Inherit the Bones

Chapter Nineteen

When I pulled into the station’s lot, I saw a pack of reporters and cameramen lined up outside the front door like pigs at the trough. They were early; it was barely eight o’clock and the chief had promised them the Q &A at nine.

Using my belly like a small battering ram, I made my way through the throng of people. Officer Armstrong guarded the front door. He opened it wide enough for me to get through, and then quickly closed it with a slam and a roll of his eyes. Six and a half feet of former linebacker came in handy for crowd control.

Chief Chavez passed me in the hallway, a harried look on his face.

“You see this? Sheer madness out there,” he said. “We’re in HQ.”

I unloaded my shoulder bag and joined the others in the narrow squad room at the back of the station. Finn Nowlin and Louis Moriarty and Sam Birdshead sat at the table, notepads and pens ready, a lineup of cops at various stages of their careers. Baby-faced Sam, barely a month into life as an officer; Finn, almost fifteen years into a solid career; and Louis Moriarty, who was already a good five or six years older than the standard retirement age.

Sam and Moriarty nodded at me; Finn just grinned. I took a seat across from Moriarty and wondered again what he was still doing here. He could have been fishing the Arkansas with his buddies, cashing in on a decades-long career with the PD. At the end of the day, I figured he was one of those cops who wouldn’t know what to do with his time, if he retired. The job was his life. And he was good at it, still sharp and fit; seventy years old and Moriarty had never once come in less than second in our annual physicals. And this was against guys half his age.

The man gave cause for pause, as they say on the streets.

The chief leaned against the whiteboard. I guessed Lucas Armstrong, what with the door duty, had been excused from this meeting. That was too bad; Luke had a good eye for details that others, including myself, often missed. Plus he was funny as hell and he walked a straight line on the job. I knew Armstrong too was still struggling with the stuff that went down on the home invasion case a few months back. There was an icy quality to his relationship with Finn that hadn’t been there before.

Chavez indicated that I should join him at the board.

“You all caught the news last night, right? I had a feeling once this went public, we’d be looking at a whole new tempo,” the chief said. “Gemma, can you catch us up with what we know so far?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. Obviously, we have a time of death: sometime around noon on Monday. We’ve also got a cause of death: blood loss, but we don’t have a murder weapon. We don’t even know what type of weapon we’re looking for; the victim’s throat was cut in such a matter, and with such a tool that we can’t be sure what was used. Sam and I are knee-deep in interviews with the circus employees, but so far-”

Finn Nowlin coughed and then cleared his throat.

“Something to add, Finn?”

Above his dark eyebrows, a tiny furrow appeared, the smallest imperfection in an otherwise smooth face. “Sorry to interrupt you, Gem, just as you’ve gotten started, but this is ridiculous. I’m going to need some specifics here. Are you honestly telling me that I’m to be a part of an investigation in which I don’t even know what kind of a goddamn weapon I’m looking for?”

He smiled as he watched me realize the implication of his words.

“Chief? What the hell is Finn talking about?” I asked.

Chavez, who’d sat down at the head of the table, leaned forward with a sigh. His tie was rumpled and his suit was the same he’d worn for last night’s press conference but his dark eyes were fierce.

“This case is too big for you, Gemma. The mayor is upset at the lack of progress being made, and we believe you could use the extra help. I’m making Finn your partner on this,” Chavez said.

“We?”

“The mayor and I. Don’t forget, I report directly to him and city council. His word goes on this.”

“All respect, sir, but screw that. Sam and I have got this. We’ve already interviewed a handful of key witnesses. I’ve got hours of research in on this damn circus, and I’m working on a new lead for what Nicky was up to, three years ago. There may be some connections here worth investigating.”

Sam Birdshead jumped in. “Chief, I think Gemma’s right, we are making progress.” He looked from me to the chief and back again and then added, “We’re a good team. And we’re only two days in.”

Chavez stood and gave us a grim smile. “I have no doubt you are a fine team. Sam, you’ll stay on as backup to Finn and Gemma.”

Finn smiled at Chavez. I wanted to wipe that grin off his face more than anything. If things weren’t dicey enough between us before, this just pushed us that much closer to a boiling point. This was my case and if things got fucked up because Finn was willing to smudge the line of ethics, then God help me, I was going to tear his head off.

Finn said, “Thanks, Chief. Gemma and I could certainly use the extra help.”

Chavez nodded. “That’s the kind of cooperative attitude I like to see. Please proceed Gemma.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed and counted to ten. “As I was saying, Dr. Hussen can’t determine what weapon was used. Nicky Bellington’s throat was torn open-not cut, not sliced, but torn. To be honest, the weapon could be anything with a sharp jagged edge. Now, between Sam and I, we’ve interviewed a number of people. There are two distinct groups at play here: those who knew Reed, and those who knew Nicky. There’s not really any overlap.”

