Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) (5 page)

Gino!

I looked up at the one-way glass, rage building inside me. “Gino, why don’t you come betray me face-to-face?”

Mitch glanced into the mirror and nodded. Thirty seconds later, the door opened, and Gino stepped inside. His bulky, six-foot frame looked cartoonish under his red do rag. His olive brown skin paled when he caught the anger boiling out of my eyes at him.

He put his hands up, as if warding off blows. “
M’hija
, you must believe me. It was the most prudent move.”

“Jeopardizing the safety of the women in my care isn’t something you get to make decisions about, Gino. How dare you? How dare any of you? This should have been my call.” And they knew that. So why had they gone over my head? Colluded? Unless maybe someone didn’t believe in my innocence?

“It won’t get out, Chief. We’ll see to that. Your women will be safe with us.” Mitch was already putting the drive into a small laptop she’d had retrieved from a briefcase under her chair. Her movements were crisp, full of hope.

“You shouldn’t have needed to go this far, Mitch. You shouldn’t have had to wonder about it.” I wasn’t being fair. They’d found a potential murder weapon in my home, after I happened upon two dead bodies. Any normal person would’ve wondered about it. A little, right? Though I wasn’t sure I would’ve. I tend to be pretty loyal to the people on my team. Turns out, my loyalty maybe wasn’t going to be reciprocated.

“She was just doing her job,
m’hija
.”

“Maybe so. But you’ve known me what, over ten years? After all we’ve been through, you’re not rock solid enough to talk these jokers out of violating the identity of the women in my care?”

Mitch had the drive in and the computer whirring. All heads turned at the sound, as if a magical answer would pop up at any moment and clear my good name.

“I not only did not talk them out of it, but I suggested this might be the fastest way to prove your innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt, as I knew very well where you had been. And I also knew that this electronic proof would allow us not to have to rely on the testimony of any of the women in your care.” Gino’s chocolaty eyes sparked.

He had a good point. Maybe I should calm down, start seeing this as a good thing. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like all of you going behind my back, treating me like a suspect. You could’ve just talked to me. Some Good Friday this is turning out to be. Guess I’m in good company, you know, what with being betrayed by my closest friends and all…”

Someone snorted from the hallway, and a low murmuring began.
What the…?
Liz, my administrative assistant, poked her head in, nodded at me, and pulled the door shut. I could hear her shooing all the guys away. No doubt this gruesome case was about to become the greatest show on Earth—right here in our little town of Haversport.

“Whatever you’re about to see on that screen is no different than what you already know to be true about me.” I sighed, stretching out my arms, loosening tension from my shoulders to my wrists.
But it
is
going to change what I thought I knew about each of you.

Mitch, Gino, and Nick—three of my best friends in the world—sat huddled around Mitch’s laptop across the table from me, like a clan of hunter-gatherers congregating around a fire. Their feral expressions left no doubt about their intent. They would find evidence to prove my whereabouts during the timeframe of my husband’s murder, or they would arrest me on the spot.

Ice pumped through my veins. Would I ever be able to trust them again? How far had news spread of the murders and of my submitting to a midnight rendezvous for a special round of questioning? And what was going on with Mr. Richardson? The walls of the interrogation room were all I had between me and an increasingly hostile world.

Judging from the voices in the hallway, off-duty cops had been called in to deal with the aftermath of the double homicide. And no matter which way the evidence ultimately shook out… some of them would believe the worst of me from here on in. The tenuous thread of respect I’d fought so hard to earn, and struggled to maintain, from some of the staunchest of my old school colleagues, would be severed tonight. Unless we got lucky. Fast.

“
Alli esta
.” Gino’s voice snapped me back to the present.

The three of them leaned in to the computer screen like little kids looking up theme park tickets online for their parents.

“Unmistakable.” Mitch was jotting notes on a pad next to her computer as she scrolled down her screen. “Assuming you didn’t pay some hack to kill him, to kill
them
.” Eyes lowered, she cracked a grim smile as they reviewed security footage from my last shifts at the women’s shelters. “Don’t worry, we’ll investigate every angle.”

“Sometimes I hate you guys.” I pushed my chair away from the table, crossed my arms, and stared at them. They were doing their job.
Then why had Mitch morphed into Judas before my eyes?

