Drawing Fire

by Janice Cantore

  “Think about it. I’ll e-mail you the full monty on the gig. And the West Coast case we’re considering looking into. I’ll even take a look at anyone you think might also be interested in joining the team. I’ll be around for a few days and will touch base before I fly back. It is a big deal, so give it some thought.”

  ABBY WASTED NO TIME letting her lieutenant view the video.

  “Sanders will speed-dial Green.” Jacoby rubbed his chin as he watched the DVD for the third time.

  Abby, Bill, and Jacoby were in a conference room awaiting the DA. The chief was back in town and in a meeting with Cox, so for the time being, the deputy chief was out of Abby’s hair. The chief himself was not a micromanager and he told Jacoby to “Handle it. Call me only if you’re stuck.”

  “And Ira Green will assail the chain of evidence and the source of the DVD,” Bill said.

  “I know, but we can authenticate the DVD. I can’t see a judge throwing out something like that.”

  “How is the girl?” Jacoby asked.

  “She should recover fully, from what I hear,” Bill said.

  “Good.”

  The door opened and DA Drew wheeled herself inside. Injured years ago in a street robbery, Marlene Drew was paralyzed from the waist down. She was such a tiger and so passionately committed to her job, people often said the wheelchair seemed to disappear when Drew got going in court.

  After making eye contact with everyone present, Drew said, “Let me see this bombshell.”

  It didn’t take Drew long to decide what she wanted to do.

  “Bring him in. I’ll deal with any and all motions Ira Green throws at me.”

  Bill and Abby were followed to Crunchers by two black-and-whites. One covered a rear exit while the other two officers followed Bill and Abby up the steps to the trailer.

  There was a man sitting at the desk just outside the door that said Boss. Abby knew him as Chalky; he’d been a sort of bouncer for Sanders for years. He stood, a big gut straining at a grease-stained T-shirt.

  “What do you want?”

  Abby ignored him and reached for the Boss’s door.

  “You can’t go in there!”

  The uniformed officers restrained the man as Abby and Bill entered Sanders’s office.

  Unlike the outer area, Sanders’s office was clean and uncluttered. He sat behind an ornate oak desk. His face twisted in anger when he saw Abby, and he slapped the desktop.

  “I told you to talk to my lawyer. You’re violating my rights.”

  Abby said nothing. She slid a still photo taken from the DVD showing Sanders standing by while Dac Malloy slugged Dan Jenkins.

  All the bluster faded along with the color from Sanders’s face. Abby waited a beat.

  “George Sanders, you’re under arrest for the murder of Daniel Jenkins.” She went on to advise him of his rights while Bill handcuffed him.

  Sanders stayed quiet as he was led out of the office and put in Abby and Bill’s plain car. The fat man in the outer office was yelling about police brutality and promising to call Ira Green.

  Bill drove while Abby sat in the backseat with the prisoner. They’d just driven out of the lot when Sanders spoke up, surprising Abby.

  “I liked Dan Jenkins. You have to understand—if I’d have tried to stop them, they would have turned on me.”

  Abby cleared her throat before speaking. “Are you waiving your right to representation?”

  Sanders let out a bone-weary sigh. “I’m dead like Jenkins if I do. But I do know something that would be of interest to you if you want to make a deal.”

  Abby’s eyes narrowed and her defenses activated. She wasn’t going to be played for a fool by someone like George Sanders.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I have information you want. But if I tell you, you can’t let Green know I talked. You’ll have to say you developed the information on your own.”

  “What’s in it for you?”

  Sanders finally faced her. “Maybe a clear conscience. Maybe I’m just tired of hiding what I know and I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt, most of all me. I’ll let Green mount a vigorous defense for me regarding Jenkins and take my chances. But if the reason Dan Jenkins was killed stays hidden, someone else could die, maybe even you. I don’t want another death on my head.”

  “Me? I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. What information do you think you have that’s so important we’d keep quiet for you?”

  “I can give you the Triple Seven murderers.”

