Authors: Rayven T. Hill
Though barely discernible, even through the glass, she saw faint scratches around the entrance to the keyhole. And the scratches were fresh. There was no doubt in her mind the lock had been picked, and this door was how the intruder had entered the garage to plant the incriminating evidence.
They rarely used this door, usually accessing the garage through an entranceway leading from the kitchen.
Annie stood and gazed at the door.
All she had proved was the trespasser knew how to pick a lock. She already knew the money had been planted as part of the frame-up.
Annie tried the door. It was locked. King had entered the garage from the kitchen, so the invader had locked up behind him when he’d left.
Selecting a key from her ring, she unlocked the door, wove her way through the tape, and stepped inside. Sunlight streamed into the dim garage from a rear window and glared off the trunk of the Firebird. She flicked on a light switch and went to the window. It was securely locked, and it didn’t look like it had been tampered with.
Jake always kept the garage spotless, and though she studied the floor thoroughly, she didn’t see any footprints, and nothing appeared out of place. She pulled open each of the drawers in Jake’s tool chest where the money had been found and came up blank.
She left the garage, locking up the door behind her. As she headed around to the front of the house, she stopped short.
Her brand-new Toyota stood in the driveway, and Hank was climbing out from under the steering wheel. A cruiser stood waiting at the curb—Hank’s ride back.
“I pulled a couple of strings,” the cop said with an unsmiling face as she approached him. “It’s the least I could do.”
She took the car keys he offered and tucked them into the pocket of her jeans. “I appreciate it, Hank.”
The detective cleared his throat and looked down at his shuffling feet. “Annie,” he began, looking back up before continuing, “regardless of how I feel about this case, and no matter what the evidence shows, I know you think Jake’s innocent.”
“Of course.”
Hank looked away and seemed to be considering his next words. He took a deep breath and looked at Annie, a slight frown on his face. “Annie, it’s my duty to warn you not to harbor Jake. If you have knowledge of his whereabouts and don’t tell me, it’s a criminal offense.”
“I’m aware of the law,” Annie said.
Hank paused and appeared to be forcing out the words as he spoke. “Then you’re also aware aiding and abetting a murderer makes you culpable.”
Annie put her hands on her hips and glared at Hank. “Jake’s not a murderer.”
Hank shuffled his feet again. “I’ve done my duty.” He sighed deeply. “So, if you know anything, you’d better not tell me.”
Annie breathed a small sigh of relief, offering a hint of a smile. “I won’t.” Her smile widened. “And if you know anything, I won’t tell anyone you told me.”
The cop shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid I have no good news. Forensics determined the pistol used in the bank robbery was the same one that shot Mrs. Overstone.”
“I assumed as much,” Annie said and then asked, “How is she?”
“She’s not out of the woods yet. She’s still in the ICU, and I haven’t been able to talk to her. I’ve left word I need to see her as soon as she’s able.”
“What about her husband?” Annie asked. “Is it possible he was involved?”
Hank shook his head. “I’ve checked out his alibi. He was showing a house. That’s not to say he doesn’t know anything about it, but unless there’s something I haven’t thought of, I have no reason to think he was involved.”
“And yet, you’re going on the assumption Jake was?”
“It’s more than an assumption, Annie. It’s the evidence. And to make matters worse, I can’t confirm Jake’s alibi. I talked to the man who’d allegedly employed him for that evening, and though it appears to be on the up and up, I can’t place Jake anywhere for certain at the time of the bank robbery.”
“He wasn’t at the bank,” Annie said flatly. “And he didn’t kill anyone.”
“Annie, we found a burner phone under the front seat of your car. There was a text message, sent from that phone to Mrs. Overstone’s cell phone.”
Annie tilted her head. “And?”
Hank paused. “The message said he was bringing her some money.”
Annie frowned. “What does that prove?”
“Nothing for certain. But the supposition is, he was bringing her a cut from the bank robbery. Perhaps blackmail.”
“That’s absurd,” Annie said.
“Perhaps,” Hank said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is.”
