Breach of Honor

by Janice Cantore

  Leah nodded.

  “What would you think about starting a formal basketball program?”

  “A basketball program?”

  “Yeah, something like the running program we have, for women who need exercise but are not interested in jogging. Giving people something they can succeed at, something healthy that they can continue after their release, is worthwhile. I’m thinking of something along the lines of a clinic. I asked Nora to do something like that a while ago, but she wanted more help than we could give her. I ran it by her again, and she’s game if you are.”

  “You are 100 percent cleared if you need my opinion,” the nurse offered.

  Leah thought for a second. “I guess if Nora is on board, then I am too.”

  “Great, I’ll draw up some guidelines.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “They fired Vicki!” A distraught Marvin Sapp pounded the locker next to Clint.

  “What?” Clint stopped what he was doing, not believing what he heard. The hazing had stopped over a year ago. What was happening now?

  “For what?”

  “She’s been in and out of IA for the last month regarding a report she filed a while ago. They say she made false statements.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was. We’re meeting later—want to join us?”

  “You bet.”

  Clint met Sapp and Henderson at a restaurant in Medford, outside Table Rock.

  “It was a simple theft report,” Vicki said. She was shattered; Clint could see it in her eyes. The fight he’d seen before was gone. “They say I added to the loss to benefit the homeowner.”

  “The homeowner complained?” Clint hoped Forman was not the problem. After his suspension and embarrassment over being caught sleeping, he’d been a different man. And Clint wanted to believe that the man could change.

  “No, it was their insurance agent. He contacted IA.”

  Clint felt his gut tighten. “Who is the agent?”

  Vicki frowned. “Grant Holloway. I know that name. . . . Why do I know that name?”

  “He testified for the prosecution regarding Leah.”

  “What? Why on earth is he after me?”

  “I don’t know, but I think we need to find out.”

  “You think the Hangmen are behind this?” Gretchen asked after Clint told her about the firing. Since Leah’s first appeal to the Oregon Court of Appeals had been denied, Gretchen had immediately filed a second appeal to the Oregon State Supreme Court.

  “I do. Marvin told me that Vicki got into it with Patterson the day of the shooting. And Leah told you he was a Hangman. I think they’ve had it in for her since then and finally got their chance.”

  “This bit about Grant Holloway being involved—that’s very odd and too big a coincidence. There is a possibility that the denial of Leah’s appeal emboldened the Hangmen.”

  “I hadn’t made that connection,” Clint said, wondering why he hadn’t. “It makes sense.”

  “This has been a difficult few months. We’ve hit a big blue wall in trying to discover more about the Hangmen. Leah said secrets were hard to keep at the PD—well, this one sure isn’t. If Vicki will talk to me, maybe this will be a way to get our foot in the door. Proving that she was targeted because of this group might help.”

  “Great,” Clint said, mood improving somewhat.

  “I believe there were errors in Leah’s case, even without the Hangmen,” Gretchen told him. “Not the least of which was Prosecutor Birch. He has a long, close history with the Draper family, so he should have recused himself.”

  “But the court of appeals didn’t think that was reason enough for a second trial.”

  “There’s more just coming in from my investigator. Brad was used as a hammer in the first trial. Birch painted him as a hero of heroes. That should have opened up the other side. Leah’s attorney should have been allowed to show that Brad was not the saint he was thought to be. Jenna has found several people who claim they suffered abuse by Brad and that their complaints were never followed up. One man even has a paper trail. I’ve just asked the PD for records I believe they withheld from the first trial.”

  “Blame the victim?”

  “In a way, yes. But it is only fair for the jurors to see all the evidence, even that which was not favorable to the victim. It goes to why Leah felt in fear for her life, and it adds dimension to the self-defense argument. I believe Birch withheld such evidence, which is unfair, maybe illegal, depending on his reasons.” Gretchen put a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “I know the denial hit you hard. Don’t give up hope—I haven’t. Leah will be free one day. My advice to you is that you be ready to tell her how you feel.”

  “What?” Clint felt his face flush.

  Gretchen chuckled. “Clint, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And as circumspect as you try to be, it’s obvious that you feel for her. She’ll need your support when she’s free again.”

  “Thanks, Counselor. I’ll take your advice.”

  Clint left the meeting hopeful for the first time in months. The knowledge of how hard Gretchen was working on Leah’s appeal was encouraging. The surprise at having his feelings outed faded, though he really thought he had a better cop face than that.

  It’s time to write her a letter, he decided. I’d like to get information from her firsthand anyway. Always pumping Randy for news was not a good thing.

  Once home, Clint prayed and then sat to write out, longhand, a letter to Leah.

  The next night, Clint was about to go EOW when he heard the call go out—a fatal accident on Highway 62. His buddy Jack was on the way, so Clint decided to see if he could lend a hand. It was described as a vehicle versus logging truck, and Clint braced himself—it would not be pretty.

  And it wasn’t. It looked as if a small sports car had hit a fully loaded logging truck head-on.

  “How can I help?” Clint asked when he reached the scene.

