“Ol’ Snake was pissed enough to spit nails. Shoot, man, I bet he laid tracks a mile long out of work.” Then, as if realizing he might be helping to nail Gallego, he quickly added, “But he didn’t kill his wife. Shoot, man, everyone knows Snake loved that bitch. She didn’t deserve him, but he would have never laid a finger on her. Know what I mean? Just ask anyone.”
“He has an alibi. Someone has come forth.”
“Really?” His thick brows arched toward the ceiling. “Damn glad about that. He don’t deserve to be sitting in no cell. Snake ain’t done no crime. When will he hit the street?”
“As soon as I have a conversation with the county prosecutor.” LeAnne tapped the eraser of her pencil on the table top. “This man, you can identify him?”
“Shoot, man, I can do you one better, I know the little prick’s name.”
Chapter 8
LeAnne paced the carpeted floor of her small office, sure she would leave a track from her desk to the window and back. She felt like a juggler with one too many balls as her thoughts about the two cases jumbled around inside her. Bob Reese was due to arrive any minute, and she could certainly use someone with whom she could bounce around theories.
She had called him with the identity of the man who had been seen with Jillian Gallego the morning of her death. Just as when Blade had put a name to the man, she was still slack-jawed, as Bob probably had been, though she doubted much surprised him. Had he been told someone planted a bomb beneath his seat, Bob would probably check for the validity of the fact first, then simply disarm it—not even a bead of sweat would dot his brow. He had asked her not to do a thing until he arrived; he wanted to be in on the confrontation.
Confrontations. Something for which Bob Reese seemed actually to get a hard-on. As long as she had known Bob, not much seemed to but a fire beneath him.
At this point, they agreed not yet to alert the sheriff. Plan the strategy, Bob had suggested.
With Snake Gallego having an airtight alibi, that left Jillian’s murderer, as well as Miranda Holliday’s, if it was not one and the same, still on the loose. And LeAnne had just been handed a lead which could break one or both cases wide open. If they could place this new lead at one or both of the scenes, they could quickly close the case.
LeAnne walked to her coffeepot and poured herself a mug full. In her clumsiness, hot liquid spilled over the side, burning the web between her thumb and forefinger, attesting the fact her nerves were wound tight. She switched hands and shook off the liquid.
Anticipation created more nervous tension within her than the first hill of any roller coaster ride at Cedar Point ever had, and she loathed roller coasters. Out of all the people she had thought Blade might name, this one never came to mind. My God, the attention this would bring to the sheriff’s office. Joseph Drake would not be pleased. Thank goodness they just passed the election year. Maybe this would all blow over before his four-year term ended, and Joe came up for reelection.
“Is he here?” Bob asked as he walked into her office. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his black uniform shirt and rolled them halfway up his arms. Yanking on the collar, he undid the top button, then checked the time on his watch.
“I didn’t want to alarm anyone. I thought we might want to present what we have to Sheriff Drake first.”
After all, it isn’t every day a deputy becomes a lead suspect in a murder case, she thought.
“Let’s get Joe in here,” Bob said, rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation. He took a seat on the corner of LeAnne’s desk. “I’m still waiting on lab results from the Holliday case. Thought I’d take a drive over to the BG lab after I leave here. You think we can connect him to this Holliday woman?”
“I don’t know.”
Bob helped himself to a cup of coffee, then retook his seat. He blew across the liquid before taking a sip, looking at her from over the rising steam.
She continued, “I knew Allen Wymer was a real jerk. But damn, I don’t think I would ever suspect him of this.”
“What do we really know about him?”
“He’s been with the sheriff’s office nearly as long as I have. He started the summer after me. We’re almost the same age. We graduated the same year from high school. He, too, started out as a dispatcher. And remember when I became a deputy before he did? He screamed discrimination, saying I got the job because I was a woman.”
“Do you believe that’s why you got the promotion?”
LeAnne’s face heated. “Hell, no! I deserved this and you know it. Wymer and I went through the same training. And what about when Sheriff Drake promoted me to detective? Wymer said he was more qualified for the job. Hell, I was the one who took all the courses on my own time. I deserved this job.”
