Brother's Keeper

by Richard Ryker

  He could put it off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d ignored one of Mayor Kim’s incessant requests to meet. He was physically and emotionally beat. Better to get it over with.

  Chapter 36

  “I hear it’s been a good week for you,” the mayor said, sitting down at her office conference table. “The Dunn murder solved. And your brother’s situation cleared up.”

  His brother had been killed. It was more than a situation. He’d have been irked if he hadn’t been so familiar with the mayor’s seeming inability to express empathy in social situations.

  “The Dunn case was mostly Officer Jackson,” he said. “And as far as Eli, let’s just say I’m lucky to have my job.”

  The mayor smirked. “The sheriff isn’t happy with you.”

  “You could say that,” Brandon said. “And I always figured it would be you who fired me.”

  She grinned. “Give it time.”

  Brandon smiled back at her, knowing there was truth behind the jest. He and the mayor were of two different worlds. She was all politics, Brandon, he liked to think, was more grounded.

  “I’ll not waste your time, Chief. I need to know what fallout there will be about this situation with the judge.”

  “I’m not an employee of the court,” Brandon reminded her. “But I’m assuming they’ll bring in a replacement.”

  Like other jurisdictions in the state, District Court judges were elected. The governor would fill the position until the next election.

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “How is this going to come back and bite us? You and me.”

  “I’m not sure how you’d be involved in any kickback.”

  “Judge Gillman contacted me more than once about firing you. Said it would be in my best interest…”

  “And the sheriff?”

  She waved a hand at him. “Not going there.”

  “I know Sheriff Hart knew about the judge’s son, that he was harboring a murderer.”

  That raised another question in Brandon’s mind.

  “Did you know about Olson?”

  “That he was the judge’s son?” she asked.

  “Any of it. Including the fact that Gillman was hiding him.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I had a local judge demanding I keep your nose out of Eli’s case. I didn’t want to know why. The less I know, the better, Brandon.”

  He studied her face for several seconds.

  He believed her, not just because she had no reason to hide the truth, but because Mayor Kim was too strong a woman to let a small-town judge push her around.

  “I don’t know the judge’s connections,” Brandon said. “Right now, he’s probably focused on his own defense. We’ll find out how he helped his son change his name. It’s easy to prove he knew Olson was a fugitive. He was living on the judge’s land.”

  “And this Nygard…”

  “Jack Nygard,” Brandon said. “The judge was protecting him, too. Nygard knew about Gillman’s son. Letting Nygard stay on the Randall property was payment for keeping quiet.”

  “So Nygard’s lawyer, the one threatening to sue the city. He’s going to leave us alone now?”

  “I can’t help you there,” Brandon said.

  “Well, I suppose the main point is you put the bad guys in jail.”

  “Yes, mayor, that is the main point.”

  ***

  The days leading up to the holidays were a rush of paperwork and preparation with the prosecutor on initial charges related to both murder cases. By the time Thanksgiving came, the entire department was ready for a break, and he’d managed to give all the regular officers time off, filling the shifts with on-call staff. After covering a morning patrol himself, Brandon headed to Seattle where Emma and he had Thanksgiving dinner at Tori’s condo.

  It was late in the evening before he headed back to Forks. At Tori’s insistence, he slept on the couch, but not after the two of them stayed up until well after midnight, reliving old memories and sharing worries that only parents who have raised a child together can share.

  And all throughout, Brandon managed not to make a fool of himself by bringing up relationships, including theirs.

  The weeks after Thanksgiving involved a cascade of breakthroughs and evidence that would shape not only the trial involving Eli’s murder, but the Dunn case as well.

  Soon after Erik Olson’s arrest, they’d established that his fingerprints matched those in the car. Olson had as much as admitted he’d been the one who’d pulled the trigger. Alisa Nygard had been the driver.

  With the help of the prosecutor, they were able to convince a judge to sign a search warrant for Judge Gillman’s home. They’d found the illegal documents they’d used to change his son’s name to Erik Olson. Olson had been living on the property on and off since Eli’s murder. They’d seized the judge’s computer and sent it in for processing. Hopefully, there was something in there to corroborate Nygard’s story about the judge allowing him to stay on the Randall property in exchange for keeping quiet about Olson’s involvement.

  Not long after the search warrant was carried out, Judge Gillman announced his retirement from the bench. But he would have to do a lot more than retire to avoid the grip of justice.

  They had sent in Olson’s Colt pistol for ballistics testing. It was, in fact, the same gun used to kill Eli.

  Olson hadn’t talked since the day after his arrest, when he met with the big-shot defense attorney from Seattle his father had hired. In the meantime, Jack Nygard had become a Chatty Cathy.

  His daughter Alisa, Nygard said, had been driving the car the day Eli pulled them over. She had no idea Olson would pull the trigger on Eli. Afterwards, she was scared for her own life. She and Olson returned to Nygard’s property. When Olson reached out to his father, he’d agreed to help Thomas Erik Gillman change his identity to Erik Olson.