  “RELAX.” Bill grabbed Abby’s arm. “You look as if you just mainlined a triple shot of espresso.”

  Espresso? She felt like a million ants were crawling under her skin. “How can you say relax? This guy says he knows what I’ve been looking for practically my whole life.”

  They’d put Sanders in an interview room while they waited for DA Drew, and Abby had been pacing like a caged tiger.

  “Consider the source.”

  That stopped her. She held her partner’s gaze. “You’re right. He’s trying to save his own skin.” Some of her jitter faded but not all of it. It galled her to realize that she would so easily trust a professional liar to solve the biggest mystery of her life. It took all her strength to stand still until they heard Drew’s wheelchair coming down the hall.

  “Thanks for coming,” Abby said, working to tamp down raging emotions.

  “That’s what I’m here for. I want to hear what he has to say, but you know that we’ll need solid proof to back up any allegation.”

  Abby nodded.

  Everyone filed into the conference room and took their places across from Sanders. Drew clicked on a digital recorder.

  “It starts back years ago.” Sanders sipped his coffee.

  Abby wanted to scream. It had already been a good fifty minutes since he first made his statement. Get on with it.

  “We were in high school. I was a year behind your dad.” Sanders tilted his head toward Abby. She kept her face blank and empty, struggling to keep the emotions swirling inside her from showing. She’d seen Sanders’s picture in the yearbook the other night at Murphy’s. For twenty-seven years she’d dreamed about discovering the identity of her parents’ killers. Was that really going to happen today because of him?

  “Buck Morgan and Lowell Rollins—they were tight.”

  “The governor?” Drew interrupted.

  “Back then it was Buck and Lobo—that was his nickname—joined at the hip. They were always up to something, usually something no good. But one night Buck and Lobo got in over their heads. It was a night they stole a car—”

  “You saw this?” Drew again, and Abby knew it was because this was complete hearsay and would never be admissible in court even if Sanders wanted to testify. Not to mention statute of limitations on auto theft.

  “No, but I heard the story from Lowell’s brother. He was a simpleton, and he hung around with kids my age, not kids his own age. The bottom line, Lowell was driving a stolen car and he hit and killed a man out for a walk.”

  “Who?” Drew and Abby spoke in unison.

  “Don’t know. Just know they killed him. They ditched the car and ran, and that hit-and-run was never solved. According to Louis, Buck and Lobo made a blood oath to never tell what happened that night. And that oath held for years.” He paused and drained his coffee.

  “What does this have to do with the Triple Seven?” Drew asked.

  Thank you, Abby thought. Get to the point, Sanders.

  “I’m getting there,” Sanders answered Drew but kept his eyes on Abby. “Fast-forward several years to the Triple Seven. Buck and Lobo weren’t so close anymore. Lowell wanted to throw his hat into the political ring. He’d helped start the Triple Seven, but the day-to-day operation was completely in your parents’ laps. Buck was a loose cannon at the time. Your mom handled everything; that woman was a saint. She was the reason that restaurant was so big, so successful, but your dad was snorting and gambling away all the prof
its.”

  “There’s no mention of that in any report,” Abby said.

  “Because Rollins buried it. Or I should say his wife-to-be did. She was his publicist at the time. She believed Lowell was destined for big things and felt that even if Rollins had never done drugs, if it was discovered that his partner was an addict, it would torpedo his political career. Alyssa didn’t even want Buck in rehab. Too many tongues would wag.”

  Abby stood and leaned against the wall, biting her tongue. True, she’d never heard that her father was a saint, but a drug addict and out-of-control gambler?

  “Your mom, on the other hand, wanted out of the partnership. She hated Alyssa and felt if she bought Lowell out, she could then force Buck into rehab. She was ready to hock everything to buy Lowell out. But the restaurant was too big a stage for Lowell’s political aspirations for Alyssa to let him walk out of it.”

  “There was never evidence of any buyout offer in the investigation twenty-seven years ago.” Abby could see the pages of the investigation in her mind. If there had been such evidence, Lowell Rollins would have been the prime suspect.

