“He’s dating Nina.” Kell made the admission, regretting the words the minute they escaped. But Cheryl would discover the truth easily, and perhaps telling Luke would engender a trade of information. “When I was waiting for you last night, Doc teased him about dating Nina.”
“Which connects him to the Center.” Luke began to flip a pen in tight, controlled circles. “This keeps coming back to Eliza.”
“Conveniently,” protested Kell.
“But not too conveniently,” Luke considered aloud. “A set of knives that she might own. A teenage love affair with one of her wards. A former resident who held a grudge.” He slanted a look at Kell. “Then there’s you. A potential witness to another set of murders, implicated by the deceased. Another connection to Eliza.”
“You can’t prove that one has anything to do with the other.”
“Not yet, Kell.” The threat hung in the air between them, then Luke continued. “I believe what the evidence tells me.” His eyes held hers steadily. “For Eliza’s sake, and yours, you’d better hope it starts telling me something new,” he warned flatly.
Kell heard the threat, and her stomach tossed anxiously. Calm down, she admonished herself. Think about the case, the evidence. What do you know?
Then it hit her. The autopsy report she’d received listed samples sent out for lab analysis. She’d have to tip Luke off to her source, but the more she worked with him, the less she worried about his motives. “The chem labs. Has Cheryl gotten the reports back on what you had sent out for analysis?”
Luke cursed silently. The material he’d found on Clay’s hands and shoes were hold-backs, information he didn’t intend to release to Kell or anyone asking. At his direction, Cheryl had placed the materials under seal and sent them to the Atlanta lab separately. Yet, somehow, the defense already knew. “Exactly who have you got on the inside?” he asked, incredulous.
“I’ve got friends, Sheriff.”
Kell’s sources slipped her a copy of a classified autopsy, why shouldn’t she also know about the samples he’d sent out for analysis? Tony’s mention of a plant had triggered the same train of thought for him. “I want to know if I have a leak in my office. If they’re telling you, they might be sharing information with Graves.”
“No one in your unit,” she assured him. “What can you tell me?”
“Apparently, you know exactly what I do. Nothing yet. The chemical analysis hasn’t been completed yet.”
“What type of material was it? Metallic? Blood?”
“No comment.” He kept his eyes blank, giving nothing away.
She continued to press. “According to Tony, there are at least three men who might be involved in Clay’s murder. Did you find prints at the scene that you can’t identify?”
“Of course I found prints. We’re talking about a dealer’s house.”
“Whose?”
“People. Kell, I’m not going to give you the file and I’m not going to tell you the contents either.”
“Then how exactly are we working together?”
He set the pen down. “By letting you tag along on an interview. And by not bringing your client in for questioning. Seems like you’ve got a good deal.”
“Give me something more to work with, Luke. We’re supposed to be sharing information.”
“No,” he corrected. “We’re sharing interviews. I draw my conclusions and you draw yours.”
Kell rummaged in her bag for a pen and paper, frustration bubbling. “This would go much faster if you’d cooperate,” she mumbled crossly. “I won’t tell the D.A.”
“I’m sure you won’t as that would implicate your client.”
“Fine,” she conceded peevishly. “But you can’t mind if I speculate aloud, can you?”
“Be my guest.”
In her mind, she replayed Tony’s description of his time with Clay. Three men, two he could identify met him at a makeshift office. No distinguishing characteristics, but identical rings for the front men. She looked up from her notes. “Did you find Clay’s ring among his personal effects?”
The question was met with silence. Kell ticked off a no on her legal pad. “Any signs of a struggle in the apartment? The autopsy indicated he didn’t put up a fight with the killer, but was anything in the apartment disturbed?”
More silence.
“So Clay Griffin, lowlife drug dealer abruptly cleans up his act. He cuts off his sales and begins to recruit security for a new venture. A company that had no name, no location, and no product.”
“But plenty of seed capital,” Luke added meditatively. “Enough money to finance an expensive car and a change of wardrobe.”
