by Debra Webb
“I don’t believe you,” I said, barely keeping a snarl out of my tone. It thoroughly pissed me off that he and Brooks wanted to blame my uncle. Maybe he was guilty of something, but it wasn’t murder or smuggling drugs. I would never believe that.
“As I told you before, things are not always what they seem. Illusion is a powerful tool,” he said without saying anything at all.
“Cut the crap, Bob.” I smiled widely for the benefit of anyone who glanced our way. “I’m not interested in your fancy metaphors. I want specifics.”
His gaze sharpened. Bob was not a man who cared for being ordered around especially by a mere peasant such as myself. “I warn you, you might not like what you find.” He lit another Turkish cigarette. “Ask your uncle, Jackie. It’s always better if you hear it from your own flesh and blood.”
A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach and I suddenly felt certain Bob was right. I might not want to know the answer. But I had to finish this.
“Thanks, Bob. I can always count on you for sage advice.”
I stood and walked out.
As I climbed into Dawson’s truck apprehension morphed into a new rush of anger. I was sick and tired of the runaround. I wasn’t about to be accused of doing the same, whether what I had to do was pleasant or not.
I jammed the gearshift into reverse and squealed out of the slot. Then I put in a call to Hobbs and told him to post Dawson’s bail and meet me at Central Processing.
My cell phone chimed the instant I closed it.
“Mercer,” I snapped.
“Jackie?”
Mary Jane. “Yeah, Mary Jane. Sorry, I’ve had a bad day so far.”
“Anything I can do?”
I braked for a traffic light. “No, I’ll be okay. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know that your uncle has just entered Lottie’s Diner with Chief Cates. I can see them sitting in a booth. Do you want me to go in and see if I can overhear the conversation?” she asked excitedly. “I know you said not to, but it looks safe enough and I don’t think we need to worry about two cops.”
I hoped to hell she was right. As tempting as it was to tell her yes, I couldn’t. “No, don’t go in. Just keep tabs on where Hank goes and who he talks to.”
“Okay. You be careful now.”
I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Thanks, Mary Jane.” I closed the phone and tossed it into my purse. Looks like Hank had made good on his threat. He’d wanted to go to Cates and work this through his old contacts. I wished I could feel better about that. But somehow I didn’t.
A few minutes later Detective Ryker and I met in an interview room. Nance would be madder than a democrat at a republican convention that I hadn’t brought him in on this, but he’d just have to get over it. I didn’t trust him. He was too far up the Chief’s ass. It wasn’t that I had any reason to suspect him or the Chief but I just didn’t want to involve anyone else.
I explained to Ryker about Rayburn’s body, as well as the other two. He stared, open mouthed, at me. I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake picking him for this. But he hadn’t been around ten years ago and shouldn’t have taken sides.
“I know it’s a lot to absorb,” I offered. “But you’re going to have to trust me. I can’t reveal my source. Help me out here, Ryker. I’m working against time.” Whatever Brooks was up to, I could feel the urgency of time pressing in around me. I had to hurry or something—something bad—was going down.
Ryker let go a mighty breath. “All right. What do you want me to do?”
Relief made my knees weak. I’d felt like I could count on Ryker. “Thanks, man. I owe you. I’d like to speak to Dawson alone and then you and Hobbs—you’ve met my assistant, right?”
He nodded. “Sure, I know Hobbs.”
“Good. He’s here too. Maybe the two of you can get Dawson through this. There’s something else I have to do.”
Ryker’s expression turned worried. “You sure you don’t need back up?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry. What I have to do next is the easy part.”
Detective Ryker swallowed that line of bull without much resistance and stepped outside. Dawson sauntered in.
Not a scratch on him. I thought of Brooks’ jaw.
“You don’t look any worse for the wear,” I said with all the wit I could marshal, knowing what I had to tell him.
“I’m certain Brooks looks worse,” he said with a feigned smile.