Bob grinned. “Calm down, LeAnne. I’m on your side, remember?”
LeAnne conceded, though showing no humor. “What about his wife and kids?”
“Ouch!” Bob winced, knowing as LeAnne, when this story came out, Wymer’s marriage would likely be over. “We should do a little investigating on our own—check into his background before he started here, maybe even after. What do any of us know about his past? We should see if he’s harboring any deep dark secrets in and out of work.”
“I checked what records we have; he’s so clean he squeaks. And somehow, coming from this small town, I doubt he did anything other than a childhood prank in his past, or we would have known. I graduated with him, for crying out loud.”
“But with a graduating class of about 250, did you really get to know him? Everyone has shadows lurking in the corners. We just found one of his.” Bob’s face appeared etched in stone, all business. “Let’s get Joe up here.”
LeAnne punched the intercom button. Suzy’s voice boomed back at her, causing Bob to jump.
“Jesus,” he mumbled. One of the rare times LeAnne had heard Bob blaspheme.
“Tell the sheriff I need to see him in my office,” LeAnne said, grinning at Bob.
A small smile itched at the corners of his lips as Suzy blared back, “Right away.”
Footsteps fell on the stairs, telling them Joe was on his way up. “What do you need?” he asked, even before he made it through the doorway. He stopped when he saw Bob Reese. LeAnne knew he wondered why Bob was still here and not en route to the lab in BG. “Do we have a new lead?”
LeAnne indicated for the sheriff to take a seat, but he quickly declined, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I got a few places to be today, so make this quick. Something come up on the Holliday case?” He glanced at Bob. “Lab results?”
Bob shook his head, but said nothing, allowing LeAnne to explain. After all, it had been her lead.
“Not on the Holliday case—the Gallego,” she said. The sheriff’s eyes widened slightly. He said nothing, so LeAnne continued. “First of all, Gallego has an airtight alibi.”
Tiny lines creased his brow. “Why didn’t this surface until now? Are you sure this all checks out?”
“The woman had reason to fear coming forward. And of course, Snake was protecting her, so he kept silent about the whole affair.” LeAnne took a sip from her coffee, then continued. “Everything she’s told me, I can’t disprove.”
Joe sighed as if in resignation. “Who is this woman?”
“Debra Lewis.” His expression told LeAnne he knew of her. “I’ve checked with her husband, Kip, and he collaborates her story. He was in Florida the night Jillian had been murdered, and damned mad to find out his wife was slipping beneath the sheets with his best friend.”
“So Gallego’s innocent?”
“Looks that way. He couldn’t have killed his wife when he was with Debra Lewis until after four in the morning; that’s two hours after we received the 911 call. Snake didn’t arrive home until after we had transported his wife’s body to the morgue.”
“Do we know who made the call, yet?”
“Nope.”
“Work on it. It might provide us with an invaluable clue to the murderer.�
��
“I have, but I’ll try harder. We have his voice on tape. He sounds familiar, too, but I can’t put my finger on it yet.”
“Have you told Chad? The County Prosecutor has to be the one to drop charges on Gallego.”
“I haven’t seen him yet, but as soon as my day here is through, I will. Marcus Gallego doesn’t deserve to be where he’s at. He deserves my apology.”
“I take it you’ll be the one to deliver the news?”
“I owe him that much.”
“I thought so. It’s that damn sentimental side of yours. It’s going to trip you up one of these days, LeAnne. I guess that’s what makes you so endearing.” Joe rubbed his fingers over his rounded chin. Obviously knowing he could not talk her out of it, he changed his line of thought. “So, we’re back to square one.”
LeAnne shifted her stance, nervous about expounding their latest finding.
She set her coffee cup down on her desk. “Not exactly. Seems we found someone who hung around Jillian quite a lot before her death. As a matter of fact, we can place her with this guy the morning of her murder.”
Joe’s eyebrows rose, though he remained quiet.
“Allen Wymer,” she supplied.
