by Hopkin, Ben
“You can’t be suggesting that her involvement is in any way, shape or form healthy?” scoffed Templeton.
“I’m not only suggesting it, I’m stating it as my professional opinion.” She held up a hand to forestall both the principal and the social worker’s comments. “An opinion, by the way, which is far more informed than both of you combined.”
Killarney stirred at that. “What are you—?”
“I am a licensed child psychologist with over a decade and a half of practical experience. I know what I’m doing.”
Templeton stepped forward. “Your professional opinion is warped. And I think it’s based off of some sick fascination that you have with that detective with Asperger’s.”
“Um,” the principal muttered. “I don’t really understand what’s going on here.”
“This is what you both need to understand,” Mala said, ignoring the principal’s utterance. “The only thing that has made it so that Janey… and yes, I call her Janey, at her request… can even function is the fact that she was allowed to participate in tracking down her parent’s killer. And she is not only functioning, she’s thriving.”
“Thriving?” challenged Templeton. “Is that what you call leading some kind of classroom revolution?”
At that moment, Janey burst into the room, a huge smile plastered all over her face. She saw Mala there and ran to embrace her, holding up her bear to be kissed.
Nodding at the two other men in the room, Janey grabbed Mala’s hand and started pulling. She was trying to get Mala to leave the office.
“Sweetie, we need to talk to these two men about what you did in class today,” Mala said, trying to keep her own fears out of her voice. Janey didn’t have to know how bad things were right now.
But instead of letting up on her grip, Janey nodded her head up and down and continued tugging at Mala. There was obviously something she wanted to show her.
And she was smiling. Still. Whatever it was that Janey was trying to communicate to her, it was clear that she was excited about it.
Janey was smart. There was no way that she didn’t understand that having Mala in the principal’s office was not a good thing. So if she wanted Mala to go somewhere, it was probably a good idea to follow along. Mala felt a surge of hope well up inside her.
“Gentlemen,” Mala spoke over her shoulder as she walked out of the office. “It seems that Janey wants to show me something. It would probably be a good idea if you came along.”
She didn’t give them a chance to argue.
* * *
Trey was stoked.
Finally he was going to get to put away that punk of an APA. He had known that guy was off from the second he laid eyes on him. Well, actually, it was from the moment Carson Speer had identified himself as the new Assistant Prosecuting Attorney. But still.
Darc had called in for a warrant, and it was just a matter of minutes before it would be granted. They wanted to make sure and corner Speer in his office, just in case the weasel was friends with someone in the judge’s office. Didn’t want their prime suspect scurrying off like the cockroach he was. Weasel? Cockroach? No. Garbage. That was the best descriptor for this guy.
It’s time to take out the trash. Trey had always wanted a chance to say something like that, even if it was only to himself.
“So, how are we going to do this?” Trey asked. “Barge in and slap him in cuffs, or what?”
“We will go in and ask him questions,” his partner answered.
“Hold on. We’re just going to talk to him?”
“That is what is required at this moment.”
Trey was now just a little less stoked. “You mean that after all that, you still don’t think it’s him?”
Darc took a moment before answering. A long enough moment that Trey was starting to think that his partner was just ignoring him again. Not that it would be all that out of the ordinary. But him pausing to think things through was. Very. And yet that’s what it seemed was going on.
“I am not positive that the APA is the killer,” he finally said.
“Really? What does it take to convince you?” Trey ticked off the points on his finger. “He’s the APA. He seems like a good guy. He’s a Freemason. He’s the APA. He’s got no alibi. He was seen coming out of our only witness’ room right before the guy dies. He’s on the lawsuit, and he’s the freaking APA.”
“There…” Darc rubbed at his hand with his other thumb. “There is something… off… about it.”
Wow. Darc unsure of himself. Darc thinking things through. Trey wasn’t sure if he liked this new Darc. It was a lot more fun to run behind his partner when the big bald guy was busy knocking in doors and interpreting symbols and saving the day and stuff.
“Okay,” Trey relented. “We’ll just talk to him.” He moved down the hallway to the APA’s office. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
They zipped past Carson’s secretary, who looked up as they were walking past.
“Excuse me,” she called after them, flapping her arms to get their attention. “You can’t just walk in there.”
“Sure we can,” Trey called over his shoulder, flashing his badge at her. “We’re all on the same team, aren’t we?”
Trey shouldered Carson Speer’s door open and surprised the APA in the act of shaking someone’s hand. That alone wouldn’t have been suspicious, but the someone involved was a large, looming Italian man whom Trey recognized. Jimmy Arconato, a known associate of the Colacurcios family.
The secretary, who was still right on Trey and Darc’s heels, poked her head around the doorframe. “Mr. Speer, I’m so sorry, they just—”
The attorney just waved her off, turning his attention to Trey.
“Detective Keane,” Carson said, his tone smooth. “What can I do for you? I’m just finishing up with a meeting.”
“I can see that,” Trey answered. “But since it looks like you’re done, maybe we can chat for a bit.”
“Sure, sure,” he said, waving at the chairs in front of his desk.
