Behind the Badge, page 9
Either about the case—or about you.
Chapter 8
“I keep going straight to Mann’s voicemail.” Crys checked her watch again. It was just after 9:00 a.m. Wednesday. “That’s the second message I’ve left for him this morning. He was supposed to get us his suspect list yesterday. I’ve left messages for Monica, too. Neither of them is getting back to me.”
Crys’s thumb tapped an impatient rhythm on her desk as her eyes lingered on Luke. He stood akimbo, facing the crime board. His shoulders were straight and broad under a warm blue shirt, tapering to a slim waist. His large hands were hooked on his lean hips over the tailored gray pants that covered his long legs. Despite herself, Crys’s heart fluttered. She didn’t trust the agent but darn it, that didn’t stop her body from appreciating his.
“Let’s give him a few more minutes.” Luke spoke over his shoulder. “Then I’ll call Cal to find out what’s going on.” He’d crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his shirt more tightly across his back. Crys swallowed hard before tearing her eyes from him.
The board wasn’t encouraging. Just four victims—Rita Gomez, Alfred Murphy, Sally Stead and Carter Wainscott—and a bunch of questions with no answers. Yet. How were these people connected? When and why did their paths cross? Where were they murdered? Red X’s were scattered across the color printout of the Griggs Reservoir Park map. They marked the areas in which the four victims had been recovered.
Crys sat straighter on her chair. “I think it’s suspicious that Brock didn’t send us the list yesterday. And that he and Monica are dodging our calls today.”
“Agreed.” Luke turned to face her. His front was even more distracting than his back. “But we verified his alibis. His wife assured us he’d left the house at his usual time, seven. And the security guard confirmed he’d arrived for work a few minutes before eight as usual.”
“I remember.” She’d been there. Although it wouldn’t have hurt her feelings to keep Brock on their suspect list a little longer. Like Jade, she was having a hard time getting past the fact he’d laid off her sister after hiring a higher-paid executive. “But if he doesn’t have anything to hide, why isn’t he giving us his list of people who’ve threatened him?”
“Maybe that’s what he’s hiding.” Luke crossed back to Vic’s desk.
Crys’s eyes widened in surprise. She spun her chair to face him. “So you got the feeling he’s hiding something or someone, too?”
“Yes, I did.” Luke’s eyes searched hers. “Someone went to a lot of trouble, duplicating Brock’s ID to make him look like the serial killer. They wanted Carter Wainscott to look like another victim and they wanted Brock to take the fall for all four murders. Why?”
“Because whoever framed Brock is connected to the murders.” Crys stood to pace. “There’s a reason the copycat murdered Mr. Wainscott and a reason Brock Mann was targeted.”
“You’re saying you believe there’s a direct link between our first three victims, Wainscott and Brock?” Luke sounded skeptical.
“Yes, I do.” Crys scanned the details listed beneath each victim’s photograph and the few items written under Brock’s. What was she missing? “Why else would the copycat frame Brock for all four? Because framing him would put the copycat in the clear.”
“We haven’t even found a link between Gomez, Murphy and Stead.”
“That’s because we haven’t gone back far enough. Yet.” She returned to her desk. “You said yourself, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold.’ The question is, how cold?”
They returned to their background research. Crys dug deeper into Rita Gomez and Alfred Murphy. Luke continued looking into Sarah Stead’s and Carter Wainscott’s pasts. Was it as painfully slow going for him as it was for her, creating the sortable lists and comparing their social media contacts, both personal and professional? Each victim had dozens of social connections and scores of professional colleagues.
After more than an hour, Crys completed the list of Rita’s and Alfred’s professional associates. She stood from her chair and stretched to get her circulation moving. “I’m going to try Brock again.”
Luke nodded without looking up. She had the feeling he was deliberately avoiding eye contact with her. Odd.
Crys lifted her telephone receiver as she sat. She tapped in Brock’s number from memory. A jolt of anticipation shook her when the call connected after two rings.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice was familiar, though she didn’t sound like Monica.