  After the police came poking around Jack Nygard’s encampment, they’d concocted the story about Nygard selling the car to two strangers. Knowing the police wouldn’t leave him alone, Nygard asked Judge Gillman for help (Nygard was harboring his son, after all). The judge and his wife allowed Nygard to move to the Randall property as long as he kept his mouth shut about Erik pulling the trigger on Eli.

  In return for his confessions, Nygard got immunity from prosecution for many of the crimes he’d committed. Including those related to poaching timber. More important for Nygard, he got to help put away Olson for life. Nygard, for his part, didn’t ever plan on forgiving Olson for his involvement in Alisa’s death.

  Nygard’s son Matthew had been located in Oregon, staying with his aunt on his mother’s side of the family. With his father facing prison time and no other relatives in the Forks area, Brandon was willing to let go the threats he’d made against Emma, as long as there was no chance of him returning to the area.

  Jack Nygard never hinted at whether he still blamed Brandon for the high-speed chase that led to her jumping from Olson’s truck.

  As for Brandon, he knew there was plenty of blame to go around for Eli’s murder. From Olson and Alisa to the cover-up instigated by Gillman and Nygard. But no amount of hatred or rage would bring Eli back. He’d only wanted to make sure Eli’s murderers paid.

  And that’s exactly what he’d done.

  ***

  The Friday before Christmas week, Brandon received an email from Lisa. Technically, the email was addressed to Jackson, but she’d cc’d Brandon.

  They’d matched the blood on Sabina’s cleaning gloves to Mrs. Dunn. All the evidence indicated Sabina had murdered her with no involvement from Todd. The email included an update on Sabina’s deceased husband, Colin Brown. Lisa would reopen the investigation into the cause of death, as it appeared the previous coroner hadn’t done a thorough enough job ruling out murder.

  Brandon had just finished the email when Jackson walked by his office. He called her in.

  “You saw the Dunn email?” he asked.

  “The lab results fit
with Sabina’s confession,” she said, falling into the chair across from him.

  “And her late husband?” he asked.

  “We’ll see what Lisa finds,” Jackson said. “But I was able to speak with her family in Croatia.” She shook her head. “That woman is a piece of work.”

  “What’d they have to say?”

  “She’d been recently widowed just before coming to America.”

  “You mean—”

  “The family was pretty sure they killed him, too.”

  “How?”

  “He was poisoned,” Jackson said.

  “Just like Colin Brown.”

  “Get this,” Jackson said, leaning forward. “They could never prove she killed him, but apparently he was a big fan of her homemade lemonade. Sabina’s sister believes that’s how she poisoned him.”

  “She kept offering me lemonade. Every time we visited her,” Brandon said.

  Her eyebrows rose. “Good thing you didn’t take her up on it.”

  He’d never know if Sabina’s motivation in offering them a cold drink was to murder the officers investigating Mrs. Dunn’s death. It would be a bold move, but Sabina had already proven she was a woman of action.

  “As for Todd,” she said. “He’s lucky his aunt was the only Dunn that Sabina turned her ire on. Based on her history, his turn was coming.”

  “Todd won’t be entertaining the ladies any time soon,” Brandon said. “By the way, good work on finding those other cameras.”

  They had the original video evidence from the Dunn farmhouse. In the meantime, they’d found an additional camera in the Airbnb where the confrontation with Sabina had occurred. Jackson had offered to check every home where the owner had engaged Todd’s handyman services. In total, she’d found hidden cameras in three of the rentals.

  “All in a day’s work. I am the lead detective, after all,” she said with a smirk.

  She stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  A moment later, Jackson returned with an envelope.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “A Christmas card,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s only a holiday photo of the five of us.”

  “Five?”

  Jackson only had two children.

  “Our new kitten, too,” she said. “Just like your Caesar, she’s part of our family now.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You should be grateful. I thought about getting you a gift certificate to eHarmony.”

  “Funny. I think I’ll be just fine by myself,” he said.

  “If you say so.”

  He smiled at her. “Have a good week off, Jackson.”

  “You too, Chief. And Merry Christmas.”

  When Lisa had gone, Brandon scanned Lisa’s email one more time. She’d resorted to email communication since their last conversation, the one where he’d dismissed her during Tori’s visit.

  As usual, her tone was cold and to the point.

  What else did he expect?

  He headed to the bullpen where he found Sue perusing the ads section of the weekly newspaper.

  “Find anything?” Brandon asked.

  “I’m done Christmas shopping,” she said. “I do it all online.”

  Brandon poured the last dregs of coffee into his cup and took a sip. His lips pursed at the bitterness.

  Sue glanced up at him. “You okay, Chief?”

  “Just the coffee,” he said.

  “No. I mean, you look worried. It’s not Sheriff Hart again?”

  He fell into the chair across from her.

  “Life. Relationships.”

