Even if there wasn’t a lot of money in it, that didn’t matter. And the Lord always seemed to provide.
After leaving Crystal, Luke returned home to catch up on e-mails and paperwork. An e-mail from an old friend piqued his interest.
Bullet, saw news blurb on a cold case in your neck of the woods. . . . Would love to chat about it and catch up on old times. I’ll be calling.
Todd Orson, aka Ice Age, was someone Luke served with in the Army Special Forces. He used Luke’s nickname, one he hadn’t heard in quite a while, one that brought up mixed feelings.
Luke sat back in the chair and read the note over and over. His Army days were a source of pride and shame for Luke. He’d been true to his uniform and his oath of service but not to his marriage vows, leading a wild life overseas. He hadn’t become a Christian until after his wife’s death. The if onlys tormented him still. If only he hadn’t argued with her over the phone when he knew she was driving. He’d wanted to reenlist; she’d wanted him home. The scream and the crash and the disconnected phone call would stay with him forever.
Ice Age reminded him of segments of a life he wished he could forget. His old friend worked for the FBI now, Luke had heard through the grapevine. He didn’t know if Orson was as wild as he used to be. He may have settled down like I have, Luke thought.
In any event, Luke hoped Ice Age did call. He’d like to catch up and show him how his life had changed.
DISTRICT ATTORNEY DREW was thrilled with the case against Lil’ Sporty. In spite of the fact there was no direct evidence and the confession was brief, she liked it and felt they had their man.
“He’s been assigned a public defender and there is a chance he’ll cop a plea,” she told Abby, Roper, and Lieutenant Jacoby.
“I don’t think anyone has a problem with a plea.” Jacoby looked at Abby.
“I don’t,” she said. “He’s off the street—that’s what counts.”
Bill nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” Drew said. “I’ll be in touch.”
After the meeting, Abby had her plate full explaining to her coworkers why she’d never been forthcoming about her identity. How the news had traveled so fast, she’d never know. It could have been Murphy; it could have been someone from Rollins’s staff. But the cat was out of the bag and running like a champ. Jacoby told her he’d heard from DC Cox. Abby could only guess who’d told her.
“All this time you’ve been here and kept quiet. I didn’t think secrets were possible in the PD,” Lieutenant Jacoby said.
“Woody and Asa convinced me it was for the best.”
“Your parents’ case is the biggest unsolved crime in the department’s history. They still talk about it in the academy. Zeke Russell never got over not closing that case.”
Everyone had questions for her and she answered them all. Coworkers were supportive and curious, and she was glad the Triple Seven case was now out of the dusty world of cold cases and in the open. As much as she didn’t like talking about herself, she found it a relief that everyone knew her secret and she could be totally open about wanting the case solved. Even so, by the end of the day she felt all talked out.
Abby’s hopes for a quiet evening with no more talking were dashed when her cell phone buzzed before she reached her car.
“It’s my lucky day. Twice you’ve answered.” Gunther’s cigarette-coarsened voice assaulted her ear. “I’m calling in my favor.”
“Which one is that?”
“Abigail Morgan.”
Abby stopped at her car and leaned against the driver’s door, thinking but not saying anything. She didn’t want to go there again. She’d told Woody she was ready, but was she?
“This has become hot hot. I know you’re still there. I’ve got to get a piece out about you. I think it’s only fair you give me the first interview.”
“Gunther, I am so busy right now.”
“CliffsNotes so I can show my editor something.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where’ve you been? Why hide? Why tell the governor who you are now?”
Abby closed her eyes and told the story—again.
“Aunt. Is that Deidre?”
“Yeah.”
“Hart must be her married name.”
“It is. Her husband died about a year before my folks.”
“Why did it take so long to find her?”
“She was in South America on a missions team—”
“I remember that. Your mom called her a Holy Roller. You lived with her until college?”
“Yes. When I graduated high school, I got an athletic scholarship to LB State.”
“Volleyball. That I know. Did you come back always planning to solve your parents’ murders?”
“That has always been my dream.”
“Are you reopening the Triple Seven investigation?”
Abby waited a beat, wondering how to answer. “Technically it was never closed—no arrest, no suspect, it’s open. But, Gunther, officially I can’t go there right now.”
“Did the governor inquire about the case at all?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because reporter equals curious, and when Rollins comes to town, your carefully hidden identity becomes hidden no more, etc., etc.”
“I’ve had a long day and I’m on my way home.”
“If you think this is going to go away quietly, you’re delusional. Anything connected to Rollins will be big. He’s all but officially filed to run for the senate. Every cable network in the country will probably visit you in the next couple of days. Did he quash the Triple Seven invest?”
That gave Abby pause. Could Rollins close the case permanently? His reaction made her consider him a suspect. If he did quash the case, it would only increase her suspicion. She would never tell Gunther her suspicions. He would run with it and things would get beyond crazy. But then that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To surprise the killer and hopefully smoke him out. If the killer was Rollins, that would do it, wouldn’t it?