“You’re right,” I confirmed, “he does.”
I saw a real smile try to peek past Dawson’s fury. “Let’s have a seat,” I suggested.
He glanced at the table and two chairs generally reserved for interviewing suspects and witnesses.
“We couldn’t go to Starbucks?” he teased, his humor a bit on the dry side.
“Maybe later.” I settled into one of the chairs. He took the one opposite me.
“Must be bad news,” he remarked offhandedly. But I saw the way the muscles of his throat worked as he swallowed. He wasn’t feeling nearly as glib as he wanted me to believe.
I wanted desperately to reach out to him, but that would be a mistake...one I might not be able to take back. I guess something in my eyes, maybe the dread I felt building at the back of my throat, had tipped Dawson as to solemnity of the situation.
Between Luther’s place and here I had considered the easiest way to give him the news but there was no easy way. Like Bob said, the truth is hard.
“Remember I told you that when I woke up that morning your brother was gone?”
Dawson nodded, his expression turning flinty.
“When he left the room he was picked up by two men.” I prepared myself for saying the words out loud. “Those two men killed your brother and dumped his body.”
“Brooks is a dead man.” Dawson was out of his chair before I could stop him. I barely reached across the table in time to catch him by the arm, wouldn’t have been able to restrain him then had he not allowed me too.
“Wait,” I urged, struggling to hang onto calm myself. “There’s more.” He had to hear it all. “The men who killed your brother were DEA.” I bit down on my bottom lip to stem the emotions brewing inside me like a tropical storm. “We could be wrong about Brooks.” I wasn’t exactly sure about that yet, but the idea that he’d let me take his gun without putting up a fight kind of made me wonder if he was the bad guy I’d thought him to be. Then again, he couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t shoot him.
Whatever Dawson felt at that moment, he didn’t allow me to see it. “Just tell me where my brother is.” That muscle that always worked in his jaw whenever he got angry or tense, flexed rhythmically. He had waited a long time to know the truth.
I gave Dawson the details, but as promised, I kept Luther out of it. Feds or not, the two men Luther had killed were scumbags. They’d gotten what they deserved in my opinion. An eye for an eye.
“Detective Ryker and Hobbs are going with you to drag that bayou,” I told Dawson gently. There was nothing else I could say to him. I couldn’t bring his brother back and I couldn’t make the reality any less painful.
“What about you?” Dawson looked as if he’d taken an ill-fated bull ride and ended up somewhere between stunned and defeated. That he still worried about me touched another of those tender places that was supposed to be off limits.
“I’ll be fine. Take care of your brother.”
For half a minute I wasn’t sure he would leave without saying more, but he did. A part of me went with him.
Hobbs and Ryker met him in the corridor. I stood there for a while after they’d left. Dawson had at least part of what he’d come here for now. Identifying the remains would take some time, but obviously his brother had been murdered. He hadn’t gone rogue. Surely that would help clear his name.
But I was still no closer to the one who got away. Nothing I’d learned told me who’d ordered Rayburn’s execution or why HPD had fallen down on the investigation.
Or how my uncle
played into any of it. I thought of him with Cates and wondered what the two of them thought they could do now that they hadn’t done ten years ago.
To some degree Luther’s confession had cleared my father, but there were still questions. And Hank...I just didn’t understand why he was hiding anything.
The way I saw it I had two choices here. I could wallow in doubt or I could go figure this out with or without my uncle’s cooperation.
Maybe I wouldn’t like what I found. Maybe Bob was right, the truth might be more than I could handle.
But there was only one way to find out.
“Mercer, you need to come with me.”
I looked up, blinked. Chief Cates. I hadn’t heard him walk up. Too distracted. “What’s up, Chief?”
“It’s Hank. He’s in trouble.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Chief Cates and I took the elevator down to the basement level. The entire time my heart pounded hard in my chest. My mind whirled with confusing questions.
This wasn’t possible.