  Jack was already laying out flares. “Talk to the truck driver. He’s in my car, distraught.”

  Clint hurried to Jack’s car. A tough-looking bearded man fidgeted in the back.

  “He drove right into me. I couldn’t avoid it!” The man was animated, talking to Clint before Clint even asked a question.

  “Was he swerving to avoid something else?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  Clint noted that he did not smell alcohol or pot. This driver was most likely not impaired. Was the other one?

  “Was he passing someone else?”

  “No, no. It was as if he wanted to be hit.”

  Curious now, Clint left the truck driver and was walking to the mangled wreckage when he saw the license plate. It had come off the sports car and lay in the middle of the highway. He stopped dead in his tracks. It was a personalized plate, one everyone on the PD would recognize.

  I PRO U—I prosecute you. This was Arron Birch’s car. As he got closer to the car, he could vaguely make out the body of the silver Porsche Birch was so proud of.

  Two state police vehicles rolled up to the scene code 3.

  A sergeant approached Clint. “This is ours, occurred on a state highway. We’ll be handling.”

  “I’m just here to help—”

  “Thanks, we’re good. You can return to service.”

  Clint saw no grounds to argue but left scratching his head, as did Jack and the other deputies on scene.

  The next morning he read an article about the crash and learned Birch had been behind the wheel. The investigating officer, Sergeant Dave Draper, had already ruled the crash a suicide.

  “We found a note,” his quote said. “He emailed several people outlining his intentions. Clinical depression drove Arron Birch to kill himself.”

  “Wow” was all Clint could say as he remembered what Gretchen said about Birch concealing evidence in Leah’s trial. It was connected—it had to be. The thing was, Arron Birch had never seemed to be the depressed type. He was a fighter, a pit bull. Was it really suicide?r />
  At work that day, most everyone was talking about the Birch situation. In spite of how wrong Clint thought he was with Leah, Birch had been a popular prosecutor for the city. People were having a hard time with the suicide angle, but that was what the investigation put forward.

  A few days later he learned that Gretchen had officially signed on as Vicki’s lawyer. It created a subdued buzz around the PD.

  “She’s not going to get her job back. She could hire a hundred lawyers.” Clint overheard Erik Forman talking to another officer. The other officer concurred as the two men left the squad room. Forman’s opinion was not the majority. Vicki was respected and well-liked. There were a lot of officers who thought she got a raw deal.

  Clint caught up with Vicki over coffee. She’d called him, saying she needed his advice.

  “Gretchen says my case for firing looks weaker and weaker with every page she turns,” Vicki told him. “I’m really glad I found her.”

  “Me too. What is it you need my advice on?”

  “Gretchen thinks now is the time to try and shake something loose.”

  “What did she mean?”

  “She wants to go public by holding a press conference to talk about the Hangmen. Throw it out there that we know what’s going on and we plan to stop it.”

  Clint sat back and thought about what that might mean.

  “It’s likely to stir stuff up,” Vicki said. “Good and bad.”

  “Can you handle that?”

  “I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Would you be ready for something like that?”

  “Oh, I’m ready. I’ve been ready ever since the jury said guilty.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Leah checked off another day on the calendar, trying not to be depressed by how much time had passed while she lived behind bars. It helped to be surprised, and that happened when she received a letter from Clint Tanner. It came out of the blue. Her father hadn’t even told her to expect one. And it was handwritten, not printed out from a computer. That made it more personal somehow, and to say it brightened her day was an understatement.

  Leah, I’ve thought long and hard about writing you this letter. The last time we spoke, you said you wanted me to stay out of your life and to stop praying for you. I hope you’ll forgive me since I have to confess I’ve not stopped praying for you. I’m happy to say that I helped find the attorney now representing you, and I have high hopes your new appeal will be allowed and you’ll receive a new trial. Maybe I’ve taken too long to say this clearly, but I was there that morning, remember. I know your injuries were real, and I know you only shot Brad because you were in fear of your life.

  I hope your anger with me is past. I decided to write you because, frankly, I was expecting, after almost two years, to see you in person. That your appeal failed was frustrating for me, though I’m sure more so for you. I told you to trust the system and I fear the system has failed you—again. It encourages me to see Gretchen optimistic, so I pray that encourages you as well. Please know that there are many of us who have not given up hope, so don’t you. I believe in you, Leah, and I pray that one day I’ll be able to say that to you in person.

  If there is anything I can send you or do for you here, please let me know. I remain your friend, Clint Tanner.

  “No way.” Leah held the letter in both hands, amazement flowing through her.

  “What?” Nora asked.

  Leah swallowed, realizing she’d spoken out loud. “I just got the best letter.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “No, a coworker. . . . He, uh, has been a big help to me and to my dad. I told him to stay out of my life once.”

  “Why?”

  Leah grinned. “He’s one of those praying Christians—you know, the annoying ones?”

  Nora laughed. “Yeah, I remember how that used to bother you. Just be careful, my friend.”

  “Careful how?”

  “Build a good relationship with God before trying to build one with another man, no matter how good he makes you feel.”