“Did you find new clothes?”
“Can’t say that we looked.” Luke calculated how many laws he’d have to break to do what occurred to him. “I’ll deny it,” he cautioned.
“Deny what?”
“Be ready to meet me tonight at the Center.”
“I assume my attire will be the same.”
Luke permitted himself a grin. “See you at eight.”
“Where are we going?” Kell asked once they’d pulled onto the highway. She’d spent most of her Friday reading the materials she’d requested on Clay. In defiance of an embargo by David, Malikah overnighted a packet that confirmed what Kell had already known. Clay’s later years had been a series of arrests and paroles that abruptly ended a year ago. She mentioned as much to Luke, who didn’t seem surprised.
“That’s where we’re going. To Clay’s apartment.” He made a quick U-turn and headed down the county road toward the Palace. He’d noticed a car in his rearview, and figured if it was a tail, he’d find out for sure. “I thought it might help you to see where he was killed. Based on what Tony told us, the crime scene team may have overlooked something. But when we get to the motel, I need you to stay in the car until I come and get you.”
“Sure.”
Not a ringing agreement, but he’d take it. “Ten minutes. That’s it.” Soon, the truck parked in an alley behind the motel. “Lay down on the seat,” he instructed. “No one can see you, okay? Graves can’t find out I brought you to a crime scene.”
“Got it.” Kell didn’t say thank you, but she understood how tough a choice he’d made to break procedure. Whether he admitted it or not, he trusted her more than he thought. “I’ll be right here.”
“I’ll get the key from Purdy, the super, then I’ll come through the service door over there.” He gestured to a black metal door beside a grimy Dumpster. “When I motion to you, come on. Keep your head down.”
Kell agreed, and Luke left the truck. He emerged from the alley, checking the area for stragglers out looking for trouble on a Friday night. Palace residents paid for four walls rather than the illusion of safety or privacy. From a window above his head, he heard a vicious argument about a man’s prowess and his ability to demonstrate the same on a regular basis. Heavy, vicious metal poured into the damp air, evoking a scream demanding silence. Right about now, Curly would be accepting a call from that floor to report the noise pollution.
Anticipating the dispatch, Luke reached into his pocket for his cell phone. While the call connected, Luke scanned the area once more. A sleek black car parked on the opposite street, windows tinted for maximum impenetrability. Down the block, the usual motley collection of vehicles grazed the curbs. Purdy refused to pay for parking or to invest in a plot of land for more than the handful of cars that crowded into the meager spaces he provided.
“Hallden Sheriff’s Department.”
“Ruth?”
“Hey, Sheriff.” Ruth Lee doubled as dispatcher, but rarely on weekends. “Curly told me you’d be calling in.”
“Where is he?”
“Got a message from him an hour ago. All he said was that he had an emergency, would I sit for him?”
“Doesn’t Donald have his poker night tonight?”
“Sure does. He won’t miss me until after midnight.” She yawned widely, the sound clear a
cross the lines. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“Get a report about excessive noise at the Palace?”
“Just got it in before you rang us up,” she acknowledged. “Was about to send out Sergeant Little.”
“Don’t bother. I’m in the vicinity. I’ll take it from here.”
“Okay. Also, Sheriff, there’s a message for you from Chief Graves.”
“When did he call?”
“Not ten minutes ago. He didn’t say it was urgent, so I hadn’t planned to bother you on your night off.”
“Thanks, Ruth.” He disconnected the call and dialed Graves at home.
“It’s the Chief.”
“Chief, it’s Sheriff Calder. I got your message.”
In his study, Michael Graves straightened in his La-Z-Boy, sucking in the damnable gut that overflowed his belt despite the twenty-five sit-ups he performed daily. He’d been practicing his speech ever since he got word of Calder’s activities tonight. Boy had no right to be poking his nose in areas where he didn’t belong. “Hear you’ve been patrolling on my side of the fence, Luke, my boy. Interviewing folks in town tonight.”
