Perfect Grave

Chapter Thirty-Five

D amn it. Damn this rain. Damn it.

Time was running out and Jason was losing it.

Seattle Police Headquarters took up half a block of downtown real estate at Cherry and Fifth. The twelve-story complex included the city’s municipal court building with its monolithic glass facade.

Tonight it was a fortress.

Jason was pacing in the pissing rain, desperate to talk to Grace Garner. He’d been shut down at every turn. No way were they going to let him inside and up to the Homicide Unit.

Not tonight.

He craned his neck to look up at the seventh-floor lights of the building. He knew Grace was up there with Perelli, likely working on Cooper.

But she wouldn’t answer her cell phone. Neither would Perelli, or Stan Boulder. He managed to squeeze a drip of information from Lynn Mann’s people at the King County Prosecuting Attorney’s Office.

“Lynn’s definitely in Homicide with Gracie and this street guy, Cooper. It all flows from your story but you didn’t get it from me, pal.”

Damn it. That made it worse.

Were they questioning Cooper? Was he going to lead them to the killer?

Was Cooper the killer?

Maybe they were charging him?

Damn it, had he dropped the ball on the biggest story to hit the city in months?

Jason glanced at the time. If he was going to get anything in the first edition, it would have to be now. All right. An idea struck him. He reached for his cell phone to call back his source in Lynn Mann’s office.

After Cooper’s polygraph test, Barbara North stared at herself in the mirror of a seventh-floor washroom.

Exhaustion rippled through her, making her entire body tremble. Garner and Lynn Mann had hit them hard. Their physical evidence was strong but there were holes in their case. The results from the foot impression and polygraph would play a key role.

The blackouts would hurt.

And he couldn’t account for his whereabouts the night of the crime.

Cooper’s arrest before WKKR’s camera, his physical appearance, his troubled history, his cryptic claim that a stranger killed Sister Anne, all served to make him look like a deranged nun-killer.

How could she counter that?

Seeing Cooper’s tears, hearing his responses, reading his file, in her heart she didn’t believe he was guilty. But public perception was difficult to overcome.

Barbara splashed water over her face. It felt good. As she descended the elevator at police headquarters, she decided that she was too tired to make herself dinner. She’d grab something on the way home.

Stepping into the lobby, she rummaged through her bag for her umbrella, then headed for the street, nearly bumping into somebody speaking her name.

“Excuse me, Barbara North? Would you be Barbara North?”

“Yes,” she tilted her umbrella up. “And you are?”

“Jason Wade, Seattle Mirror. Do you have a minute?”

“Not really, I’m late. How did you-?”

“I’ve been calling around since John Cooper was taken in earlier today. I understand you’re his lawyer, from the Public Defender’s Office, is that correct?”

Adjusting her grip on her umbrella, Barbara stared at Jason, contemplating his face, deciding whether or not he was worth her time.

“Let’s get out of the rain and go over there,” she nodded to a coffee shop down on the corner.

They found a booth and ordered coffee.

“Look, I truly am up against my deadline, right up on it, so forgive me in advance if I’m curt, rude, and rushed.”

“Sounds like the name of a law firm. What’re you after?”

“So, Cooper’s your client?”

“Yes.”

“Has he been charged with Sister Anne’s murder?”

“No.”

“Do you mind?” Jason set a small recorder between them.

“That’s fine. I won’t be telling you much.”

“Where’s your client now?”

“In a holding cell.”

“Why are they holding him?”

“They can hold him for seventy-two hours before pressing charges. They’re attempting to rule him out as a suspect.”

“Or rule him in?”

When their coffees came, Barbara decided she might be able to counter the negative image Seattle would have of Cooper.

“If they had a strong case, they would have charged him. I can tell you he’s cooperating fully. He just agreed to a polygraph test.”

“ Really? I can use that?”

Jason had just nailed his exclusive.

“Yes,” Barbara sipped her coffee. “He also gave samples of evidence that I will not disclose.”

“Samples, like what? DNA? Was Sister Anne sexually assaulted?”

Barbara shook her head.

“Not that type of sample.”

“Well, what then?”

“I believe you’ve written something about shoes? Let’s say, relating to footwear.”

“Really, that’s interesting. What’s the result of the polygraph?”

“Won’t know until tomorrow. Check with me then.”

“Did Cooper kill Sister Anne?”

“Come on.”

“Well?”

“No, I don’t think he did.”

“But he has these spells and when I found him under the Interstate, he was hallucinating and stabbing the air with a knife.”

“Yes, all in your story. I read that. Very vivid writing.”

“You think I made that up?”

“No, I’m not suggesting that. I acknowledge John Cooper’s a troubled man, but I don’t believe he’s Sister Anne’s killer. I believe he’s a convenient suspect.”

Boom. Jason had his lead and the Mirror had a headline.

Jason’s cell phone rang.

“Excuse me, I have to take this.”

Then Barbara’s phone rang and she took her call, from her son. As she talked lovingly, wishing him a good night, Jason talked to Eldon Reep.

“I think you better hold me space on front, Eldon.”