Grain of Truth (Innocence Unit Book 1)

by V. J. Chambers

  He smiled. “I have an idea for a case.”

  “You do.” Frankie pursed her lips and surveyed him. “When were you in here, pouring through files?”

  He didn’t seem to sense her annoyance. “I wasn’t. It’s a case I know about. I tried to bring it up to my superiors in the department, but they weren’t interested in listening. You might remember it. It’s an old case, where the doctor from Haven College and his wife were killed in their home?”

  Elke stared at him blankly.

  Frankie furrowed her brow. “I think I remember that. It was the daughter, right? And her boyfriend?”

  “Well, I don’t think they did it,” said Iain. “I think they’re innocent.”

  “Tell me about the case,” said Elke.

  Iain stroked his chin. “Well, let’s see. This was about twenty-five years ago, I think. The doctor was named Mukherjee, and his daughter was Saanvi Mukherjee. Dr. Mukherjee and his wife were found on their couch in the living room, both shot in the head. Saanvi and her boyfriend—his name is Kevin Greene—claimed that they had been out for the evening and then when they got home, they found the parents and called 911.”

  “I remember this now,” said Elke. “I talked to someone who was working the case in Haven Hills. Hadn’t they been at home, by their own admission, for nearly an hour before they found the bodies? Supposedly, they walked right past the doorway to living room and went straight past the murder scene and didn’t even notice it.”

  “Oh, right,” said Frankie. “They did, didn’t they? I remember hearing about that. It didn’t add up.”

  “You know,” said Iain, “people are really far less observant than we tend to think they are. I don’t think the lack of noticing the crime scene means they’re guilty.”

  “Well, it doesn’t scream out their innocence,” said Frankie.

  Elke arched an eyebrow at her. So, she wasn’t a bleeding heart for everyone, then? She really did have to believe in the innocent to be on board? All right, well, maybe Frankie was more shrewd that Elke had given her credit for. She would try to give the woman the benefit of the doubt from here on out.

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” said Iain. “But the fact that we locked up a pair of thieves who were active in the area and committed several other similar murders in the course of their burglaries might.”

  “Wait, what?” said Elke. “Were things missing from the Mukherjees’ house?”

  “Well, no one really knows,” said Iain. “Saanvi was the only living resident of the house, and she was put in protective custody and then arrested only a few weeks later. She was never able to go through her family’s belongings. There wasn’t anything glaring, like an empty TV stand, but then there wouldn’t have been, because the Mukherjees had only moved into the house two weeks before, and everything was still in boxes. So, many things could have been taken, and we really wouldn’t have any idea.”

  “Hmm,” said Elke. “And the thieves’ murders? They really were similar?”

  “I can show you,” said Iain. “I think they’re close enough to warrant a look. I don’t have the files on me, but I can get them. I can tell you that there was a case with a man and woman named Smith who were found shot in the head in their bed, and a case with a woman and her grown son, who were robbed and found tied up in the laundry room, also shot in the head.”

  “Tied up?” said Frankie. “Were the Mukherjees tied up?”

  “No,” said Iain. “But that wasn’t always Kelley’s and Squires’s M.O. That’s the names of the thieves, by the way. They would tie up the victims if they thought they were likely to interfere with the theft.”

  “Why tie them up if they were going to kill them, anyway?” said Frankie.

  “Apparently, they didn’t always go in with the intention of killing, but that often happened,” said Iain. “I’ll pull the file. You can watch a video of the confessions if you want. It’ll answer all your questions.”

  “Sure,” said Elke. “But about the Mukherjee case. How do they connect?”

  “Other than that Kelley and Squires were active at the time and in the area, they don’t,” said Iain. “But it seems like they might. There were some hairs found in the Mukherjee house that weren’t tested for DNA at the time, because it wasn’t yet standard procedure. If we can get those samples tested and match them to the thieves, whose profiles are already on file since they’ve been arrested, it’ll be quick and easy.”

