Don't Call Me Hero (32 page)

“Ms. Desjardin,” the judge interjected. “Your witness is repeating testimony we heard yesterday from Sergeant Addams. Does she have anything new to contribute?”

“I do, your Honor,” I spoke up without Julia’s prompt. “Sergeant Addams and I also discovered that money from the Carnegie Foundation had been deposited into the Mayor’s bank account, amounting to millions of dollars. When we followed up with the Foundation, they confirmed our suspicion that the money had been earmarked for the construction of a new public library. Mayor Desjardin never told anyone that the city had been awarded the grant, and instead the Community Foundation ended up footing the entire bill.”

A murmur arose in the courtroom at my admission. That was something David hadn’t mentioned in his testimony yesterday. I sat up straighter in the witness box. It was a tenuous connection, and the prosecution had suggested we not mention anything about the discovery until we investigated further, but I wasn’t going to let Julia get to step three—Create Doubt. Her father was guilty.

The judge struck his gavel to silence the chatter. 

Julia wet her lips and looked down at her notes as the courtroom settled down. “How did you discover that the OEC grant for the police radios was fully funded, Cassidy?” Her voice had audibly softened, and the use of my first name took me by surprise.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “I didn’t.
You
did. You found that grant for the mobile fingerprint readers, not me.”

Julia gave me a slow, sad smile, leaving me more confused than ever. “Thank you for your candor, Detective.” What was she up to?

“Your Honor,” her voice raised in volume as she addressed the entire courtroom, “as you well know, until recent events, I was employed as city attorney for this town. As such, I was an officer of the court, just like any police officer. The OEC grant that has become central to this investigation was acquired by myself without a warrant. It’s true that there was no need at the time for a duly signed affidavit as it was unconnected to any on-going investigation, however, because it has been used as
the
motive that spurred Sergeant Addams and Detective Miller to look further into this matter, any evidence found as the result of this illegal search should be considered Fruit from the Poisoned Tree and therefore cannot be used in this prosecution.”

I turned to the judge; I had no idea what she was talking about. His dark eyebrows were high on his forehead, however, indicating that he did.

“But I wasn’t doing an investigation when you found the OEC grant,” I uselessly blurted out.

“Moreover, at the point this became an official investigation,” Julia continued, ignoring my plea, “Detective Miller and Sergeant Addams needed a warrant as well. The formal investigation technically started when Detective Miller contacted the neighboring communities and discovered they’d been told the grant program wasn’t fully funded.” Her heels pounded on the marble tiles as she stalked from the witness stand back to the defense table. She produced a stack of paper from a beige folder. “The Embarrass police first procured a warrant to look at the city’s general fund weeks after Detective Miller’s initial visit to the chief of police in Babbitt.”

My head dropped into my hands. I now knew what this meant— if the radio information was inadmissible because the OEC grant had been obtained without a warrant, then all the dirt that David and I had dug up on the Mayor would be suppressed. And the only reason we’d discovered the Carnegie Foundation money was because of the radios.

I suddenly realized Julia’s defense strategy and why she hadn’t bothered to cross-examine any of the prosecution’s witnesses. She had only needed to call one witness to the stand to have the charges against her father dropped—me
.
There would be no closing arguments from either side of the aisle. Julia had gotten her father acquitted on a fucking loophole.

The gavel cracked, sounding loud and hollow in my head. “Case dismissed.”

+ + +

I ran the eight miles down Main Street and back to clear my head. It was the hottest part of the day, and I really shouldn’t have chosen that time for a brisk jog downtown, but I wasn’t going to be able to face the day’s events if I didn’t first expend some anger. I moved my legs at a faster pace than I normally would have on a distance run. I needed to exhaust myself, to expend my frustration. By the time I’d finished, there was sweat dripping from my elbows.

I collapsed in the stairwell that led up to my apartment. It was stuffy in the windowless corridor, which didn’t help my heat fatigue. My tank top stuck to my back and stomach, my sweat like an adhesive. I still had to work third shift that night, but I didn’t know how I was supposed to return to my job as though nothing had happened.

To say that Julia’s betrayal stung would be an understatement. She’d succeeded in securing her father’s acquittal and had made me look like an incompetent cop in one, efficient blow. The people of Embarrass knew their mayor was corrupt, but in their eyes, he’d go unpunished because of procedural failures.

I hadn’t signed up for this. Embarrass was supposed to be a break for me; it wasn’t supposed to add to my mountain of troubles. I could run myself into the ground, but I’d never shed this anger. I knew myself; no amount of sweat would cleanse me of these emotions. I needed to see Julia.

I kicked off my running shoes and left them on the floor in the middle of my apartment. As I shimmied out of my sweat-soaked running clothes, I noticed the small bruises on the outsides of my thighs. I didn’t know if they were from Julia’s fingers or her mouth, but probably both.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, I drove my bike out to Julia’s. I didn’t call ahead because I hadn’t wanted to give her the opportunity to avoid me. But now that I was standing on her front stoop with the house tall and silent before me, I started to question my plan.

I ran my fingers through my wet hair, manually untangling the mess that had formed under my helmet. I didn’t know what I was going to say to her. I had no practiced speech running through my head; I was running on pure, barely-checked emotion.

