Twisted Innocence (Moonlighters Series Book 3) (19 page)
There was a quick knock on the door, and Cathy came in, dressed in her lawyer clothes, her face all business and her heels clicking across the cold floor. She looked surprised to see Holly here again, but she got straight to the point. “Okay, I finally got the paperwork for your immunity, but you can’t sign until I get someone from the DA’s office and a court reporter to come by. Do you think you’re up to that now?”
Creed straightened. “Yeah, I don’t want to wait. They might change their minds.”
“Okay, I’ll get them up here. You understand that if you’re
charged with murder, it won’t be impacted by this immunity? This is only for the drug charges.”
“Right,” he said. “But if we can find Miller, if we can untangle this mess, then I’ll be able to prove that his people are the ones who killed Juarez, not me.”
“So as soon as you check out of here, we’ll go to the police station and they’ll question you. They’ll take you on a little tour of the city, where you’ll point out everywhere anyone associated with this drug ring could be.”
Holly crossed her arms. “Cathy, where is he going to stay? He can’t go home.”
“I’ve convinced them we need to set him up in a safe house.”
Holly was skeptical. “We’ve had experience with safe houses. We can’t trust that. Too many people know about those houses, and Miller clearly has contacts everywhere.”
“I’m going to find one myself,” Cathy said. “It’ll be someplace no one knows about—not even the police.” Her phone rang and she looked down. “It’s Michael calling from the jail. I’ve got to take this.”
When Cathy had stepped out into the hallway to take the call, Holly turned to Creed and studied his face. His eyes were still sunken, with deep circles under them. Though his skin had more color, his eyes were yellow. His hands shook as he sipped his broth. He set the cup down, wiped his mouth on a napkin. Holly took the empty cup from him.
“The doctor said he would probably let me go tomorrow. I want to get this over with.”
“That poison was in your organs.”
“They’re all working fine now. Kidneys, liver . . . my numbers were good this morning.”
“But you still don’t look good, Creed.”
“It’s not like I’m going to go run a marathon. I’ll take it easy until I’m a hundred percent.”
“But their questioning could go on for hours . . . days. They could run you all over town.”
“I think I can do it,” he said.
Holly didn’t like it, but she had no right to protest. “Have you told your mother?”
“No, she won’t like it. Look, I appreciate your concern, but the doctor decides when I go. I don’t have insurance, so I don’t want to just sit in here if I don’t need to. I’ll be ten years paying off the bill as it is.”
“Not if you’re dead.” Tears sprang to her eyes, surprising her.
He reached for her hand. “I’m not so sure I’m safe here. Even with the guard, there are constantly people I don’t know coming in and out. I won’t be completely safe until these guys are locked up. And even then . . .”
“Yeah . . . even then.” Silence fell over them like a heavy, hot blanket.
“Helping the police catch Miller is my only hope.”
She turned away and looked out the window, dabbed at the tears in the corners of her eyes.
“When I’m in the safe house, will you bring Lily so I can spend a little more time with her?”
Holly turned back. “I don’t know.”
Creed nodded quickly. “No, you’re right. It’s dangerous. I don’t know what I was thinking. We need to keep her as far away from me as possible right now.”
Holly could think of nothing to say.
O
ut in the hall, Cathy’s phone rang. She clicked it on and said, “Hello,” then waited as the jail recording went through the long explanation that an inmate was calling her collect. The cost for these calls was astronomical, and she’d had to set up a prepaid account so she could accept calls on her cell phone. But if she had to go into debt to hear Michael’s voice, she would happily do that.
When they connected, he spoke so fast she almost couldn’t follow him. “Babe, listen, I heard about Creed being sick. Was it poison?”
“Yes,” she said, walking away from the guard at Creed’s door so he wouldn’t hear. She reached the exit door, then stopped and turned back. “Cyanide, they’re saying.”
“Well, I was in the office near the holding cells yesterday, and I saw the guard taking the tray to him. It was a guard named Norris.”
“First or last name?” Cathy asked.
