Simply Lies

Chapter 46

They stayed overnight at an inn near The Plains. They had dinner in the small, quaint restaurant. Sullivan said, “So we didn’t really find much back there, did we?”

Gibson thought of the plastic evidence pouch in her room containing the comic book with the dried blood on it. She had brought her kit and checked it, but found no prints on the blood mark. The person had probably worn gloves.

She knew removing potential evidence from a crime scene was a crime in itself. But she had thought long and hard about this and had arrived at one difficult conclusion.

I can’t just walk away from this or bury my head in the sand, because I’m exposed. I’ve been exposed ever since I stepped foot into Stormfield and found Harry Langhorne dead. And Clarisse is probably a psycho and she knows where I live. And after I visited his father, Nathan Trask can easily find out who I am. Or, hell, Clarisse might decide to rat me out to the man, if she already hasn’t. The only way to protect myself and my family is to get to the truth as fast as possible. And the only way I can do that is to become a detective again and hope I’m still good enough to solve this mess.

She said, “Maybe it’s staring us in the face?”

Sullivan dipped a chunk of bread in the olive oil and bit into it. “Meaning?”

“No family photos? No online presence? Came from Oregon all the way here? Father dead? Mother had some money, and didn’t work? They kept to themselves?”

“Wait a minute, are you thinking, what, WITSEC?” asked Sullivan.

“Aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am. I’ll have his prints run through the national databases and see what pops.”

“I’m surprised the local cops hadn’t already done that.”

“I guess, to them, he’s Daryl Oxblood, end of story.”

“I guess,” replied Gibson.

“So do we have a whole bunch of ex-WITSECs on the run causing mayhem or getting killed?”

“At least maybe the children of Harry Langhorne,” she replied.

“Well, Oxblood wasn’t Francine, obviously. And he does not fit the description for Doug Langhorne, who Beckett said was around six two. I saw the file on Oxblood. He was only five eight. No disguise can subtract six inches.”

“Right,” agreed Gibson.

“What do you think of this gal Julia Frazier?”

“Wrong place, wrong time probably. Didn’t figure walking into a murder and didn’t want to hang around to get more involved in it,” answered Gibson. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“I suppose you’re right.”

They finished their dinners and left the restaurant to get some fresh air on the broad front porch.

“Nice of you to let me in on the investigation. I know it’s not the norm.”

“I am getting some heat for it,” admitted Sullivan.

“Don’t cause yourself career trouble, Will. You can cut me loose any time.”

“I thought you wanted to be in the loop.”

“Oh, I’ll still be working it, with or without you,” she said, grinning.

He smiled, albeit reservedly. “For now, we’ll just let things play out.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m going for a quick smoke out back.”

“And I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“Good night.”

They parted company and she took the stairs up to her room. She checked her watch and called her dad. She could tell by the background noise that he was watching basketball.

“How are the kids?”

“Sound asleep. Ate all their dinner. Never made any trouble. Just little bundles of joy. I don’t want to hear you complaining ever again about how hard it is, Mick.”

“Meaning Mom took care of them and you were somewhere else the whole time?”

“Well, I had some errands to run, yeah.”

“Right.”

“Jesus, he hit that three from the parking lot,” he said, obviously watching the TV. “Damn kids these days. NBA’s recruiting out of pre-K. Jump a mile in the air and dunk like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not all about dunking,” said Gibson. “I couldn’t dunk.”

“That’s because you’re too short. And you’re a girl.”

“Girls can dunk, Dad.”

“Hell, I know. I just didn’t want you to think I was getting soft. How’d it go today?”

She told him about what she had found and what she had done, and she thought her father was going to come through the phone and punch her.

“You did what?” he exclaimed. “You took evidence? Do you know that’s a felony? Of course you do. What the hell are you thinking, Mick?”

“I’m playing it safe, Dad. For now, anyway. I need to know where things stand.”

“I’ll tell you where they stand. You don’t do what you just did. Now either go give it to the cop, or put it back where you got it and let them figure it out.”

“Are those my only two choices?”

“Do you need a third? Because I told you before. I am not raising your kids while you’re in prison for the next eight to ten years.”

“You going to rat on me?”

“I know you pushed the envelope back in Jersey City, Mick, but this is not a game.”

“Let me tell you my motives and then we can talk.”

“I don’t think you’re going to change my mind.”

She told him about going to see Nathan Trask’s father. “And Trask knows someone visited his father. And he can find out it’s me, if he really wants to.”

This did not mollify her father in the least. It only made him more irate. “Son of a bitch! Do you have a death wish? I told you not to go anywhere near that guy.”

“That guy is apparently part of this case. If I’m going to solve it, I have to go where I need to go.”

“Let the police solve it and go back to your computers.”

“Says the guy who hated the fact that I quit the force.”

“I understood why you did it,” her father corrected.

“But you still hated it.”

“Yeah, I did. Because what’s-his-fucking-name cratered your finances and your career. You expect me to be happy about that? And you were a damn good cop.”

“I’m not happy about it, either. And I’m not walking away from this.”

“Why the hell is this case so important to you? It got dumped in your lap. And you’re taking a risk, I told you that. Think of the kids.”

“I am thinking of the kids. And you. And Mom. I’ve crossed the Rubicon, so I’m involved in this thing whether I want to be or not. I can either wait for something bad to happen to me, or the kids or you or Mom, or I can work this thing like I worked my other cases.”

“Is that really the only reason?” asked her father.

He could read her so easily sometimes, mainly because the two were so much alike. “Someone used me, okay? I don’t like that. When that happens, I don’t run away with my tail between my legs. You taught me to punch the bully in the face, Dad. I can’t change who I am.”

She heard him let out a long sigh. It was the same thing he had done after every argument he had lost with her, which was damn near all of them.

“So what are you going to do with what you found out?”

“I’m betting Julia Frazier is Francine Langhorne. I need to find her.”

“How will you do that?”

“By digging. Isn’t that what cop work is?”

“Just be careful. Some folks really need you to stick around.”

“I know, the kids—”

Her father interrupted. “I was talking about me.”

The silence hung heavy for a few seconds before he added, “I gotta get back to my basketball game. You take care, honey.” He clicked off.

Gibson stared at the phone and realized for the first time just how worried her father really was about her.