Crys frowned her confusion. She met Luke’s eyes across her desk. “May I speak with Brock Mann, please?”
Luke narrowed his eyes at her question.
“Who’s calling?” The woman sounded suspicious.
“This is Detective Rashaad. Who’s this?”
“Crys? It’s Wendy. Why are you calling?”
Crys blinked. Wendy Goldman had been a homicide detective for more than a decade. Rumor had it she’d started planning her retirement. A cold foreboding swept over her.
Apparently reading her expression, Luke circled his desk. He crowded her on her right and gestured for Crys to put the phone on Speaker. She did. Crys ignored Luke’s scent—cedar and the sea.
“Wendy, I’m here with BCI Special Agent Luke Gilchrist. Brock Mann is connected to a case we’re investigating.”
There was a brief pause. “The serial killer who’s leaving their victims at Griggs?”
“That’s right.” The intensity in Luke’s deep voice sent a shiver down Crys’s spine. “Detective Goldman, what’s happened?”
Wendy’s sigh held a hint of fatigue and a wealth of sorrow. “Brock Mann was murdered. The coroner’s assistant estimates his time of death at sometime between nine and ten last night.”
Crys closed her eyes in disbelief. “How? How was he killed?”
“He was shot in the chest with what looks like a small-caliber weapon. The shooter probably stood on the other side of his desk.” Wendy hesitated as though she was taking in the crime scene again. “His admin found him about eight this morning.”
Poor Monica. Crys didn’t know whether she and Brock had a comfortable relationship. Either way, it must have been horrible to find her boss dead behind his desk.
“Did Brock often work late?” Luke’s forearm brushed Crys’s shoulder as he shifted his stance.
Heat spread across her chest. Had his touch been deliberate? Crys glanced up at him. His complete attention seemed to be on their phone call.
Wendy blew another breath, which carried through the speaker. “According to Monica, it wasn’t unusual, but she said he didn’t have any after-hours meetings on his calendar.”
Crys exchanged a look with Luke. Brock had made a private, late-night meeting after speaking with them yesterday. Could that meeting have been with the person who’d framed Brock for Carter Wainscott’s murder?
“I suppose it’s too much to hope the visitor signed the security log when they came to the building?” Luke asked.
Crys held her breath as she waited for Wendy’s answer.
“Of course, it is.” Her voice was dust dry. “Last night’s log is missing.”
Crys clenched her fist in frustration. How could that have happened? “Wendy, since Brock was connected to our investigation, I think his murder has implications on our case.”
Wendy interrupted. “I agree, and I’m way ahead of you. I’ll send you my notes and transition the case over to you. If you need anything—anything at all—let me know.”
“Thanks, Wendy. I appreciate you.” Crys ended the call.
“Great. Thanks for handling that.” Luke straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “You realize we’ll have to bring your sister in for questioning.”
Crys stood. Her body heated with her rising temper. “Brock laid off my sister more than a month ago.”
“It wouldn’t have taken the copycat that long to plan to frame him.”
Crys took a deep breath in an effort to control her emotions. Jade was an adult, but to Crys—and probably Amber, too—she’d always be their baby sister. The thought of her youngest sibling being hauled into a police interrogation room and questioned in connection with a homicide made Crys want to kick in a wall.
She narrowed her eyes on Luke’s too-handsome face. “My sister had nothing to do with Brock’s murder. Questioning her will be a waste of our time.”
“Questioning her would address our due diligence, and we’ll be able to move on with our investigation.” Luke cocked his head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to be in the room when I meet with her. I don’t think you can be objective.”
Really? Two can play this game. “Fine. I don’t want you in the room when I question Caleb.”
Luke frowned. “Cal? Why do you want to question him?”
Crys felt a fierce rush of satisfaction. “Because Caleb is next in line for Brock’s job. That gives him at least as strong a motive as you claim my sister has.” She collected her car keys, satchel and jacket. “Come on. Let’s get your buddy.”