“Last name,” he said. “Sergeant Norris. I’ve also been checking to see who was working on the food crew then, and I’ve narrowed it down to five guys who might have made the sandwich or handled the apple. If you give these names to Max, he can pull all their phone call recordings and see what was said. You got a pen?”
“Yeah,” she said, digging through her bag for a pen and paper. “Shoot.”
Quickly, he whispered the names and she scribbled them down. She heard profanity and yelling in the background, the usual din of men with too much testosterone trapped in close quarters. “Michael, is anybody near you?”
“I don’t think anybody’s paying attention,” he said in a low voice. “We’re about to go to work.”
“I don’t want you getting into trouble with the other inmates. Be careful.”
“Just get those names to Max, okay?”
“Right,” Cathy said. “I’m on it. Michael, I wish you were here to help with this. I know you could track down Miller.”
“I wish it too,” he said, “but we work with what we have.” He paused. “I’m praying for you.”
She smiled, but her heart felt too big for her chest. Tears misted in her eyes—as always happened when he said that—and she blinked and looked up the hall. A nurse’s aide was going into Creed’s room with the rolling blood-pressure gauge. The guard stepped in behind her.
“I want you out of there,” Cathy whispered.
“Don’t dwell on it,” he said. “You have work to do. Important work. I’m fine in here.”
She knew that wasn’t true. Cops didn’t fare well in prison.
The fact that he hadn’t been a cop in two years didn’t really help. Some of the habituals had been arrested by Michael for prior offenses. Others distrusted him because he wasn’t one of them. During his earliest days there, she had seen him with bruises and black eyes. She woke up in the wee hours every single night, obsessing over what could be happening to him. “You could get killed or maimed for asking the wrong questions.”
“Stop,” Michael said. “You’re getting yourself all worked up, and it’s nothing I can’t handle. Just focus, okay? Focus on finding Miller.”
His strength always calmed her temporarily, but today she couldn’t shake that feeling of unease. “Be careful what you eat. I’ll put some money on your account later today so you can get commissary food. The cafeteria food could be—”
“You’re killing me,” he cut in. “I don’t want you worrying like this over me. Please, Cathy.”
She was quiet. The recorded voice came on, warning that they had one minute left in the call. Her stomach sank.
“I’ll call you as soon as I can get to the phone again. Is that all right? Am I running up the bill too high?”
“Michael, I don’t care how much it costs. I want to talk to you whenever I can. Please don’t ever even think about the money. We’ll make it back.”
“Okay,” he said.
“I love you,” she said quickly.
“I love you too. Hang in there, okay?”
She heard the click on the other end of the phone, then slowly clicked hers off. She missed him with an ache that throbbed through the marrow of her bones, burned like acid in her stomach, gonged in her head. If she could just get him
out of that awful place. If they could just find Miller, get him out of their lives, bring him to justice once and for all . . .
She shook her head. She would have to stop dreaming and start acting. As Michael said, there was lots of work to do.
She started back into Creed’s room, then paused and touched in Ned’s number at the governor’s mansion—a number she had memorized.
Her call was routed to his voice mail. “Me again,” she said. “Cathy Cramer. Look, I just want to ask you one more time to please make sure the governor sees our clemency package and all those letters. This is an innocent man we’re talking about. He’s not safe in jail. He’s a cop, and they don’t take well to cops. Last night a guy was poisoned in there, and I’m scared that Michael could be next.” Her voice broke off. She shouldn’t have told him that. “Please, I’m begging you. I know you can’t control the outcome, but if you could just make sure he sees it.”
Her voice was growing more high-pitched, and she tried to temper it. “If anything happens to him in there . . . Please, just think about it. If it were you—” The voice mail beeped, ending the call, and she clicked the phone off and turned to the exit door, wiping her face before anyone could see her tears.
The exit door flew open and she jumped back as a doctor pushed through. “Excuse me.” He held the door for her to go through, but she shook her head.
“No. I’m . . . thanks.” She turned and headed back to Creed’s room. She had work to do. She forced herself to change gears and think like a lawyer instead of a fiancée.