“What do you expect us to do? Stand by and let you be arrested? Not gonna happen. Not on my watch.” Nick met my stare, rocking back on his heels, away from the computer screen.

“These women come here,” I pointed to the computer screen, “…to me, because they know I’ll protect them. That my word is my bond. Up until tonight, they had reason to believe me when I said no one would ever know they had come to our haven. I promised them safety. I don’t like the feel of this.” My mind raced down a path including a messy murder trial.

“
M’hija
,” Gino’s voice was tentative. “We know your heart beats for these women and so does our own. We can redact any identifying information and make sure that anyone needing to view this as proof of your innocence does it only in sealed chambers, and in the presence of an officer of the court. You can trust us in this, and in another more sensitive matter.” He looked from Mitch to Nick. Nervous?

“Another matter?” I stared at him.

“I am… we are thinking, it might be best…” His trailing off made it even harder for me to pay attention to him. My wandering mind conjured a scenario in which Nick, Mitch, or Gino might be compelled to release the tapes as a way of documenting my innocence and justifying my non-arrest.

“For you to, ah…” Gino hesitated again.

It sounded as if he were talking through water in a barrel. I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. Had the identities of the women who had come to me for safety, for shelter, already been compromised? The room was starting to blur. I placed my palm on the edge of the table to steady myself. Bottom line: Mitch wasn’t convinced of my innocence. Not 100%.

“…after surrendering your weapon…” Mitch had picked up the baton from Gino, doing her best to spell things out. “…taking care of things for the next week or so…”

I rubbed my eyes. Those women had trusted me. Something I’d have never relinquished had now been stripped from me and offered up. Their safety was being exchanged for my freedom. A sacrifice I wasn’t worthy of.

“…agree not to return to duty until being examined and released by Dr. Kira Stoklavich.” Mitch stopped talking and stood up.

“Oh no, I’m not wasting any more of my time with that crazy hack.” Wasn’t anybody on my side anymore?

“Think of it as less about you, and more about keeping all options open.” Mitch had one hand on her hip. Ready for a fight? Would she ever fully trust me again?

“I’ve got my rights, my freedom.” My inner sixth grader made an appearance. I was gearing up to give them a piece of my mind. And Mitch could go hang if she was ready to bail on me already.

But what if remaining free was a condition of me staying in the clear to adopt Samantha?

“Okay.” I slid to my feet in acquiescence.

We stood around the table for several seconds in an awkward standoff. A tremor moved up Mitch’s leg, and she pulled her eyes away from mine. “It’ll only be for a few days, Chief. Gonna do you a world of good to get out of here. Take care of yourself. Get away from this insanity.” She fixed her eyes just over my shoulder. Was there someone else on the other side of that mirror?

“’Cause there won’t be any insanity when I get home?” I willed her to look at me.

It didn’t work. “Nick’ll be there with you—for you.” Her eyes swept from the glass to Nick and back again.

“No, he won’t.” I didn’t need a handler.

“Gino then.” She cocked an eyebrow at my Cuban ally.

“Nope. I’m gonna go home alone. Catch a little quality time with Sam and, with any luck at all, my mom. Wait this crap out together. Lay low.” I held up my hand. “Any objections?”

The three of them stared at me in silence. They watched while I pulled out my Glock, and laid it on the table. Mitch stared at the floor, fidgeting. Nick coughed. I stripped off my holster, and snapped my badge out of my purse and dropped them into Gino’s outstretched hands.

“You know where to find me, amigos.” I nodded once before marching out of the room and down the hall without another word to anyone.

It was close to one in the morning by the time I piled into a taxi, and headed home. Shadows wrapped around the buildings I passed almost every day of my life, lending an air of unfamiliarity to the streets of Haversport. Twice, I caught myself nodding off as we drove through the abandoned night. I let out a long sigh as soon as the car pulled into my driveway. After tipping the driver, I dragged my weary body through my house and up the stairs and fell into bed.

In my dreams, I was a beautiful, tiara-clad princess, dressed in white. I faced the beauty of a new day, watching the sun’s first light bouncing off smooth-sided mountains—reflecting my fully redeemed image. I was a princess, daughter of the King of Kings. Then I felt a little tug, like a child pulling on the top of my crown. Curious, I looked up, toward the glossy mountain.

