Authors: Rayven T. Hill
“Thanks, Yappy,” Hank said. “Do you wanna see if you can round up King?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Last I saw him, he was heading for the break room.”
“I’ll get him,” Yappy said, scurrying away.
A minute later, King approached Hank, and the two cops headed for Diego’s office. The captain was hunched over his desk, involved in some paperwork. Hank tapped on the door and Diego looked up.
“You wanted to see us, Captain?” Hank asked.
Diego sat back, pushed his paperwork aside, and waved them in.
Hank sat in the guest chair and stretched out his legs. King leaned in his usual place, holding up the filing cabinet, his arms crossed.
The captain stroked his dark mustache, then laid his arms on the armrest and observed Hank a moment before speaking.
“I’m a little concerned about the both of you, but mainly you, Hank,” Diego said, his jowls quivering as he talked. “I know how close you are to the Lincolns, and I have serious issues with you concerning this case.”
Hank frowned. “What kind of issues, Captain?”
“Frankly, I’m not sure how well you can do your job.” Diego paused and straightened his tie, then cleared his throat before continuing, “I’d be lying if I said this case didn’t disturb me, as well. I have a soft spot for Jake and Annie. You know that, Hank. But I have to do my job, and so do both of you.”
“I’m doing my job, Captain,” Hank said. “As close as this is to me, I can’t let personal relationships get in my way.”
“Diego glanced at King a moment, then back at Hank, and waved a hand toward the precinct floor. “I understand that, Hank, but you’re under scrutiny. Not only by me, but by many out there. If it turns out Jake’s involved in these crimes, IA might take a hard look at it simply because of your involvement.” Diego narrowed his eyes. “And you know how they can be. Sometimes they’ve nothing better to do, and even the slightest indication of impropriety on your part could mean a serious reprimand, perhaps even your job.”
King shuffled his feet uneasily and recrossed his arms.
“And that goes for you, too, King,” Diego said. “Watch your butts, both of you.”
“So you’re not pulling us off?” Hank asked, half-wishing the captain would’ve removed him from the case. He was having his own serious doubts about how well he could do his job.
“Of course not. Consider this a warning,” Diego said. He leaned forward and held up a finger. “Not because I have any suspicions of misconduct by either one of you, but you’re both good cops, and this is a touchy matter.”
The captain glared long and hard at King a moment, then sat back and crossed his arms above his ample belly. He took a deep breath, and his demeanor relaxed. “So, where are we on this case?”
Hank looked at King, and King looked back at Hank.
Hank took a breath. “We haven’t made a lot of headway,” he said. “But we’re following the evidence, and most of it leads to Jake. We have his story, and it all fits, but the evidence says otherwise.”
“I’ve gone over his story as well,” Diego said. “I’m not saying he’s innocent, but assuming for a second he is, do you have anything at all that gives him the benefit of the doubt?”
“He had no motive,” Hank said. “That’s the strongest defense I can give him right now.”
“Assuming his motive isn’t money, then,” Diego said, “what does Jake stand to gain by any of this?”
“Nothing to gain, Captain, and everything to lose.”
“Nothing obvious, at least,” King put in. “We can’t find any prior connection between Jake and either of the Overstones.”
“Or the woman killed at the bank,” Hank added. “Or anyone else remotely involved.”
“Keep digging,” Diego said. “Dig long and hard. If he had any motive at all, no matter how obscure, I want to know about it.”
“You got it, Captain.”
“In the meantime,” Diego continued, “we have to bring Jake in no matter what. He’ll get a fair trial, there’s no doubt about that, but we have to find him.”
“We’re trying,” King said. “And so are the officers on the street.”
Diego steepled his fingers under his chin and looked at Hank over top. “What about Annie?”
“What about her, Captain?”
“Have you talked to her?”
“She’s Jake’s wife,” Hank said. “She’s standing by him.”
“Keep in touch with her,” Diego said. “She’s as smart as a whip, and she’s the only one fully convinced of Jake’s innocence. If she comes up with something to help Jake’s case, you have my support to pursue it. But it has to be something convincing. You have a job to do.”
