Redemption

Chapter 9

“It’s over here.”

They were in a climate-controlled storage unit. After consulting the iPad she was holding, Christine Burlin pointed to a shelf in the far back of the space.

“You seem very well organized,” said Lancaster appreciatively.

“Well, of course I am. Mr. Finger is not the best in that regard, so I have to make up for it. And I can assure you that I do.”

Lancaster whispered to Jamison, “She has four kids, the oldest is in eighth grade, and I think she still dresses them in Garanimals.”

There were only two boxes dealing with the case, Burlin told them. She made Lancaster sign an electronic receipt before she would allow them to take the containers. They trudged back to their cars with Decker schlepping both boxes.

Lancaster said, “You can take them back to the station. Captain Miller has arranged a room for you to use.”

“How is Captain Miller?” said Decker.

“Ready to retire,” said Lancaster. “But aren’t we all. I’ll meet you back there later.”

“Wait a minute, where are you going?” asked Decker.

“I have other cases to work,” she said incredulously. “And this one is not officially on my plate or even a case for the department.”

“But Hawkins’s murder is.”

“And we don’t know if it’s connected to what’s in those files. So, you go through them and let me know what you find out, if anything. And let me go about trying to solve some new crimes, like Hawkins’s murder.”

She got into her car and drove off. When Decker didn’t climb into their rental, Jamison paused, her hand on the car door. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know: What’s up with Mary?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known her a long time. She’s not telling me something.”

“Well, she has that right, Decker. But she might come around. And it’s nice that you’re worried about your old partner,” she added.

They drove to the police station and were directed to the room reserved for their use. As they were heading down the hall a man in his early sixties stepped out of an office.

Captain MacKenzie Miller was still short, wide, and puffy, with an unhealthy tint to his skin. But his smile was broad and infectious. “Look what they let in the door,” he said.

He put out his hand for Decker to shake. He nodded at Jamison and shook her hand too, then pointed to the badge on her jacket. “I heard. Congrats, Alex, I know that wasn’t easy.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

Decker eyed the man who had been his superior his entire time on the police force. Miller was a good cop, tough, fair, and he didn’t bullshit. He had actually stopped Decker from putting a bullet in his brain once. It would be impossible to dislike the man after that.

“Well, you’ve been establishing quite a rep for yourself at the Bureau. Ross Bogart keeps me updated.”

“Didn’t know that,” said Decker, the boxes pressed against his wide chest.

“Nice to know there are some things you don’t know,” said Miller. He eyed the boxes. “Lawyer’s files? Hawkins?”

“Yes,” responded Jamison.

“We’ll, I’ll let you get to it, then. It’s good to see you both. Let’s grab a beer later if you’re able.”

Decker said, “Can I ask a question?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“What’s going on with Mary?”

Miller folded his short arms over his thick chest. “Why do you think anything’s going on with her, Amos?”

“We know each other. Something’s off.”

“You knew each other. It’s been a couple of years. People change.”

“People don’t change that much,” replied Decker.

“Then ask her.” Miller wagged a finger at him. “Just be prepared for whatever answer she has. You up for that?”

Decker didn’t answer, and Miller didn’t look like he had expected a response.

“I appreciate your letting us work on the case.”

“Well, I want to get to the bottom of it as much as you do. If we messed up, we have to make it right. You have my full backing.”

“Thanks, Mac,” said Jamison.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He disappeared back inside his office.

They proceeded to the room and Decker put the twin boxes down on the metal conference table. He took off his coat and slung it over a chair back.

Taking the top off one box, he said to Jamison, “I’ll take this one. You go through the other.” He slid it over to her.

“What exactly are we looking for?” she asked, opening the box. “Hopefully you’ll know it when you see it.”

She sighed, sat down, and lifted out the first few files.

Four hours later they had each gone through both boxes.

“Not a whole lot here,” noted Jamison.

“This is the defense’s side of things. I’ve asked Mary to have someone pull the department’s files.”

“They keep things that long?”

“Probably only because nobody had the time to throw them out.”

“Ken Finger didn’t seem to have much evidence to go on.”

“That’s why the jury convicted his client after only two hours of deliberation. And an hour of that was spent at lunch.”

“He was pretty tough on you on cross-examination,” said Jamison, holding up a transcript of Decker’s time in the witness box.

“That was his job.”

“But you were quite firm in your statements.”

“Because I believed them to be true.”

“Meaning you no longer do?”

Decker looked at her over a piece of paper he was holding. “Meaning back then I didn’t necessarily see the forest for the trees.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I might have been so eager to get a conviction on my first homicide investigation that it didn’t strike me as odd that a guy would burgle a house that early in the evening when it might be full of people.”