  She waved a hand at him. “You mean that coroner woman? You could do better.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Most women like a man in uniform.” She gave him a once over. “I have no idea why. Maybe I’m jaded because I have to work with you numbskulls.”

  “You’re too kind, Sue.”

  She folded the newspaper. “At least you got Eli’s case taken care of. That’s something people will look to. It shows you belong.”

  “Right.”

  “You belonged before that. Just shows it to folks. That’s all,” Sue said. “How’s your dad doing?”

  “We haven’t talked much since the case ended.”

  Not that they were arguing. It was like there wasn’t anything to disagree about any longer, so they didn’t talk at all.

  “What have you two done to commemorate this time?”

  “Commemorate?”

  The town had already put up a statue, named conference rooms and even a stretch of highway after Eli.

  “I’m just saying sometimes doing something to mark the end, or beginning of a time helps with healing. Every culture knows that,” she said. “At least I thought they did. You go to church, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s like the standing stones in the Bible. Some person, I don’t remember who, wrestled with God. Then, he put up standing stones to mark the occasion.”

  “You’re saying set up stones—”

  “Geez. How can you be such a great detective and be so clueless?”

  “Watch it,” Brandon said.

  “Yeah, yeah. The point is, do something with your father. Recognize what happened. And then you can move on.”

  Brandon stared at the table. She was right.

  He looked up at her.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sue stood. “And I’ll see you after the new year. I’m off next week, don’t forget.”

  “Enjoy your family. And Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Chief. And, don’t tell anyone, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Ditto,” he said.

  “You going home now?” she asked.

  “I got one last thing to do,” he said.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Brandon contacted the local WorkSource office. He’d made a contact there when an employment specialist met with Brandon and the jail staff about offering job-seeking help to inmates recently released from incarceration. He liked the idea of helping former convicts find jobs. He’d been taught idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and his career in law enforcement had reinforced that belief. When a man or woman had something to look forward to, felt they had something to contribute to society, they were less likely to engage in the sorts of behaviors that led to encounters with police.

  He’d promised Cal Landenberg that he’d hook him up with someone down in Aberdeen that might help him find work. It just so happened that the local WorkSource supervisor knew of a company in that area hoping to train apprentice electricians as part of a new industrial construction project. With a child on the way, it was the perfect job for someone in Cal’s position.

  Brandon got the information he needed and called Cal.

  He promised to let Brandon know how it went. It was up to Cal now: take this opportunity to turn his life around and lead his unborn child and family a different direction. Or risk raising another generation in an environment where crime is seen as the only road out of poverty.

  Chapter 37

  Brandon followed Sue’s advice.

  New Year’s Day, Brandon and his father headed down to the Calawah River where steelhead fishing was open with a daily limit of three.

  Brandon hadn’t been out on the river in years and he had to purchase a new license. It had taken him an hour to find his pole packed away in one of the unopen boxes that lined his garage.

  Without speaking about where they were going, they headed to the spot where his dad had taken Brandon and Eli every winter for as far back as Brandon could remember.

  The New Year’s sun shone sharp behind a stand of alders across the river. The frigid river passed at an even pace, bolstered by a series of downpours the week after Christmas.

  They mused in silence for the first half an hour, Brandon getting a couple of bites but nothing to show for it. His fat
her had caught his first steelhead but had to toss it back because it was less than the minimum 20 inches required during the winter season.

  Brandon pulled two beers out of the cooler and handed one to his dad. A few feet to Brandon’s right, his dad cracked the can open with one hand, his other resting on his pole.

  Brandon opened his and took a long drink before setting the can down on a rock.

  “Got any plans for the new year?” his dad asked.

  “You mean like, goals?” Brandon asked.

  “No. I mean plans. Now that you’ve solved Eli’s murder you probably have something else to do.”

  “Yeah. I still have my job.”

  “What else?”

  Brandon didn’t catch what his dad was getting at.

  “Emma said you might join that local acting club or something like that,” he said.

  His dad wanted to talk to him about acting?

  “I probably won’t have time for that,” Brandon said. The sun had poked through an opening in the forest. He squinted, scooting a few inches to the left to avoid the glare.

  His dad grunted. “Well, don’t waste your life working yourself to death. There’s more to live for than that.” He drew a long drink from the beer. “Not that I was ever a big fan of the whole drama thing. Just not my cup of tea.”

  “At least you came to my shows,” Brandon said.

  “Your mom dragged me to those.”

  Brandon shook his head. His father had never been a fan of Brandon’s involvement in high school drama, or college for that matter. Football was his thing.

  “Yeah, well Eli wasn’t the only one who played sports,” Brandon said.

  “Didn’t you break a record?”

  “Most tackles in a season,” Brandon said. “I was a linebacker.”

  “I know that,” his dad said, reeling in his line.

  He checked the bait and cast it out again.

  “I just want you to know,” his dad said, gaze fixed on the river, “You’re a damn good cop.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I don’t think Eli could have solved this case,” he said. “He was a good man. But you’ve always had the smarts in our family. Must have got that from your mother.”