“Really? For what?” She dropped onto the chair across from him and continued towel drying her hair.
Slade seemed to study her. Did she look that bad? What was his deal?
Conscious of her looks, she glanced down. The sweater and jeans—courtesy of Trey’s shopping trip—were comfortable, not sloppy, despite the horrible olive green color. She didn’t have makeup to wear. Perhaps a few minutes with a blow-dryer would’ve improved her run-down appearance?
Magnum moved to her side, and she stroked the dog’s coarse fur. Though intimidating in appearance, he responded to her whispers of affection.
“I think Magnum’s made a new friend,” Slade said.
Trey laughed. “He’s a ladies’ man for sure. Don’t get used to that, buddy.”
“Stop it. He’s great company,” Asia defended him.
“Trey and I’ve been talking,” Slade began.
He’d told his brother about the SD card. Irritation radiated throughout her body. They’d dismiss her from helping in the investigation. “I don’t think so.”
Slade jumped in. “Hear me out.”
“Break time,” Trey announced, standing. Magnum’s ears perked, and he walked to his master.
Slade held up his hands in a position of surrender. “I think—”
“You’re not leaving me out of this.” Asia’s gaze bounced between Slade and Trey.
“This is an active investigation,” Slade reminded her.
Trey remained silent. Smart man.
Asia’s jaw tightened. “Yeah? Well, it’s my life.”
That seemed to break through Slade’s armor. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
Trey had the audacity to laugh. “Easy, you two. Why don’t we—” His cell phone interrupted, turning his expression solemn. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”
Magnum followed him into the kitchen.
Slade stood, then shoved his hands into his pockets. “I understand you want to be a part of all that’s happening, but your safety takes priority.”
Before she replied, Trey returned. “I have to leave. Sergeant Oliver’s orders.”
“What’s going on?” Slade asked.
“Manhunt for a single male, armed and considered dangerous. Shot up a department store. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Oliver said I’m the only dog unit nearby. Short staffing strikes again.” Trey shrugged on his winter coat.
A shooter on the run would take precedence over surveillance and protection detail of a murder suspect. That was a no-brainer.
“No worries,” Slade replied.
“We’ll be back ASAP.” He and Magnum headed out, and Slade locked the door behind them. The roar of his dually pickup confirmed they were on their way.
Asia focused on Slade. “Did you tell Trey about the SD card?”
“No.”
Embarrassment trailed her momentary relief. She had to stop overreacting. “Now that he’s gone, can we look at the SD card?”
“You read my mind.” Slade disappeared down the hallway and returned with his laptop from the other bedroom.
Asia moved to his side on the couch, but she underestimated the distance and brushed against his leg. “Sorry about that.” She shifted over.
“I didn’t mean to stare earlier.” He booted up the computer.
So she hadn’t imagined the weirdness. “Yeah, what was that about?”
“Seeing you with wet hair reminded me of our summers at the town pool.”
Asia’s stomach fluttered at the reminder of their teenage romance. Young love. The moment needed a reply. Her brain ignored the order, leaving her dumbfounded and searching for an intelligent response.
Thankfully, Slade spoke and changed the subject. “Do you have the card?”
Asia jumped up and rushed toward the bedroom, snatching the item from the pocket of her discarded clothes.
Slade inspected the available ports on his laptop and groaned. “I need a reader.”
Disappointment collided with her anticipation. She glanced around and spotted Trey’s laptop case next to the couch. “Would Trey have one?”
“Let’s hope so.” Slade reached over and snatched the bag. He withdrew a small memory card reader and connected it to his laptop. “Voilà.” He inserted the SD card, and Asia situated herself beside him—careful this time to keep a respectable distance—watching as the screen displayed a single video file. He double-clicked the icon.
The scene, though dark, wasn’t indistinguishable, and revealed three men standing outside a building. They shifted, providing her a glimpse. “I recognize Nevil Quenten.” An involuntary shiver coursed through her. The guy resembled a banker or businessman, not a bloodthirsty crime lord. “Who’re the others?”
Slade frowned, his brows dipped in concentration. “I’m not sure. The display’s too dark. But that one—” he pointed to the tallest man “—is familiar.” The other guy kept his back to the screen.
The tall man passed a briefcase to Quenten, then crossed his arms over his chest, remaining silhouetted. Quenten opened the briefcase, exposing stacks of money.
Asia gasped. “I’ve never seen so much cash.”
The vein in Slade’s neck pulsed and his jaw went taut. “I have, and it usually designates nefarious dealings.”
Quenten stepped into the dim light. “Can we trust our friend to ensure the next shipment travels undetected across the state?”
The man with his back to the screen shifted. “My contact believes his time has expired. He’s become unpredictable. Remove him. Call it collateral damage.” He entered the building, but the dim light shadowed his face.
“Consider it done,” Quenten replied, and the scene faded to black.
Slade turned to face her. “It would be wise to duplicate this.”
The request took her aback. “You’re asking my permission?”
He lifted one shoulder. “More for your cooperation. Zander left the evidence for you, trusting your decisions.”
