Murder in the Presidio (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 6)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “No.”

  “Describe the other encounter.”

  “He reported suspicious activity at his neighbor’s house.”

  “And was he right?”

  “He was.”

  “And yet you still don’t like him. Why?”

  Peyton narrowed her eyes on Brown. “He is a charlatan, a liar, and a cheat. He also covered up a murder and would have sent an innocent man to prison to protect a false empire, built on the backs of vulnerable people.”

  “You object to his televangelism?”

  “That’s one thing I object to.”

  “Do you go to church, Inspector?”

  Peyton frowned. “What?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” said Devan, rising to his feet.

  “Ms. Brown?”

  “Again, Your Honor, it directly relates to my case.”

  “Over-ruled.”

  “Do you go to church?”

  “I used to.”

  “But you stopped?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Peyton looked over at Devan.

  “Objection, Your Honor. Inspector Brooks is not on trial. O’Shannahan is.”

  “I want to hear where this is going, Mr. Adams,” said the judge.

  Devan held out his hands to Peyton. He wasn’t going to be able to help her. She shifted in the chair. “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you stop after your father was murdered?”

  Peyton thought about that one for a moment. She didn’t know how Brown found out, but she was right. “Yes.”

  “He was a cop and he was killed in the line of duty, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you are so relentless? Why you strive so hard to solve your cases and get a conviction?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “To live up to your father’s legacy?”

  “No.”

  “We can debate that, I suppose, but isn’t his death the reason you stopped going to church?”

  “Your Honor?” pleaded Devan.

  The judge held up a hand, silencing him. “I want to hear this, Adams. I want to know where this is going. Don’t object again.”

  “Inspector?”

  Peyton swallowed hard. She had no idea what the hell this proved or what it did for O’Shannahan, but it was making her feel sick inside. “I suppose,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

  Brown clasped the pen in both hands and gave her best facsimile of a sympathetic nod. “We call that a crisis of faith, Inspector Brooks. One event shakes us so deeply that we question what we’ve always believed.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that O’Shannahan helped his wife cover up a murder.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t.”

  Peyton frowned. “What?”

  “Just like you, Jedediah O’Shannahan is human and he also had a crisis of faith, a moment when his usual good judgment failed him. He violated the trust of his wife and he had an affair. So tragic was this lapse that it inadvertently caused the death of another. Just as you lost your way, Inspector, my client lost his. He helped his wife cover up the evidence of her terrible crime, but he did so to protect her, to save her from herself.”

  Peyton’s mouth fell open.

  O’Shannahan bowed his head at that moment, looking humble and contrite, and Peyton felt her stomach roil. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Devan slump in his chair, the very picture of defeat.

  Elizabeth Brown held out her hands, pretending to talk to Peyton, but her every word was directed at the jury. “Surely you can understand that, Inspector, surely you know how powerful the human need is to serve and protect those we love?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Marco pulled the Mustang into the precinct parking lot and turned off the ignition, shifting toward Peyton. “You’ve been awfully quiet the entire way back. You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She reached for the door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Brooks, not only are you the worst liar in the freakin’ world, but you’re a really bad actress.”

  “What do you want me to say, Marco? That I’m pissed that I was manipulated by O’Shannahan’s lawyer into giving him a reason for covering up a murder?”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what I want you to say. She manipulated the entire courtroom.”

  She laid her head against the seat. “Sometimes it feels like we’re fighting pointless battles. Even if we arrest a suspect, there’s a lawyer who would do anything to get him off and a twelve person jury that can be as variable as the weather. We have a flawed judicial system in this country.”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  Peyton held up a hand and let it fall on the center console.

  “But whenever I start thinking like this, I wonder what part of it I would change or eliminate.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The defense lawyer? Would you really not want anyone representing the rights of the accused?”

  “I guess not.”

  “The judge? Would you not have someone overseeing the entire proceeding?”

  Peyton shrugged.

  “The jury? Would you rather it be only wealthy people who hear cases or maybe those that have land, or just white males?”

  “I get you.”

  “It’s flawed, but you heard Brown today. We have an 89% conviction rate. 89%? Most of the time they get it right – 89% of the time they get it right. What else has such a high percentage in its favor? The president wins by 51% and we call that a landslide.” He gave her his sexy-Marco smile. “So, yeah, it’s flawed and arbitrary and sometimes bad guys get off, but compared with other judicial systems, I’d say it’s about as good as humans get.”

  Peyton smiled back at him and reached over, taking his hand. “You got some depth to you, D’Angelo, you know that.”

  “Don’t tell Devan. I sure as shit don’t need him putting me on the witness stand after your performance today.”

  “Hey!” She pulled her hand free and hit him with it.

  He laughed. “You ready to get back to finding this Janitor bastard?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready.” They climbed out of the Mustang and walked toward the precinct. When they arrived inside, they heard voices coming from the conference room. Maria settled the phone back in its cradle.

  “I was just calling you.”

  “Something happen?” Peyton asked.