“I’ve been pursuing leads, yes. We have to go where the evidence takes us, Chief,” Luke returned mildly. “The police department and the sheriff’s department have long respected that, haven’t they?”
Graves coughed once into the receiver, a tone of obvious disdain. “I suppose. But down South, we observe the usual courtesies, Sheriff. I wouldn’t have minded a ride along.”
“Appreciate the offer, but I had it under control.”
He pounced on the opening. “Yes, I understand that you’ve added a new member to your force. Ms. Jameson changing careers?”
Damn it. Luke kept his tone even. “Ms. Jameson wanted to visit old friends in the neighborhood, and I offered her a lift.”
Liar. Smugly, Graves dug in. “You and Ms. Jameson are seeing quite a bit of each other. Her second trip here in as many weeks, and both times, she spends her evenings with you.”
The emphasis on evenings didn’t escape Luke’s notice. Antagonism welled, but he tamed it ruthlessly. Graves’s insinuations provided him with an excellent out. Sooner or later, he’d have to explain Kell’s presence, and sooner had just arrived. He simply had to hope Kell wouldn’t rip out his throat for lie. “Ms. Jameson and I have discovered that we share a number of mutual interests. We find it difficult to be apart.”
Envy coated Graves’s reply as he thought of the pinched faced, spindly harridan waiting for him upstairs. “Why, Luke, you old dog. Didn’t know you had it in you. We might have to go out for drinks one night and compare notes.”
Like his rage, Luke kept his disgust hidden as he approached the front door to the Palace. “Was that all, Chief?”
“I’d appreciate a courtesy call the next time you go hunting in my neck of the woods, Sheriff. Wouldn’t want to get you caught in some crosshairs.”
“And I wouldn’t want to fire back,” Luke issued his own caution. “I’ll keep you filled in as necessary, Chief. Have a good night.”
CHAPTER 17
Luke hung up the phone and hissed out a breath. Graves obviously intended to keep tabs on him and the investigation. Instinct told him that the police chief’s interest stemmed from more than professional rivalry. A comment Graves made at the sheriff’s office nagged at him. Passion can be cold, my boy.
So far, not one shred of evidence indicated a crime of any passion or feeling. But maybe he’d overlooked something in the apartment. Something that would catch his eye this time, or that Kell might see.
He buzzed Purdy’s intercom from the street, noting that new security had been installed. When no response came, he leaned on the button until a voice barked out for him to enter.
“This ain’t no Ritz Carlton,” Purdy blustered as he forced open the door with one hand. The other clutched a soup can, ringed with dark brown stains. “We ain’t got bellmen waiting on sorry—” He cut his eyes up at his visitor for the first time. “Oh, Sheriff. It’s you.” Standing taller, he reached down to zip the pants he’d been lounging in. “Didn’t know you was coming by tonight. Would have waited, waited up if I’d known.”
Luke dismissed the apology with a wave, sight fixed on the rotund man’s sweating forehead and no lower. “You can go back to your activities, Purdy, after you get me the key to Griffin’s place.”
Purdy waddled around the front desk. “When’s that unit gonna be free to rent, Sheriff? It’s been a while. Folks has been inquiring about rentals. Decent folks, the kind that pays on time.”
Both of them knew Palace apartments came open every day, and that no decent person would seek out the Palace for a haven, safe or otherwise, if they had a choice. “Another week at most, I imagine,” Luke explained. “Until we’ve got a handle on this, I can’t risk losing access.”
“Well, at least give me a schedule of your visitors. Chief Graves had me running up and down them stairs all afternoon yesterday.”
“Graves stopped by?”
“Uh, huh. Told me you two had joint jurisdiction on this one, seeing as how the northwest corner of the motel is in the city proper.” Purdy spat into the soup can. “Police won’t come when I call for help, no siree. Always telling me to report it to the sheriff. But suddenly, he’s here with state folks, poking around after a drug dealer.”
Luke flattened his hands on the grimy front desk. “How many people came with him, Emmit?”