  “It was hidden and the books cooked. Why do you think everything burned? Your house and the restaurant? Patricia had squirreled some money away from Buck and who knows what else. She had the money to buy Lowell out, but Lowell flat-out refused. So Patricia brought up the joyride. Buck had told her about it, and she held that over Lowell’s head, threatening to spill unless Lowell walked away from the Triple Seven. And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  “Are you saying that Lowell Rollins killed my mother and father to keep a decades-old secret?” Abby cut Drew off.

  But the DA raised her hand before Sanders could answer. “If you’re going to tell me that the governor is my suspect in this murder, you are going to need cold, hard proof.”

  “Let me finish. Patricia was the only uncontrollable asset as far as Alyssa was concerned. Buck was controllable. I’m saying that Alyssa told Gavin Kent to handle it. Gavin pretty much did the same thing back then that he does now—he handled things.”

  “So now it’s the First Lady of the state of California who ordered the killing?” Drew’s tone was acid with skepticism.

  “I’m not saying that was what was meant, but that’s what happened. Louis Rollins, Gavin Kent, and Buck’s drug supplier, a guy known as Coke Pipe, visited the restaurant that day. And what went down is not what any of you think.”

  “Then what did go down?” Abby asked.

  “Kent told your mom to back off and stop threatening Lobo. There was a fight. Shooting started. Louis wasn’t clear on what exactly happened. But Patricia got hit, Gavin took a bullet in the leg, and your dad killed Coke Pipe.”

  “There were only two bodies.”

  “Yep, I know that. It wasn’t your dad who was buried with your mom. It was Piper Shea. Your dad is still alive.”

  “HEY, NADINE, how do you feel?” Luke bent down over the girl. She looked so frail, bruised, and battered. But even with two black eyes and a puffy face, she could still focus, and she was awake. He’d spoken to Bill after coffee with Ice Age and knew about the video Nadine sent Abby. He hoped Nadine would be able to answer a few questions while her mom stepped out for coffee.

  “I’m sore, Pastor Luke.” Nadine sounded as if her mouth were full of marbles.

  “Then take it easy. Don’t talk if it’s hard.”

  “It’s okay. My mom said you never stopped looking for me.”

  “Of course not. I am the number one shamus, aren’t I?”

  That brought a crooked smile to her face.

  “Do you remember anything about what happened to you?”

  The smile faded. “No. I remember running away from Crunchers. There were two men; they threatened me, took my phone . . .” Her brows scrunched together and she seemed to be in pain.

  “No rush, Nadine. No rush.” He patted her shoulder.

  “I want to remember, but that’s about it. I know I was scared. But . . .”

  “Do you remember mailing something to Detective Hart?”

  Her concentration looked pained.

  “It’s okay, Nadine. You rest. Things will sort themselves out, I’m sure.”

  Glynnis came back into the room with two coffees, and Luke groaned inside. She was trying to move close and he didn’t want to hurt her. And he had too much work to do to stay for coffee.

  “Oh, baby, it’s so good to see your eyes open.” Glynnis handed Luke his coffee and bent down to give Nadine a kiss. “I hope you feel better.”

  “I do, Mom. I do.”

  Luke cleared his throat. “I better be going.”

  Glynnis turned toward him. “Luke, I thought you’d stay for lunch!”

  “I’m up to my neck in work. I’ll have to take a rain check.”

  Glynnis argued for a bit, but Luke won out. He needed to look into the threat on his life. He’d worked all weekend, talking to neighbors, asking if anyone had seen anything out of the ordinary. He’d gotten the description of a car, and he hoped that lead would take him somewhere.

  His parents were with Madison; they’d opted to spend the whole week in the mountains after the homeschool weekend. Luke had asked them to be vigilant, to notice people around them. The best he could guess was that the two men who accosted him had taken the picture of Maddie and her friend in the driveway just after the meeting with Governor Rollins. It bothered him that he’d not noticed anything out of place, but then he hadn’t expected any issues.

