Accused (9 page)

Joe nodded. “Some vice guys did make the mistake of issuing citations at Craven’s about a month ago. Turns out Burke was there. He didn’t get cited, but someone saw him. The next day city councilmen had a fit. The vice boss stood up for his guys, but now they stay away. As for patrol, well, Garrison is our boss, but he would never stick up for us, so we stay clear. If Jeff is convinced someone in the department is trying to frame those kids—” he hiked a shoulder—“I could see it, with help from someone in city hall.”

Carly shook her head. “I don’t want to think anyone who wears the uniform is corrupt. Some bureaucrat in city hall, maybe, but I can’t imagine any fellow officer is as rotten as Jeff seems to think.”

“We never want to see it, do we? Not when it’s our own. I’m afraid Jeff might be right: somewhere in our world there might be someone who’s forgotten what it means to be a law
enforcement
officer.” Joe’s expression was grim. His words sent a chill up Carly’s spine, and she grasped her hot coffee mug in both hands to fight it off.

13

“We never want to see it,
do we?”

Carly heard Joe’s question over and over in her mind. He was so right. Whether they were discussing Jeff, Garrison, or Tucker, she didn’t want to think a fellow cop was corrupt.

She unlocked her apartment door around 4:00 a.m., head spinning with too much information. Her stomach was in a free fall, as if the ground had dropped suddenly away from her feet and she was going down, no end in sight. The relative safety of home did nothing to stop the fall. Only Maddie greeted her; Andrea was out, which was not unusual. Nurses worked twelve-hour shifts, and Andi sometimes napped in the nurses’ locker room before coming home. The dog bounded to the front door, happy to see her mistress and anxious for a walk. But canine exuberance did nothing to raise Carly’s spirits.

Is Jeff a killer? Is Garrison on the take? Is Londy innocent?
If someone in the department was dirty and orchestrating the investigation, the picture was bleak. Carly’s mind stretched, grasping for answers to unknown questions.

Looking down at the dog, Carly decided an immediate course of action was a walk. Maddie bounced around, demanding her daily exercise.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You must really need to go out.” Carly tried unsuccessfully to leave her turbulent thoughts in the apartment. Disturbing suspicions about police corruption walked alongside her and the dog. She stopped and let Maddie off her leash at a vacant lot and leaned against a streetlight while the dog frolicked.

The sound of waves breaking in the distance was the only noise disturbing an otherwise-quiet night.

Try as she might, Carly’s mind wouldn’t empty. Chaotic thoughts drifted to her father.
I wish Dad were here, more than I can say. I could’ve talked to him about all this. He would’ve listened and come up with a plan or an idea.

Mom’s prayers just don’t cut it.
Thinking of Mom and prayer led unavoidably to an image of Dora Akins bowing her head with her son at the station. After the prayer, the pair had seemed to have a sort of peace.

Since Dad died, Carly had seen her mother assume the same prayerful posture more times than she cared to remember. Mom always said prayer gave a person peace. But what peace was found in a premature death? Carly had prayed that her dad’s cancer would be cured. As his illness progressed, she had felt desperate and anxious, not peaceful. Carly blew out a disgusted breath and whistled for Maddie.

“Peace?” She spit the word out loud as she hooked Maddie’s leash. Her own voice startled her, and she looked up into a dark, starless sky.
I just don’t believe you’re there, and if you are, you’re flat-out mean. Why my mom trusts you, I’ll never understand. You took my dad. I’ll never forgive you.
Angry, frustrated tears started as she remembered her father’s death.
I’ll never have peace if it means praying to a sadistic God.

Carly woke earlier than she wanted to but couldn’t go back to sleep. She could hear Andi in the living room on the phone, probably talking to her mother from the tone of the conversation. Andrea’s mother had been married four times and was contemplating a fifth trip down the aisle, and Andi didn’t approve.

Yawning, Carly gave up on sleep and got out of bed. She rinsed her face off and shuffled into the kitchen to feed the dog and grab some coffee. The apartment smelled of nail polish. She could see Andi on the couch, the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder while she painted her toenails and listened to her mother. She saw Carly and rolled her eyes.

Carly fed the dog, grabbed the paper, and poured a cup of coffee to take back to her room. She stopped short in the hall before her bedroom door when the paper’s headline jumped off the page and grabbed her by the throat.