A bolt of lightning struck at my feet—shockwaves rippling through my body. Clouds ripped open from heaven, and a booming voiced called down to me.
Run! Run! Run!

Primal fear charged through me and I tried to flee, but my feet were stuck in quicksand.

I awoke to light pouring in my windows. My heart was pumping a million gallons an hour. Hot and cold sensations flowed through me.

I lay still in bed for several long minutes, piecing the dream together. Deep breaths helped slow down my heartbeat. There had been a message behind the dream, and I fought to bring it back into the light long enough for me to catch it. A veil opened, and the message surfaced.

Run! Run! Run!

After nearly ten years behind the badge, I’d learned to trust my gut. My husband had been murdered alongside his girlfriend—just months after I’d learned he even had a girlfriend. Any remaining sense of personal safety shredded with the dimming fragments of the dream.

Run! Run! Run!
Was my spirit trying to tell me something? Was I in danger too? I threw off the covers and picked up my cell phone off the nightstand.

Several texts peered at me. Three from Nick, two from Mitch, and one with an attachment—an unknown number. I scrolled down and opened the attachment, ignoring the growing sound of alarm bells somewhere in my mind.

The text was an odd emoticon sandwich. A winking smiley face sat on the first line, followed by a link to a media site. Another smiley face was at the bottom of the text. This one crying a river out of both eyes. The look of the thing gave me the creeps.

I shrugged it off and opened the link. Today’s headline and byline shouted at me. “Local Chief’s Husband and Mistress Murdered During Bitter Divorce.” The article went on to say, “An unknown source in the Paradise County judicial system calls the murders ‘suspiciously convenient.’”

Was this how people would see me now? If this early morning media campaign was any indication of what was to come, my job was on the line. From the looks of the article, and the string of nasty comments that followed, doubt had taken seed overnight and grown in the hearts and minds of colleagues and community members alike.

A new text came in as I stared at the screen, sender “unknown.” Cold fingers tapped up my spine. The muscles in my arms went rigid.

DON’T FEEL SO BAD. THEY DESERVED IT.

Gasping, I dropped the phone.

I stood in the morning sunlight, shaking in my pajamas. Was this some sort of misplaced benevolence? Or was this a message from the killer?

I forwarded both sets of texts to Nick and Mitch. For a moment, I grappled with which one to call first. Could I still trust Nick?

Nick Vitarello had been in my life longer than I cared to admit. Our tempestuous past included a tangle of professional and personal experiences that had created an unbreakable bond between us. But that was before I’d been set up for murder, and called him in to help. Had he helped? Or had I unwittingly helped
him
? Could any relationship survive
that
?

I hovered over Nick’s picture several seconds before passing it over to press my thumb on Mitch’s face instead.

Mitch answered on the first ring. We talked about the texts first, speculating on whether or not they’d come from the killer. She listened to my thoughts, her nimble fingers tapping keyboards over the phone. “You’ll never hear this from me, but Richardson is one angry hombre.”

Her words floated over me. “What? Did something happen during his interview?”

“Guy’s got a rap sheet that’ll curdle fresh milk.” The tapping stopped. “Assault is the most frequent offender. Recent, too. Looks to me like this wasn’t Tamra’s first rodeo.”

“What are you saying?”
They deserved it.
“You saying Richardson sent that text?”

“I’m saying we don’t know what we don’t know. He could have. He’s the type. But for now, I’m ordering phone taps on your cell and work phones, and getting a tech on your texts.”

Richardson. My unlikely ally, or a jealous spouse turned murderer? I pushed the thought out of my mind. I had more immediate concerns. “Thanks. And while you’re busy playing good cop, I’m taking a short walk on the other side of the street.”

Mitch gasped.

Rather than reassure her, I took advantage of her stunned silence to ask for a huge and inappropriate favor. “I’ve got to take a look at the evidence.”

She didn’t say a word.

Goosebumps shivered over me. Cool beads of sweat ringed my forehead. We had to get to bottom of this now—before the killer had time to surprise us again. Since I was out of the office by mutual agreement, the evidence lockers were off limits too. Maybe a little walking tour with the phone on speaker as she itemized the evidence was something Mitch could do for me. I took her silence as reluctance. Just a step away from full support.

