“What does this mean for Leah?”
“It means there are breaks in the wall, movement forward. We’re making progress. I think it’s good news for Leah.”
“I truly hope you’re right.”
Election Day was the day after Vicki’s vindication. It was a special election because of the death of a state senator and two early retirements. There were three names on the ballot that Clint was concerned about: Grady Blanchard, Larry Ripley, and Duke Gill. When the results were tallied, they’d all won their races. Grady Blanchard was elected sheriff of Jackson County, Larry would serve as state senator, and Duke was voted in as a county commissioner.
“Are you happy with the outcome?” Clint asked Jack the next morning.
“I don’t have a problem with Blanchard. His wife is a little annoying, but he came up through the ranks.”
“Annoying how?”
“Just pushy. She reminds me of a Hollywood stage mom—you know, the kind always pushing their kids? Sometimes the way she talks to Grady, I want to say, ‘Hey, why don’t you put on the uniform?’ Grady is a different person when she’s not around, a better person. Funny and lighthearted.”
“No chance he’s one of the Hangmen?”
“I don’t see it, so I hope not. Told you before he’s tight with his brother-in-law, Duke Gill. Gill is a piece of work.”
“Yeah, and surprise, Gill’s a county commissioner now.”
“How can so many people not see how slimy he is?”
“I don’t know. He said a lot of the right things.”
“Did you believe him?”
Clint hiked a shoulder. “No. How about Ripley, our new state senator?”
“He’s worked his way up the ladder as well. He didn’t do anything offensive as a councilman. I voted for him.”
Clint sipped his coffee and said nothing. He knew from Gretchen that Leah didn’t like Larry. She believed he was a Hangman. Jack was right: Larry had been a good councilman, often on the same side as Clint on things. Was that how the Hangmen did it? They stayed in the shadows by not being obvious, by only striking where people least expected it?
After coffee with Jack, Clint had a meeting scheduled with Jenna. She’d called him to say she’d hit a gold mine of information. Gretchen had set up a tip line, and they’d received a lot of calls, some worthless, but some had panned out. The gist of it was a common thread: a lot of abuse claims had been ignored, not just for Brad, but for his partner and a couple other guys he was close to.
After Jenna’s call, Clint had drawn up a chart of men he suspected of being Hangmen. They were clustered in IA and detectives. Maybe that was why he was able to promote to sergeant. No suspected Hangmen had anything to do with interdepartmental promotional testing. Frowning, Clint looked at everyone on the chart. Five names. He still found it hard to believe they had the power Parker, his old partner, thought they did.
That was the topic of conversation when Jenna showed up.
“I can see them covering up for Brad or stopping people from getting on the SAT team or into homicide, but I can’t see them having the power to get people fired.”
“The primary objective of the club just might have been to save Brad,” Jenna said. “I’ve spoken with four officers who retired and moved out of state. They tell me that the Hangmen were actually started years ago by Harden Draper—and he is still actively involved.”
“Brad’s dad?”
“Yeah, he was a cop for a time. These old retired guys said he was always free with his nightstick and his department-issued flashlight. His favorite target was the suspect’s head.”
“Really?” This violated all training about the use of force and contact weapons. Never aim for the head, spine, or groin. It was too easy to kill or seriously injure someone.
“They say he was always in trouble and on the verge of being fired, so he came up with the Hangmen to save his own skin. The rumor was that he got some dirt on the chief at the time and used it.”
“Blackmail?”
“Apparently his specialty, a close tie with bullying. He retired after only ten years, the same time the chief did, maybe because he had nothing on the new guy. The guys I talked to said he’d never have made it to thirty years and a service retirement because policing was changing. His heavy-handed ways were under scrutiny.”
“And after he retired, he founded Table Rock Home Security. They’re all over the valley now.”
Jenna nodded. “He started the company, sold it after ten years, then invested in the import-export business that has been so lucrative for him.”
It was Clint’s turn to nod. Harden imported all kinds of goods from China and supplied almost all the outdoor, furniture, appliance, and general hardware stores in Oregon and neighboring states. He’d heard a rumor years ago that big box stores like Costco were going to put Draper out of business. But there was a big Costco in Medford, and Draper was still going strong. Maybe his real estate holdings kept him afloat; he owned half of Table Rock.
“So he starts the Hangmen but leaves the department, and Brad resurrects it?”
“When Brad was hired, a few of Harden’s pals were still in the department—Chief Wilcox, who had been Draper’s trainee—plus there were several in the community, in influential places . . . Judge Revel for example.”
“Judge Revel?”
Jenna nodded again. “He was a police officer in Table Rock for only three years, until he graduated from law school.”
Clint folded his arms to consider this. “If Revel was biased because of his relationship with Harden Draper, that should strengthen Leah’s second appeal.”
“Agreed,” Jenna said and went on. “From all I’ve heard, Brad was every bit the bully Harden was. A few guys believed, but couldn’t prove, that Harden used his influence to keep Brad on the job. Eventually Brad took over running the Hangmen.”
“This is all fascinating and disturbing, but how will it help Leah?”
