Brother's Keeper

by Richard Ryker

  “The camera you were removing just now. Did Todd put that one up, too?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you defending him,” Jackson asked. “He’s already confessed to filming residents at the Dunn house.”

  “And you’re implicating yourself by helping him,” Brandon said.

  “I didn’t know…”

  “You did. Or else you wouldn’t have known where to find the cameras,” Brandon said.

  “This job is all I have,” she said, motioning to the box of cleaning supplies on the kitchen table. “If they find out about the cameras, I’ll never be able to work again.”

  She wiped a single tear from her cheek.

  “What else do you want from me?” she said, rage seeping into her tone. “Why don’t you leave us alone?”

  “For one, you’ve just been caught taking part in voyeurism.”

  “I found it when I was cleaning. I did not know—”

  “Where’s the recorder?” Brandon asked. Todd had folded when confronted with the evidence. Brandon wasn’t so sure Sabina would do the same.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said.

  “You’re not leaving us any choice but to arrest you,” Jackson said.

  Her gaze flitted between Brandon and Jackson.

  “Let me smoke first. Then I will talk.”

  She pointed a shaking hand at the box of cleaning supplies on the kitchen table. “My vape pen is in there.”

  Brandon motioned for her to find the pen.

  She moved to the cardboard box, tossing aside a pair of yellow dishwashing gloves. Jackson picked up the gloves, scrutinizing them. Her eyes met Brandon’s.

  “I thought I left it in here,” Sabina said, speaking over her shoulder.

  Jackson showed the gloves to Brandon, dangling them between her thumb and forefinger, as if she’d just realized she was handling evidence.

  “What?” Brandon asked.

  “Look inside the glove,” she whispered. “Don’t touch.”

  There, half an inch inside was a tiny red spot. Brandon pulled out a pen and opened the glove more. Further inside, there was a larger stain.

  Blood.

  He turned his attention to Sabina. What was taking her so long to find her vape pen?

  Brandon stepped toward her.

  She twisted around, holding a liquid-filled measuring cup. Sabina jerked her hand up. The liquid flew at Brandon.

  He stumbled back, slipping on the slick linoleum. He caught himself on the counter.

  Brandon blinked at the pungent odor of bleach as it soaked through his shirt. She’d missed her intended target—his eyes.

  Sabina lunged for Brandon’s gun. Instinctively, he swiped her hand away. Jackson was already there, hands gripping Sabina’s arm.

  Sabina twisted away. With her free hand she threw a hard jab at Jackson’s eye. Jackson took the blow, but Sabina’s broke free. She escaped down the hall.

  Jackson and Brandon followed Sabina. She’d taken a right.

  They slid to a stop, taking the corner as Sabina jumped out the front door, closing it behind her.

  Jackson threw open the door and Brandon followed her out. Brandon jumped out of the way as Sabina floored the little Suzuki, spraying gravel onto his shins.

  Jackson aimed her pistol at the car.

  “Wait,” Brandon said.

  “Why?”

  He motioned to her. “Come on.”

  Just then, Sabina’s car skidded to a stop. Brandon had blocked the narrow driveway with the SUV.

  The door popped open and Sabina leaped out.

  Brandon and Jackson were ready for her this time, guns trained on Sabina as they ordered her to the ground.

  Chapter 25

  With Sabina secured in the SUV, Brandon turned to Jackson. “You okay?”

  She rubbed her face. “That bitch better not have given me a black eye,” she said.

  Her cheek glowed red where Sabina had smacked her.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” he lied.

  “I should have been ready for that,” Jackson said.

  “Both you and me. If that bleach had gotten in my eyes…”

  “Then you’d be at the hospital and Sabina would have a couple of bullets in her,” Jackson said.

  Brandon stopped by home for a change of clothes while Jackson booked Sabina. A half-hour shower did little to erase the stench of bleach off his skin. Sabina had ruined his coat and shirt. Sue would be pissed. The new department-issued jacket had just arrived that week.

  Back at the station, Brandon started the interview with Sabina by getting straight to the point.

  “Whose blood is on the inside of your cleaning gloves?”

  Sabina’s gaze shifted between Brandon and Jackson.

  “We’ll know soon enough from the DNA tests,” Jackson reminded her.

  Sabina scowled. “She had it coming.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Dunn,” Sabina replied. She twisted in her seat so she faced the interview room door. “Can I have a cigarette?”

  “I thought you vaped,” Brandon said.

  “I just said that to distract you.” She squinted at him. “It almost worked.”

  “What did Mrs. Dunn deserve?” Jackson asked.

  “To be murdered,” she said, as if it was the most obvious statement ever.

  Brandon was surprised by the directness of her statement. Many killers believed their actions were justified. Some even hinted at that belief. But rarely did one come out and admit it.

  “What did she do to you?” Brandon asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay…”

  Sabina slapped the table. “I thought you were a good detective,” she said, looking askance at Brandon. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

  Brandon stifled a chuckle. She was the one facing life in prison for either killing or helping someone kill a woman. She was here now because of his department’s police work.