Trey just stared back at him. Maybe Trey wasn’t going to get the privilege of taking the guy on a perp walk today, but he still planned on having fun with this.
“Okay…” Carson said, glancing back and forth between Trey and Darc. He then turned to his mafia contact. “Jimmy, we were finished anyway, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jimmy drawled. “It’s getting crowded in here, anyway.” The beefy man locked gazes with Trey before sauntering out of the office.
“Sorry about that,” the APA said, pointing once more at the chairs in front of him.
“See,” Trey responded. “Right there. That’s your problem.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“We just busted into your office, interrupting you in the middle of what was clearly a meeting you didn’t want anyone to know about. Normal lawyers would be screaming at us right now.”
Carson chuckled at that. “I’m not a normal lawyer, I guess. I should take that as a complement, right?” He looked out in the direction that Jimmy had gone. “And there was nothing secret about that meeting. We’re trying to talk him into turning state’s evidence. No luck so far, but I’m hopeful.”
The attorney’s words caused Trey’s face to burn. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to haul this guy’s ass to lockup. Like right now. Give him a few hours to stew in the tank, then put him in the box and grill him.
Instead, he took a step back and motioned for Darc to start speaking. One thing about his partner, he never had any problem divorcing his emotions from the equation. And with someone as cool as Speer, that was exactly what was needed.
Dammit.
“You are suspected of being involved in the deaths of five City Council members, three bankers and one member of the Colacurcios family,” Darc said.
Trey nodded his head at Darc’s tactics. Way to come out of the gate. Straight for the jugular. Carson’s face went white.
�
��Wh… what are you talking about?” He groped about on his desk, almost as if he were trying to find evidence to counter what Darc had said. “I don’t know… There’s no… I don’t have—”
“Your ties to this case are not in dispute,” Darc responded. “You have no alibi for any of the deaths. You were in the room of a witness without authorization. You were listed on the lawsuit against the Colacurcios family and the city.”
“Don’t forget the fact that he’s the APA,” Trey chimed in.
Carson rallied at that point, regaining his more polished façade. “You’ll have to forgive me, but if I were involved in this in any way whatsoever… this all sounds like circumstantial evidence. There’s nothing concrete here at all.”
“Cases have been made on less,” Darc replied. “The fact the evidence is circumstantial is not a meaningful designation. It is evidence, and it is mounting.”
“I’m not in handcuffs, so it’s pretty plain that—” Speer started.
“There is a warrant being issued as we speak,” Darc cut him off. “We will search your home, your phone records, your emails… and we will find the evidence we are looking for.”
Carson Speer’s shoulders slumped. Whatever else he’d been, Trey was guessing that he hadn’t been too careful. Probably expected his position would protect him from any digging around. Now that there would be a warrant, his excuses wouldn’t hold nearly as much water.
“It’s time for you to start talking,” Trey said. “Once the warrant’s served, all bets are off. You’ll get concurrent sentences for each of those people you killed.”
“But I didn’t kill anyone,” Carson blurted, his eyes wide. “Look, I admit, there are some phone calls to the Colacurcios family. And to the banks. But that was just to get the job done.”
“By any means necessary?” Trey pressed.
“Hey!” he snapped back. “Do you have any idea how big a project this is? How much it’s going to do for the city? I had to make sure—”
“That some of those public funds made it into your pocket,” Trey finished for him.
“No. No! I admit, I maybe haven’t been as above board as I should’ve been, but it was for a good cause. This thing’s going to save Seattle.”
“Yeah,” agreed Trey. “And what’s a few deaths here and there when Seattle’s on the line, right?”
“I’m telling you, I never touched anyone.” He snapped his fingers, an idea apparently coming to him. “Listen, you’re accusing me of having something to do with this whole Waterfront thing, right?”
“Right…”
“Well, then… why the hell would I take down the guys that I need to make it happen?”
Trey stopped. He hadn’t thought of that angle. He glanced over at his partner. Darc, on the other hand, clearly had. Of course. Once more, Darc was like five steps ahead of Trey.
Ah, hell, who was he kidding? It was more like twenty. Whatever, what Speer was saying wasn’t surprising Darc at all.
It was becoming clear that Trey wasn’t going to be taking anyone away in handcuffs. And he had really, really wanted to use them.
“There’s a connection here, Speer,” Trey said. “Everyone that’s dying is involved in this thing. And so are you.” Pointing at the lawyer, Trey used his best intimidation voice. “You are going down.”
The APA’s eyes were wide, his face was pale and he was sweating. The voice had totally worked. Trey backed out of the office, not wanting to spoil the moment.
He had scared the guy that was working with the Colacurcios family. That took some doing. But as Trey left the office, another thought crossed his mind.
What if that’s not what Carson was afraid of?
CHAPTER 22
Mala hadn’t had any idea what it was that she would see when Janey finished yanking on her arm. But whatever she had thought it might be, it certainly wasn’t anything close to this.
It was an empty classroom.