“It is,” Annie said. “And your job is to find the truth. Whether you want to admit it or not, Hank, you know Jake’s innocent.”
Hank cleared his throat. “I have to get back at it,” he said, turning to leave. He stopped and turned back. “It would be best if Jake surrendered. Running makes him look guilty. Although, I really don’t expect you’ll be seeing him.”
Annie thought she saw a twinkle in Hank’s eye before he turned away and strode toward the waiting cruiser.
Tuesday, 6:39 p.m.
WHEN HANK GOT BACK to the precinct, he went immediately to Callaway’s desk. The young cop was a high-tech genius and, as far as Hank was concerned, an absolute wizard with anything computer related. Callaway was indispensable when it came to ferreting out nuggets of information that might otherwise go undiscovered.
Callaway had repeatedly gone over the video of the bank robbery. Other than a pixelated blowup of the robber’s face, he’d been unable to find anything that might help to identify the thief. Hank had viewed the disturbing video many times as well, and now as he leaned in to the monitor, he was still unable to rule out Jake as a viable suspect.
If it wasn’t Jake, what could be seen of the bank robber bore an uncanny resemblance to his friend. He had the same muscular appearance, the same towering stature, and even moved in much the same manner. Whether or not it was Jake, the unclear facial features could easily be perceived from a distance as Jake’s.
Hank sat back and looked up at Callaway, who was leaning over the desk. “What do you think, Callaway? Is that Jake?”
Callaway blew out a long breath. “I’ve been over this thing a thousand times, Hank, and I can’t give you a positive answer. Physically, he looks like Jake. There’s no doubt about that. But when you see how coolly he raises the gun and shoots the woman, well, that ain’t Jake.”
Hank had watched the cold-blooded killing of the woman—every time he went over the video. And he cringed each time the victim crumpled to the floor just before the killer turned and ran. He hated to think his longtime friend could be so heartless.
But if this case ever went to trial, the video, along with the other evidence, would be more than enough to convince a jury of Jake’s guilt.
Hank leaned in a little closer to the screen and squinted as the video replayed the horrific scene near the front door of the bank. He pointed to the monitor. “Was it my imagination, or did I see a reflection in the glass when the security guard pulled the mask off?”
Callaway leaned closer, worked the mouse, and then paused the video. “It’s a side view,” he said. He took a screenshot and did some fiddling in Photoshop, and the image became clearer.
But not clear enough. The side view of the robber proved nothing either way.
“I think we’ve squeezed out about all we’re gonna get from this video,” Callaway said.
Hank sighed and sat back. He had a lot of evidence—all circumstantial—but what he wanted was some cold hard proof. Mrs. Overstone’s testimony was the closest thing to that necessary proof, and if it was to be believed, Jake was the killer.
But until Hank was fully convinced, bringing Jake in was a task he approached half-heartedly. Captain Diego had been eyeing him, and Hank assumed the captain was making sure he treated this case like any other.
Diego could rest assured Hank was doing his utmost. A BOLO had been issued, and a search for Jake was underway. Perhaps not convinced of Hank’s dedication, Captain Diego had supervised the organizing of the manhunt himself.
Hank had considered asking Diego to excuse him from the case, but he’d dismissed the thought immediately. He’d stick it out as long as Diego allowed. The Lincolns and RHPD had had a close relationship in the past, and Jake and Annie had proven invaluable to his investigations many times. Hank knew Diego had a soft spot for the investigators as well, but the captain didn’t have the option of backing away. Especially when it could mean his career if he showed partiality and was wrong.
Callaway interrupted Hank’s thoughts by digging through a stack of folders on his desk, pulling one out, and dropping it in front of Hank.
“Here’s the info you asked for,” the whiz said. “Phone records and financials.”
Hank took the folder and stood. “Thanks, Callaway,” he said. He went back to his desk, dropped into his chair, and opened the folder.
He looked up as Detective King approached his desk. King settled into the guest chair opposite Hank and sipped at a cup of coffee a moment before speaking.