“At first Gretchen was simply interested in showing the other side of Brad. Jurors didn’t see the plausibility of Brad the hero also being Brad the abuser. Now there’s more. Gretchen believes the jury was tampered with.”
Clint’s voice fled and he stared at Jenna.
“One of the tips we received. Even though it was anonymous, the caller knew some specifics—about a juror being bribed to vote guilty and influence the other jurors. I’m not naming names, but this will be big. Not only that, a lot of people believe there’s a good chance Harden Draper was behind it and will find himself behind bars.”
Clint was stunned. What Jenna and Gretchen had discovered could only help overturn Leah’s conviction, he thought.
As he and Jenna finished their coffees and left the shop, Jenna reached out and touched Clint’s arm. “It’s been really good reconnecting with you, Tanner.”
“Likewise.”
“I was wondering . . . are you seeing anyone these days? I’d love to get together and talk with you about anything other than work.”
The question caught Clint off guard. One word flashed through his mind: Leah. The woman he’d carried a torch for since college, the woman who’d told him to stay out of her life forever. He’d just received a letter from her and was amazed at how happy it made him. It opened a door he’d been praying would open.
I’m embarrassed I told you to stay away. I even threw away your pizza. I’m very glad you ignored me and took the time to write a letter. All things considered, I’m doing okay. While it’s not pleasant being behind bars, it’s bearable. I have a good cellmate and the knowledge that even in here I’m in God’s hands. We play basketball a few times a week. Please keep the letters coming. I’d love to stay up-to-date with what is going on in Table Rock PD.
He liked Jenna; they connected on many levels. But he needed to see what this opening with Leah would bring.
He cleared his throat, working for time to formulate the right answer. “I enjoy spending time with you as well, Jenna. But there is some
one else on my mind right now. Hope we can still work together well.”
She dropped her hand. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. . . . But I’m sure we’ll still crush crime together. Just remember me if the other doesn’t work out.”
CHAPTER 30
The cloud of corruption over Table Rock PD had Leah angry and on edge.
Why didn’t I pay more attention to what Brad was doing? Or at least make a note of all the Hangmen?
If I’d snooped more, I might be able to help Gretchen more.
How are the department and all the good people I worked with for three years doing in this mess?
The questions ran through her thoughts, and she really couldn’t answer any of them.
Out in the recreation yard, she and Nora were shaping up a group of women on the court. Leah and Nora had started the basketball mentoring program. They’d trained up two good teams of women and played a regular once-a-week game. Teaching rules and sportsmanship was a good thing. They’d worked away from jungle ball and even had a surprising referee of sorts. Pat, the tattooed woman who’d tried to intimidate Leah, had played high school ball. She couldn’t play now because of a bum knee, so she’d walk up and down the court and call fouls.
Leah gave pointers and helped the less athletic women with game skills. Sometimes it amazed Leah how well she fit in. These were all women she would have arrested if things were different. Most of them had substance abuse issues, one was in for manslaughter, two were arrested for solicitation, and a couple had been convicted of armed robbery.
Yet on the court they had fun together, helped one another, and for forty-five minutes could forget that they were behind bars.
Besides basketball, Leah had church. For Sunday chapel, she and three other women made up the worship team. They told Leah she had a beautiful voice. She really couldn’t hear herself; all she knew was that she loved to worship and would sing all day if she could.
But in spite of these good things, the routine of jail chafed, and there were dark nights when she would have given anything to be out on her own, under the stars or simply at a fast-food restaurant for a midnight snack. On the whole, though, Leah felt at peace, and surprise coursed through her when she realized that she could say, along with Nora, that prison was the best thing to ever happen to her. A part of her felt as if she was the real Leah now, without the facade of the person Brad thought she should be.
If only she had found herself before having to shoot him.
Wednesday afternoon Leah and Nora were warming up while waiting for the rest of the women who formed the two basketball teams to arrive. On any given day they had quite a few spectators. Leah noticed some new faces, fresh from the intake period. Nora missed a jumper and it caromed off the rim, over Leah’s head toward the onlookers.
Leah came down from leaping up and missing the ball and turned. One of the onlookers—a thin, blonde woman Leah didn’t know—had picked up the ball. A feeling jolted inside Leah, like an alarm going off. Brad would have called it her spidey sense. Something was not right with the woman.
Leah hesitated, then held her arms out to receive the ball. For a second Leah didn’t think the woman was going to throw it back. Then in the blink of an eye the woman reared back with the ball in both hands and threw it at Leah with as much force as she could muster.
Leah sidestepped easily, but like a bad dream, the blonde charged her, something glinting in her hand. A razor blade.
Not again.
This time Leah was prepared and in better shape. The woman slashed at her face with the blade, missing Leah by inches. Leah grabbed her assailant’s wrist in both hands, then brought her knee up as hard as she could into the woman’s midsection.
The small blade dropped from the woman’s hand as the breath rushed from her body in a whoosh and a groan. Keeping a grip on the woman’s wrist, Leah forced her to the ground even as in her peripheral vision she could see guards rushing toward them.