The sheriff stiffened his stance, then stepped further into the room. “Good God, you have to be kidding.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“And how did you come by this news?”
“Debra Lewis set it all in motion. We knew someone had called Snake the day Jillian was murdered, and, until now, no one was giving us the identity of this person, nor did we think it important. We didn’t know if the call had any relation to the crime at all. Besides, we had Snake Gallego over a barrel and were positive he had done it. Hell, he couldn’t give us an alibi.”
“So now you know the man who called Gallego.”
“Blade D’Angelo. I’ve already questioned him. Seems he saw Jillian with Wymer at Trucker’s Paradise that morning and several times before at Deja Vu, where she stripped.”
“Damn.” Joe rubbed his hand over his jaw as if to release the sudden tension rising. “Well, what the hell you waiting on? Get Wymer in here, pronto.” He checked the time on his watch. “I’d like to be in on this, but I have an appointment that can’t wait. When I get back, I want everything you know.”
He turned to exit the office, then looked back over his shoulder. “And by the way—for now, let’s keep a lid on this. I don’t want the public finding out at this point the office may have a bad apple in it.”
* * *
Allen Wymer squirmed in his seat like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His normally deep, artificial tan had gone shades paler as he watched LeAnne pace in front of the table in the conference room. His jaw was so taut LeAnne swore she could hear his teeth cracking from the pressure.
Had Bob Reese not been sitting calmly at the table checking his fingernails for dirt, looking disinterested, she knew Wymer would be all hellfire and brimstone, taking her accusations and throwing them back at her. Instead, he sat coiled in his chair like a snake ready to strike.
“You don’t have shit on me,” Wymer finally hissed. “You’re going to believe the word of some dirt-bag biker over one of your own? I always knew you jerked someone to get this job. I’m just surprised the county prosecutor never caught the sheriff with his pants around his ankles and you on your knees.”
Bob shifted in his seat, his heated gaze landed on Wymer. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said not a word.
“Shut your trap, Wymer,” LeAnne said. “I suppose if I go to Deja Vu and get a hundred more witnesses that say you had been sniffing around Jillian Gallego, you’ll deny those allegations, too.”
“Kiss my ass,” he said, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His gaze flitted back to the chief deputy, who had not moved a muscle in the last few minutes, his glare still on Wymer.
“So you’re not denying you’ve been with Mrs. Gallego?” LeAnne asked.
“Who the hell hasn’t?” he scoffed. “Hell, I’m surprised ol’ Bob hasn’t had a piece of that.”
Bob’s jaw tightened. “Some of us have better self-control.”
“Were you with her the morning of the nineteenth?” she asked.
Wymer glanced from LeAnne to Bob and back. Obviously weighing his options of lying, LeAnne thought. Finally he said, “I was. But it was the last time I saw her. I wasn’t with her the night she got killed. You gotta believe me.” Sweat beads licked at his brow like droplets of water on a cool glass on a hot summer day.
“I don’t have to believe a word you say, Wymer.” LeAnne punctuated her statement with a triumphant smile. “It’s my job, remember?”
“Look.” With his fingers, he wiped the perspiration from his upper-lip. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just don’t let this get out to my wife.”
“Christ, Wymer, you think we can keep this kind of thing under wraps?” She glanced at Bob. “I don’t know, Bob, you think we ought to go to the press?”
He shrugged, with a devil-may-care look, going along with her. They both knew the sheriff would spit nails if they did. “We have to give them something. We let Gallego go free—they’ll be screaming for a name.” His gaze landed back on Wymer. Bob obviously held little respect for his fellow deputy, Brotherhood or not. “I say we hand them his little pecker on a silver platter.”
Wymer’s eyes darted between them. “You can’t be serious. The sheriff will be irate. Shit, something like this gets out, and you’ll ruin his career.”
“That’s Drake’s problem,” Bob said, glancing down at his nails. LeAnne almost laughed at Bob’s feigned disinterest. He had Wymer sweating bullets.