The words erased all sleep fog from Carly’s mind. Trejo’s byline named Jeff Hanks and stopped just short of saying he’d shot Cinnamon. It said he was suspended and wanted for questioning. It was typical Trejo: corrupt cops running amok.

“No way!”

Andrea looked her way and frowned. She got up and walked on her heels to where Carly stood and read over her shoulder. Her eyes got wide.

“Have to go, Mom,” she said, interrupting the chatter Carly could hear coming from the other end of the line. “Love you; I’ll call you later.” Slapping the phone closed, she yanked the paper from Carly.

“I can’t believe it. And we were just talking about him sleeping with Teresa Burke. Do you think he killed her too?” Andrea’s eyes were bright with the hope of fresh gossip.

“I sincerely hope he didn’t kill anybody. Poor Elaine! I’d better call her.” She stepped around Andi and hurried to find her phone.

“It says in the paper that Elaine hasn’t seen him for two weeks, but it doesn’t name her, of course; just says ‘wife.’” Andrea followed her, rambling on as she read the article, but Carly only half paid attention as she looked for her cell phone. She hadn’t talked to Elaine since the separation, couldn’t bring herself to be a third wheel, to be just Carly when it was always Nick, Carly, Elaine, and Jeff.

“Hiding from his wife, he could have been out doing anything, including murder.”

Carly frowned as Andrea’s voice came through loud and clear. “Alex Trejo just likes to trash police officers, Andi; you know that,” she said as she grabbed her phone from under a pile of paper on her desk.

Her mind was a jumble of disconnected thoughts. Had she or Jeff mentioned Cinnamon last night? No, she’d only talked about the girl with Joe when he told her about Cinnamon’s murder. But when was the girl shot? Jeff was with Carly for at least part of the evening.

Did he leave dinner and commit murder?

The sound of the doorbell sent Maddie into a barking frenzy.

“I’ll get it.” Andi left the bedroom to answer the door.

Carly stopped scrolling through her contacts list and grabbed Maddie. She froze when she heard a male voice in the living room.

“Can you give her a second?” Carly heard her roommate say before Andi stuck her head back in the room. “Carly, Sergeant Tucker is out here. He wants to talk to you.” Her eyebrows arched in question marks. “I’m going to leave you two to chat.” She pointed to her feet. “Now I need a pedicure. Maddie just stomped all over my toes.”

“Sorry. Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.” Carly jumped into some jeans.
What on earth is Sergeant Tucker doing in my living room? Is he going to let me back into the investigation?
The thought perked her up, but at the same time Carly was wary. There were too many coincidences—first Jeff, then Cinnamon, and now the waiting homicide sergeant.

Though he was supposed to be on her side, Carly went out to face the sergeant as if she were facing a hostile defense attorney, all shields up.

“Hello, Carly. Sorry to drop in unexpectedly.” Tucker smiled. He was dressed casually, slacks and a golf shirt, indicating that maybe his visit wasn’t official. An unofficial visit made Carly wary.

“I was awake.” She struggled to be nonchalant, hoping her uneasiness would fade and that, official or not, he would ask her to be on the investigative team. She motioned for him to take a seat. “Do you want some coffee?”

“No, I won’t be staying long. I just have a few questions.” Tucker sank onto Carly’s couch.

“Questions about . . . ?” She settled into her recliner.

“Well, let me start by showing you something.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet. “Recognize this?”

It was the card Carly had passed to Cinnamon.

“Yes, it’s mine.” She looked for a clue in the sergeant’s visage, but like any good cop, his expression was unreadable.

“We found it on the body of a murdered prostitute.”

Carly parried his attempt to shock by staying neutral. “I’d heard she’d been killed, and I just now saw the paper.”

“So you know who I mean. Why did she have your card?”

“Because I gave it to her. I thought she might have some information about the Burke murder.”

“Before or after I told you to stay out of it?” He put the card back in his wallet without taking his eyes off Carly.

Carly felt an uneasy tension creep into her gut.
This isn’t about being asked to rejoin the investigation.
“After, on my own time, I went and found her.”

“What did she tell you?” The tone of his voice changed at the same time the expression on his face changed. Carly knew the expression. It was the you-can-trust-me face, or I’m-here-to-help face, designed to con anyone out of anything.