  “Let me guess. She found out about you and Todd. Especially the part about recording guests. She was going to turn you in. You killed her. Does that sound smart enough for you?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Half right. So, you’re half-smart. That’s not saying much.”

  Brandon waited, refusing to take the bait. The act was growing old.

  “I’ll tell you,” she said. “If you give me a cigarette.”

  “Not happening,” Brandon said. “No smoking policy.”

  Sabina’s eyes searched Jackson for any sign of support. Jackson remained stony faced.

  “Sorry about hitting you,” Sabina said, considering the splotch of red covering one side of Jackson’s face.

  “We’re going to stay here until you give us the truth. I’ve got all day, tomorrow, and the rest of my life,” Jackson said.

  Sabina ran her fingers through her hair in a combing motion, then pulled several strands forward, studying them. Her eyes rose to meet Jackson’s gaze. “Fine. You are right about Mrs. Dunn. She knew what Todd was up to and wanted to tell the police when he wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want him to go to jail.”

  “You killed Mrs. Dunn?” Jackson asked.

  “Right.”

  “You’re not just saying that to protect Todd?” Jackson asked.

  “Todd is a man. A real man in so many ways,” she paused, glancing up at the video camera. “He does not need my protection.”

  “You told us you were out of town at the time of the murder. Cleaning a large home up north,” Jackson said. “I checked with the owner. She said you were there.”

  “That lady, she did not get to the home until almost noon. I had plenty of time to drive up to her house after I was finished with Mrs. Dunn.”

  Still not entirely convinced she wasn’t covering for Todd, Brandon asked, “How did you do it?”

  “The iron skillet,” she said. “It was a mess.”

  Mrs. Dunn had been killed by a blow to the head with the hammer they’d found a
t the scene. Sabina didn’t even know what murder weapon had been used. The case against Todd was growing stronger.

  “What was a mess? The blood?” Jackson asked.

  “Grease. That pan hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Filthy woman,” she answered. “I only hit her once with the pan. Then she sat there on the floor, moaning, complaining. That’s when I noticed the hammer on the washing machine.”

  It was possible they’d missed the injury from the pan, considering the hammer blows that had come after. He needed to be sure.

  “And then what?” Brandon asked.

  “Hit her three or four times with the hammer. I don’t remember.”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t like a mess,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “So?” Jackson asked.

  “I wiped up the floor where the blood was worse. Stuffed the paper towels in the garbage under the sink.”

  Brandon and Jackson stared at each other. She’d done it.

  Misunderstanding the exchange, Sabina stretched her hands out in resignation. “I couldn’t stay and keep cleaning up all the blood that kept spilling out of her. I did what I could.”

  “Too bad for you the blood didn’t come off your gloves,” Jackson said.

  “I bleached the outside of them. I guess I missed a spot.”

  “Why not buy new gloves?” Brandon asked.

  “I don’t have the money for that sort of thing,” she snapped.

  “Then you told Todd what you’d done?” Brandon asked.

  “No. He has no idea,” she said, blanching. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

  “You’re sure he doesn’t know?” Jackson asked.

  “Yes.”

  Despite the confession and the evidence against her, it still made no sense. “Why kill Mrs. Dunn?” he asked.

  “She was going to tell the police about Todd recording the guests. I did not want to lose him. My motive was only love.”

  Jackson scoffed.

  “What do you know of love?” Sabina sneered. “You’ve probably only been with one man your entire life.”

  Jackson leaned forward as if to reply, but Brandon interrupted.

  “Tell me something,” he said. “When you killed Mrs. Dunn, did you believe Todd would receive an inheritance?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “So love wasn’t your only motive,” Jackson said.

  “It wasn’t the money,” she said. “I wanted the Airbnb. When Todd made love to me there, he promised it would all be mine someday once his aunt died.”

  “You just couldn’t wait,” Brandon said.

  “Do you know what it’s like to clean up after people all day long? Being treated like a second-class person? These…guests…complaining about not having enough towels or asking if I scrubbed the shower well enough or claiming I missed a cobweb here or there. It’s not fair.” She paused. “I could have run the whole place on my own.”

  It amazed him how easily killers justified their actions. Selfishness, he believed, was behind most of the evil humans inflicted on each other.

  There was another question that had been bothering Brandon.

  “In the video of you and Todd at the Dunn house,” he said. “You looked at the camera.”

  Sabina straightened her back, leaning forward. “You saw?”

  To Brandon’s surprise, she showed no signs of embarrassment.

  “Did you like it?” she asked.

  Brandon felt his cheeks go red.

  “Mrs. Brown—”

  “The point is,” Jackson said, “you knew you were being recorded.”

  “I knew he recorded people,” Sabina said. “It was special of him to want me to be part of that.”

  It was another reminder of how twisted people could become. After over fifteen years as a detective, why was he surprised by anything?

  “Did it make you feel special he recorded other people too?” Brandon asked. “People who would not want themselves recorded?”

  “Everyone has their quirks. I bet you do, too,” she said.

  Right, but Brandon’s didn’t involve hurting innocent people.

  “Now what happens?” she asked.