  He left the hospital for the Seal Beach PD and a meeting with Detective Wright about the two men who jumped him on the bike path. Seal Beach gave Wright a place to work so he didn’t have to travel back and forth to Santa Ana, where the OCSD offices were. Luke was anxious for the meeting; he’d been praying that the men who jumped him would finally be identified.

  Fred Wright met him in the lobby. “Hey, Murphy, you don’t look so bedraggled today.” He extended his hand.

  Luke shook it. “Or as waterlogged, I’ll bet. Thanks for talking to me.”

  “No problem. Let’s go to my makeshift office.”

  Luke followed Wright back to a conference room and took a seat near the head of the table while Wright sat at the head.

  “Thanks for enlisting the help of your fed friend. We got a name on the dead man now, from the military data bank.”

  “So soon? I gave Orson that info this morning.”

  “He punched the right buttons. Name was Gordon West. His DD-214 indicates a dishonorable discharge twenty years ago.”

  “Gordon West, huh?”

  “Yep. I found a brief trail for him after he left the military. He worked for a multinational private security force for a while. I don’t know if he still works for them. They won’t give me any information, citing privacy issues.”

  “Did Orson have anything to add?”

  “He mentioned the guy seemed to be living off the grid. It’s possible he was fired and then found someone shady to work for.”

  “That would jibe with the dishonorable discharge.”

  “Yep, but doesn’t really help us find who sent him to threaten you. Ballistics won’t help because the fragment that killed him can’t tell us much.”

  “The only answers will come when we find out who did the Triple Seven murders. It seems like that killer would be the only person with motive to try to scare me off.”

  “I agree. I asked my captain to see if we can get together with LB and reactivate the cold case.”

  Luke’s spirits soared. “That’s awesome, something I’ve wanted to have happen for such a long time. Detective Hart knows the case inside and out.”

  Wright shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll work with her. I think Carney and O’Reilly would be the ones assigned if it’s reactivated.”

  Luke remembered Abby had told him that. Both those men went to his church, and he knew they would do a great job. But this should be Abby’s gig.

  “WHAT DO YOU
MEAN my father’s alive? His body was next to my mother’s.” Abby could see the crime scene photo in her mind’s eye as she stared at Sanders and felt the room shift. She fought for balance, feeling like a child in the schoolyard after spinning round and round while staring at the sky.

  “A body was next to your mother’s.”

  “Wait, wait.” Drew frowned and gave an impatient wave of her hand. “What is your proof?”

  “A drug dealer named Piper Shea was there, not Buck Morgan.” He faced Abby, who was having a difficult time finding her voice. “You can verify that much. Piper went missing back then; I’m sure there’s a record.”

  “Again, how do you know all of this?” Drew repeated her question while everything faded into the background for Abby. She could hear Sanders tell Drew that he knew these things because Louis Rollins told him. He wove a tale of childhood friendships and trust while she tried to remember every bit of the investigation so she could hurl back at him without a shadow of a doubt that he was a liar.

  “You okay?”

  “What?” She jerked toward Bill and saw concern in his eyes. Glancing down at her hands, she saw that her knuckles were white from her grip on the back of a chair.

  All she could do was shake her head and tune back in to what Sanders was saying.

  “Louis, Kent, and Coke Pipe went to the restaurant that day to scare Patricia out of any thought of buying out Lowell. No one was supposed to get hurt. But Buck was high and a fight started—shots were fired.”

  Evidence of multiple gunshots. No weapons recovered.

  “Patricia got hit and died instantly.”

  Female subject cause of death: single gunshot wound to the head.

  “Buck killed Piper with a shotgun; the last round he had went to Piper’s face.”

  Male subject suffered multiple gunshot wounds—shotgun pellets recovered from face and body.

  “That was when Kent had the upper hand. He was the only one with bullets still in his gun, but he was wounded. There was a standoff between him and your father. He told Buck to run and never look back or he’d kill you.”