“You still there, Hart?”
“To my knowledge Rollins has not interfered with any investigation. As far as the Triple Seven goes, I have a full caseload.”
“You should run for office.”
“Do you have what you need? I really have to get going.”
“For now, but I hope we can talk again.”
The connection ended, and Abby frowned. She’d probably catch it for speaking to Gunther, but so be it. Sighing, she got in the car, too tired at the moment to give it serious thought.
THERE WAS NOT MUCH REST to be had when she got home. There were messages on her home phone, and it was still ringing. While she didn’t plan on calling back any news outlets, she knew there was one call she had to make, and that was to Dede. She also knew that she should call Ethan back, but she didn’t have the energy. She’d probably wait until he called her.
Dede answered on the third ring. “Abby, what a nice surprise, but I hope there’s nothing wrong.”
Abby sighed, truly sorry that her aunt would think she only called when there was a problem. Dede didn’t have cable service, so Abby knew it was likely she had not heard about Abby and the Triple Seven. She explained what had transpired with Governor Rollins.
Dede was quiet for a moment. Abby waited.
“Well,” she finally said, “I knew it would come out sooner or later. Frankly, I’m amazed you were able to keep it a secret for this long. When you left here to go to college, I feared you would scream it from the rooftops that you wanted to find your parents’ killers.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? No, of course not. I just want you to be careful. Abby, don’t let this investigation consume you. You were so angry when you came to me; do you remember?”
Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d smashed a set of china at her last foster home when she saw a three-year anniversary article about the murders. “Yes, I do. But that was then. I’m an adult no
w.”
“Maybe in most things, but not where your mom and dad are concerned. My fear has always been that unforgiveness and the need for revenge will eat you up. Please don’t let that happen.”
“It’s not revenge I want; it’s justice.”
“There’s a fine line between those two concepts. Those killers may have been free all these years, but they will not get away with anything in the long run.”
“I believe that too, Dede. But I need to know why my parents died as well as who killed them.”
“Those answers may never come. Please don’t let the search consume you; don’t let the quest for justice become your god.”
After Abby hung up with Dede, she thought of her friends—mostly Megan and Jessica, the people at church, and her friends from volleyball. Would they understand her reasoning for keeping such a big secret?
Then there was Ethan. The earlier conversation with him played over in her mind. Part of her feared that he would never try to understand her need to solve the Triple Seven. Forgive, move on—those were phrases she could imagine him saying. He’d never suffered a traumatic loss. Well, that could be said about a lot of people.
But not Luke Murphy. Murphy understood completely.
Shaking that thought away, she turned her landline off and set her mobile to vibrate. There were so many e-mails that she gave up and powered down the computer. She and Bandit sat on the couch and watched Abby’s two favorite escape movies, Casablanca and The Thin Man. While it was difficult for her to wind down, a good movie from the thirties or forties always did the trick. The black-and-white world of Nick and Nora Charles was so much simpler than Abby’s colored world of present reality.
When the second one ended, she was ready for bed. Abby bit back the fear inside about what the morning might bring. She spent some time in the book of Psalms, concentrating on chapters 27 and 34, and fell into a peaceful sleep.
The next morning, after a shower, Abby braced herself for the front-page story about her and the Triple Seven murders. Gunther’s lead featured a grainy picture of her at six years of age in the arms of Woody, side by side with a picture of her from a few years ago in uniform. She cautiously turned her cell phone back on as she read the story and sipped coffee.
Prominent Homicide Detective Lost Parents in Infamous Cold Case, read the headline. Before she had a chance to read it, her phone vibrated and she saw that the caller was Deputy Chief Cox. She answered.
“What do you mean by doing this?”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re in the middle of maybe the biggest serial homicide case since Randy Kraft, and you decide to grab the headlines with a personal vendetta?”
“I didn’t—”
Cox was furious and almost incoherent. Abby set the phone down and picked up Bandit. Her phone beeped with another call, but she didn’t interrupt Cox. Finally the DC took a breath and Abby listened to see if she had just hung up. No such luck.
“No interviews are approved. None. Do you understand that order?”
Abby answered, “Yes.” The connection was broken. Almost immediately the phone buzzed again. It was Woody.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“Are they bugging you?”
“Yep. I’m the only cop still in uniform with any connection to that case. They say you aren’t answering your phone, and they want to know if the Triple Seven invest is active. Is it?”
To Abby, it had never been cold. But with the deputy chief’s voice ringing in her ears, she said, “No. I just had a call from Cox.”
Woody snickered. “Bet this has twisted her panties in a big knot.”
“You could say that. Bottom line, do I want to activate the case and charge after Rollins? You know better than anyone that I do. Can I figure out how to do that without getting fired? Not yet.”
“You will. In the meantime, be careful. And turn on the television. Murphy is not beholden to Cox.”