  Elke brightened. “That’s fabulous. Quick and easy, I like it.” It would be a good case for publicity. Two innocent wrongfully convicted people instead of one, both of whom had been young. And the fact that there was a multi-cultural aspect to the case was a definite plus. It had all the makings of good publicity, which would make everyone look good. The better she looked, the sooner she could get back to being a prosecutor.

  Of course, she had been thinking about that fresh start…

  But never mind that. This case was definitely the one to pursue.

  “The hair wasn’t matched up to anyone?” said Frankie. “Even before DNA was standard testing procedure, hair follicles were analyzed.”

  “Well, they didn’t match either Saanvi or Kevin,” said Iain. “I think what happened is that they discounted the hairs because they thought they might have belonged to others who’d been in the house. They’d just moved in, and there were movers who’d brought in boxes and things. The prevailing sentiment was that the hairs might have belonged to them.”

  “So, these hairs may have nothing to do with the murder,” said Frankie.

  “But if they match our thieves, it’s a slam dunk,” said Elke.

  Frankie didn’t say anything. Apparently, she couldn’t argue with that.

  “Great,” said Elke. “Let’s dig into this, then. Hudson, I want you to go and interview the thieves in prison. Hart, if you can put together the documents we’ll need to petition the DNA testing and get them to Amos—”

  “What do I need to interview anyone for?” said Iain. “We’ll just test the DNA.”

  Elke furrowed her brow at him. “You’re the police officer. Interviewing people is what you do.”

  * * *

  Except, Iain thought to himself, he hated interviewing suspects.

  “I don’t know,” Alan Kelley was saying. “You come in here, and you ask me about some date twenty-five years ago. I have no idea what I was doing on that day. How could I possibly know?”

  Iain sat opposite Kelley in a small interview room in the prison where Kelley was incarcerated. The walls were concrete blocks painted a muted tan color. The table and chairs they sat on were the same color. There were no windows.

  “It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you’d remember,” said Iain. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Well, I don’t,” said Kelley. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit. When he glared at Iain, there was a sneer on his face.

  Iain wasn’t intimidated by Kelley. It would be irrational to be intimidated. Kelley was a criminal in restraints. Iain was a police officer. He wasn’t armed, (because he had to leave his firearm behind when he went in to question an inmate), but he didn’t feel as if he was in danger. He could handle a physical threat.

  But Iain did feel inadequate, the way he always did whenever he was trying to have any kind of conversation with nearly anyone.

  He was all right when he was talking about the facts of a case. When he was sure of his subject, he felt confident to speak to someone else.

  But that wasn’t really a conversation. In that case, it was more like a lecture. He was the professor, relaying information to whoever was listening, and they were the students. He could teach, but he couldn’t converse. Something about the back and forth of it always tripped him up.

  It frustrated him. He didn’t like to have faults. He strove to avoid situations like this one. As long as he had a partner, that person could do the talking in an interview. He would listen and file away any pertinent information for later.<
br />
  Not that there was often likely to be much. In Iain’s opinion, the way to solve a crime was to look at the evidence, not listen to people run their mouths.

  People had a tendency to lie.

  And if they weren’t lying, they were confused or mistaken. People were not very reliable.

  Kelley was still talking. “I’m guessing that something happened that day you’re asking me about, though, and you want me to say that I did it. You figure I might, because I ain’t got anything to lose, locked up in here for the rest of my natural life. But you’re wrong. I ain’t saying nothing about nothing. Not unless maybe there’s something in it for me. So, is there? Something in it for me?”

  Iain sighed. “It doesn’t matter if you speak or not. If there’s evidence that you committed these murders, we’ll find it.”

  “Wait, murder? You think I killed someone?”

  “You have before.”

  “No way. It was always Jeremy. He was always doing that shit. I didn’t have anything to do with killing nobody.”

  Oh, right. Iain had forgotten that was Kelley’s claim. He had maintained it all through his trial, that he wasn’t a murderer, and that Squires was the one who kept doing it, despite the fact that Kelley was uncomfortable with the violence.

