Abby stared and motioned for Sanders to keep talking, not trusting herself to speak. Her ears roared with the sound of her life crashing into an iceberg.
“Buck ran. He took off through the front door with Kent screaming after him that if he ever surfaced, you were dead. Kent was furious. He looked at the two bodies on the floor of the restaurant and knew it would destroy Rollins’s political aspirations if he were implicated in anything. He told Louis to torch the place, destroy all the evidence.
“Louis told me he asked about you, and Kent just screamed, ‘Burn it all!’ They poured lighter fluid over the bodies and set the place on fire, locking the doors and beating feet away from the inferno.”
He looked again at Abby. “Kent knew you were there; he wanted you dead. Why you didn’t hear anything, I don’t know.”
“My parents’ office was soundproof. They did that so I could sleep there when they both had to work.” The roar in Abby’s ears made her voice sound far away.
“Kent wanted to be sure all evidence was destroyed, so he went to your house, and he torched that as well. Buck disappeared, and Alyssa and Gavin cleaned everything up so nothing would impede Rollins’s run for office.”
“This is all very interesting and it might make a good Lifetime movie,” DA Drew spoke up. “But it’s impossible to prove. And what does it have to do with Nadine Hoover and Dan Jenkins?”
Sanders ignored Drew. “There was so much chaos after the fire. Louis came to me to get rid of the gun.”
“You have the murder weapon?”
“I did. But it was in a box my wife gave to Dan Jenkins to store in his garage. After so many years, I’d gotten careless and lost track of the box. Also in that box was paperwork proving Patricia Morgan offered to buy Lowell out. Louis thought it would be insurance for himself.” Sanders made a rude noise. “He thought wrong obviously. There was nothing in it for me to go public, so I just hung on to it.” He held Abby’s gaze as his last words gave her a jolt, cutting through the roar and the fog.
He then turned to Drew. “Jenkins was just an unfortunate accident.”
“You’re saying he was killed because he poked his nose in the box?” Drew asked.
“He was cleaning out his garage. Not much made sense to him, but he saw the names Patricia Morgan and Lowell Rollins, and he made a phone call.”
“He called Rollins?”
“Yeah, but of course he got Kent. Before Kent called him back, his wife told him the box was mine. He brought the box back to me but asked questions he shouldn’t have asked. Kent dispatched his janitors to clean up and . . . well, you saw what happened.”
“Malloy and Taylor are employed by Gavin Kent?”
Sanders smirked. “Not in any way you’ll be able to trace.”
The roar in Abby’s head subsided, leaving her feeling numb. There was police work to do. “Where is the box now?” she asked.
“Hidden in the yard. If we can make a deal, I’ll tell you where.”
“How does the girl, Nadine, fit?” Bill asked.
“Nadine was there when Kent’s boys came to see about the box. I sent her home because I knew Jenkins was on his way. I didn’t realize that she was so curious about what they wanted she’d replay the security video. Why she burned a DVD and ran, I don’t know.”
“I hope we get the chance to ask her.” Abby thought about the broken girl she’d seen in the hospital. “Malloy and Taylor didn’t get the box?”
“No. I told Kent I’d only give it to him to avoid any other mess-ups. He never made it to the yard.”
“There is so much here that can’t be corroborated,” Drew said. “I can’t talk any kind of deal without that box.”
“Tell us where it is.” Abby got in Sanders’s face.
“It’s in a cubbyhole under the office.”
“Does anyone else know where this box is?”
“Kent does.”
ABBY AND BILL grabbed a car and headed for the junkyard. It had been a long day and it was now starting to get dark. She wished they could have taken a black-and-white and rolled code 3, lights and sirens. They were almost to the exit for Crunchers when she heard sirens and looked over her shoulder. Fire trucks were roaring up the freeway behind them.
“What is this?” Bill asked as he pulled over.
Abby turned back, and it was then she saw the smoke. She clicked on the plain car’s flashers as Bill stepped on it to follow the trucks. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as Abby realized where the smoke was coming from.
A few minutes later they came to a stop behind the pumper. She couldn’t bring herself to open the car door and follow her partner. The office and a good portion of the yard at Crunchers was on fire.
“I wish you had called me sooner.” Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. He wanted to punch something, so until he could, the safest place for his fists was in his pockets.
“Buddy—” Bill rubbed his face with both hands—“everything went down so fast.”
It was after midnight. Bill was soot-covered and looked exhausted, but he’d stopped by on his way home to tell Luke about Sanders and the fire at Crunchers. Luke could smell the smoke lingering on his friend’s clothes from the junkyard fire.
“How did Abby take the news?”
“She didn’t say much. Bottom line: Sanders’s story is just a fairy tale without any evidence.”
Luke leaned against Bill’s car. They’d stepped outside so as not to wake anybody up. “I’m having trouble processing everything you’ve told me. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.” He rubbed his chin. “Her father still alive? If that’s true, where has he been all this time?”
“Consider the source, as far as that goes. I told her the same thing. Sanders is out for Sanders, period.”