Well, not quite. Mrs. Kingston was there. The teacher glanced up from her desk, catching sight of Janey, Mala and the two men.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you looking for the rest of the class? They’re out at second recess.”
“Ah… no, Mrs. Kingston. Janey brought us here,” Mala replied, nonplussed. This didn’t seem to be anything for Janey to have been excited about.
“Oh, right. Janey,” the teacher’s mouth turned down into a frown. “I… Well, I’m not sure quite what to say about what happened today.”
Mala thought about that for a moment. “You know, I’m still not clear on exactly what occurred. Could you walk me through it?”
She glanced down at Janey, who was still grinning and nodding her head. Whatever it was that Mrs. Kingston was about to tell her was precisely what Janey wanted her to hear.
“Certainly,” she answered. “Janey and a group of children interrupted the entire class right in the middle of arts and crafts group today.”
“Interrupted?” prompted Mala.
“Yes. They left the group and made a circle around their desks. Then they just pointed at some of their classmates. It was weird. One of the boys started crying.”
“One of the boys in the circle?”
“No, one of the ones they were pointing at. I think it was…” the teacher stopped and took a breath. “Well, it seemed like the group was trying to intimidate them.”
Mala turned back to Janey. “Is this true?”
Janey’s smile was still stretched wide, and she nodded again.
“You see?” Killarney chimed in. “She doesn’t even try to deny it. It’s like she’s happy about it all.”
Janey went over to the light switch by the door and turned it off. The classroom was plunged into immediate darkness. But over the protestations of every other adult there, Mala realized the darkness wasn’t complete.
There was something glowing.
“Look,” she said, pointing at the floor. There, traced in the glow paint that Janey had asked for, was the outline of a very large detective’s badge.
“What is that?” Mrs. Kingston asked.
“You mean this was done without your knowledge?” Killarney inserted, his tone surprised. He moved over to the switch and turned the lights back on. Janey moved over to stand next to Mala as the principal continued. “How is that even possible?”
“I… I’m not sure,” the teacher responded, apparently flustered. “It could have been done while I went to the restroom, or…”
“I think it’s more to the point to figure out why this vandalism happened.”
Vandalism. Mala’s heart sank. They had no context within which to place this symbol, and Janey couldn’t speak for herself. The conclusion that the teacher, principal and more than likely the social worker were all leaping to was wrong. Flat out wrong.
But that was where Mala came in. Part of her job as parent was speaking out for her child when her child couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate.
Like right now.
“This is a detective’s badge,” Mala explained. “It’s the only thing that makes Janey feel safe and protected.”
From the look on Mrs. Kingston’s face, she at least had a basic understanding of what that might mean for a traumatized girl. Killarney seemed unconvinced, but appeared to be listening. Templeton, in contrast, was folding his arms over his chest, shutting himself off from the explanation that was being proffered. He didn’t seem to have any interest in being persuaded.
Was all of his antagonism really based solely off of his dislike of Mala? And all over a few missed minutes in a class she took from him months ago?
“It doesn’t really matter what the badge means,” he said. “This kind of blatant disregard for public property—”
Mrs. Kingston held up a hand. “Please. I want to hear the rest.”
Mala nodded her appreciation. “Do you mind if I take a closer look?”
The teacher nodded, and Mala moved in closer to where the badge had been outlined. It seemed to encompass a gr
ouping of desks.
“Who all sits here?”
Mrs. Kingston looked at where Mala was pointing. “That’s the group of kids who’ve been giving me the most problems.”
“Right from the start of the school year?” Mala pressed.
“Well, no,” she admitted. “If you had asked me in the first week, I would’ve said that those were some of the best behaved children in my class.”
“When did that change?”
The teacher flicked a look at Janey. “Right around the time they started hanging around with...” She trailed off, apparently not willing to say anything more in front of the one who seemed to be the cause of all this.
Mala thought hard. It was clear that Janey had been the ringleader here. There was no denying that part of the story. She took a closer look at one of the desks, where something seemed to be tied to a bar along the back. Was that…?
“Mr. Killarney,” she called out to the principal. “Is this the lock of hair that Janey cut off from that boy earlier?”
He glanced at the item and shrugged. “It might be.”
Attached to the back of each of the desks was… something. There was a hat strapped to one. What looked like an action figure to another.
They looked like talismans. Or warnings. Like skulls staked into the ground to warn away intruders. Or a piece of the person, or an object that was close to them, that would be incorporated into a voodoo doll.
Something to protect them.
Mala turned around as the door to the classroom opened up once more. Two forms were framed there in the doorframe, a young girl about Janey’s age and what looked to be her mother.
“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” the older woman said, gazing around the room and seeming to feel the tension that was there. “I just wanted to let Mrs. Kingston know that I’m taking my daughter in to the dentist. Office told me I’d find you here.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Johnson,” the teacher responded. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Mrs. Johnson was about to turn around to leave when she caught sight of Janey and then looked up to find Mala by her side. The woman broke out in a big smile and moved in for a handshake.
“Are you Janey’s Mom?” she asked. “I just have to thank you both so much for the way that she’s taken care of that problem for my girl.”