Authors: Deeanne Gist
“Can you verify that, Logan?”
“I can.”
Nate looked up. “You sure about that? Because in order to corroborate her story, you’d have to have been awake at five thirty and seen her beside you.” He leered at Logan. “You sure you didn’t wake up alone? Maybe with a little note on the pillow that said, ‘Thanks for the good time.’ A note that left you to wonder just exactly when she slinked out the door?”
Logan didn’t respond, a tic pulsing in his jaw.
“Did you feel used?”
Rylee sucked in her breath.
Wash grabbed Logan’s arm, retaining hold of it until Logan shook free.
The photographer let out a long breath, making sure everybody knew how unimpressed he was with police conduct, then moved to the side. Looking through the finder, he began to snap photos.
Logan could’ve kissed him. The camera had such a moderating effect. The itch of that shutter popping made everybody step back. The uniformed officers assumed a look of professional indifference.
Campbell paused to gather his thoughts. “That’s what I thought.” He tucked his pad and pencil back into his pocket. “Rylee Monroe, you’re under arrest.”
She gasped.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say may be used against you in a court of law. . . .”
She slipped her messenger bag from her shoulder and handed it to Logan. “Karl’s number is on my phone. Tell him I need him.”
“You have the right to consult an attorney before talking to the police. . . .”
An officer pulled her hands behind her and snapped on the cuffs.
“I know you don’t like him, Logan. But I need him. Will you call him for me?”
He stood flat-footed, uncertain what to do.
“Will you?” she asked, her eyes clear. Unwavering. Determined. “I will.”
Thank you
, she mouthed, letting her defenses down just long enough to give him a peek into the panic churning inside her before she turned away.
His heart lurched.
“Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?”
“I will not.” Her glare could have saved the polar ice caps, it was so cold, but Campbell seemed unimpressed.
He jerked his head toward a line of cop cars.
The officer who’d cuffed Rylee escorted her to one, video cameras tracking their progress, reporters shouting questions.
A swell of police vehicles choked off the street, distinctly out of place in such stately surroundings. The departing patrol car with Rylee inside reversed onto the road, giving a siren squawk to keep the crowd back.
Nate announced to the members of the press that the family would not be making any statements at this time, but the police chief would hold a press conference at the station within the hour.
“I’m gonna head back to the newsroom with these photographs, then.” Wash squeezed Logan’s shoulder. “Hang tight, man. It’ll be all right.”
Logan nodded, still trying to take it all in.
The television news crews scrambled into position to film breaking reports of the unexpected arrest. A motley rank of bystanders gathered along the sidewalk. A gray-haired, dark-suited superior walked through the gate, motioning Nate over. They strolled behind the cordon, Nate speaking rapidly, then listening with reluctant deference as the other man replied.
Logan cut across the street, working his way around the edge of the emergency vehicles to the other side of Meeting where his car waited. He dug through Rylee’s bag for her phone. A scroll through her contact list yielded Karl’s number.
He slipped into the driver’s seat of his car, staring at the send button. Karl Sebastian hadn’t done George any good, and he didn’t think things would be any different with Rylee. Still, she’d asked him to call Karl, and he’d agreed.
The receptionist’s voice sounded overly bright. “Sebastian, Lynch & Orton.”
“Hello. This is Logan Woods.”
She sighed. “Mr. Woods, I’ve told you—”
“Don’t hang up. Rylee Monroe’s been arrested, and she asked me to call Karl on her behalf.”
A hesitation. “One moment, please.”
He thrummed the steering wheel. Finally, they put him through.
“This is Karl Sebastian.”
“The police just arrested Rylee. They’re taking her in for processing now. The detective in charge is still at the scene, so you might want to move quickly.”
If any of this surprised Karl, he hid it well. From the change in ambient sound, Logan could tell he was already in motion, asking questions as he walked. Logan filled in the details. Criminal law might not be the man’s specialty, but he seemed to know what he was doing.