  “Brooks, D’Angelo, conference room now!” came Defino’s voice.

  Peyton and Maria exchanged a wry look as she headed for the doorway. Cho and Simons were sitting at the conference table, while Stan and Jake were huddled around a laptop at the other end, and Defino was pacing.

  She glared at them as they entered. “How did the trial go?”

  “Not good.”

  “Well, get over it. We’ve got bigger problems.”

  Peyton glanced at Jake, but Stan looked up, beaming a smile at her. “Hey, Peyton.”

  “Hey, Stan.” She focused on Jake. “What’s going on?”

  “I got another letter from the Janitor.” He pushed it across the table at her. Peyton picked it up. It was still handwritten, but someone had copied it.

  “Where’s the original?”

  “No idea,” said Simons.

  “Wait. What?”

  “It came through my email.”

  “Your email?”

  “We figure he wrote it, scanned it into his computer, and then emailed it to Jake.”

  “Why?”

  Defino squinted at her. “To avoid the camera at Jake’s desk.”

  Peyton resisted the impulse to tell the captain she’d been right about that camera, but it was hard.

  “I’m trying to trace the IP address he sent it from,” said Stan.

  “Great idea. What does the letter say?” asked Peyton, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

  “Here’s an idea. You could read it,” offered Jake.
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  Peyton stuck her tongue out at him. Marco sat down next to her as she leafed through the pages. When she got to the end, she turned back to the first one.

  I hardly saw Missy after her father died. My mother and I went to the funeral, but Missy wouldn’t talk to me. I spent that summer hanging out on the porch, watching their house. I’d never had a father, so I didn’t know exactly what they were feeling, but I couldn’t imagine a world without my mother in it.

  Clayton stopped playing baseball and soccer. I never knew if it was because they couldn’t afford it now or if playing sports without his dad was too hard.

  School started again and although I saw Clayton and Missy waiting for the bus or sitting by themselves at lunch, I didn’t make any more overtures of friendship. They didn’t seem to want or need anyone else.

  In fact, the next time I actually talked to Missy was in high school. It’s funny that you can live next door to people for years and never really see them, never talk to them, never make more than a passing contact.

  Missy came to the high school as a freshman. I was a junior. She was spectacular. Tall and curvy, beautiful curly hair, big brown eyes. People always talk about love at first sight. Well, let me tell you, it happens. I decided the best way to make Missy notice me was to show her around campus.

  She’d always been shy, but her face lit up when she saw me. By the time lunch was over, I had her laughing. I agreed to meet her after school, but as I walked her out to the bus, Clayton came up and grabbed her arm. He was not happy I was there. By that time, though, I was pretty big – played football and lifted weights, so I was not intimidated by skinny-assed Clayton. I told Missy I would see her the next day.

  But when I got home, I was miserable. I had stopped hanging out on the porch years ago, but I found myself doing it again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Missy.

  While I stood there watching, I saw a blue Chevy Nova pull into the driveway and a man got out. I asked my mom about it because she’d stayed friendly with Missy’s mom. She said Missy’s mom had started dating again.

  The next day at school, Missy didn’t meet me for lunch. I wandered around campus all day, hoping I’d see her, but I didn’t. After school I had football practice. Once, during a break, I looked up in the bleachers and I saw Missy there. It was impossible to miss her. I was so excited, I couldn’t wait for practice to end, but when I came out of the locker-room, Missy was gone.

  When I went home, I noticed the same Nova in Missy’s driveway. Getting up the courage, I went over to her house. A man answered the door. He was big and rough looking…

  Peyton stopped reading and looked up. “This isn’t a manifesto. It’s a confession.” She passed the next page to Marco.

  Defino nodded. “I know.”

  “He’s telling us why he kills.”

  “Which probably means he wants to stop,” said Cho.

  “We’ve got to make contact with him. We’ve got to open a dialogue. We might be able to get him to turn himself in.”

  “I’ve almost got it,” said Stan, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “I think I have the Wi-Fi connection he used.”

  “Where did he send it from, Stan?” she asked.

  “Give me a second.”

  Peyton looked back at the letter.

  He was big and rough looking. I asked to see Missy. He told me she was busy doing homework, but I could see Missy on the stairs behind him, watching me with those big eyes of hers. She never said a word, but she slowly shook her head as if asking me to leave.

  I got to school early the next morning, waiting at the bus stop. I would have missed her if I didn’t notice the same blue Nova pull up in front of the school. Clayton and Missy climbed out. I waited for the Nova to pull away, then I hurried over to them, calling Missy’s name.

  She looked at me, but Clayton stepped around her to block me. I could have knocked him on his ass, he was that skinny, but I didn’t feel like that would earn me any points with Missy.

  Clayton told me to leave them alone, then he grabbed Missy’s arm and dragged her into the school. I followed them. In fact, I followed Missy all that day, so I could map out her classes. In between, I hid in the boy’s bathroom and wandered around my locker, pretending I was getting out a book. I knew my mom would kill me for cutting, but it was worth it.