After releasing the woman to the first guard who reached them, Leah stepped back and let them gain control.
The woman screamed something in a different language—not Spanish, maybe Russian. Leah couldn’t tell. As her heart rate settled down and the woman was taken into custody, all she could do was wonder what was up this time.
There was another lockdown after this second attempt on Leah’s life. So many questions.
Like the first woman to try to kill Leah, Trina Kotov had been arrested in Table Rock, but this time Leah knew the officers, Marvin Sapp and Vicki Henderson. Kotov, who’d emigrated from Russia when she was a child, had been sentenced to six months for dealing drugs. As to why she tried to kill Leah, she wouldn’t say. All she would say was that she wanted a lawyer.
She was charged with assault and transferred to a women’s prison outside of Oregon. Leah was troubled by the attack, but while on lockdown, something happened that changed her mood in a good way. She received a second letter from Clint.
Leah, thank you for writing back and sharing with me what it’s like behind bars. I’m glad you’re playing ball again; you definitely have a gift there.
He answered a lot of her questions about what was going on in the department and closed with the line: Still believing in you and still praying, Clint Tanner.
The letter brought tears to her eyes at the same time it brought joy to her heart. She didn’t know how Clint knew that those words were what she needed to hear—that he believed in her and he was still praying. She got busy and sat down to write him back.
CHAPTER 31
Clint got Leah’s second letter just before a big meeting the mayor and chief had called. All 103 sworn members and 33 civilian members of the department were to be in attendance, with Jackson County Sheriff agreeing to cover Table Rock so even those on duty could attend. Clint arrived early to the fairgrounds; the meeting place was in one of the exhibit halls.
He knew the gathering was necessary. Table Rock PD was in turmoil. Since Vicki’s reinstatement, national reporters were asking questions that local reporters never would. Rachel Clyburn, the Draper family attorney, was all over the news trying to mitigate the Hangmen story and make certain Harden was kept out of it. The Hangmen were the number one topic of conversation. Whenever asked, Chief Wilcox continually denied that the organization existed.
When Clint arrived and looked around, it appeared to him that everyone was in attendance. Including Vicki Henderson. She looked uncomfortable and he caught her eye. Smiling with what looked like relief, she hurried his way.
“Have you seen Marvin?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He held out his hand. After his promotion he’d been sent to a couple of different schools and hadn’t been in patrol to welcome her back. “Good to see you, though.”
She grinned and shook his hand.
“Has it been difficult?”
“Not really.” She hiked a shoulder, still searching for Marvin Sapp. “Most everyone has been supportive. It helps that the judge ordered them to bring me back as if I’d never been fired. Got my same shift with my same days off. I’m back working with Marvin. Curing him of all the bad habits he developed in my absence.”
Clint nodded. He spied Marvin out of the corner of his eye. “Here he comes.”
“See you found my boot.” Marvin clapped Clint on the shoulder, teasingly referring to Vicki as a very green rookie.
“Ha-ha.” She rolled her eyes.
“Quite a crowd,” Marvin said, surveying the room.
“No kidding,” Clint agreed.
Chief Wilcox, Lieutenant Racer from IA, Sergeant Forman, and Detective Patterson in homicide were at the front of the room with patrol supervisor Lieutenant Haun a little off to the left. Clint fought his surprise as he saw Harden Draper saunter in the door.
“Hey—” Vicki elbowed him in the ribs—“is that who I think it is?”
“It is,” Clint said, watching the man like you’d watch a snake. Draper shook hands here and there. The older guys were m
ore familiar with him, but Clint could see a bit of awe in the eyes of some of the younger guys. Draper was a local celebrity, no two ways about it.
“He walks around the place like he owns it,” Sapp said. “Guy’s been retired for way more years than he ever worked.”
Draper made his way to the front of the room. At one point, he leaned close to Wilcox as if asking a question. They both turned and looked in Clint’s direction. There was no mistaking the animosity in Draper’s visage. Clint refused to be intimidated. It was Draper who looked away first.
“Wow.” Vicki turned to Clint. “Did he just give you the hate stare of all hate stares?”
Clint simply shrugged.
Wilcox called the meeting to order. “I’m glad to see everyone here. I don’t have to tell you why we called this meeting,” he began, though there were still ripples of whispers rolling through the room. “All of the nonsense you’re reading in the press. There is no such group as the Hangmen.”
The room erupted as the whispers became louder and a bunch of cops started to speak at once. Some spoke in agreement, but Clint also heard some disbelieving comments.
“Quiet, quiet!” Wilcox ordered.
The murmurs died down.
“This noise about the Hangmen is just a smoke screen.” He paused, glancing to Draper, then went on. “This is about one thing and one thing only. Radcliff lost her appeal. Her new pot-stirring lawyer is grasping at straws, trying to shift blame. Radcliff killed one of our own in cold blood, and she had her day in court. These false allegations will fade away if we don’t put any more wood on the fire.”
“Mind if I say a few words, Chief?”
Wilcox, Racer, and Patterson all turned as Harden Draper stepped forward. He’d phrased it as a question, but it was clear he wasn’t going to wait for an answer.
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