“It was him and two men. A black guy and a white one.” He leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “Didn’t look like police to me, I’ll tell you that. One of ’em wore an earring. Diamond stud. And both had these prissy rings on their fingers.”
The men that Tony described. “You asked Chief Graves about them?”
“Sure did. He told me they were from the DEA for Georgia. I’m guessing that’s why they dressed so flashy. Them undercover types, like on television.”
Luke worked hard not to grind his teeth or release the string of curses hurling in his brain. That son-of-a-bitch, he thought, had been keeping tabs on his investigation and tampering with his evidence. Probably had someone follow him to Mrs. Harris’s place, which prompted the check-in call.
Someone who might right now be in the alley with Kell.
“Emmit, the key, please,” he commanded tersely.
Aware that he’d revealed more than he should, the old man dropped the length of metal into his open palm. He circled the counter warily, waiting for the eruption. “Leave it in the drop box when you’re done, okay, Sheriff?”
“If you don’t mind, Emmit, I’d like to keep it for the time being. There’s only this one, right?”
“Well, I’ve got my master, you know.”
Calculating, Luke reached into his wallet and removed three twenties. He extended the bills and instructed, “No, you don’t. Got lost in your apartment somewhere, didn’t it?”
Emmit gave him a knowing glance, snipped the money from Luke’s fingers, and shoved them into his pocket. “Can’t find the darned thing nowhere.” He looked around, as though checking for eavesdroppers, then added in a whisper, “Want I should call you if the police chief or his buddies come again?”
“Please.” Luke clapped Purdy on the shoulder. “I won’t forget your assistance to the Hallden Sheriff’s Department.”
Puffing out his chest, Purdy nodded sagely. “Damned police won’t do for me, I ain’t got no call to do for them.” Then he turned and toddled down the hallway to his apartment.
As soon as he disappeared, Luke jogged across the entryway and down the first floor hall to the service door. He shoved through the metal doors, sparing a second to flip the bottom latch, and headed for the truck. In the gloomy alleyway, no light permeated the shadows.
He couldn’t see her figure in the truck, and adrenaline coursed into fear. Skidding to a stop at the passenger window, he hauled at the door, his fingers unsteady on the handle. “Kell? Kell?” He whispered harshly
. “Are you in here?”
She popped up at the sound of his voice, eyes wide with concern. “Luke? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Without wasting a second, he lifted her out of the truck and slammed the door. He clicked the locks with his remote, then dragged her with him to the service door. Once inside, he kicked the stand up and pulled her into the hallway. “This way,” he directed, taking the stairs two at a time.
Kell followed silently, aware that his sudden urgency had a purpose. Grateful for her weekly bouts of torture on the elliptical machine, she kept pace with him as they climbed up to the fifth floor. The questions that crowded on her tongue remained in check until he sliced through the police tape. She noticed that the seal on the door had been broken.
Furious at the breach, Luke keyed open Clay’s door and ushered her inside. When the door shut tightly behind them, he flicked on the light. Weak light crested over the chair that had fallen earlier. He noted that the open drawer had been pushed in, that the couch had been shifted several inches. Crimson stains stared up from the beige carpet, and he heard Kell’s swift intake of breath.
“You okay?” He extended a hand to her to draw her closer. “I assumed you’ve been to your share of crime scenes.”
“I have,” she acknowledged wearily, “but not for anyone I knew.” She dropped his hand and approached the blood that had ruined the carpet. Bending, she murmured, “Clay and I were friends once. I guess I’d forgotten that.”
“The man who died in this apartment wasn’t the boy you knew.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She looked up at him, the wide brown eyes drenched with sympathy and skepticism. “It all stays inside us. Every part of the past. You can’t escape it, can’t deny it.”
“So you work hard to fight it.” Luke moved forward and heaved her to her feet. His hands framed her face, forcing her eyes to his. He kissed her once, softly, reassuringly. A brush of mouth to mouth that soothed them both.
Kell absorbed the touch and the comfort. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”
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