* * *
“The company’s still in shock.” Caleb sat behind his modern white-and-bronze desk in his office at the Capital Daily News suite.
Eyeballing it, Luke estimated the room was half the size of Brock’s office. But whereas Brock used his space to advertise his standing in the community, Caleb’s came across as a giant file cabinet. It was a clutter of publication style sheets, competitor newspapers and magazines, deadline reminders and company memos. His desk balanced a large disposable cup from a nearby coffeehouse as well as a generic white porcelain mug. Coffee and clutter. Nice to know some things hadn’t changed since they’d been college roommates.
“What time did you leave last night?” Crys had been doing a continual scan of the office and its contents since they’d taken their gray cloth-cushioned seats in front of Caleb’s desk.
Caleb looked from Crys to Luke and back. Luke worked to mask his irritation and keep his expression neutral. To suspect his friend of murder would be laughable if it wasn’t so maddening, which is probably the same way Crys felt about his suspecting her sister.
The newspaperman seemed more curious than anxious over Crys’s question. No doubt he was taking mental notes for a potential story. “You consider me a suspect because I worked with him.”
Crys responded before Luke could. “Everyone’s a suspect, Mr. Brunson.”
Caleb offered her a smile. “Please call me Cal.” He continued when Crys didn’t respond. “I left work a little after six last night. I stopped by Brock’s office to make sure there wasn’t anything he needed from me and to let him know I was leaving. He said he was going to be at the office for a few more hours, which I thought was strange.”
Luke interrupted. “Why did that seem strange to you?”
Caleb’s mouth curved in a familiar crooked smile, indicating his friend smelled a story. “One of the candidates for secretary of state was hosting a fundraiser last night. High-profile people from all over the state were expected to make at least a brief appearance. Brock wouldn’t miss a prime opportunity to get himself in front of a crowd of luminaries.”
Luke made a note in his notepad. “Did he say what or whom he was waiting for?”
Caleb started shaking his head before Luke finished speaking. “No, and that was out of character, too. Brock loves—loved—to name-drop.” He paused as though making an effort to move past his shock and sadness. “He got a charge out of bragging about being on a first name basis with people who had access to people with power.”
Luke remembered Caleb making a similar observation about his now-deceased boss during one of their recent conversations. With whom had Brock planned to meet last night? Was it one of his powerbrokers, but he wanted to keep the meeting secret? Or was it with someone else?
He continued his questioning. “How did Brock seem when you stopped by his office yesterday evening?”
Caleb’s shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh as he seemed to search his memory for an answer. “He seemed anxious, almost apprehensive. I didn’t think much about it before, but I sensed he was dreading the meeting.”
Luke frowned. “What gave you that impression?”
Caleb stared into his coffee mug as though he’d found flashes of his memory in the brew. “He was fidgeting. At one point while we were talking, he left his desk to pace his office.”
With whom had the editor met last night and why had he been afraid of them?
“How would you describe your relationship with Brock?” Crys’s question drew Luke from his thoughts.
Caleb cocked his head as he considered Crys’s inquiry. The question didn’t seem to surprise his friend. “Brock and I worked well together. We didn’t always agree. On those occasions when I disagreed with him, I let him know I thought he was wrong. For example, when he let your sister go, I told him he was making a mistake. Your sister was the best investigative reporter we had. But in the end, I realized as editor and publisher, Brock was in charge and his decision was final.”
A ghost of a smile curved Crys’s bowed lips. A cynical spark brightened her dark eyes. “That’s pretty ballsy of you, bringing my sister into this investigation. Are you hoping your flattering words will give me a more favorable impression of you?”
Caleb flashed a grin. “I understand your skepticism, but I’m telling you the truth.”
Crys narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you tell her this yourself?”
Caleb shrugged his thick, black eyebrows. “I think you remember what happened when I tried.”
