Authors: Rayven T. Hill
Lisa glanced at the unmade bed and decided she’d stand.
Don moved to one side where he had a good view of both parties and waited for Lisa’s cue.
She signaled him, the red light glowed, and Lisa spoke. “Mr. Overstone, it’s come to my attention the bank robbery and the unfortunate attempt on your wife’s life might be related. Can you comment?”
“I really have no knowledge of that. It seems feasible, though, and that’s what the police are presuming. As much as I’ve tried, Detective Corning hasn’t told me what the connection is.”
“And as yet, the police have no suspect. Is that correct?” Lisa asked.
Overstone hesitated, then said, “The detective showed me some photos to identify. Though he didn’t implicitly state any connection, he showed a lot of interest when I identified Jake Lincoln.”
“Jake Lincoln?”
Overstone shrugged. “I got the feeling he’s involved somehow.”
“Perhaps he and his wife are investigating the case?”
“No. It’s more than that.”
“Have you talked to the Lincolns?”
“No. Never. I’m only aware of who they are.”
This was an interesting tidbit. If the Lincolns were in on the investigation, surely they would’ve contacted Niles Overstone or appeared at the crime scenes. One way or another, Lisa had always managed to run across them during any case they were working on.
Could Niles’s assumption be correct? Was Jake suspected to be involved, and that’s why Hank had been so close-mouthed? But Lisa had known the Lincolns for some time, and she was finding it hard to believe. They had often risked their own lives to prevent an innocent person from being harmed.
She’d have to dig into this a little further. With a possible name to go on, it would be easier to get at the truth through her connections.
She put her speculation regarding Jake Lincoln on hold and changed the subject. “Tell me about your wife, Mr. Overstone.”
Overstone’s eyes seemed to cloud over as he glanced at the ceiling a moment before speaking. “My wife’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” His lips tightened. “The idea she might’ve been criminally involved with something is absurd. She has no need to be. We live quite comfortably.”
“Perhaps she witnessed the bank robbery, and the robber tried to eliminate her,” Lisa suggested.
“She never saw his face. She told me that.”
“Perhaps the thief didn’t know for sure.”
Overstone sighed. “We’ve never told anyone this. Even our friends don’t know, but my wife was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer just over a year ago.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Lisa said as sincerely as she could manage.
The distraught man nodded in recognition of Lisa’s comment before continuing, “She has good days and bad days, and she’s finally come to accept the harsh truth. She only has a few months, maybe a few short weeks, left, but on her good days, she’s determined to carry on as long as she’s able and enjoy what time she has left.”
“Why’re you telling this now?” Lisa asked.
Overstone looked down at his fidgeting hands, then back at Lisa. “Whoever did this to her has taken away much of the precious time we have left together. I want the world to know what kind of a woman she is.” He shrugged and sighed. “Maybe it’ll help find out who tried to kill her.”
“Are the police not aware of this?”
“I doubt it. She’s in intensive care, and no one but myself has any kind of access to see her. I assume the doctors at the hospital are aware of her condition, but perhaps they’re keeping her medical history out of this. Or maybe the police aren’t asking. It’s not really important to the case.”
Lisa bit her lip and glared at Overstone down her long sharp nose. In light of the news he’d revealed to her, accusing the Overstones of having affairs or any criminal involvement wouldn’t come across in the right way to her countless fans. And since her fans were the most important, she decided to put any accusations on hold for now.
This was turning into a human-interest story and, as always, she had to find a way to bring a little dirt into it without appearing heartless.
Lisa stifled a yawn as Overstone rambled on and on about his wife, Don patiently capturing the lengthy monologue.
When he was finished, Lisa thanked him and stood, forcing her wide mouth to twist into a pleasant smile.
As she and Don left the man behind, Lisa’s mind whirled with ideas. By the end of the day, she hoped to have enough to edit together a piece worthy of her adoring fans.
Wednesday, 8:11 a.m.