His confidence emboldened Asia. “Go ahead.”
Slade nodded and copied the file onto his hard drive. He removed the SD card and handed it back to her, then put the reader back into Trey’s laptop bag.
She palmed the item. “I wish we could lighten the footage somehow, so we can see the other men.”
“I’m not that talented. On the other hand, Trey has mad computer skills. If you’ll allow me to share it with him...” Slade closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table.
“Yes, if Trey is willing to help us, I’d be very appreciative.” Asia pushed up from the couch and paced between the kitchen and the living room. “Who is the contact the man spoke of? Do you think it’s Jonah?”
“Anything is possible at this point.”
“Who’s the friend they want to eliminate? Do you think they’re referring to Zander?”
Something flickered in Slade’s eyes. He lifted a bottled water from the coffee table and removed the cap. Was he stalling? He took his time and sipped.
“Slade?”
“I can’t say definitively.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
He shrugged.
“What are you keeping from me? It’s obvious you don’t trust me.”
“That’s not it at all.” He opened the laptop again, shifting his focus from her.
She dropped back onto the couch then lifted the small blue card. All the attempts on her life were for this? “Zander loved developing escape plans and scavenger hunts.”
“Uh-huh,” Slade mumbled, distracted, as he watched the video again.
“He’d go into a store, restaurant or shopping mall and mentally map out a plan should a situation arise. Creeped me out, until I realized it was a game for him.”
Slade ignored her.
“Jackson, p
ay attention here.”
He glanced up. “What?”
“I think Zander made a way of escape with the locker contents.” The urge to unload Zander’s secrets warred with her promise to tell no one. She inhaled for courage. “He’d gotten in deep with Nevil Quenten and it scared him. I overheard their conversation once and Zander kept repeating, I’ll get it done. I’m not sure what he meant, and when I probed for more information, he told me to stay out of it.” Asia drew invisible circles on the couch cushion. “Before our separation, he did everything to keep that part of his life from me—even confessed he led two lives. He signed up for every drug task force shift, then disappeared for days afterward. Zander played Quenten’s watchdog and ensured the loads traveled through the posts without getting pulled over.”
Slade worked his jaw. “And I thought my opinion of Zander couldn’t possibly be any lower.”
“His life was a series of one bad choice after another. He’d forgotten how to do the right thing.” Asia leaned back, fidgeting with her sleeve. “I’ve got more questions now than I did before. Like who recorded the video?”
“I’m confident it was Zander.”
“Maybe you’re right that it’s time to hand everything over to the patrol.”
Slade shook his head, surprising her. “Not yet.”
Asia did a double take. “Did we just experience role reversal? Haven’t you been the one insisting we stay transparent with the investigation?” Why was she egging him on?
Slade’s stiffened posture sent a ripple of concern through her. “Zander didn’t hand this over to the patrol for a reason. We’re missing a piece of this puzzle.”
She considered the argument. “That still doesn’t explain why you’ve had a sudden change of heart. What aren’t you telling me?”
“We need more information.”
What was his deal? “And...”
“And the less people involved for now, the better.” The vague statement provided no enlightenment, but something in his tone said that was all she’d get.
“The video doesn’t exonerate me from Quenten’s murder.”
“Not yet. But it helps, and once we identify the other men, we may have clues as to who else was in that trailer with you.”
“And if you don’t want to involve the patrol, how should we do that?”
“You won’t like my idea.”
“And that matters since when?”
“We need Trey’s expertise and that means sharing all of the information we have up to this point.”
“I can’t disagree there.” What difference did it make now? She needed all the help possible, even if it meant inviting one more person into her nightmare.
* * *
Slade paced the small living room. His mind’s paradoxical rationalizations had him answering questions with more questions. Asia had excused herself and gone to the spare bedroom to lie down. The distance allowed him time to process the information.
What had Zander planned to do with the recording? Why hadn’t he turned it over when he asked Slade to arrest him? Or shared the video when they’d met with Oliver? Zander had had many opportunities to help himself and his case. He’d chosen to hide the evidence instead. Why?
Slade hadn’t realized Zander provided the criminals passage through Nebraska. The news wasn’t surprising, but it was frustrating. He lay back against the recliner and pinched the bridge of his nose to combat the acute throbbing that pulsated from his eyes to his neck, physical symptoms of his guilt for not divulging the rest of Zander’s secrets to Asia.
“You’re awful quiet,” she said, startling him.
“Sorry, I’ve got a killer headache.” He cringed at his choice of words.
“Is there aspirin in the medicine cabinet?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll check.”
Great, Jackson, you’re supposed to be the one taking care of her, and she’s having to nurse you. He rubbed his temples, hoping to silence the rebuking thoughts.
If the other men in the video were troopers, Zander’s suspicions about law enforcement were justified. Once Trey worked his computer brilliance, they’d have the clues needed to bring down those involved. At least Slade prayed that would be the case. And until they had proof, involving the patrol prematurely was unwise. Slade determined to withhold the evidence...for now.