  Leah nodded, thinking she was doing just that.

  She read the letter over and over, straining to hear his voice in every word. She had long ago forgiven him and sat down to write back and tell him so. From that point on, he was no longer Tanner; he was Clint.

  “You’re pretty chipper today,” Chaplain Darrel commented a couple of days later when she sat down for their meeting.

  Leah grinned. She told him about the letter and Clint.

  “I’m happy for you. I would, however, urge caution.”

  “Caution?”

  “I’m a chaplain, not a shrink. My interest is in your spiritual growth. My wish is for you to focus on your foundation, your worth as a child of God.”

  Leah laughed.

  “That’s funny?”

  “Only because Nora said almost the exact same thing.”

  “Smart woman, Nora. God first. Then you’ll know not to put up with behavior from a man that you shouldn’t put up with.”

  Leah thought long and hard about his advice after their meeting. She remembered the classes she’d taken on domestic violence. A lot of women stayed in abusive relationships because they didn’t believe they could make it without the man. Brad had been her everything, and because of that she’d put up with aggressive and demeaning words and actions from him that she should have rejected outright. At the time, there was a part of her that said she wasn’t worthy of someone like Brad. If she lost him, she’d have lost everything.

  Well, I have lost him, she thought, and I’m still standing on my own two feet. I don’t want to follow the same pattern with someone else, especially since I’m in here and he’s out there. She knew she had needed to have balance in her life. Even here in prison with nothing, she was still a much-loved child of God. That knowledge must keep her upright; it had to be enough for the next twenty-five years.

  “Hey.” Nora came rushing into the cell, face flushed with excitement. It was free time and she’d been watching TV. “Come on out. They’re talking about you on the TV.”

  “What?”

  She grabbed Leah’s arm. “Just come.”

  Leah let herself be dragged into the TV room. On the screen was Gretchen Gaffney. She was talking about the Hangmen.

  “. . . there’s a problem in Table Rock, Oregon. Not just for Officer Henderson or Officer Radcliff. A clandestine club is operating within the police department, subverting justice.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “I’m gathering proof as we speak. If I can’t get the city of Table Rock to cooperate, then I’ll go higher.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The FBI is always interested in police corruption and the systematic violation of people’s constitutional rights.”

  “She said your name before,” Nora said. “She believes you were railroaded. Were you?”

  Leah nodded. “She’s my attorney.” Her heart beat hard in her chest as she realized this would turn her department upside down. Would it put anyone in danger? She thought of her dad, and she thought of Clint. She prayed for their safety, then realized how natural prayer had become for her . . . and how comforting.

  Clint watched the press conference when he got home. He already knew that since the conference had been held, the city attorney had contacted Gretchen and offered a settlement where Vicki was concerned. Gretchen had declined the offer, telling the attorney that Vicki would take her chances with a judicial hearing. Clint planned to be there when that happened.

  He’d just been promoted to sergeant. He’d scored number one on the test, sailed through all the interviews. If he was on the Hangmen’s list, they hadn’t messed with him. He wondered if the Hangmen were lying low or if they really were toothless in most things. And he also wondered if all this talk of the Hangmen and their power was making him paranoid.

  His phone rang.

  “Tanner.”

  “You’re a dead man.”

  “Excus
e me?”

  “And you won’t see it coming.”

  The line clicked.

  Proof the Hangmen were alive and well?

  Clint set his phone down, pulse racing. You’re not paranoid if they’re really after you. He’d known Gretchen’s announcement would overturn the apple cart; he just hadn’t known it would dump on him.

  CHAPTER 29

  Two weeks after Gretchen’s press conference, Clint was at the courthouse bright and early for Vicki’s hearing.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Gretchen, who was seated in the hallway outside the hearing room.

  She stifled a chuckle. “Seems the city’s case is falling apart. Grant Holloway got cold feet about testifying at this hearing.”

  “Cold feet?”

  Vicki smiled. “Now he’s mistaken about the loss he claimed I added.”

  “So the city doesn’t have a case?”

  “The hearing judge is speaking to the city attorney now.”

  Just then the door opened. “You all can come in now,” the bailiff said.

  Clint followed Vicki and Gretchen into the room. The city attorney, a recent hire, was already seated, and he didn’t look happy.

  “Ms. Gaffney—” the judge addressed Gretchen—“I’ve been informed that the city no longer has a case against your client. Therefore, I’m dismissing all of the charges, and at this moment I’m ordering the city to bring your client back on board without delay and without further penalty. It’s to be as if she was never terminated. And I assume, at some later date, you’ll want to address back pay.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. This hearing is adjourned.”

  Vicki beamed and Clint gave her a hug.

  “I knew it was all bogus.”

  Later, when Vicki left, Clint asked Gretchen, “What do you think happened? Why the change?”

  “I’m not sure, but there’s been a cable news reporter in town, asking questions about the Hangmen and whether or not Vicki was the victim of a good old boys club. Holloway obviously didn’t want to be recorded under oath, and the city had the good sense not to press the issue.”