HANK DROPPED HIS briefcase beside his desk, checked with Callaway to see if the whiz had dug up anything new, then wandered into the break room for a cup of sludge. The room was empty, which probably meant King hadn’t arrived yet.
After fixing up his coffee as much as possible with some cream and a generous helping of sugar, he sat at the break room table, sipping his drink and considering his next move.
The day before, he’d obtained the information from Annie regarding the supposed stakeout Jake had been on during the time of the bank robbery. The detective had spent much of the prior evening, as well as an hour this morning, doggedly retracing Jake’s steps as much as was possible.
If Jake had been following the suspected cheater around, then he’d done a good job of staying invisible. Hank was unable to find anyone who’d seen Jake or the woman he claimed to have been tracking.
Though the absence of information wasn’t evidence of Jake’s guilt, it also didn’t do a thing to prove his innocence. In fact, except for the lack of a motive, there was nothing to show Jake had not been involved in the death of an innocent woman and the attempted murder of another.
Hank had also done a background check on Arlina Madine, thoroughly researching the murder victim at the bank robbery. He’d come up blank. It seemed certain the murdered woman had no connection to the case and was just the unfortunate victim of circumstances.
He set his cup on the table and glanced toward the doorway as a young officer poked his head in, a silly grin on his face and a scrap of paper in one hand. It was Officer Spiegle. The cop usually served at the front desk, a position that fitted him well; he wasn’t a whole lot of good for much else. Going by the name of Yappy for no obvious reason, in spite of his shortcomings, he was well liked for his amiable and helpful attitude.
The officer wandered in and sat opposite Hank. “Just got word from the hospital, Hank.” He paused and consulted the paper. “Someone by the name of Merrilla Overstone is awake and the doctor said you can talk to her briefly.”
Hank jumped up and dumped the rest of his muddy drink down the drain. “Thanks, Yappy,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried from the room. He glanced around the precinct floor. Officers and detectives scurried to and fro. Phones rang and were answered. The place was a hub of activity, every cop accounted for and doing what they did best.
Except for Detective King.
Hank shook his head, perturbed at the cop’s tardiness, though not surprised. Unless he was on the streets following up a lead or doing an interview, King usually wandered in half an hour late.
He grabbed his briefcase, nodded at Yappy on the way out, and hurried to his car parked at the back of the precinct.
He jumped into his vehicle, brought it to life, and glanced at an approaching car. It was King.
Hank opened his window and waited until his partner had parked his vehicle and stepped out.
King swaggered over to Hank’s Chevy and leaned down, looking at Hank through the driver-side window. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Mrs. Overstone’s awake. Get in.”
King scurried around the front of the vehicle and got in the passenger side. He stifled a yawn and fastened his seat belt.
Hank pulled from the lot and turned onto the street. “Can’t you be on time for once?”
King shrugged. “I was working late. Besides, nothing much happens in the morning.”
“The least you could do is change your clothes once in a while,” Hank said, then left it at that when King shrugged again. There wasn’t much point in arguing. King would never change.
When they reached Richmond Hill General Hospital, Hank pulled into the circle drive and stopped short of the main entrance, and the two cops got out. The sticker visible on the windshield of his car would prevent an eager officer from having it towed away.
They took the elevator to the third floor and Hank tapped on the opened door of Mrs. Overstone’s room. Niles Overstone sat in a chair pulled up close to the bed, holding his wife’s hand. When the detectives entered the room, Overstone glanced toward them and then laid his wife’s hand gently on the bed and stood to greet them.
A nurse was at the bedside, checking the IV drip, adjusting tubes, and monitoring beeping life support devices. She glanced at the cops as they approached. Her upraised finger along with the expression on her face warned them to be quiet. Hank glanced at King and decided his partner would know enough to behave himself.
Niles Overstone shook Hank’s hand and nodded at King, a grim expression on his face. “She’s awake, and the doctor says she’s stable.”
“We just need a few minutes,” Hank said. “I only have a couple of questions for her.”
Hank glanced at Mrs. Overstone. The woman lay with her eyes closed, her arms resting at her side. An IV drip was taped securely to her pale white skin. The slight up-and-down movement of the sheet gave the only indication the woman was alive and breathing.
