Fear No Truth

by LynDee Walker

  Standing to the side, I let Zayne enter the room first and pulled the door shut behind us. He rested against the corner of the desk, puffing his shoulders out until it was impossible for me to move without touching him. The “office” was a converted closet jammed with two file cabinets, a tiny desk, and two chairs. I kept my back against the door and one hand on the knob.

  “What’s up, Officer?” he asked.

  “Where were you last night, Zayne?” I kept my tone conversational.

  His eyes flicked to the desk. Then the floor. “Home.”

  “You sure? Because I have witnesses who say otherwise.”

  He glanced up. “I was home,” he said.

  “You weren’t at a party up the hill with Tenley Andre?”

  He didn’t answer. I let the silence stretch.

  “Don’t I get a lawyer or something? On TV, you get a lawyer if the cops accuse you of doing something bad,” he said.

  “Who’s accusing you of anything?”

  “My dad is a lawyer. He says you never talk to cops without your attorney.”

  I pulled in a slow breath. Counted to ten. Blew it out. “You’re entitled to an attorney, though you don’t need one if you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Zayne scuffed his foot on the carpet. “I saw it. On the news this afternoon. I know what you think, but it wasn’t me. Tenley was frigid. Like kissing my grandmother. People thought she was so hot, but she was messed up. Too hung up on her little flaming friend, Richardson, if you ask me.” He looked up. “She left with him, you know.”

  I nodded, keeping my face blank. “Messed up how?”

  Zayne spread his arms. “Are you looking at me? I asked her out nine times in the past ten weeks. She blew me off every time, and then suddenly yesterday she texts me and asks me to take her to the party. Then the whole way there she was emailing that lady she almost killed. She said three words to me in the car. Wouldn’t put her phone down.”

  “That make you mad? I mean, you must not get turned down too often.” Not counting the girls with at least half a brain, that is.

  He pinched his lips together. “She was fine when she left with Richardson. Hand to God. You want to hook me to a machine?”

  Not yet. I shook my head, eyes scanning Zayne for a giveaway I couldn’t find. If he was lying, he was good—but that could be genetic, with dad being a hotshot lawyer.

  “You see her after that?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back. Didn’t reply.

  “Zayne?”

  He kept his face tilted toward the ceiling. “I want to talk to my dad. Can I go now?”

  “Of course you can.” I pushed the door open and stepped backward. “Your mom has my card, if you decide you want to talk.”

  He was already to the lobby door. He flung it open hard enough to shatter that end of the mirror wall on his way out. I watched him go, the other boys murmuring as their eyes skipped between me and the broken glass littering the black rubber flooring.

  No alibi and a temper. Plus the dead animals in the flower bed. Promising. But a kid with an A-list lawyer for a father was an awfully big fish. I needed better bait.

  Thanking Biceps on my way out of the club, I watched Zayne leave a quarter inch of his red Camaro’s fat Michelins on the parking lot’s asphalt. I reached for my notebook and scribbled down his plate number.

  The kid was shaken.

  The mom was lying.

  Which meant the lawyer dad would be pissed.

  I needed something more solid before I went in for round two with Zayne, but the interview was helpful in more ways than one. Climbing into my truck, I tapped Stella Connolly’s name into the search bar in my phone. Tenley emailing this woman hours before her death made her worth a visit.

  Google said I’d find Stella at Lone Star Gymnastic Studio. I hadn’t been in a gym since before Charity died.

  “Suck it up,” I scolded my reflection in the rearview. “Tenley Andre doesn’t have time for your baggage today.”

  11

  “What?” I asked the empty truck, stopping in a parking lot on Exposition and pulling my phone from the cup holder when it rang for the fifth time in five blocks.

  Three calls from the lieutenant. Three-minute pause. Two back-to-back from Archie.

  Fantastic.

  My finger hovered over his number, but before I could touch the screen, the thing set to buzzing again, a Rangers shield flashing up behind his name.

  I hit the green circle and raised the phone to my ear, cutting the truck’s engine.

  “Hey, Arch.” I tried to keep my tone light. Breezy. Nothing to see here.

  I suck at lying. Archie has said for years I ought to practice if I want to be a truly great cop, but I’ve always figured an affinity for the truth can’t be much of a handicap in law enforcement.

  Times like this, I wish I’d listened.

  “Oh, good. You’re not dead. Boone says you were supposed to drop off papers and go back to Waco. Thirty-five is moving like the damn autobahn, so you’re not sitting in traffic. What gives?”

  I bit my lip. I trusted Archie more than any other soul walking this planet. He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t even really sound mad. That was his Faith voice. The one that said I was driving him nuts but he was worried.

  My eyes landing on the Starbucks sign overhead, I sucked in a deep breath. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to want something with more of a kick than a latte?”

  I snorted. “You and me both. But I’ll settle for some tea. Starbucks on Exposition across from Casis Elementary. Just come.”

  He paused so long I might’ve thought he’d hung up, save for the background noise. Sighed. “On my way.”

  The call cut off. I crossed my fingers and hoped I was doing the right thing.

  Before I got the door open, a music-box-variety tinkling started to my right.

