by Robin James
Chapter 41
Vangie waited for me at the end of the dock. I wrapped my arm around her and my heart burst as she tilted her head and rested it on my shoulder.
“I love you,” I said. “What you did today …”
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t tell me I was brave. I should have been braver. I shouldn’t have cut bait and just left this mess. Aubrey Ames paid for it. Those other girls you mentioned. Chelsea Holbrook. Lindsey Claussen. They paid for it. I should have posted that video online six years ago and exposed that asshole for what he was. If I’d done that … maybe.”
“Stop it!” I shouted. “You were a kid, Vangie. And goddammit, you were failed by every adult in your life. Including me. Oh, Vang, why didn’t you tell me? I knew something was wrong when you came to stay with me that summer. I just assumed so many things. I know what it’s like dealing with Dad and all the Delphi bullshit. At least, I thought I knew what the real Delphi bullshit was. I had no clue. But you did.”
She peeled herself away from me. “I swear to God, that was why I came to Chicago that summer. I was going to tell you. I was … I was going to get rid of the baby. I was going to ask you to help me pay for it.”
I swallowed hard. My poor, strong baby sister. She’d faced it all alone.
“I couldn’t do it,” she said. “I kept thinking how it wasn’t her fault. My daughter. I knew she would be a girl from the very beginning. It just felt like I’d be letting one more person pay for what Larry did. And you had this big life. You got out. I saw how people looked at you, how they treated you. You changed your fate. I was so proud of you. And jealous too. I was afraid … I just didn’t want to drag you back into this crap. I knew you’d drop everything.”
I shook. Anger and guilt thundered through me. “Vangie …”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I just … I wanted to be like you. And I wanted to do it all by myself. I had to prove to myself that I could. So I left. It just got easier to leave it all behind. Even you. Even Matty and the others. I’m sorry for that now. I’m still mad at you. But I think … I think maybe I’m also glad that you found me and brought me here. What happened in court today, it was the missing piece, you know?”
I reached for her, running my hand along Vangie’s arm. “Yeah. I do know. I’ve never been more proud of you in my life. I wish I could tell you it would matter for Aubrey. But it mattered in every other way. I’m going to take them all down. I swear to you. It’s Kevin Sydney and every other asshole in this town and beyond who protected him. I don’t care what it costs.”
“Do you promise?” Vangie asked.
I gripped her tight as I faced her. “I swear it. I think it’s why I’m here. You talked about me changing my fate. I think this is my fate. I couldn’t protect you back then. I’m damn sure going to make the people responsible pay.”
“Good,” she said, smiling. “But Cass, I have to know. Those men who came for me. Who were they? What happened? Why did you come back here?”
My sweet, brave sister. She’d been brave enough to face her demons for me. I had to do the same for her.
“The firm I worked for … they had some … powerful clients. They did things for those clients I wasn’t comfortable with. One of them got caught and gave my name to some federal investigators. They came to talk to me and the firm got wind of it. I didn’t tell them anything for the same reasons I can’t tell you everything. But somebody decided I was a weak link.”
“They tried to hurt you,” Vangie said. I hadn’t said as much, but she must have read something in my eyes.
“Yeah,” I said. “They were going to kill me, Vangie.”
She put her arms around me and hugged me. “Are they done trying to kill you?”
“I hope so,” I smiled. “The men who came to get you. I called in a favor so they’d help me try and find you. I still have one … friend back there.”
“Killian Thorne,” she said. “Cass, I know who he is. That’s a dangerous friend to have.”
I couldn’t tell her the rest. I couldn’t tell her it was Killian who called off the men his brother paid to send me to the bottom of Lake Michigan just eight months ago.
“As soon as the trial ends, I’m pretty sure that guy in the SUV will go back to Chicago. He was sort of my bodyguard for the last few weeks. There were some people in Delphi who were willing to do anything to protect Coach D. I don’t think we have to worry about that as much anymore.”
