove to the truck stop on PCH, where he parked. They talked about what she was last seen wearing and just where a kid from the east side of Long Beach was likely to hide in the roughest part of the west side.
After an hour or two of talking to people and searching, Luke began to feel hopeless.
“It’s like she’s disappeared off the face of the planet,” he said to Bill. It was around one, early Sunday morning, and he had to be at church by eight. “It’s been over a week. Where is she sleeping? What is she eating? How is she living?”
Bill clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Buddy, you’ve done all you can do for one weekend. For all we know she’s watching us from the shadows and hiding every time we get close. You need to get some sleep. You have other kids depending on you.”
Luke knew he was right. As youth pastor, he had thirty youngsters expecting him to be bright and chipper at church in the morning. Losing this one just hurt so much. He turned to Bill, but it was the man behind Bill on the other side of the parking lot that caught his eye. The man was watching them.
“What?” Bill asked.
“Don’t turn around. There’s a guy in the parking lot watching us.”
Bill chuckled. “Probably a drug dealer who made me for a cop.”
“No, I’ve seen him before. He was at Crunchers.”
“Nadine worked there, right?”
“Yeah. I went there to talk to Sanders. I know that guy was in the yard, watching me then. He looks like a bouncer. Remember that big kid we met in Iraq? He watched the market for his father?”
“He’s that big? Could it be a coincidence?”
“I doubt it. Let’s take a walk and see if he follows.”
They left Destination X and crossed the street to Hotel Pacific, a seedy hotel Luke had watched the night before. Prostitutes went in and out of rooms all night. He and Bill strolled down Pacific Coast Highway, continuing to look left and right. The highway rumbled with truck traffic even this late. The twenty-four-hour truck stop was busy.
Luke could see that the big guy stayed on the other side of the street but was still following them. “He’s still there, sti
cking with us.”
“I see him. Boy, that’s a BUG if I ever saw one,” Bill said with a tilt of his head.
Luke smiled at the reference and agreed. He’d been in the academy long enough to know that BUG was an acronym from riot training for “big ugly guy,” the guy you wanted in front in a skirmish line when you faced a riotous crowd.
Bill rubbed his hands together. “All right, let’s be proactive. We’ll cross back and confront him. I’ll badge him and find out what his major malfunction is.”
They started to do just that, but the tall man ducked into an alley and disappeared. Luke picked up his pace until he heard a car door slam. He and Bill reached the alley in time to see the red taillights of a vehicle disappear around a corner and out of sight at the other end.
“So much for that,” Luke said, feeling exhaustion in every fiber of his soul. “I hate this to sound like it’s a last resort, but I guess I just have to leave Nadine to God.”
Bill smiled grimly. “Yeah, I guess you do. Let’s pray.”
They bowed their heads and prayed for Nadine and for any other lost teen in need.
Glad she could wait until Sunday for the call, Abby spent Saturday morning sipping coffee and reading up on the care of dogs. She downloaded a few books to her Kindle and skimmed through them.
By noon she was reasonably certain she could be a good dog owner. And while she knew this was way over the top, that there was at least a fifty-fifty chance the governor would want the dog, she visited a local pet store and bought a couple of cute ceramic bowls and a dog bed for Bandit, found a vet nearby, and made an appointment for a checkup. Her brain told her the money might be wasted, but her heart—knowing that the dog had lost his owner, his home, and everything familiar—drove Abby to make him feel comfortable and safe for the time he was in her care.
After she put his new stuff out, she hooked on his leash and they took a walk around the block, which seemed to be enough work for Bandit. Since his owner had been so advanced in years, Abby figured the little guy didn’t get much exercise, so she wasn’t going to push it.
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