She let out a deep sigh. “All right, Wymer. Give us what you got, and we’ll try to keep this quiet. You know I wouldn’t do this for everyone.”
Bob’s gaze snapped back to Wymer. “I say we let the little guy hang by his balls.”
“Look, I’ve been seeing Jillian for a couple of months. That’s it.”
Wymer raised his hands. “I swear.”
“You a regular at Deja Vu?” LeAnne asked as Bob went back to feigning boredom.
“Sometimes.” When LeAnne gave him a skeptical eye, he changed to, “All right, all right. I go there a lot.”
“And your wife, she’s okay with this?”
His face grew smug. “A man’s gotta do…”
“What a man’s got to do,” LeAnne finished for him. “Jesus, Wymer, do you respect anybody?”
“Myself.”
“That’s a long shot,” Bob said. Wymer glared at the chief deputy.
“So you go to Deja Vu frequently”—LeAnne drew his attention back—“and you what? Get a few lap dances? Like what you see?”
“I had no idea Jillian was even from Henry County when I first met her,” Wymer told LeAnne. “I saw her dance quite a few times, bought a few lap dances, that kind of thing. Next thing I know, she’s offering me blow jobs for free. What red-blooded male would turn that down?”
Bob lifted his hand. LeAnne chuckled.
“Shit,” Wymer grumbled before continuing. “Anyway, I took her up on it. Next thing I know, this little nympho and I are ballin’ in the back seat of my car. Man, she was some hot little number.”
LeAnne raised a brow. “You weren’t worried about disease?”
“She made me wear a condom, carried the things herself. But, shit, I’d have worn one anyway. Never know where that’s been. Anyway, this thing—it became regular.”
“How regular?” LeAnne asked.
“Enough that I’ve been out to her house while her husband’s at work.”
LeAnne furrowed her brow. “Marcus Gallego works days, and sometimes so do you.”
Wymer hesitated, then said, “I was on duty a few times. Okay?”
LeAnne nodded. “Uh, huh.”
“Look, man, she was hot for a uniform. She liked a man with authority. Jesus, what’s going to happen to me
?”
“I have to tell the sheriff. You know that,” LeAnne said. “It will be his call. But for now, we’ll keep this quiet. You’ll still be under investigation. You do realize this?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, hanging his head. “Anything else, Bob?” LeAnne asked.
“Keep your pants up, Wymer. Your wife gets wind of this”—he grinned devilishly—“she’s liable to cut that little pecker off herself.”
“Very funny. Ha, ha.” Wymer smirked. “It was big enough for Jillian Gallego to come back for more.”
“I wouldn’t advertise that, Wymer,” Bob said. “It’s liable to wind you smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation. Oh”—he shrugged impishly—“I forgot, you already are.”
LeAnne grinned. “You can go for now, Wymer, but stick around. I’m sure the sheriff is going to have his say when he gets back. Right now, I have a prosecutor to see.”
Chapter 9
Chad sat in his chair, a pair of round-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose like the owl in a Tootsie Pop commercial, overlooking a file before him. If LeAnne hadn’t known better, she would think him to be a doctor, not a prosecutor, studying a case of life or death. But in a sense, wasn’t that his job?
A cocoon of warmth surrounded her more efficiently than any security blanket. Over the past year, watching her mother die slowly from cancer, she needed stability, and Chad had been her rock. He ran one hand through his perfectly combed hair, then glanced up, obviously feeling her eyes on him as she stood silently by the door observing him. His office door stood ajar, his secretary having gone home for the day. LeAnne had passed her on the way in. Chad had an uncanny way of working too many hours. They seemed to spend little time together as of late, with her working two murder cases and him preparing for the
Gallego arraignment, besides his many other duties.
Well, she was about to lighten his load.
A warm smile lit his tired face. He slipped off the glasses and placed them on the desk, then rose to greet her.
“Hi, babe,” he said, grasping the sides of her face and kissing her warmly on the lips. “I’ve been thinking about you, and to think I might have just conjured you up. What a surprise. Hungry?”
Kiss of Deceit Page 8