“I’m glad.”
“Vangie, your daughter.” My eyes began to fill with tears. My sister’s bright smile warmed me.
“Yeah,” she said. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and pulled up a picture. My heart shattered all over again as she turned it toward me. It was a picture of Vangie sitting on a park bench holding an ice cream cone for a skinny little girl with a toothless smile, scraped knees, and the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. No. That wasn’t true. She looked exactly like Vangie at the age of four or so except for one thing. This little girl had her father’s white-blonde hair. She looked so happy though, giggling for the camera.
“She lives about fifty miles from here,” Vangie said. “It was an open adoption. Her mom, Sarah, is amazing. She’s a special ed teacher at a charter school. Her husband is an accountant with a big firm. They live in a big two-story house and have horses. Jessica. They named her Jessica, but everyone calls her Jessa. She’s happy, Cass. And she’s smart. A little spoiled, but I don’t mind. I see her once or twice a year and get to send her birthday presents. I did a good thing, didn’t I?”
My heart full, I smiled at my sister. “Yeah. Vangie, you did an amazing thing. I said I was never more proud of you. Turns out, I’m prouder still. I love you.”
She finally let her tears fall, but my sister seemed happy, relieved. I wrapped my arms around her and promised to never let her go.
Later, Vangie climbed into the big canopy bed in the guestroom. Matty wouldn’t leave her side and he wouldn’t stop crying. The two of them had always been closest and he’d been completely blindsided by Vangie’s story. I got an air mattress out of the closet and set it up in the hallway right outside Vangie’s room. Weary-eyed, Matty gave me a hug and grabbed a pillow and blanket from my room. I worried today would drive him to the bottom of a beer bottle. So far, he was as sober as I’d seen him in months.
I left them in peace and headed downstairs. I found Joe standing by the back door, keys in hand. I shot him a smile, knowing he could read my mind.
“Mickey’s?” he asked.
“Oh my God, yes.” Then we climbed into his truck and drove to our favorite eastside bar.
Chapter 42
Arm in arm, my brother and I made our way to the front door of Mickey’s. Two figures stood in shadow at the side of the building. One staggered forward. The other man put a hand out, pinning his companion’s shoulder to the wall. It was no great shock to see a couple of drunks have a go at each other in Mickey’s parking lot. It was part of the ambiance.
“Son of a bitch,” Joe muttered as we drew closer and recognized one of the voices.
“I didn’t fucking know, man. I swear to God!” Detective Tim Bowman slurred his words.
“That’s the asshole whose nephew came at Vangie,” Joe said.
“Yeah,” I said, putting a hard hand on his arm.
“Do the right thing, Tim. For once in your life.” The other man stepped out of the shadows. It was Eric Wray. Bowman might be drunk, but Wray was sober.
Tim answered, “It won’t fucking matter.”
“It matters to me!” Eric said. “And it should matter to you!”
“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”
Eric Wray straightened. Bowman swayed on his feet. He was clumsy, dropping his right shoulder in a dead giveaway as he tried to take the first swing. Joe took it as an invitation. Leave it to Joe to use a stupid bar fight to blow off steam.
Eric Wray neatly dodged Bowman’s blow and body slammed him against
the wall. “You piece of shit,” Joe yelled. He stepped in between the two men and grabbed Bowman. He held him up, twisting his shirt between two fists.
“Did you know? You motherfucker. Did you know this whole time? How many girls did your piece-of-shit nephew threaten besides my sister, huh?”
“The fuck you talking about,” Bowman said, but his eyes told a different story. He was scared.
“Joe!” I yelled. My brother’s rage clouded his judgment and he took a swing, landing a punch right across Tim Bowman’s face. Blood gushed from his nose and he went straight down.
Eric grabbed Joe and threw him against the wall, holding him there with his forearm. “Cool your shit!” Eric shouted. “This isn’t your fight.”