“Well, maybe he wasn’t that smart. As has been pointed out, he wasn’t an experienced criminal. Maybe he didn’t know how to properly case a target.”

“Hawkins wasn’t dumb. And the thing is, he had never been in any sort of trouble with the law before. That didn’t mean much to me back then because the forensics were overwhelming. But to go from never having a parking ticket to four homicides is like going from hopping over a rain puddle to leaping across the Grand Canyon. It should have set off warning bells.”

“But like everyone’s been saying, he probably didn’t go in there thinking he was going to kill anyone. Then it just went sideways.”

“Granted, he was desperate. His wife needed pain medicine. His daughter was a drug addict he was trying to help. He might have felt he was up against a wall. He went there just to steal and, like you said, everything might have gone to hell after that.”

“And he had the cash in his pocket.”

“So if had the money, why was he still wandering around when he was picked up by the cops?”

“Maybe he was trying to score the drugs to help his wife.”

“Maybe,” said Decker. “But the thing is, there was a house next to the Richardses’ that was empty that night. I’m not talking about the uninhabited one. I mean the Ballmers. They were out of town visiting relatives. Why not go there instead and break in and steal stuff, and avoid having to murder four people? And why did he pick that neighborhood of all places? It was a long way from where he lived.”

“It was also isolated.”

“I don’t think that’s a good enough reason.”

“The guy who lived there was a banker. Maybe in Hawkins’s mind that meant there would be valuable stuff to steal.”

“I think that’s a stretch. By no means was that the rich part of town. If you’re a burglar, you don’t go to skid row to do your business. You go where the money is.”

“Well, rich people have security systems and extra locks and gates and sometimes private guards too. An area like where the Richardses lived might be more vulnerable.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense, Alex. Something is off.”

“So despite your previous skepticism, now you’re saying that you believe Hawkins to be innocent?”

“No, I’m just trying to get to the truth.” He rose. “I’m going to check on the police files. You want some vending machine coffee? It sucks, but it’s hot.”

“Sure.”

Decker walked out and down the hall. Two cops and one detective he’d worked with greeted him as he passed by. They didn’t look happy to see him here, and he could understand why. Word had gotten around. If Hawkins had been wrongly convicted, it would be a slap in the face to the whole department.

It’ll be a punch in the gut to me. My first real homicide. Did I want it too bad? And did I screw over Meryl Hawkins to get there?

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost bumped into her.

Sally Brimmer hadn’t changed very much. Early thirties, pretty, efficient-looking. And as he had thought before, the woman’s slacks were still a little too tight and too many buttons on her blouse were undone, exhibiting enough cleavage to be intentionally suggestive. She was in public affairs at the police department. Decker had scammed her once, pretending to be an attorney to get a look-see at a prisoner being held here. That had placed her in a bad light with Captain Miller, among others. Decker had taken full responsibility for what he’d done and tried to make sure she was held blameless. However, by the put-out look on her face at seeing him, his actions had not been enough to soothe her harsh feelings for him.

“Ms. Brimmer,” said Decker amiably.

Her hands were on her slim hips and a pouty look was perched on her lips. “I heard you were back. I hoped it was just a rumor that would turn out not to be true.”

“Uh, okay. Nice to see you too.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Working a case. And I need some department files. I thought I’d have them by now.”

“You don’t even work here anymore.”

“I’m working with Mary Lancaster on a case. Captain Miller authorized it.”

“You’re not bullshitting me again,” she said defiantly.

“Actually, it’s the truth.”

“Right. Fool me once...”

“Agent Decker, do you want these in the small conference room?”

They looked over to see a young uniformed officer wheeling a hand truck down the hall on which were stacked four large storage boxes.

“Yeah, thanks. My partner’s in there now. I’m just on a coffee run.”

Brimmer watched incredulously as the man headed down the hall to the conference room.

“So you weren’t bullshitting me. Which case?”

“Meryl Hawkins.”

“Don’t remember it.”

“Way before your time.”

“Wait a minute. Wasn’t that the guy who was just murdered?”

“Yep.”

“But that’s a current case.”

“It is. The reason he was murdered probably goes back to four homicides that took place about thirteen years ago.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I was one who investigated it.”

“Four homicides? Who was the killer?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

He walked on in search of coffee and found it in the break room. Instead of vending machines, however, they had a Keurig. Times did change, and incremental progress was made. Decker prepared two coffees and was about to head back when his attention was caught by something on the TV that was bolted to the wall of the break room.

It was a local station and the weather report was just now coming on. The forecast was for late afternoon storms.

As soon as Decker heard that, something clicked in his head.

Rain.