I fished my phone out of the front pocket of my jeans and dialed Julia’s number, but every time the call went straight to voicemail. Her throaty recorded message assured me that if I left a detailed message, she’d call me back at her earliest convenience. Bullshit.

I knocked on the door until my knuckles felt raw. “Julia!” I hollered at the door. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

I took a calming breath and tried her number again. Like all the other times before, the call was transferred directly to her voicemail.

“So help me, Julia!” I yelled up at the silent house.

I hit redial, and when I heard her recorded voice again it suddenly struck me: she wasn’t dismissing my calls; she didn’t have cell service where she was.

+ + +

I found her sitting at the edge of the old wooden dock at her family’s cabin on the outskirts of town. She was still wearing her outfit from court. Her feet were bare and a pair of red lacquer soled heels had been discarded beside her. She dangled her legs over the edge of the dilapidated pier and her toes skimmed across the water’s surface.

I stepped onto the dock and the wood groaned beneath my weight. I couldn’t have snuck up on her if I’d tried.

“Don’t jump.” I tried to keep my tone light, but the words got caught in my throat.

She didn’t look away from the water. “You really are a good detective.”

“You didn’t hide very hard.” My steps continued to creak and water lapped at the sides of the floating dock as I walked closer until I stood directly behind her.

“I was talking about my father’s case.”

She was holding something in one hand, and it took me a moment to realize what it was: a hot dog.

“I thought you didn’t eat that junk.”

She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin pulled from a pocket in her trench coat. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Why did you do it?”

“He’s my father,” she said as though it explained everything. “He’s my blood.”

“But you knew he was guilty.”

She sighed heavily. “That morning, here at the cabin when we saw my father’s car, I found the missing grant application. He must have had access to your apartment since his office is paying the rent. I knew you were close to catching him, but I still burned it.”

I swallowed hard from the weight of her confession. “I could have you arrested for obstruction of justice.”

“I know.”

“I’m going back to Minneapolis.”

Julia’s head swiveled on her neck to finally appraise me.

“For good,” I decided. “I can’t stay in this town and do my job knowing what I know.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Julia returned her gaze to the water. She finished the last bite of the hot dog and daintily brushed the crumbs from her thighs, destroying the evidence of her dietary indiscretion. “What will you do there?”

“Go back to my old precinct, I suppose. Try to get my old job back.” I hadn’t heard from Rich since I’d shown up at his office, but there had to be something available.

“And your nightmares?” she asked.

“They’ve gotten better since I got here,” I admitted with a slow, thoughtful nod. “I’ll probably be stuck behind a desk again, but I’m hopeful with a little work they’ll put me back on active duty. But even if they don’t, I have to go back. I … I can’t stay here.”

Julia was quiet.

“Good luck, Detective,” she finally said. “I wish you all the best.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Grace Kelly Donovan stood at my front door with baked goods cradled in her hands. “I made you something for your trip.”

“Pie?” I arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ll have room for that in my saddlebags.”

“Then we should eat it now.” She walked past me and into the studio. “Oh!” she exclaimed when she noticed the state of my apartment. “You’re already packed.”

I shut the apartment door. Packing up my belongings hadn’t taken much time or effort. I didn’t own much, and I had barely unpacked from the original move to Embarrass. It was a good thing I hadn’t yet recycled the boxes.

I didn’t have an apartment lined up in the Twin Cities or even a job, so the plan for now was to crash on Rich’s couch in his one-bedroom apartment until I figured things out. His place was little more than a dirty bachelor pad, which made it perfect in the interim. There would be no threat of getting too comfortable or over-extending my stay.

I hadn’t told my parents that I was giving up on Embarrass; they’d figure that out soon enough when I shipped them my half a dozen moving boxes. They worried about me, as good parents tend to do. I’d given them a lifetime of anxiety just between my time in the service and becoming a cop. I knew my childhood bedroom would be waiting for me if it ever got that bad.

The way things were so up in the air made what I was doing feel a whole lot like running away. But in a way, that’s what I had been doing since high school graduation. With no real long-term plan in mind, I had simply shuffled from one bad decision to the next.

I pulled open a drawer in the kitchen and produced two forks. Nothing in the kitchen belonged to me, not even the salt and pepper shakers. They’d all been here when I’d first moved in.

“What are you going to do with that?” Grace asked. “Are you going to put it on your bike?” The spider plant Julia had once gifted me sat atop the radiator near a window. I hadn’t known what to do with it while I packed up my life into cardboard boxes.

“Leave it.”

“But that’s plant genocide,” she lightly teased.

“I told her I was no good at keeping those things alive.”

“Told who?”

“Julia.”

“She’s the reason you’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. “Let’s just eat some pie, okay?”

I tossed my fork into the nearly empty tin. Together, the two of us had torn through the majority of the pie.

“I can’t believe we ate all that,” Grace groaned.

I rested my hand on my slightly distended abdomen. There was strawberry-rhubarb pie crammed into every open space in my stomach. “Never let me eat my emotions again, okay?”

Grace continued to pick at the baked pastry, but she didn’t eat more. The tines of her fork made tiny impressions in the flaky crust. “I won’t be able to do much about that when you’re back in the Cities and I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s pretty shitty of me to be leaving like this.”

Grace finally abandoned her fork, and she leaned forward in her chair. “Truth time: why are you going? Were things really that bad here?”