  At football practice, I noticed Missy in the bleachers again, but just like before, she left before I could get over to her. The next day, I met her outside her first class. She told me to leave her alone, but I said I wouldn’t talk, I’d just walk her to her next class. I did that for every single class all day. She never talked to me, she would hardly look at me, but by the last class of the day, she was waiting for me to show up.

  And that night she was in the bleachers again. I told the coach I needed water, but I ran over to her and asked her to wait for me after practice. She nodded she would. That earned me extra laps around the track, but it was worth it.

  Missy was waiting when I finished. We sat in the bleachers and I tried to talk to her, but no matter what I said, she wouldn’t answer. She just sat there, clutching her backpack and staring at the toe of her sandal.

  I offered to drive her home. It was getting late and I didn’t want her taking the bus. She agreed, but the minute I pulled in front of the house, the door flew open and the Nova guy came out, demanding to know why the hell she was so late.

  She jumped out of the car and raced up the walkway, her head bowed. I started to get out, but I saw Clayton on the porch and he was violently shaking his head no. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I sure didn’t want to get them in trouble.

  The letter ended. Peyton sat staring at it. That was all? She figured she knew where the story was going, but why was he feeding it to them a little at a time?

  “Got it,” said Stan.

  Peyton looked over.

  “He sent the email from Starbucks.”

  “Which one?”

  Stan looked up through his heavy lens. “The one on 20th, close to Mercy High School.”

  “Whose name is registered on the email account?” asked Defino.

  Stan went back to typing. “Jillian Cera.”

  “Jillian?”

  “Hold on. I’m searching to see if I can find anything on Jillian Cera.”

  Peyton exchanged a look with Jake.

  “Jillian Cera is a high school student at Mercy.” Stan clicked, then looked up. “She reported her laptop stolen yesterday.”

  “From where?” asked Simons.

  “Starbucks.”

  “Cho, Simons, get out there and see if they have any surveillance tapes, then make contact with the kid at Mercy.”

  Marco shifted in his seat. “Captain?”

  She turned to him. “What?”

  “The Starbucks is on 20th.”

  “Yeah?” Then she hesitated, her eyes shifting to Peyton. “Shit. That’s in your neighborhood, Brooks.”

  Peyton looked down at the letter, anything to avoid the many eyes focused on her. Did they think she hadn’t noticed the significance of that?

  * * *

  Maria hurried to the door and let Cho in, leaning in for a kiss. Peyton glanced over her shoulder. She was grilling burgers at the stove.

  “Hey, Nate, you hungry?”

  “Yeah.” He came to the counter and took a seat between Marco and Jake, while Maria returned to making a salad.

  Abe’s wooden spoon made a dull thudding noise as he vigorously stirred the concoction in Peyton’s glass pitcher. Before Abe, Peyton would never have thought to purchase a glass pitcher.

  “Did you go to Starbucks?” asked Marco.

  “Yeah. Starbucks doesn’t have any surveillance, but the strip mall does. While they pulled the video, we went to interview the girl. She stopped at Starbucks in the morning to grab a coffee and set her laptop on a table. Someone came in that she knew, so she left it and went to talk to him. When she came back the laptop was gone.”

  “Could she tell y
ou what time she was there?” asked Jake.

  “Yeah, the teachers had a meeting that morning, so school didn’t start until 9:00. Her mom dropped her off at Starbucks around 8:30.”

  “Did she notice anyone messing around her table?”

  Cho shook his head. “It was crowded in there.”

  Peyton finished grilling the burgers, moving them to a plate and storing them in the oven to keep warm, then she grabbed another frying pan and went to the refrigerator to get Marco’s veggie burgers. Abe was trying to get by at the same time and he grabbed her hand, spinning her around in a silly dance as he went to the cabinet and began pulling out glasses. She laughed and swatted him away.

  “Did you see the surveillance tape?” asked Marco.

  Abe came back to the counter, giving him an air kiss as he arranged his glasses next to the pitcher.

  “Yeah, but it’s impossible to see anything. The quality isn’t good, the location isn’t right, and a lot of people went in and out of there. There were a number of guys with hats, but nothing that would trigger any recognition. I sent about fifteen minutes of it to my email around the time the girl said she was there, but I don’t think there’s anything on it.”

  “Can I see it?” asked Jake.

  “Sure. Get your tablet.”

  Jake left the counter.

  Peyton offered Cho a sympathetic smile. “This is frustrating.”

  “It’s beyond frustrating. If it’s someone at the precinct, you’d think we’d recognize him even with a hat on.”

  Abe started pouring drinks.

  “What’s that?” asked Cho.

  “It’s called Lemon-Orange Fizz.”

  “What’s the alcohol in it?”

  Abe pouted. “They told me I couldn’t put alcohol in it. They said we’re all drinking too much.” He leaned on the counter. “I only agreed because wait until you see the drink I have planned for Saturday night. You’re coming, right?”

  “For Brooks’ birthday, hell yeah.”