Her eyelids flickered, then her eyes opened, and she focused on the ceiling. She took a couple of light gasping breaths and then lay quietly.
“Detective Corning is here,” Mr. Overstone said, caressing his wife’s cheek. “Can you talk to him a moment?”
She turned her eyes toward her husband and gave him a weak nod and a slight smile.
Hank glanced at the stern face of the nurse, then leaned over toward the patient. “Mrs. Overstone, it’s Detective Corning. Can you tell us who shot you?”
Mrs. Overstone’s voice came out in a gravelly whisper. “Jake Lincoln.”
Hank was taken aback. Somehow he hadn’t expected that answer. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Why?” Hank asked.
She shook her head. “Bank robbery.”
The beeping life support system changed to a long screech and Hank stepped back. The nurse frantically waved them away. “Go now,” she said, scurrying to the bedside.
Two more nurses appeared, and the room became a hive of activity. The cops and Mr. Overstone were steered out to the hallway by an attendant.
Hank had wanted to ask the woman a few more questions, but it appeared it wasn’t going to be possible real soon. He glanced at Niles Overstone. The man had his eyes on the entranceway to his wife’s room, panic gripping his face.
In a few moments, the reassuring sound of a steady beep beep came from the room, and Niles Overstone breathed a sigh of relief. For the time being, Mrs. Overstone would be all right.
Overstone turned to Hank, a deep frown darkening his face. “My wife said it was Jake Lincoln.”
Hank nodded thoughtfully and spoke in a soothing voice to the distraught man. “We’ll do our best to bring him in as soon as possible.”
King stepped forward. “I’m not so sure your wife knew what she was saying. She appeared delusional right after she was shot, and she still might not be thinking straight.”
Overstone gave King a black look. “My wife’s not delusional,” he said. “I talked to her earlier, and she knows where she is and what’s going on.”
King shrugged and stepped back, and Hank wondered why his partner was sticking up for Jake. Perhaps it was because King had taken a dislike for Overstone, expressing his doubt about the man’s innocence on a couple of occasions.
As far as Hank was concerned, he had the word of the victim. It was the strongest evidence they had against his friend, and something he couldn’t afford to disregard no matter what his personal feelings were.
A doctor stepped from the room, introduced himself to the cops, and spoke in a quiet voice. “I’m afraid I can’t let you see Mrs. Overstone again right now. She’s been through a lot, physically and emotionally, and reliving the traumatic events might’ve been too much for her in her weakened state.”
“I understand, doctor,” Hank said. He took a business card from his jacket pocket and held it out. “Please call me if she becomes stable. It’s very important.”
The doctor took the card, glanced at it, then dropped it into the pocket of his jacket. “I’ll let you know, Detective.” He put a hand on King’s shoulder. “You’d better go now.”
Hank and King left the area, leaving Overstone behind to talk with the doctor and worry about his wife.
Wednesday, 9:05 a.m.
AS SOON AS ANNIE HAD gotten Matty off to school, she had sat at her desk and gone over the facts of the case. Half an hour later, she was still stumped. It seemed to her that, other than the unknown robber, the only people who might possibly know the real story were the Overstones.
She had called Jake a little earlier. He’d survived the night more comfortably in Sammy’s hideout than he’d expected, and though the homeless man hadn’t turned up a lead yet, Annie was pleased to hear her husband was optimistic and in good spirits.
Unlike the police, Annie knew her husband was innocent, and her objective was clear—to prove it. But with no leads to follow, it didn’t look as easy as it sounded.
Jake was in the same boat, and right now all he could do was stay in hiding until either she or Sammy uncovered something he could run with.
She knew Hank would do the right thing, whatever that was. But with the cop determined to follow the evidence, and without a clear certainty of Jake’s innocence, she was afraid Hank wasn’t going to be asking the right questions of the right people.
Hank was stuck in a legal box, and his cop’s mind wouldn’t let him think outside of it.