“All right,” Karl said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You can get her out?”
“As soon as I get her in front of a judge so bail can be set.”
The weight of the situation pressed down on him, making it difficult to breathe. He’d been with her just a few hours ago, and now she was in jail. Like a common criminal.
He wanted to throw the phone. Kick in a wall. Inflict some kind of damage.
Instead, he sat in his parked car gripping the phone so hard it would leave an imprint on his hand. The hope of resolving the situation quickly, setting things right, did not look good.
“You
can
get her out, though?” he asked again.
“Of course.” Karl’s tone crackled with defensiveness. “In the meantime, I want you to leave her alone. Whatever story you’re after, it ends here. She’s my client, and she’s off limits to the media. Do I make myself clear?”
Logan bit back his reply. No way was he leaving her alone, but he didn’t have to say so to the lawyer. “Thanks for your help, Karl.”
Hanging up the phone, he called Lacey Lamar. “Somehow the police have come to the conclusion that Rylee Monroe is the Robin Hood burglar, and now they’re processing her at headquarters.”
“Maybe she is,” Lacey said.
He ignored this. “Karl Sebastian’s her attorney. He said he’d get her in front of a judge as soon as possible.”
“I thought he wasn’t taking your calls.”
“He took this one.”
She paused on the other end of the line. “This is a big development, Logan. I know you’re involved personally. I should have stopped it before now. But I want you to know one thing. If I don’t think you’re on top of it, I won’t have any qualms about putting someone else on the story. My patience is wearing thin. You understand me?”
Involved personally? He almost laughed. Lacey didn’t know the half of it. He was dating the prime suspect of the story he was covering.
“Answer me, Woods.”
Never in his career had he been pulled off a story. But when Lacey found out for certain he’d been with Rylee at the scene of the crime a few short hours before the break-in, she’d skewer him.
“I hear you, Lacey. Loud and clear.”
Hanging up, he stared out the windshield. A black-and-white Ford Interceptor was pulling away, edging around the bumper of a news van. Just outside the cone of activity, he spotted Rylee’s Civic.
He turned on the ignition but didn’t put the car in gear. He needed to find Robin Hood. If he was right about the police surveillance, then George Reid was in the clear. So who was the real burglar? And why had Gibbon stood him up last night?
He leaned his head against the steering wheel. Out of nowhere, his dad’s words began to circle in his mind.
I know how it is, son. You think you can do it all. I’ve been there.
The thing is, you can’t do it all, not alone
.
The flashes started popping the moment the door opened, only intensifying as the file of officers advanced. The chief led the pack, in full dress uniform, followed by a series of lieutenants and plainclothes officers, including the gray-haired man Logan had seen outside the Davidsons’ house.
Bringing up the rear, Nate Campbell paused in the doorway, momentarily stunned by all the bright lights. Before advancing onto the platform, he adjusted his tie and ran a finger through his hair.
Logan had camped out at the station since coming from the crime scene, trying to pick up more information as his fellow journalists began to congregate. The buzz in the press pool was that the Robin Hood burglaries had been solved.
Logan shook his head. The unstoppable media machinery was in motion, ready to shout from every mountaintop whatever verdict the police announced. Arresting George had set off a flurry, but this was nothing short of an orchestrated frenzy. The trouble he’d been afraid of was here. Nothing he could do would change that.
The chief stepped up to the podium, tapping on the microphone. The thumping sound was nearly drowned out by the
clickety-click
of camera shutters.
“I’m gonna start off by introducing everybody on stage,” he said. “Then we’ll get this show on the road. We have a brief statement to make, and then I’ll take some questions.”
The introductions went down the line quickly, the chief devoting less time to each as he descended. Most of the names were familiar. The gray-haired superior from the scene turned out to be the head of the Detective Division. By the time it was Nate’s turn, the chief was downright succinct.
Nate squinted at the television lights, his mouth set grimly. If he dared to smile, Logan would go up there and wipe the grin off his face.