“We’ll do our job, Captain. Finding out the truth, no matter how troubling it is, is what we’re sworn to do.”
Diego nodded. “Then do it. Bring Jake in, or prove him innocent. Or both, but keep me informed.”
Hank stood. “You got it, Captain.”
“Go,” Diego said, dismissing them with a wave. He pulled a file folder toward him and flipped it open.
King followed Hank back to his partner’s desk and dropped into the guest chair. “You got any ideas, Hank?”
Hank shook his head and sat down. “I’d really like to talk to Merrilla Overstone again, but it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen anytime soon.” He paused and cocked his head at King. “What about you?”
“Word on the street is somebody else is asking questions. Not sure who it is. It might be Jake, but nobody I talked to seems to know anything about either shooting.”
“Are you offering enough?”
“I’ve promised them money as well as favorable consideration in any future charges against them. Believe me, if my guys knew something, they’d spill it.”
“I’m gonna hit the streets myself a little later,” Hank said. “There’re a few guys I can talk to.” He paused. “The thing that concerns me is, if these crimes were carried out by a two-bit hood, there’s always information to be had. But when nobody knows a thing, it makes it look like the perp isn’t one of the regular street punks.”
“Doesn’t look good for Jake,” King said. “But it doesn’t prove anything.”
“It doesn’t help, either,” Hank said. “And right now, nothing seems to be helping.”
Wednesday, 4:07 p.m.
ANNIE HAD A THEORY, and she wanted to prove it. Anxious to see where it led, she called Chrissy and asked her to watch Matty for an hour or two. Her friend was home and said it would be no problem. The boys were in the backyard, and after notifying Matty she’d be out for a while, Annie grabbed her handbag along with a few things she might need and hurried to her car.
As she pulled from the driveway and drove down the street, she kept an eye in her rearview mirror. No one appeared to be following her this time. They might’ve learned their lesson before, or perhaps they were being more cautious. She’d need to be careful, as well. What she was about to do wasn’t exactly legal.
She had hoped to have access to their garage by now, giving her the ability to lock her car inside. Though it seemed like a long shot, there was always a chance someone in law enforcement might have the bright idea of putting a tracker on her vehicle. But Jake’s Firebird occupied the single-car garage, and due to the evidence found inside the building, legal entry was denied to her for the time being.
After driving around the block, she backtracked her route a couple of times, and in a few minutes, she pulled to the curb in front of the Overstone house. She was satisfied no one had been tailing her, but she had no way of knowing whether or not some eager cop was parked elsewhere at this very moment, aware of her every movement. It was a chance she had to take.
She glanced at the house. Crime scene tape crisscrossed the front door, fluttering in the afternoon breeze. The rear door would be sealed as well, and the yellow tape assured her the house would be empty, its owner still not allowed access to the residence.
After waiting a couple more minutes, she got out of her car and glanced around. The residential street was quiet, most of the homeowners still at work. She strode up the sidewalk, crossed the front of the house to the right side, then took a wide grassy pathway leading between the two properties.
She studied the side of the house. A window led into the living room, a lower one into a darkened basement. She tested both windows. They were firmly locked.
Going to the back corner, Annie peered around and glanced across the rear of the house. A waist-high hedge separated the property from the one next door, a row of bushes lining the back of the quarter acre of land.
She eased around the corner and crouched down, testing another basement window. It was secure as well, and Annie was beginning to doubt her theory.
Then, moving across the back of the house, she climbed the steps to a small deck. Her eyes widened. A woman lounged in a deck chair next door. Annie ducked down and held her breath, her side view of the woman’s head and shoulders now obscured by the hedge. She waited a moment and prayed she hadn’t been seen or heard.
Reaching up with one hand, Annie gently brushed the crime scene tape aside and twisted the knob. The door was securely locked. She’d expected that.
Keeping low, she eased off the deck and tiptoed to the corner of the house. A vague outline of the neighbor was visible through the thinning bushes, the woman’s back now toward Annie.