  Kelley leaned across the table, raising a shackled hand. He splayed his fingers on the table. “I always told him, I said, ‘We’re wearing masks for a reason.’ But I think he liked it. Man, I wish I’d never met that jackass. I would have never ended up the way I did if it hadn’t been for fucking Jeremy.”

  Fine. Iain’d had enough. He had Kelley sent back to his cell and asked for them to bring in Jeremy Squires, the other of the thieves.

  But Squires never appeared. Instead, the officer who had been sent to fetch him said that when Squires heard about the date that Iain was asking about, he had refused to go anywhere. When a guard tried to convince him to come along anyway, Squires had lashed out violently. He’d thrown such a fit that he’d had to be restrained. He was now in solitary confinement, and he was going to be there for a while.

  * * *

  “What do you mean, you got nothing?” said Elke, looking Iain over. He had just come into her office, back from the prison.

  “I’m not exactly… good at interviewing people,” Iain told his shoes. He was sheepish, and he seemed so different from the confident man she’d seen thus far. “I’m not good at people period.”

  She raised her eyebrows. Not good at people? But then, she thought, it was actually fairly obvious. She should have seen it earlier. He was on the spectrum in some way. Probably a brilliant analyst, very observant, but not exactly social. In fact, that was probably why they’d moved him to this unit. It made sense. If she had been in charge of him and had been trying to figure out somewhere to put him, she’d have relegated him to a job exactly like this.

  But it did cripple the whole unit. She’d expected to have her police officer act like, well, a police officer.

  “To be fair, I didn’t even get to talk to Squires,” said Iain.

  “Yes,” said Elke. “That’s suspicious, isn’t it? He’d rather get thrown in solitary confinement than talk to us? What do you think that means?”

  “I’m not really one for speculation either.”

  She gave him a withering look. Of course he wasn’t.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Yes?” said Elke.

  Amos peered around Iain. Today, he was wearing a purple shirt and a paisley purple tie. “Hey,” he said. “I’m not trying to interrupt or anything, but…” He gestured with his hands. “Weird phone call for you. It’s collect from a prisoner at Oak Hill Prison. Felix somebody or—”

  “No,” said Elke coldly. “Tell him no and not to call back.”

  “Okay,” said Amos, clearly a bit taken aback by the force of her response.

  Iain, on the other hand, was oblivious.

  She sighed. “It’s not you, Amos.” Honestly, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard all about her and Felix on the news. Maybe here in Haven Hills it wasn’t as big a story as elsewhere. “Listen, did you get the information you need from Frankie about the DNA testing request? I’d like to get that filed as soon as possible.”

  “Nope,” said Amos. “I haven’t gotten anything from her.”

  Elke sighed. “All right, well, I’ll go talk to her.” She swept out of the office and both of the men stared after her as if they didn’t know what to do with themselves now. She pounded down the hallway. How had Felix found out she was working here? How had he gotten the number?

  Now that she thought of it, DA Andrews had mentioned that there would be a press release about the new CRU. That was probably it. Felix had access to the news, same as everyone else, and he probably had his ways to find phone numbers. He had nothing but time in there, after all.

  She veered out of the hallway into Frankie’s office.

  Frankie looked up, surprised. “Yes?”

  “The DNA information for Amos?”

  “I’ve got it here,” she said, holding up several sheets of paper. “I was about to take it to him.”

  “Oh, great, thanks,” said Elke.

  “You told me to do it. Did you think I wasn’t going to?” Frankie’s nostrils flared.

  Elke held up both her hands. “Sorry, no, I wasn’t trying to…” She didn’t even finish the sentence. She just started to back out of the office. “It’s not you, actually, it’s…” My stupid, lying husband. Ex-husband. She sucked in a deep breath and turned back to the hallway. “Never mind.”

  “Okay,” said Frankie, sounding confused.

  Elke turned back to her. “Actually, how are you at interviewing people?”

  “People?”

  “Suspects,” said Elke.