T
he meeting with the assistant DA in Creed’s room took three hours, since he and the court reporter stayed to get Creed’s statement after he signed the immunity agreement. Cathy sat with him through his testimony, taking notes on everything he told them about Miller and his cohorts. When his energy seemed spent and he was being forced to repeat himself, Cathy called an end to the meeting.
As Cathy headed down the hallway toward the elevators, Holly stepped out of the waiting room. “Finally,” she said.
Cathy gaped at her. “You’ve been here all afternoon?”
“No, I went home to feed Lily, and then she was sleeping so Juliet said I could leave her. Juliet’s tracking down everything she can find on the names you texted us. I brought my computer up here to do the same.”
Cathy followed Holly into the waiting room.
“Did it go okay?” Holly asked.
“Yeah, it went pretty well, I think.” She looked at Holly for a moment, then opened her arms to her little sister. Holly hesitated, then came into them. Cathy held her tight. “I just want you to be all right.”
“I am all right.”
Cathy’s phone rang, and she backed away, her eyes locked on Holly. Her sister had managed to smile.
Cathy dug through her bag, drew out her phone, and looked at the display. She sucked in a breath. “It’s the governor’s office. I have to take it.” She clicked it on. “Ned, I can’t believe you called me back. I guess you got my message today?”
“Yes.” Was that a smile in his voice, instead of the usual irritation? “Girl, you’re filling up my inbox.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Cathy said. “But this is getting very urgent.”
“Well, Cathy, I’m calling to tell you I have good news.”
Cathy touched her chest. “The governor’s going to look at our package?”
Holly jumped and threw up both arms in a touchdown signal.
Ned chuckled. “He already did,” he said.
Cathy grabbed Holly’s shoulder. “He did? Ned, what did he say?”
“Cathy, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but something about your persistence really got through to him. It’s the only pardon he’s granted since being in office.”
Cathy sank down, almost missing the chair, her heart pounding so hard she thought it must be visible through her blouse. “The only pardon? You mean he’s going to . . .”
“He’s granting Michael clemency!” Ned said. “Congratulations, Cathy. You did it.”
Cathy sprang up, yelling unintelligible words as she threw her arms around Holly, the two of them hopping like little girls. She heard Ned laughing with her.
Cathy tried to think. “Wait,” she said, breathless. “You’re sure? He’s going to grant a pardon for everything? Wipe his slate clean?”
“That’s right,” Ned said. “Michael will no longer have a conviction on his record. If he wants to go back to carrying a weapon, he can. If he wants to be a police officer again . . .”
She was sure she was going to hyperventilate. “How soon can we get this in writing?”
“I’m working on that right now,” Ned said. “If you want, you can come by and pick up the paperwork. Take it to the jail. The governor’s going to call them personally and tell them to release him today. Try to keep it out of the press until we set up a press conference for tomorrow. The governor wants to announce it and explain it himself.”
Cathy didn’t know when she’d gone from laughing to crying, but she was now in a full-fledged sob. “Ned, I’m going to make you a star in my blog. I’ll call every news station in the state after the press conference. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Glad it worked out. I’ll see you when you get here.”
When she hung up, Cathy hugged Holly and they spun around. “Call Juliet,” she said. “Tell her everything. I’m going to get those papers and take them to the jail. Michael’s getting out today!”
She wept all the way to her car.
M
ichael had just gotten out of the shower after a scorching workday grooming the median along Highway 77, when he heard over the intercom, “Michael Hogan, you’re needed downstairs.”
From his cell, Michael looked through the reinforced Plexiglas to the control room where two guards sat. According to the clock on their wall, it was past time for visitation.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t lied about him. He could be in some kind of trouble without even knowing it. But if that were true, the others would be looking at him with amusement, and he would feel the tension in the air—predators circling and waiting for blood.
Maybe it was something else. Maybe they had a message to give him, some awful news from outside. Alarm pulsed through him. Had something bad happened? Were they notifying him of some tragedy? Had Miller made another hit?
Pulling his shirt over his wet head, he hurried out of his cell and across the pod to the doors. He waved, getting the attention of the detention officer, who came out of the control room and opened the door.