The video didn’t explain Quenten’s murder or vindicate Asia; however, it provided other people of interest. Beardly would be forced to investigate all the evidence, not just the overwhelming heap pointing to Asia.
Something about the shadowed men triggered recognition, but nothing specific. No matter how hard he searched his mind, he couldn’t place them. In all fairness, over four hundred troopers served within the patrol. It was impossible to know them all. Slade had a newfound appreciation for Asia’s frustration regarding her own memory loss.
“I found ibuprofen that hasn’t expired yet.” She walked into the living room and passed two brown pills to him. “Do you need water?”
“Yes, please.” He didn’t need a drink to swallow the meds, but he’d use anything to avoid her questions right now.
She headed into the kitchen and returned seconds later with a bottled water. “Remind me to thank Trey for stocking the cabinets. He’ll make a great husband someday.”
“If he ever finds a woman willing to put up with him,” Slade quipped.
Asia moved toward the window and peered through the white plastic blinds. “It’s almost suppertime.”
His burner phone rang, and Asia pivoted, a pensive expression etched on her pretty face. Slade glanced at the screen. “It’s Oliver.”
“I’ll go see if I can whip up something for dinner,” Asia said, excusing herself.
Slade waited until she’d exited the room, then answered. “Sarge.”
“Sorry about taking Trey, but I need him to work that manhunt,” Oliver began. “Magnum’s one of the best, and I’m certain they’ll catch the perp.”
“I have no doubt.”
“I’ll send them back to you ASAP.”
“I understand. So far, it’s been quiet here.”
“Good.”
Awkward silence hung between them. Oliver’s out-of-character apologetic approach sent a wave of worry rippling through Slade. Was he stalling?
Slade flipped absently through a magazine, wanting to ask questions yet terrified to hear the answers. At the point of bursting, he said, “So...”
“Jackson, can you maintain visual on Mrs. Stratton and position yourself so you’ve got privacy?”
Slade stood and walked toward the kitchen, peering around the wall separating the living room and dining area. Asia rummaged through the pantry, her back to him.
“Yes.” He slipped into the hallway, moving to the master bedroom and partially closing the door. “What’s up?”
“I had hoped we’d avoid this, but I can’t keep putting it off.” Oliver wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
“What are you trying to say?”
“District Attorney Kramer just left my office.”
Slade held his breath, dreading the next words. No matter what Oliver said, it wouldn’t be good news. “I still have forty-eight hours,” he blurted.
“He wants Mrs. Stratton arrested for the murder of Nevil Quenten.”
Frustration exploded, and the argument tumbled out before Slade stopped himself. “Well, he can also want Santa Claus to bring him a new Ferrari, but here in the real world, we don’t arrest people without evidence.”
“My ten-year-old has temper tantrums too, and I don’t tolerate those. Do you need to recuse yourself?” Oliver’s no-nonsense tone grated. Whose side was he on?
“Sorry.” Slade paused and counted to twenty. “What’s his hurry to prosecute the killer of a drug lord?” His retort
escaped, rebelling against every warning in his head.
“Compose yourself. I warned you I’d pull you in a nanosecond if you crossed the line from professional to personal.”
Slade inhaled his next comment, then exhaled something like an apology. “Yes, sir. Two days without sleep is wearing on me.”
“I understand.”
No, you really don’t. Slade scrubbed his face. “I’ll get some rest tonight and be fine.”
“Jackson, this isn’t a vendetta for Kramer. He’s looking at the big picture. He’s got no investment in Mrs. Stratton.”
Slade restrained his smart response.
“You know his mantra,” Oliver continued.
“‘No one’s above the law’—his infamous zero-tolerance policy,” Slade quoted. “With all due respect, we’re handling this by the book. She hasn’t been given special treatment.” Except for withholding a key piece of evidence, postponing her official questioning and the fact I’d mortgage my house and sell everything I own to pay for her legal counsel. Worst-case scenario, we’d escape across the border before I let her go to prison. The thought gave Slade pause. Would he take those drastic measures to keep her from incarceration?
“He wants a press conference tomorrow evening to name her publicly as a suspect.”
Slade punched the pillow on the bed, visualizing Kramer’s face. “He can’t tell us how to do our jobs. Evidence outweighs his votes.”
“Reelection is right around the corner. The opposing side is not pro law enforcement. Kramer’s concerned his responsiveness to this case will make or break him.”
“As if we should care about that.”
Oliver coughed. “I don’t disagree with you, but I also don’t have the final say. Captain’s hammering on me too.”
Slade paced and dropped his voice to a whisper. “He’s doing this as punishment for Zander’s misdeeds. How long will the rest of us pay for one man’s bad choices?”
Oliver sighed into the phone. “Jackson. Trust in the system.”
Hadn’t he told Asia that same thing in the beginning? His faith in the system was dwindling, and if Asia went to prison for a murder she didn’t commit, the system would be a pathetic failure. “If she’s even named as a person of interest, the press will thrill in baking her. They’ll destroy her reputation regardless of whether she’s cleared afterward.”
Silent Night Suspect Page 13