Then, creeping up the side of the house, Annie poked at the final window leading into the basement. It opened an inch, then slapped back against the frame.
Holding her breath, she glanced around, then pushed on the window frame. The window swung upwards, clicked into place, and stayed open.
She leaned over and squinted into the dim basement, then, feet first, she eased through the window and dropped to the concrete floor.
Annie strained to see by the faint light streaming through the open window, then rifled through her handbag and removed a small flashlight. She flicked it on and shone it around. To her right, a row of shelving held a stack of magazines and cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes. Other junk was heaped in a corner. On the far side of the room, a set of stairs led to the main floor.
She eased around a washing machine, navigated past a stack of boxes, then reached the stairs and looked up. The door at the top yawned open.
Annie climbed the stairs, stepped into the kitchen, and looked at her surroundings. The floor had been cleaned where she imagined the victim’s blood had been spilled. The rest of the room was tidy, probably exactly how it’d been before the fateful incident.
According to Hank, jewelry and other valuable items had been found where they should be, and the presumption had been that the home hadn’t been burglarized. Annie felt sure the intruder’s intention had been solely to kill Mrs. Overstone and get out of there.
But where did Jake fit into the picture?
Annie wandered into the living room, where light streamed through sheers covering a large front window. The room was immaculate. Photos lined the mantel above the fireplace, and more were on end tables, all featuring smiling images of better days. Plants were drooping on the coffee table. The hardwood floor was clean and gleamed in the sunlight.
She went into an office leading off the hallway. A faint smell of perfume hung in the air. Removing a pair of gloves from her handbag, she rummaged through a filing cabinet. It contained nothing more than carefully filed receipts for bills and mortgage payments, all neatly labeled, categorized, and tucked safely into manila folders.
She turned and flashed the light around the room. A bookcase contained rows of novels. A few prints hung on the brightly painted walls. The desk was organized and clean, a smiling photo of Niles Overstone prominently displayed. Pulling open the top drawer, she saw the usual assortment of necessities—a stapler, tape, pens, and pencils.
A side drawer in the desk appeared to be empty. It seemed unusual, so she flicked on her flashlight, knelt down, and peered inside. There was no doubt it was totally bare. The drawer seemed to be a snug fit, but she managed to work it closed, then she shone the flashlight around the room, taking another quick look before heading for the door.
She stopped, thought a moment, then went back to the desk and opened the side drawer again. Sliding back a clip on either side, she tugged the drawer completely out, then set it on the floor and knelt down. She directed her light inside and smiled grimly.
A small envelope was taped to the floor of the cavity. She worked the packet loose, stood, and turned it over in her hands. There was no writing on the package, but after shaking it, she was pretty sure she knew what it contained. She flipped open the envelope and peered inside. It held a pair of keys.
Safety deposit box keys.
Annie stared at them a moment. The box they unlocked might contain something valuable, and perhaps invaluable to the investigation. But what could she do with them? She’d have no legal access to the box. Only the police could do that, and she wasn’t about to tell Hank she’d broken into the Overstone house.
There wasn’t much point in putting them back. The investigators had missed them the first time, and it was doubtful they would do a second search.
Did Niles Overstone know about the existence of these keys? Perhaps he’d put them there, but Annie assumed Merrilla had hidden them. The feminine touches in the office made her suspect the wife took care of the family business, and it was likely Merrilla’s desk and her keys.
Annie dropped the envelope into her handbag, replaced the drawer, and left the office, hoping she’d discovered something useful.
After a quick look around the second floor of the house, she left through the basement window and peeked through the hedge. The woman still sat in her chair next door, engrossed in a magazine or paperback.
Annie hurried to her car.
The intention of her excursion to the Overstone house had not been to discover any new evidence. The keys had been a bonus. Her plan had been to work on her theory, and she now felt she’d been correct.
Whoever had shot Mrs. Overstone had hurried down to the basement after the shooting, then had left through the basement window, with no choice but to leave it unlocked.