“As you know,” the chief began, “during the course of the past two months, our city has been plagued by an individual the press has dubbed the Robin Hood burglar, who has targeted residents south of Broad in a series of increasingly destructive breakins.”
Lifting his finger in the air for emphasis, he turned to display his law-and-order profile for the cameras. “Early this morning, the perpetrator struck again. Police were called to the scene, where officers apprehended a suspect. At this time, we are not releasing the name of the suspect.”
Logan’s pen rested against his notebook. The statement seemed much more guarded than the initial buzz had let on. They weren’t taking any chances.
“I want to take this opportunity to thank the team of diligent men and women who have worked this case tirelessly.” He indicated the fellow brass onstage, as if they’d been out in the field all this time, tracking leads. “In particular, let me recognize Detective Campbell, who has brought this case to a successful conclusion.”
Off the podium, tucked into a corner of the room, Logan saw a disgruntled-looking Detective Santos rolling her eyes at the chief’s praise.
“Now if there are any questions—”
The gathered reporters erupted in a volley of interrogatories, their words so intermingled that the chief held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Please. One at a time. Gene, let’s start with you.”
A local television reporter stood, quickly checking his notes.
“Is it true that the suspect you have in custody is female?”
The chief conferred with the officer next to him, then leaned into the mic. “We’re not confirming that . . . at this time.”
Logan’s hand shot up, but the chief called on another television talker.
“What happened with the previous suspect, George Reid?”
“We believe that these crimes, while attributed in the newspapers to a single individual, are in fact the work of several.”
“So Reid and the suspect in custody are associates?”
“Close associates,” the chief replied.
Logan made a mental note to call George again, assuming the police hadn’t already reeled him back in.
“Were there any eyewitnesses?” another reporter asked.
Again, the chief conferred. “I’ll let Detective Campbell speak to that one.”
Nate approached the microphone tentatively, afraid of getting too close. “As to eyewitnesses, we have someone who can place the suspect at the scene, which led to our taking the suspect into custody.”
An eyewitness? Who could place Rylee
at the scene
?
Logan’s hand shot up. Nate glanced down at him without giving the slightest sign of recognition.
The chief returned to the microphone.
Logan stood, making it all but impossible for him to be ignored and didn’t wait for permission to speak. “Sir, when you say ‘at the scene’ do you mean at the actual house or in the general area?”
No one farther back would have noticed the subtle change in the police chief’s expression, but Logan caught the shift. The man had recognized him and had evidently been warned in advance to steer clear of him, yet the slightest hint of relief smoothed his brow. Whatever question he might have feared, it wasn’t this one.
“Both,” he said, moving on to the next question.
“Following up on that,” Logan said loudly, “what exact time does the witness pinpoint?”
Instead of answering, the chief ducked back to confer with the man next to him, and then they pulled in a third officer. The ensuing silence was filled with clicking shutters.
At the far side of the platform, Nate fixed Logan with an incendiary glare.
“For the moment,” the chief said, returning to the microphone, “we are not making a statement as to the specifics of the eyewitness testimony.”
The other reporters continued to fire off one question after another. The chief bobbed and weaved, finally shutting the whole thing down.
The only person Logan remembered running into last night was the other dogwalker. And if she recognized Toro as belonging to the Davidsons, then the police could place Rylee and him at Toro’s house in the wee hours of the morning.
Passing by Lacey’s open door, Logan tried to time his movements just right. Unfortunately she caught a glimmer of motion and called him inside. After peppering him with questions about the press conference, and frowning over his notes, she offered to call Ann Davidson herself, confirming once again just how well-connected she was in these parts.
“And another thing. A little bird informed me that relations between you and law enforcement have become strained.”
He didn’t answer.
“At the risk of stating the obvious, let me just remind you that in our line of work, we rely on certain relationships. If we take care of people, they’ll take care of us. How are you going to cover the crime desk if nobody in the police department will pick up the phone for you anymore?”