“But why lie about something like that?”
“I don’t know. But he’s dead on for the murder of Dan Jenkins. No fanciful tale will change that.”
“And the other guy? The one who attacked Abby?”
“Not talking, but not going anywhere either. His back was broken. He’s likely to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.” Bill paused and rubbed his eyes. “By the way, how’s Nadine? Gail says you talked to her.”
Luke didn’t want to change the subject. “She doesn’t remember much, but she may as time goes on. She might be released in a couple of days. What will you and Abby do now?”
“Build our case against Sanders in the Jenkins case.”
“Abby should be on the Triple Seven.”
“For the first time, I agree with Cox: she’s too close.” He clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I gotta go home and get to bed. Take care.”
Luke stepped onto the sidewalk and watched as Bill climbed into his car and drove away. He could only imagine what Abby Hart was going through after this emotional day.
He turned to go back into the house and then stopped. He had his car keys in his pocket. He pulled them out and looked at them for a moment.
Sighing, knowing that he couldn’t leave this alone and go to sleep, he hopped into his truck and directed it to Abby’s house.
My father still alive.
Abby paced the confines of her small house. She’d come home and jumped into the shower, feeling numb and lost. The fire at Crunchers was still a dangerous smoldering pile when she and Bill left. Woody and just about every uniformed officer available had been called in to assist when it was at its worst.
But for the first time she could remember, she didn’t feel like talking to her friend. The nagging pinprick that had started after her brief talk with Asa had grown like cancer. In the back of her mind she feared Woody knew her father was alive.
Was that why they wanted me to stay away from the Triple Seven investigation?
The first thing she’d done when she got out of the shower was pull out her copies of the autopsy reports.
Female subject suffered a single gunshot wound to the head.
Male subject
suffered multiple gunshot wounds to the head, face, and neck area.
Both subjects deceased before the fire started.
And the fire had done further damage. Dental records had identified her mother’s body. But not only had her father not seen a dentist, his body had been too damaged. Even his fingerprints were gone.
Yet, a positive identification was made. She flipped through the paperwork and discovered something she had never noticed before. They simply identified the corpse next to her mother as her father; they did not even do DNA. Granted, at the time DNA was just becoming standard . . . Still, it left a door open that led to Sanders was telling the truth.
Abby had never even considered the possibility that one of her parents had survived. Why would I?
She groaned and stomped into the kitchen for some comfort food. She poured a big glass of milk and grabbed a package of Oreo cookies. She was about to deposit herself at the kitchen table, where she’d set her book, when a knock sounded at the door. Instantly on edge, she put the milk and cookies down and grabbed her weapon. Keeping it by her side, she stepped toward the door, noting that it was after midnight.
“Who is it?”
“Luke Murphy.”
She sagged against the doorjamb and very nearly dropped her weapon. He was the one person who would understand what she was going through but the last person she wanted at her door right now.
“It’s late,” she called out.
“I know, but I saw your light on. I need to talk; I was hoping you did as well. Abby, I just want to help.”
Abby straightened up and put her gun away before answering the door.
“Bill must have talked to you,” she said, motioning him inside.
“Yeah, he did. And I’m having trouble digesting everything he said. I was hoping to get a copy of the transcript of your interview with Sanders. That might not be okay—”
“I’ll e-mail you a copy. You’re the only person besides me with a personal connection to this case, so . . .”
“You can trust me.”
She held his gaze for a minute, then walked to the kitchen, and he followed her.
“I’m drinking milk. Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Milk and cookies? I noticed all the Oreo packages the other day. I guess you like them.”
“I do.” She sat at the table and he took the chair across from her.
She played with a cookie, suddenly feeling the need to talk. “They’ve always been my favorite. The last foster home I was in, the mother kept all the food under lock and key. I saw Oreos in the cupboard once, but she never let us have any. One night I snuck out of my room and tried to get to the cookies. She heard me and was furious. She grabbed my arm so hard she broke it.”
“Whoa.” Luke cringed.
“In the emergency room they called the police. The officer who came out took my statement. After he wrote everything down, he left. They set my arm, and I was waiting for social services to come take me to a new place when the officer came back. He gave me a whole bag of Oreos and told me they were all mine and that I didn’t have to share with anyone if I didn’t want to.” She sipped her milk.
“Good for him.”
“Ever since then, they’ve been my comfort food of choice.”
“I get it. I lost my uncle, but you lost everything.” He met her eyes, and Abby saw such warmth in his clear, calm gaze that she almost sighed. She had to keep talking.
“I was so angry for a long time. But when Dede came into my life and took me to church, I heard the message of the gospel and I thought I’d found a measure of peace.” Abby brought both hands to her face, but the roar returned and her balance teetered.
“If my father is alive, and has been all this time, how am I supposed to have peace with that?”
“There must be something I can do,” he said in a whisper, leaning closer.
Abby opened her eyes and feared he might come around the table and take her in his arms again. But her phone rang. She grabbed for it and saw that it was Ethan.