Hank had confessed to a cover up in the Disposable case?
I considered what I knew about the case and the HPD file I’d looked at what felt like forever ago. It was easy to see now that Rayburn was the material witness referred to repeatedly. The task force had been made up of McElroy from DEA, Brooks, FBI of course, and Hank, HPD. Masters and Reagan were the ones running the illegal operation. The only question had been who facilitated their efforts? One or more members of the aforementioned holy trinity of law enforcement agencies no doubt.
My gut said DEA. McElroy had killed himself and the two guys who’d executed Rayburn had been DEA. But then why all the subterfuge from Brooks and Bob Fraley about HPD and my uncle?
And why on earth would Hank confess if he was innocent?
The truth was I wanted him to be innocent.
Still couldn’t believe otherwise.
“No one is more shocked about this than I am, Mercer,” the Chief said, breaking the quiet, “but I wanted you to hear it from me personally.”
I glanced at him as we moved along the basement corridor that would lead to the underground pedestrian tunnel system.
“Why would he do that, Chief?” Surely Cates didn’t believe he was guilty. “You’ve worked with him for twenty years. Do you think he did this?”
He paused at the underground exit. “I’m trying hard not to believe the worst, Mercer.” He shrugged, heaved a sigh. “But you saw the case file. Frankly, there should have been an IA investigation into the way Hank handled that case but DEA wanted the whole business shut down. Everybody was dead anyway.”
Oh, Lord. He did think Hank was guilty. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
“In any event, it seems he’s turned himself in over at the DA’s office.”
A mistake. It had to be a mistake.
I shuddered as we moved into the tunnel and the dank musty smell hit my nostrils. I’d never liked it down here, though it could be handy for getting around downtown on rainy days. There was a connection from my building, but I rarely used it.
I forced away the mundane thought, tried to focus on the issue at hand. If Hank was guilty why had he insisted I should believe in him? Not once in my life had he lied to me. Okay, he hadn’t told me about Rayburn, but that was likely out of respect for my father. I’d never had any reason not to trust him.
“This can’t be right.” The words echoed in the deserted corridor, sounded even more forlorn bouncing off the cold concrete walls.
“Life isn’t always easy, Mercer. We do the best we can.”
I looked at the Chief’s profile. I hadn’t realized until then that he’d taken me by the arm, was leading me.
“Did he tell you first?” I asked, not really sure why I did. I felt like I had to say something. Mary Jane had said she saw them together in the diner this morning.
The Chief paused at the next turn. “No.” He looked thoughtful. “I haven’t talked to Hank since he returned from his vacation. As a matter of fact I haven’t even seen him.”
I froze inside. He was lying.
At that precise moment the truth I’d been searching for since the day I pulled that photo out of the FedEx envelope bloomed wide open like a rare cactus flower at midnight. The full import of it had been there all along, hidden from view. Hank might keep something from me to protect me, but he would never outright lie to me, certainly not about anything as important as this.
And Brooks was right. It was HPD.
“It was you.” The words were scarcely a whisper. That’s why Hank wouldn’t talk about HPD’s involvement in Disposable. He wasn’t protecting himself, he’d been protecting Cates or maybe HPD in general. But why? It didn’t make sense.
The Chief’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Let’s not make a scene, Mercer.”
I realized then that in my shock I’d left my purse and Shorty in the interview room. Perfect. I relaxed marginally when I remembered that I was still wearing the .32. Nothing like a trusty back-up piece. But I needed opportunity. My mind reeled with escape scenarios.
Before a plan of action evolved, the Chief escorted me into a maintenance corridor. No reason for anyone to be in there. Good choice for him.
“All you had to do was let it go.” He spoke in that same, patient monotone he always used. His touch, however, wasn’t so gentle. His fingers bit into my flesh, but the muzzle of the weapon he had drawn was the motivation for my continued submission to his highhandedness.