  “We’re going to charge you with murder,” Brandon said.

  “And I’m sure the detectives from Port Angeles will have a few questions about your former husband’s death, too.”

  She lowered her head. Brandon waited for a response, a declaration of her innocence. None came.

  ***

  Earlier that afternoon Brandon had called Emma to ask her if she could catch a ride home with Ashley’s family. Half an hour later she texted him back saying Ashley’s mom couldn’t pick her up, but Zach could.

  She was talking to him again. Their tiff over Zach telling everyone about Matthew Nygard’s threat hadn’t lasted long. Brandon didn’t like Zach taking Emma home. He relented, but made it clear he wasn’t to be allowed in the house without Brandon home.

  Now, it was almost five, and he was anxious to head home and make sure she’d complied.

  He trusted Emma. If she said she would do something, she usually did. Still, there was that part of him that couldn’t let go of protecting her.

  Brandon called his dad again. No answer. Was he still pissed at Brandon for what his dad felt was inaction on Eli’s case? Or had something happened?

  What would his dad think if he knew about the judge’s connection to the Nygard clan? He’d lose it. The trouble was, he was bound to find out, eventually. Go after a judge the way he did Nygard, and he’d end up in the county jail. There would be nothing Brandon could do about that.

  Emma was home alone when Brandon arrived, just like she said she would be. She talked about Zach before, during, and after dinner. Brandon did his best to walk the fine line between supporting her and trying not to be too critical of Zach.

  Just after they’d finished, Tori called to talk to Emma.

  While Emma lived with Brandon during the school year, she checked in with her mom at least twice a week. Emma had chosen to live with Brandon partially because of her suddenly rocky relationship with Tori. Their once close bond had been fractured soon after the divorce. The distance had improved their relationship, and now they talked almost daily.

  He settled into his recliner and checked his messages. It had only been two days since the disastrous date with Lisa.

  Brandon ran through the conversation in his head. He’d as much as told her he couldn’t do dating right now.

  He could call her, try to explain what he’d really meant.

  But he’d been honest. He was putting other priorities first.

  His honesty had cost him their relationship.

  Brandon’s thoughts returned to Eli’s case.

  Erik Olson was still on the loose. Possibly more than one person was protecting the man who, Brandon believed, had killed Eli.

  The tie between Jack Nygard and Erik Olson was indisputable. Nygard had hired Olson.

  Olson and Nygard’s daughter were together until the day she died.

  They now knew, thanks to Alisa’s fingerprints, that she was in Jack Nygard’s car when Eli had been shot. Brandon was sure Olson was there, too.

  Yet Judge Gillman had harbored Jack Nygard, the timber thief who, in turn, protected fugitives in the murder of a police officer.

  But why?

  During their conversation in the judge’s office, Gillman had been particularly protective of the top drawer of his desk, even locking it as Brandon left.

  The key to the connection between Nygard and Gillman could be in that drawer.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter 26

  Brandon headed back to Port Angeles early Friday morning. He already knew from the day before that the judge’s court calendar was clear all day. Since Friday’s were usually a busy day for pre-trial and ex-parte hearings, the only explanation was that the judge wouldn’t be in. On a hunch, he checked Sheriff Hart’s schedule and foun
d the whole day blocked out. If he had to guess, it would be that the two of them were on another fishing trip or, considering elk season had just started, they were out hunting.

  If the department and even the courts were going to work against Brandon’s efforts to solve Eli’s murder, he would have to take extreme measures. What he was about to do was risky. He could lose his job, even his career.

  It was a risk he was willing to take. Whatever Judge Gillman was hiding might lead Brandon to Eli’s killers. He’d locked his desk for a reason. A few minutes in his office was all Brandon needed.

  He entered the courthouse through the employee entrance, using his department-issued badge. To avoid drawing attention to himself, he’d changed into street clothes before leaving Forks. Keeping his head down, he wound through the hallways, an anonymous citizen among the throngs who’d reported for jury duty and were waiting to be called and, hopefully, dismissed. Others waited anxiously outside courtrooms or stood in line at the clerk’s counter.

  Brandon approached the door to Judge Gillman’s court. The lights were on and his judicial assistant was at her desk in front of and below the bench. There was no sign of Judge Gillman, and otherwise the court was empty.

  He stood to one side of the door and pulled on the handle just enough to test if it was open. It was.

  He fell onto the bench outside the courtroom and considered his options. A direct approach wouldn’t work. He had no reason to be there, and his goal was to avoid detection. Then, he had an idea.

  He used his phone to find the superior court website and found the judge’s courtroom number. He knew the judicial assistant was responsible for handling calls to the court room.

  On the website it listed Michelle Creighton as Gillman’s assistant. He dialed the number.

  “Judge Gillman’s courtroom,” she answered.

  “I’m trying to reach Michelle Creighton,” Brandon said.

  “This is her.”

  “Yeah. Ah, this is Bill Wilson from Skyway towing. Did you not know about the parking lot situation today?”

  “What situation?”

  “These guys are paving the lot. No cars,” Brandon said. “There're signs everywhere.”