  Was that . . . the Peter Pan song? “The dreams that you wish will come true,” I sang under my breath, diving for the passenger floorboard. Where the hell was it coming from?

  My fingertips brushed butter-soft leather, found a grip on a thin, cold piece of metal.

  I hauled a Prada bag across the muddy floorboard of my truck and sat up just as the tinkling stopped.

  Erica Andre left her purse.

  Once upon a rookie time, fresh-faced TCSO deputy Faith would’ve called Archie to postpone and driven right back out to the hills to return it without another glance, because due process said she couldn’t look in it without Mrs. Andre’s permission. Today? I knew due process didn’t always land the bad guy where he belonged, and what nobody else knew couldn’t hurt my case in court.

  The bag’s interior was no different than the Andre house: “A place for everything and everything in its place” was surely coined by one of this woman’s ancestors. Nestled in a little pocket in one side of the silk, I found Erica’s iPhone.

  With a tissue from the box still resting in the passenger seat, I worked it free. Touched the home button and held my breath.

  Missed call and two texts from someone named Melissa.

  Can you pick up the Stickley table from Beth . . . was all I could see.

  Not helpful.

  But.

  I bit my lip and stared at the screen. In twenty-first-century America, nothing is a more powerful reflection of a person than their iPhone.

  “Three tries,” I muttered.

  It was right there.

  Six little magic buttons away.

  But which six?

  I tapped my index finger on the side of the OtterBox encasing the phone.

  This woman loved her kid with a fire that made my heart ache. So most obvious first.

  “T-E-N-L-E-Y.” I touched the numbers that would correspond with Tenley’s name on a telephone dial.

  Incorrect passcode attempt flashed at the top of the screen.

  Shit.

  Enter code or touch ID
replaced it.

  Wait.

  The alarm code. It was the girl’s birthday. August twenty-ninth. But this needed six numbers, not four. Eighteen back.

  I tapped it in.

  Incorrect passcode attempt. This iPhone will be locked after 2 more.

  Damn. I clicked the power button. One shot left meant I needed to think. I could try again later.

  A tap next to my ear sent Erica’s pocketbook flying into the passenger seat, the phone landing next to it. I turned to find Archie smiling from the other side of the window.

  I shoved Erica’s things into the glove box and grabbed my own phone before I kicked the door open and hugged him. “Thanks for coming.” My voice thickened and he didn’t miss it, patting my back.

  “You’re scaring me today, kiddo.” He pulled back and lowered his sunglasses to the end of his nose, studying my face. “What’s going on with you?”

  I squeezed his hand. “Coffee first.”

  “Will it come with a shot of answers?”

  I smiled and turned for the door, waving for him to follow.

  The shop was empty save for three shirt-and-tie businessmen with headphones in and laptops open, and the two college kids working behind the counter. We got drinks and settled into the leather club chairs in the back corner.

  “I can’t believe Boone even missed me.” I shook my head. “Maybe they’re out of toner for the copier or something.”

  Archie sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry they’re giving you shit, Faith, but it’s not like you didn’t know it was coming. Boone thinks you slid in on your last name.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because a woman couldn’t possibly be as good a cop as he is.” That came out a little too sharp.

  “Preaching to the choir.” Archie raised both hands in mock surrender. “I like to think I had a hand in training you.”

  I smiled. “You call letting me tag after you all those years training?”

  He chuckled. “It flew both ways. You learned a few things from me, and you girls made being on your dad’s detail bearable. Fun, even. I’ll never understand how your folks ended up with kids like you.”

  A tear escaped before I could stop it. “I miss her, Arch.”

  “I know, kid. Is that what this is all about? You going AWOL today because it’s today? I get that. And I can keep Boone off of you. I’ll tell him the captain sent you on an errand. They hate each other. He won’t dare call to verify.”

  “Did you see a call this morning? Out at Travis?”

  Archie’s eyes fell shut as he set his cup down. “I was too buried to pay it any mind. But you weren’t.” His big hand closed around mine. “What happened?”

  I sniffled, shaking my head. “Pretty blonde teenage girl, smart, superstar athlete. Dead for no reason I can see.”

  His breath hissed in and his fingers tightened around mine. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “I have this feeling that it happened for a reason. I can’t shake it. I’m here. I saw it right when it came in. I have not another damned thing going on right now, work-wise. They’re basically paying me a field salary to be a courier. I’ve made some headway already, even. I’m supposed to work this case, Archie.”

  “She was at the lake? What does the SO have to say about that?”

  “Graham thinks she jumped.”

  “I remember a time when you thought Graham Hardin was smarter than Sherlock Holmes.” Archie’s bushy gray brows went up. “Do you really think he’s wrong?”

  “My gut says something is off.” I wasn’t proud of the defiant edge in the words. I was just tired of everyone looking at me like I needed to be handled.

  Archie’s eyes shone with sympathy. “You can’t catch a monster that’s not there, honey.”

  “I’m looking for the monster nobody wants to see. Charity’s is somewhere, isn’t he?” I wanted to stuff the words back into my throat as soon as they hit the air.