Once we were inside the secondary corridor he shoved me against the wall. The impact vibrated all the way to the bone but the freedom from his hold was worth the pain.
“Disposable was closed,” he said harshly. “You should have let it go.”
“Where’s my uncle?” I demanded, assuming a fight or flight posture.
“I’ve sent Nance and O’Linger to pick him up. I encouraged them to use excessive force if necessary,” he added disdainfully.
Fear seared through my veins, followed immediately by outrage. I wanted to jerk that gun out of his hand and pistol-whip him until he confessed everything.
“He’s finally going down for the botched job he did on Disposable.” Cates laughed. “The worst part is he still wants to believe it was Brooks.” The Chief’s expression turned derisive. “When we met for breakfast he said as much. Wanted my help in making it happen. Since it was clear you weren’t going to give up your preposterous investigation, had dragged Hank fully into it, I had to make a decision.”
This guy was sick. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed that before. That he’d fooled everyone around him gave me little comfort.
“I should have moved more decisively when I realized what you and your friend Dawson were up to,” Cates said with regret as he moved a step closer sending my internal alarm status to the next level.
I struggled to stay calm. Couldn’t go for the weapon under my skirt just yet. “You know you won’t get away with this,” I warned, hoping to buy some time.
Cates smiled. “Let’s not bother with any more small talk. This isn’t like in the movies, Mercer. In real life the good guys rarely win.”
Okay, so that hadn’t worked. Usually I’m really good at improvising. But I was running a little behind the curve here. Any more of his philosophical rhetoric and I might just shoot myself.
“You should have backed off when I gave you the chance.”
His warnings. The rock and the snake.
Abruptly I wondered about the two murdered illegals? Fury bolted through me. “Why did you kill Sanchez and that woman? If you wanted me to stop why didn’t you just come after me?” I was zooming past the fear and confusion straight into that pissed off zone that left me unable to think rationally.
“Don’t be foolish, Mercer,” he chastised. “Why would I commit murder? I’m a homicide chief for Christ’s sakes? They were already dead. I just used their bodies for my own purposes. They were past caring. But you’ve left me no other option now. Kil
ling you is necessary.”
Maybe Cates had spent too much time in homicide. He’d seriously lost touch with his human side. Just my luck to be around when the break happened.
“Now, let’s not drag this out,” he mused, taking aim. “I need to be on my way. The DA is waiting.”
I guess now was a good time to think of a plan B. “I hope you have a good alibi,” I tossed out.
“The best,” he said, relishing his own ingenuity. “I was kind enough to come and escort you to the DA’s office to see what you could do to help your poor uncle, but you became combative, tried to kill me. I had no choice but to defend myself.” His grip tightened on the gun.
Jesus. There went my Plan B. “I still think you’ll have a hard time getting anyone to believe Hank is guilty,” I said quickly, hoping like hell I would think of something else before his trigger finger contracted.
“That won’t be a problem,” he scoffed. “Brooks heaped enough suspicion on Hank ten years ago to keep everyone guessing. Hank never really did live it down. Why do you think he was so eager to retire and go to work with you?”
That realization hit me hard. This was why Hank hadn’t wanted to tell his side. He’d already gone through the accusations. That explained his partner’s reaction...and maybe even Bob’s. They were his friends, wouldn’t talk out of school.
“Wow, looks like you covered all the right bases to protect yourself.” No point in arguing. The man had the details plotted down to the last one. I leaned into the wall and forced my posture to relax in a show of surrender. “I guess there’s nothing left to talk about.”
“That’s right, Mercer. It’s all over.”
Speaking of which, if Plan C didn’t work I was screwed. “Well, I guess you won’t mind then that I’m wired,” I said nonchalantly. I wasn’t, of course, but he didn’t know that. “I actually wore it to catch Brooks this morning.”
Fury blazed across his face. He grabbed for the hem of my tank top to jerk it up.
“Not there,” I said, reaching for his hand. I pressed it against my crotch. “There.”