I paused and noticed Finn had opened one of a dozen file folders that lay scattered on the conference table. He stared at a color photograph of Annika and Ellen Bellington engaged in what appeared to be a very heated game of tennis. The mother and daughter team wore matching tennis whites of tight tank tops, short skirts, and sneakers.

“We’ll need to interview these two again,” he said with a grin. “Very suspicious looking, especially the daughter…”

Chavez put his head in his hands and muttered, “Jesus Christ, Finn…” just as I said, “She’s nineteen, you dick. Chief, this is exactly the sort of thing-”

Before I could finish my sentence, Finn stood up and began shouting that he wouldn’t be called a dick by anyone, and then the chief was shouting at both of us.

I closed my eyes and leaned back and asked forgiveness for what I was about to do.

“Ohhhh,” I moaned, and clutched my belly. Then I gripped the back of an empty chair in front of me and gritted my teeth and held my breath until I could feel my face turning red.

“Gemma, what is it?” Chavez was at my side in a flash. He helped me into the chair and yelled for someone to get a glass of water. I waited a few seconds before replying. Peeking through my eyelashes, I saw that Finn had left the room in disgust.

I grinned into my grimace and relaxed my shoulders. “I’m, I’m not sure, Chief. I just… the room started spinning and I thought I was going to faint.”

Chavez exhaled. “Things got a little heated. I know you and Finn have had your issues in the past, but you two are the best I got. Please, can you put your differences aside? We’ve got a murdered kid who deserves our best. And right now, that’s you two.”

I’ve never walked away from a challenge in my life and implicit in Chavez’s plea was definitely a challenge. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll try to refrain from calling him a dick, if he can manage not to act like one for ten seconds.”

“Good girl. And keep up the good work with Sam. I want him involved, but he needs to understand Finn is lead now,” Chavez said.

“You mean I’m lead, and Finn is my partner.”

This close up, I could see the shadows under his eyes, and the fine lines that hadn’t been there a week ago. He closed his eyes now and nodded. “Yes, of course, that’s what I meant.”

“Are you okay, Chief?” I asked. I pushed the glass of water that Moriarty had fetched for me toward him. He looked like he could have used a glass of bourbon instead.

Chavez considered my question seriously. “No, I’m not. To be honest, last night was rough. Terry and Ellen think we should know more than we do by now. They want to know what Nicky was up to the last few years. They don’t understand this Reed kid he became, and this circus life he embraced. It’s a big contrast to the life he gave up and it begs some serious questions. This has made them reexamine how they raised the kids, where they might have gone wrong. You know how important family is to them.”

I nodded. “Those are the same questions we’re asking, Chief. But it takes time. They’ve got to understand that.”

“I think Terry does, but Ellen… she said the family had enough to get through without ‘all of this,’” the chief continued quietly, his fingers making air quotes.

I shook my head in disgust. “Well, that’s too damn bad if finding her son’s murderer is interfering with her husband’s political career.”

“Oh, she doesn’t mean it like that. Honestly, she’s more preoccupied with Terry’s cancer than with the Senate run. I think in her mind, they grieved for Nicky three years ago. Losing a child… well, Gemma, that kind of grief is not the sort of thing you want to go through twice. Ellen is a good woman. You didn’t know her before. She’s given everything she has to Terry’s career. She even invited Terry’s sister, Hannah, to move in and watch the kids. She couldn’t stand the thought of a stranger, someone outside the family, raising her children. But she can’t let herself fall apart again,” Chavez said. He stared off into the distance. “Ellen’s the glue that holds them all together, you see.”

There was something in his voice and eyes that made my blood run cold.

He continued. “She sees herself as a rock for Terry, and more importantly, for Annika.”

Chavez rubbed at his face and then looked at his watch and stood. He went to the door. “I’ve got to let these monkey reporters in and throw them a few bones to gnaw on.”

“Chief?”

He looked back at me as he opened the squad door. Sometime between my faking a heat spell and Chavez’s impassioned defense of Ellen, the room had emptied. We were alone and I took a deep breath and asked him something that I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t let him leave without knowing for sure.

“How long have you been in love with Ellen Bellington?”

I thought he was going to walk out without answering but then his shoulders sagged and, turning his back to me, he answered in a low voice and I wished with all my heart I could take the question back.

“Twenty-seven years, five days, and about fourteen hours,” he said, and he left, closing the door gently behind him.