  Archie sat back in his chair, and I shut my eyes. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Arch.”

  “There’s not a single day that’s passed in the last nineteen years that I haven’t wished I could do a hundred things about that case different. That I haven’t felt every dagger you could throw. I couldn’t have loved Charity more if she was my blood daughter, Faith. You know that.”

  I nodded.

  “Your father . . .” Archie started the sentence and then let it fade when I put my hand over his.

  “Believe me when I say I know.”

  We retreated into our lattes and our thoughts. I couldn’t cry for my sister. Not now. But beating myself up for snapping at Archie was perfectly acceptable. It had damn near ended him when Charity’s killer was never caught. He’d fought his way back through injury and alcoholism, been publicly booted from the governor’s honored detail when I knew he’d bailed in private because my father kneecapped his investigation at every turn, terrified that any conviction without a capital rider would hurt him politically as the governor who’d executed more inmates than any other in Texas history.

  This man sitting across from me was the closest thing I had to real family. I knew he wished he were in a position to get me off the shit detail I’d been assigned to after I’d all but forced my boot in the Rangers’ door.

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect.” I squeezed his hand.

  He returned the pressure. “I know, honey. I don’t suppose I have to ask if you went out to the scene this morning?” His blue eyes sparkled when I batted my lashes and smiled sweetly.

  “Who, me?”

  “You did.” He rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers under his chin. “So why do you think there’s a monster here to chase? What did you see?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not even sure I can explain it . . . Something isn’t right here, Arch. Suicide is too easy. This girl had everything in the world. Why would she jump?”

  “Boy trouble. Pressure she couldn’t handle. Knocked up. Bullying.” He ticked points off on his fingers, and I sighed. Did I have to fight the whole damned world on this?

  “I don’t think so. I’ve already found too many other things that are off. Like, the kid who was pawing her at a party last night is clearly dealing with some anger issues, and doesn’t seem the type that gets told no often.”

  “Sometimes coincidence is just that in a city as big as this one.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “But sometimes it’s not.” I set my cup on the table.

  “True. Figuring that out is the tricky part.”

  “Especially when it’s not your case?”

  Archie laughed. “You haven’t backed down from a challenge yet. Can I help?”

  “Graham is covering for me at the SO, but I need the lieutenant off my back—and I really need for him to not know what I’m up to.”

  “Tell him you need some leave.”

  “After three months?” My eyebrow cocked upward. “Yeah. That’ll go over well.”

  “He might bitch, but given the absolute bullshit he’s been assigning you, he won’t do it too loudly, or he might bring trouble on himself, and he knows it. Everyone starts with a week. You got plans for it?”

  I smiled, pulling out my phone and opening a text to my boss. “I do now. What would I do without you?”

  He reached for his cup. “I like problems that solve themselves. Makes me feel smart.”

  “You’re the smartest guy I know,” I said. “I assume that’s why they keep you up to your eyeballs in impossible investigations.”

  Archie snorted. “Joys of budget cuts. God forbid a company move to Texas and actually have to pay any damned taxes.”

  “Seems about as likely as Boone giving me an actual case to work,” I agreed.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said I could use a fresh set of eyes on Jessa DuGray,” he said. “I’ve been through everything we have a hundred times, I scoured the labs you brought me this morning, and I still have exactly jack shit. My gut says I’m missing something. You feel like working two cases
on your un-vacation?”

  “I’d take actual police work over any beach you can name right now. I guess you know you’ve chosen the right career when you miss it this much after a few weeks.” I drained my chamomile chai and stood. “I love you. You do know that, right?”

  Archie nodded, slower to rise on his bad knee, and ruffled my hair like he used to when I was a bored tween following my parents from stuffy event to stuffy event, scolded every time my smile was less than camera-ready.

  “I love you too, kid. Come by the office tonight and we’ll see if you can find our magic rock. And be careful nosing around this dead girl. If your monster is there and managed to make Graham Hardin think she was a suicide, that means this particular beast is smarter than average.”

  “Noted.” I gestured for him to go to the door ahead of me. “I’ll see you at six thirty? I can bring Chinese.”

  “You know I’m not turning down a good egg roll.”

  “I’m on it.” I stepped through the door he held open, my throat tightening again, making me turn back. “Arch—”

  He let the door fall shut behind him and nodded. “I know, honey.”

  Of course he did. But that didn’t mean I didn’t need to tell him anyway. Not that I had been able to find the right words a single damned time in going on twenty years.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, blinking.

  “Watch yourself.”

  I strode back to my truck and slid behind the wheel with Archie’s warning looping through my thoughts on repeat. Smarter than average.

  Nothing about Tenley Andre’s life—or death—was average.

  I clicked my Maps app and pulled up the location of the gymnastics school again.

  Superstar kid from privileged background hurts middle-class small-business owner in accident and volunteers time to help said accident victim? Really?

  There was more to this story than the sum of the surface events. There had to be.

  I started the truck just as my phone binged a text arrival.

  Boone: I’ll see you Monday, then.

  Looked like Archie was right. As usual.

  Now—was I right this time, too?

  Did something about Tenley Andre’s life cause her death?