It took her over a minute to answer. “I can’t let you do that. Not until you’re cleared.”

“Right, but just hear me out.” I waited for her approval.

“Go on.” She exhaled.

“So, what if you just happened to read the report out loud to me? You know, like you were practicing for, I don’t know, court or something, and accidently purse dialed me?”

“I can’t
describe
the stuff for you. That’s not that different from letting you into the lockers. That won’t work. It’s playing with fire.” Her cadence shifted. She wanted to help.

“What do you mean you can’t describe the stuff for me? Of course you can! It’s not like I’m going to record you. All I need is an idea of what you’ve got so far.” To win her over, I balanced my commanding phone presence with a mild whine.

The voice that could soothe the savage beast ramped it up a notch as Mitch pushed back. “Chief, you know you can’t do that. Nobody involved in a crime, directly or indirectly, can get access. Not even
you.
”

Heat rose up the back of my neck. “If I wanted your opinion—”

“You just
asked
for it.” I could almost feel the impatient stamp of her rounded one-inch heel against the concrete floor. A faint echo rimmed each word as she clipped down the hall toward the evidence lockers.
I was winning.

“I’ll be a good girl, keep a low profile. I won’t even drive by the office until I’m cleared to return—you’ve got to trust me. Doesn’t our friendship deserve a little trip down evidence locker lane with you?”

“No. Probably not.”

“
Probably
not?”

“Definitely not.”

“What if I have probable cause?”

“You probably don’t.” Mitch let out a long breath. “This is hard on all of us. I’ve never been in this situation before. I want to do what’s right for you, for me, for the department, for the case. You’ve been given a bye on being hauled back in on the wrong side of the law anytime soon, but your innocence hasn’t yet been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

She was dead on the money. What had happened to innocent until proven guilty? The truth of this horrible case was a long way from being unearthed. Only two people knew that I was innocent: the killer and me.

Don’t feel so bad. They deserved it.
Even if the texts had come from the killer, what good did they do? I didn’t have enough to prove my innocence to the media. At least I had Mitch on my side.

Her footsteps had grown silent. The murder weapon should have been tagged and stored by now.
Murder weapon.
The muscles at the base of my neck tightened.

“Look—it’s my funeral. I can’t stand another minute of wondering what you really know for sure and what you think you know. The tension is killing me over here!” There were other ways for me to get at this information—legal ways—but I wasn’t done imposing on our friendship. And acting like her boss. While I still
was
her boss.

She didn’t deserve to have me shouting at her. She wasn’t the one in trouble. I was. She was only doing her job—just like I taught her.

It wasn’t Mitch’s fault my lowlife husband had cheated on me with some woman half my age and then taken a virtual knife to my throat in court via his equally lowlife attorney. Nor was it her fault someone had taken a blunt instrument to his cranium before he could complete the process—rendering him and his girlfriend extremely dead and leaving me extremely guilty-looking. Kind of a trifecta if you looked at it from the killer’s point of view.

And once we caught said killer, I planned to ask him all about it. Images of the crime scene bubbled up inside me. Betrayal could get your blood boiling, I knew that. But had it spurred the man to a double homicide?

“I’m sorry. Let’s regroup. How about you leave your phone out by accident and switch it to a video call for me as you stroll around the room? That can’t be against any rules. That way we don’t even have to talk about it. We’re not talking, and we’re not texting. No witnesses. Never happened.” I was pushing it. But screw it. I was playing centerfield in a murder investigation, and I didn’t like standing up alone in the heat.

“Always wanted to be a member of AV club in high school and never quite made it.” Mitch resumed her even strides.

“And why not? Your talent behind the camera is legend.” I wasn’t just buttering her up. She had the eye. Her YouTube videos had earned hundreds of thousands of views.

“The cop wannabes were way hotter than the AV geeks in high school, so I went the cop route instead. No regrets.” She ended the call and, within seconds, had sent me a five second video starting and ending with artistic shots of the not-so-shiny black and white tiled floor leading to the evidence. She was just about in.

It’s good to be queen. Usually. But today it was way better being Chief of Police.