  “Well, I think everyone just wants a sympathetic ear and then—”

  “Never mind,” Elke said again. Sympathy was not what she was looking for here. She stepped into the hallway.

  Iain was coming back down the hallway with Amos trailing after him.

  Elke pointed at Iain. “You. With me.”

  * * *

  Saanvi Mukherjee was a small, slight woman in her early forties. She wore her dark hair short and she had huge, luminous eyes that gazed listlessly past Elke. “What? You were expecting some kind of reaction?”

  “I was,” said Elke, scrutinizing the woman. She and Iain sat opposite a table in an interview room at the prison. Saanvi and Kevin were both being kept at a facility to the south of Haven Hills. It had been about a forty minute drive down here, and Iain hadn’t been able to understand what the point was of going and talking to the possibly wrongly convicted. In his mind, it was pointless. The DNA would exonerate them or it wouldn’t.

  “Well,” said Saanvi, “I don’t have one. If you’d come to me ten years ago, five years ago, and told me that someone wanted to see justice done, maybe then I would have had a reaction, but it’s just been too long. We’ve tried to appeal. We’ve tried to get our story heard. Nothing has happened. So, you must understand, it’s simply not something I allow myself to have anymore.”

  “What isn’t?” said Elke.

  “Hope.”

  Well, that was sad. Of course, for all Elke knew, this woman had actually committed cold blooded murder. Elke had been hoping she would be reassured of the accused’s innocence in this interview, but Saanvi was blank and withdrawn. She couldn’t get a read on the woman at all. Elke glanced sidelong at Iain, who was silently observing. She was fairly sure he wouldn’t put much stock in “getting a read” on someone.

  Well, hell. Maybe he was right. It wasn’t exactly scientific, was it?

  “All right, fair enough,” said Elke. “Would you mind talking to us a bit about the crime?”

  Saanvi sighed. “Whatever.”

  “You would mind?”

  “It’s the death of my parents, you know,” she said. “It’s not something anyone likes talking about. Especially when they
were killed the way they were.”

  “Right, I understand,” said Elke. “It must be painful for you.”

  Saanvi sighed again. “What do you want to know? We weren’t even there, you know. Kevin and I were out the whole night, and people saw us. People who testified, but it didn’t matter. They said we timed it so that we could get there and get back in time. They said that the people who saw us were confused. They were sure it was us. They never even looked at anyone else.”

  “And there were other people to look at?” said Elke.

  “Dad’s work study,” said Saanvi. “She was angry over the grade he gave her. And those Nazi fuckers. But no one took them seriously.”

  “Nazi?”

  “We have files on those suspects,” Iain spoke up. “I’ve gone over them. We aren’t looking at them at this time. We have another theory.”

  Elke shook her head at him furiously. He shouldn’t tell the accused about another possible suspect. What if she actually was guilty? She didn’t need any extra ammunition if that was the case.

  “Sorry,” said Iain and lapsed into silence.

  “You don’t want me to know the other theory?” said Saanvi. “Let me guess, you aren’t actually convinced I’m innocent and you don’t want to give me any ideas.”

  Elke sighed. “We are investigating your case. We’re investigating all the angles. The fact that you don’t seem to want to cooperate—”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “You walked right past the crime scene,” said Elke.

  “It was dark,” said Saanvi. “The lights were off in the living room. Kevin and I thought my parents had gone to bed already. That was the way it typically would be. They’d be in bed, and I’d sneak Kevin to my room and we’d… well, be together.”

  “So, that’s what you did that night?”

  “No,” said Saanvi. “No, thank goodness. I wanted a glass of water, and I went into the kitchen, and that was when I saw that the bread and the cheese and the mayonnaise were out. Which didn’t make sense. That wasn’t like my father. He was the one who usually made himself a late-night sandwich, but he always cleaned up after himself. So, that was when I checked the bed, and no one was in it. The covers had been thrown aside, like someone had been sleeping and had gotten out. And then I started calling for them. And Kevin came out of the room, and we went together, looking for them. It didn’t take us long to find them.”