Abby startled Bandit by putting him down and rushing to the living room. She found Murphy giving the last bit of an interview on Good Morning Long Beach.
“I’ve been working on this case for years. My uncle was a hero that day and he deserves justice.”
“Do you plan to join forces with Detective Hart?”
“I feel as if I know her because I’ve studied her parents so carefully. I would love to be able to compare notes with her and have the investigation formally reactivated.”
“I’m amazed no one figured out who she was by now. Were you surprised?”
“Shocked, actually. I’ll always have the picture of that little six-year-old crying in the arms of Officer Woods in my mind.”
“After all this time, over twenty-seven years, you have hope the murders can be solved?”
“There is always hope; criminals, especially murderers, can’t hide forever. And yes, I believe this crime is solvable. We just have to open the right door.”
Abby switched the TV off and folded her arms, staring at the blank screen and considering Murphy’s words. She believed the crime was solvable as well, and now that she had a lead, she knew what door to open.
I’d love to see what Murphy has in his notes, she thought. Maybe we do need to join forces. Even as the idea crossed her mind, chagrin rose up about Murphy and his showboating. Besides, she knew it would never be possible to investigate the case with DC Cox in charge. Jacoby might say yes, but Cox could override.
But like Woody said, Murphy was not beholden to Cox. She remembered the PI’s e-mail, his offer of coffee. Maybe it was time to step out of her comfort zone. She’d pretended to sympathize with killers once or twice to gain their trust and a confession, and Murphy was not a criminal—just annoying.
“Anything to solve my parents’ murders,” she said as she fed Bandit and started her own breakfast.
Luke was grateful to Arvli and the crew for rescheduling his appearance on Good Morning Long Beach after the news about Abby leaked out. He was amazed the news about her traveled so fast. Arvli had learned from someone on the governor’s staff, but he didn’t tell Luke who.
“No such thing as a secret in politics, Luke,” Arvli had told him. “Rollins’s opposition for the senate is probably already trying to figure out how to tie the governor to the murders. Think that would knock him out of the senate race?”
“Probably.”
The politics was the last thing Luke considered. For Luke, Abby’s revelation brought the cold Triple Seven murders into present reality, and he appreciated any opportunity to talk about the case. He hoped it would gain some traction. And at the same time he wished he knew where Abby stood. Was she going to push to investigate? He prayed she’d respond to his e-mail soon. He itched to call Bill and maybe accidentally get ahold of Hart. But he had a lot of open cases of his own, not the least of which was Nadine.
After the interview, he drove to Crunchers again, wanting to be an annoying itch Sanders would eventually have to scratch. The eyesore recycling yard always gave him the creeps. He remembered visiting the place for car parts with his uncle when he was a kid. Back then he’d thought he’d seen monsters in the spaces between wrecked and rusting car bodies, and even now as an adult it made him nervous.
The junkyard trip was a disappointment. He was told Sanders was out of town and unavailable. The story was far from believable, but Luke had no leverage to press the issue. He got back into his truck and was intending to make his next stop Destination X when his cell phone rang. The number was unavailable and he almost didn’t answer. Thinking it might be another reporter, he answered on the last ring.
“Mr. Murphy?”
Luke inhaled. “Detective Hart?”
“Yes. I’m responding to your e-mail. Are you available for coffee sometime today, say around 1 p.m.?”
“Uh, yeah, I am. This is a pleasant surprise.” Luke felt excitement course through him.
“Java Shack on Second Street?” Her voice was all business.
“I’ll be there.”
>
AS GOVERNOR MULLS SENATE RUN, Decades-Old Cold Case Rears Its Head
Governor’s Connection to 27-Year Unsolved Multiple Murder Surfaces
Both the LA Times and the local Long Beach paper had detailed stories on the Triple Seven, and both papers were waiting for Abby when she finally made it to her office.
“Who put these on my desk?” she asked Roper.
“Woody stopped by on his way home. He dropped them off.”
Abby sat and scanned them. Reporters had stopped calling her. From news reports she gathered they really wanted a comment from the governor, but he hadn’t issued one yet.
Abby had been summoned to the DC’s office first thing that morning. It did her no good to explain to Cox that she had not revealed who she was to the press. Rollins or Murphy could have. Gunther certainly wasn’t giving up his source. But as far as the DC was concerned, it was her fault. Surprisingly, it was the issue of the YouTube video that seemed to mollify the deputy chief. While Cox chastised her for taking such a dangerous leap, the video cast the department in a positive light, and that was a good thing for LBPD even if the Triple Seven still rankled.
“The last I checked, you have made no progress on the Jenkins murder; is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How can you presume to work an old open-unsolved when you have current, fresh cases on your desk? Not that you would even be allowed to investigate the murders of your own parents, for heaven’s sake!” She threw her hands up and paced. Abby stood in front of the DC’s desk, doing her best to appear unmoved.
“All of this news coverage has caused the chief to cut his vacation short. He’s on his way back as we speak.”
Drawing Fire Page 14