“Just got back from Richmond Realty,” King said. “Overstone wasn’t there, but I interviewed everyone in the office.” He shrugged. “According to the general consensus, Niles Overstone is the epitome of a gentleman. I was almost laughed out of the place when I questioned one woman regarding the possibility of him having an affair.”
Hank waited patiently while King paused and took a big bite of a blueberry muffin, washing it down with a gulp of coffee.
King continued, “They all said pretty much the same thing. The guy talks about his wife more than anything else.” King shrugged. “If he’s getting some on the side, he’s sure fooling a lot of people.”
“And Mrs. Overstone?” Hank asked.
“Pretty much the same thing. Though they don’t know her all that well, her coworkers at the bank said they never had any indication she could be having a fling. Just not the type, they said. Kind, gentle, and quiet.” King took another gulp. “Doesn’t prove anything, really, but that’s what I got.”
Hank nodded. King’s findings appeared to confirm what Hank had already suspected. Neither husband nor wife was having an affair.
King stood. “Think I’ll get another muffin and then head home. You need anything else?”
“Not tonight,” Hank said, then frowned. “We have to get back at it early in the morning, so don’t be late coming in.”
“No problem,” King said, then wandered toward the rear of the precinct.
Hank turned back to his desk and browsed the folder.
Callaway had obtained the complete financial records of the Lincolns, along with the recent phone records of both the Lincolns and the Overstones.
He looked through the Lincolns’ financials first. He made some notes and some calculations, then sat back and studied what he had found.
Annie had gotten a new car a couple of days ago. It would take a sizable amount of money to pay for it, but they’d given the dealership a large down payment and financed the balance through the Commerce Bank. That still left them with a healthy business bank account, and their personal savings account had been growing steadily for some time.
Hank didn’t see the Lincolns’ dealings with the Commerce Bank as a factor. It was a business-friendly bank, and a lot of companies dealt with them. Nonetheless, he wrote himself a reminder to check with the bank manager again to see if she could shed further light on the situation. Although the exact details of the car loan would require a warrant, it didn’t seem necessary at this point.
On the surface, the Lincolns’ records pointed to one conclusion—there was no need for Jake to rob a bank. If he had, his motive didn’t appear to be related to a financial need.
The phone records were next. He was especially interested in the last couple of weeks. A call had been made to Jake from Mrs. Overstone’s cell phone. He already knew that. Her phone was in evidence along with Jake’s cell and the burner phone. Other than the known calls, Hank couldn’t find anything that stood out.
But to be thorough, everyone on the lists would need to be identified and contacted. It would be a time-consuming job, but it was one he’d put Detective King to work on. Rather than spending so much time lounging at the watercooler or half-asleep in the break room, his partner could do some mundane tasks for a change.
Besides, Hank had other things to do. Things that didn’t require King’s particular style of police work.
He glanced up as an officer approached his desk and handed him an evidence bag. “This is from Jameson,” the cop said. “They found the other bullet. Apparently, it was missed at first because it was lodged under the base of a window frame.”
Hank took the bag and held it up. According to the written information, the bullet had been found embedded in the far wall of the living room that adjoined the kitchen.
That fit the neighbor’s story of hearing two shots. The weapon’s capacity was ten rounds plus one in the chamber. The gun had contained eight remaining rounds when it was found. It appeared the killer had started with a fully loaded weapon before the bank robbery and, when all was said and done, had fired three.
CSI had determined the trajectory of the bullet had been at an upward angle, most likely originating from a spot one to two feet above where the body had been found.
That also fit Jake’s story. He’d claimed the gun had fired during his struggle to free it from Mrs. Overstone’s grasp. But it could also mean whoever had killed her had missed with the first shot, or perhaps with the second.
Hank looked at the bullet, then at the folder of financial information, and wondered what it all proved.
Tuesday, 8:13 p.m.
ANNIE WAS PLEASED TO have her car back for more than one reason. She hadn’t been able to take it for a spin yet, but more importantly, she’d been dreading the thought of asking to borrow her mother’s car. How could she tell her mother her brand-new vehicle was in the police impound lot? It was going to be hard enough to explain Jake’s absence.