“Nothing. She was scared to death; she’d been beaten up.”

The sergeant took a moment to digest this and then changed gears. “Jeff Hanks is a friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“He was my ex-husband’s best man when we were married.”
It sure took you a long time to get around to Jeff. What’s your game?

“Have you seen him lately?”

Carly hesitated. “Are you here because of this article?” She pointed to the paper. “Are you accusing Jeff of murder?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m saying: the worst crime I can think of is when a cop changes sides, when he forgets his oath and crosses the line. That’s what happened here. Jeff crossed the line. Yes, he murdered the hooker, and my guess is he killed her because he thought she talked to you.”

“Because she talked to me? What do you mean?” She nearly came out of her chair. He’d done just what she hadn’t wanted him to do, caught her by surprise, and she knew her face showed it.

His expression was cop unreadable, his tone a trifle conciliatory. “First of all, I want you to know that I came here unofficially. I want to help you before things get out of hand. I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip about Jeff and the mayor.” He didn’t give Carly a chance to respond before continuing. “It’s more than gossip. And there is a real fear that evidence will show Jeff paid those two kids to kill the mayor.”

Carly failed a second time to keep the shock from registering.
Is that why Jeff wanted to talk to me, to see if Londy dropped his name?

“I know it’s hard to believe,” the sergeant said, holding his hand up to stop Carly’s response. “But Jeff is a cop. He found out who interviewed the suspects. He knew you talked to the minor and located the hooker, and he got antsy.”

“Whoa, I can’t believe this!” Carly stood and paced her small living room. Andi’s words echoed as she digested the sergeant’s accusations.
“He could have been out doing anything, including murder. . . .”
Anger flared as doubt about Jeff swelled.
Was he just using me to get information? Is Jeff really a killer?

“I know.” The sergeant was all compassion and understanding now. “It’s a horrible thing. But if you had stayed out of things like you were told, you never would have led Jeff to the working girl.”

Carly’s stomach knotted in fear and disgust. If what the sergeant said was true, Jeff had merely been trying to manipulate her. If what Jeff said was true, the sergeant was doing the manipulating.

Something wasn’t right.

“If Jeff was having an affair with the mayor, why would he kill her?”

“It’s the oldest story in the book. She was going to tell his wife, and he would have lost everything.”

That didn’t add up. Teresa would have lost more by exposing an affair than Jeff.

She remembered Jeff’s warning to trust no one, including his best friend, Nick. His paranoia had bugged her at the time.
I just can’t see Jeff as a murderer. Why is Tucker convinced?

“Why are you telling me all this?” She stopped pacing and faced the sergeant.

“Because I have a feeling you know where Jeff is.”

Why?
Unless he knew she’d shared dinner with Jeff. She’d told no one about meeting Jeff, except for Joe. And she trusted him implicitly. No one would know about the dinner unless they’d been watching her or Jeff.

Derek. But what possible connection could he have to any of this?

Nothing made sense. Carly banked on her instinct to rebel against pressure, and the sergeant was the pressure. “I have no idea where Jeff is. He’s a narcotics officer; I work juvenile.”

“Carly, I’m trying to help you.” Tucker’s patience and compassion drained away like a wave receding from the shore and his tone became pleading. “Why would you cover for someone who in all likelihood is a murderer?”

“Why do you think I would know anything about Jeff?”

“I’ll ask you point blank.” He stood, and for a second she thought she saw anger flash across his face. “Have you had any contact with Jeff Hanks? This case is too big for any kind of game playing. The political pressure is intense.”

Is he mad at me or mad at the politics involved?
she wondered. He was right about game playing, but she wasn’t the one playing games. And now Carly’s choice was clear: who to believe, Jeff or Tucker? Which side would she pick?

“I have nothing to tell you.”

Tucker blew out a breath and brought a hand to his mouth, dragging it down his chin and letting it drop to his side. Carly again couldn’t read his expression and wondered if she had just committed suicide, in more ways than one. She didn’t look away.

“Carly, my hands are tied here. For your own sake, stay out of my murder investigation. I’m making the keep-out order official to help you, not to hurt you. But if you disobey a direct order, there are people with more power than me who will see to it that you are suspended so fast your head will spin.”