Luke saw the twinkle in Crys’s eyes before she lowered them to her notepad. It was time to change the subject from Caleb’s crush back to their murder investigation. “How would you describe Jade’s relationship with Brock?”
In his peripheral vision, Luke caught Crys’s sharp look, but she refrained from stating her objections.
Caleb dragged his hand over his close-cropped hair. “The whole newsroom was aware of the hostility between them. Jade was fearless when it came to her reporting. She was determined to investigate allegations of crime and corruption at all levels of industry and government, regardless of whom she ticked off. Brock wanted her to take a more cautious approach. They butted heads a lot. Some of Jade’s targets were big advertisers.”
“Do you think she’d kill someone over not being able to cover a story?” Crys’s tone dripped with sarcasm. Luke could have collected it with a spoon.
Concern darkened Caleb’s eyes. “No.” He turned to Luke. “Jade didn’t kill Brock. She wouldn’t. She’d want him to live to see her prove him wrong about her story.”
“You know my sister well.” Crys’s tension seemed to ease a bit.
“What was she working on?” Luke asked.
“She wouldn’t talk about it.” Caleb shrugged. “Jade may have a temper but she wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Luke had his doubts about that. If Jade Rashaad was like her sister, he could easily picture them resorting to violence to protect the people they loved. Luke felt an almost painful twist of envy. The question flashed across his mind: What was the cost of entry to that club?
He made a mental note. Don’t mess with Crys’s family. “Do you have any idea with whom Brock was meeting last night?”
Caleb shook his head. “Like I said, he was very secretive, unusually closemouthed about his meeting. The only thing I know is that the person he was waiting for was a man.”
Luke jumped on the clue. “How do you know that?”
Caleb shrugged. “When I asked him how late he thought he’d be in the office, Brock said he hoped he wouldn’t be much longer. I thought that was because he wanted to attend the fundraiser. Then he checked his watch and muttered something like, ‘He’s already late.’ He sounded more nervous than irritated.”
Luke stood to leave. “Thanks, Cal. You’ve been a lot of help.”
Caleb pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I don’t feel as though I’ve been helpful.” He looked between Luke and Crys. “Do you have any idea why someone would’ve killed Brock?”
Crys rose from her seat. “We can’t comment on an open investigation, but if you think of anything else that could help solve Brock’s murder, please contact us.”
Caleb nodded. “Of course.”
Luke followed Crys from the office into the anteroom where the elevator banks waited. Remembering her preference for walking, he reached past her to push open the door to the stairwell. “I think I should interview your sister on my own.”
“Not a chance, pal.” Her response was quick and unequivocal. “You didn’t wait outside while I questioned your good friend. You’re not going to treat my sister any differently.”
“I don’t think you could remain objective during the interview.” Luke jogged down the flights of stairs beside her.
Crys stopped at the second-floor landing to face him. She pinned him with her glare. “The only way you’ll keep me from that room is to physically remove me. If you try that, I’ll charge you with assault.”
As tempting as it might be to test her threat, Luke didn’t think it would be wise to push his luck. Besides, he really didn’t believe Jade Rashaad was capable of murder—any more than he believed Crys Rashaad would take a bribe.
“I believe you.” Luke walked around her to continue down the steps. “We’ll do this your way.”
“I’m glad you can be reasonable.”
Luke wasn’t sure he’d go that far. His feelings for the target of his investigation were anything but reasonable.
* * *
“One of my sisters is a homicide detective. The other is a prosecutor. I’ve covered crime in Columbus for three years. I can smell a fishing expedition.”
Luke was taken aback. He’d thought after being exposed to Crys’s directness, he’d be prepared for her youngest sister. He’d been wrong. Whereas Crys was direct, Jade Rashaad was blunt almost to the point of inflicting pain. She was in a category of her own. Still, he hoped interviewing her would give him greater insight into Crys for his investigation into allegations of her corruption—allegations that seemed more far-fetched with each passing day.