She stood. “I need to take this.”
“Sure. I just wanted to let you know if you ever need to talk . . .” With that, he headed out, leaving her to her phone conversation.
“ETHAN, I’M SO GLAD you called.”
“I was afraid I’d wake you. But I have some news.”
“First, I have so much to tell you.” Forcing her voice to remain steady, Abby poured out everything Sanders had said. He let her go on without interruption, and when she finished, he was silent for a long moment.
“Are you still there?” she asked, grabbing Kleenex and blowing her nose.
“Yeah. I’m just . . . Well, Abby, you know how I feel about your position in homicide. And as far as the Triple Seven goes . . .”
“But this goes beyond homicide, Ethan. Did you hear everything I said? What do I do if my father really is alive?”
“It’s not like you to so readily believe someone like this Sanders character. Surely he has some angle, some reason for making an off-the-wall statement like that.”
“I don’t know. I need to go back over the report, and I can’t do that officially because they don’t want me investigating my parents’ murders.”
“Abby, you need to let this go. Give it to God. If you can’t do that, it will swallow you. We’ve had this conversation before.”
Abby bristled, not wanting to be lectured but not sure what Ethan could really do or say to help her. “This changes things. I don’t think it’s possible, my father being alive, but I have to find out the truth.”
“Part of the reason I wanted to talk is to tell you that I’m coming home early. I’ll be back in three days. Please pray about this and don’t do anything we’ll both regret.”
“We’ll both regret? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I just don’t want you doing anything that could jeopardize our future together. Surely you don’t want that either.”
“Of course not.”
“I can hear the but in your voice. But you have to solve this crime.”
“Ethan, you have to understand—”
“I’m trying. All I ask is that you pray before you do anything.”
Pray.
Abby said good-bye and paced, knowing she should try to get some sleep but more unsettled than ever. I have prayed, she thought, and my prayer has not been answered.
After a bit, she lay down on her bed. Bandit jumped up to lie next to her. No matter what, she knew she had to prepare the Jenkins case in the morning. She couldn’t concern herself with what was happening in the Triple Seven investigation.
BY EARLY TUESDAY, Luke had read the transcript of the interview with George Sanders over and over. There was no mention of his uncle, which didn’t surprise him; it fit with the theory that Uncle Luke was in the freezer and heard nothing. At the time, the big thing was a Sony Walkman to play music, and his mother had told him that his uncle had it on all the time, like people and their iPods today.
And it was well documented that Buck Morgan kept a shotgun in the restaurant for protection. The story Sanders told was plausible. But if Buck Morgan was still alive, how could he stay hidden for so long, and how could he leave his daughter that day to be murdered?
Luke drove down to Serenity Park. He had with him the picture of the restaurant in the background and the interview printed out, and he tried to see that day in his mind, filling in blanks with his imagination. He got out of his truck and walked to where he envisioned the front of the restaurant was.
Gavin Kent, Louis Rollins, and the drug dealer come in—did they threaten Patricia? The idea was to get her to back off, according to Sanders. His wife being threatened couldn’t have sat well with Buck. The Morgans both know Abby is in the office asleep; did they try to mollify the men? Patricia was trying to buy Rollins out; was money there? Did the drug dealer want Patricia’s money to settle Buck’s debts?
Were both Kent and Louis armed? Somewhere in
the mix, a fight started and guns went off and Patricia and the drug dealer were killed, according to Sanders. Kent was wounded and Buck Morgan fled.
Luke frowned. He could not wrap his mind around a father leaving his daughter to be murdered. If that’s what happened, then what kind of man is Buck Morgan?
If it were me, I’d do anything and everything to try to protect my daughter with the last breath in my body.
He turned when he heard a car door shut. It was Ice Age Orson. He’d called and Luke asked him to meet at the park.
“Hey, great place for a meeting. Brought you a cup of joe.”
“Thanks, I could use it.” Luke accepted the coffee as he and Orson took a seat on one of the benches. It was very near the memorial plaque.
Orson noted the photo. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a picture of this area before the park.” He handed his friend the picture.
Orson held the photo up and compared the areas before and after.
“Hate to say it, but I like it better with the park. This was the restaurant that burned?”
“Yep. Taking my uncle and two other people with it.”
“You making any headway?”
“Some new information has surfaced—not sure how much it will help.”
“Okay, then let’s move back to the future. Have you decided to take the job?” Agent Orson sipped his coffee and regarded Luke with anticipation.
“It’s tempting, I’ll admit, but I’m still thinking. And I need to sit down with my family. I got your e-mail but I haven’t read through it. I wanted to thank you for helping Detective Wright out with that ID. I have another favor to ask.”
Orson tilted his head. “Ask.”
“Some of what has surfaced concerns a person on the governor’s staff.”
“I hope this isn’t headed where I think it’s headed.”
“I guess it is. Can you find out any information on Gavin Kent?”
Orson studied his coffee. “You cast a wide net. Anything specific?”
Drawing Fire Page 24