This could get ugly, fast. Joe was carrying. He had a permit, but tensions were too damn high. Sure enough, Wray’s eyes went wide as he pushed my brother back. No doubt he felt the outline of Joe’s weapon.
“Are we going to have a bigger problem than we need?” In one swift movement, Eric disarmed my brother. He opened his jacket and shoved Joe’s gun into his back pocket. I caught a glimpse of Wray’s own off-duty gun and the small knife he carried in his belt loop. A shudder went through me and I found myself grateful that Eric Wray, for now, had the cooler head.
“I’ve got a permit for that,” Joe said, his voice not much more than a hiss.
“Then you’ll get it back, after you’ve cooled down a bit. You know where to find me,” Wray said.
Bowman stirred beside them, but dropped his head back to the ground.
“Joe, enough,” I said. “Let’s just go inside and get the beers we came for.”
Nostrils flaring, Joe squared off with Eric Wray. They would be evenly matched. Joe’s last name got him in plenty of street fights. I knew Eric had been a beat cop before earning his detective’s badge. But I was in no mood to watch them kick the shit out of each other.
“Listen to your sister,” Wray said. “Go inside. First round’s on me, okay?”
My brother mercifully relaxed his posture.
“Come on,” he said to me.
“I’ll be right in,” I said. “Find us a booth.”
Joe passed a look from me to Eric, his silent threat unmistakable. Eric lifted his hands, holding them palms out in a gesture of surrender.
“Thanks,” I said, as Joe disappeared in the bar. “It’s just … it’s been a long day.”
Eric turned and helped Bowman to his feet. Bowman swore at his fellow detective then staggered off into the night. Eric showed me a set of keys he’d just pulled off Tim Bowman. I nodded, impressed.
“You did good today,” he said. “In court.”
“Oh, you saw all that?” I asked as we started toward the bar’s entrance.
“I saw enough,” he answered. He held the door out for me. I hesitated before going in. Eric had a somber expression on his face that matched my insides.
“Then you know it’s not going to make a damn bit of difference. That girl is going to prison for this.”
Eric met my eyes and his shoulders dropped, almost as if I’d been the one to deliver a gut punch. He grimaced. “Maybe …”
“Maybe nothing,” I said. “You’ve been at this as long as I have, Detective. I was sunk the second that girl went in and confessed. If we’re lucky, she gets second-degree and maybe she’s out in eighteen years.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s make the first round a pitcher.”
He froze. Something went through his eyes. “Tell Mickey to put it on my tab. Watch out your brother doesn’t go overboard. He’s a mean-ass drunk. Good luck tomorrow. I mean that.”
“Thanks,” I said, puzzled. “You sticking around for the grand finale?”
He looked skyward then back at me. “I just might.”
“Then I’ll take a rain check,” I said, feeling bold. “You can buy me a drink when it’s all over.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
With that, he turned on his heel and headed out into the night.
Chapter 43
“Why aren’t they here yet?” Aubrey whispered. She sat beside me the next morning at the defense table. She was anxious to get going, though I’d explained how mundane the next hour or so might be. The judge would read a list of instructions to the jury, including legal definitions for the major issues in the case. After that, they would take the case back to the jury room and decide Aubrey’s fate once and for all.
“Just be patient a little while longer,” I said, finding a smile for her. “No matter what happens, I want you to know how proud I am of you.”
“Proud?”
“Yes. Proud.”
She cast her eyes downward. “And I want you to know if this goes bad … I know how hard you worked. I know you’ve always believed in me. And I know it’s nobody’s fault but mine. I tried to do the right thing. I thought I was protecting my family.”
“Stop,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “No more looking back. Just keep your head high. Let me do my job. We’ll get a verdict. Then we’ll decide if and where to fight next. Okay? One thing at a time.”
She gave me a quick nod. I was going to say something else, but there was a commotion toward the back of the courtroom. The double doors stood open and Jack LaForge was in the hallway, red-faced and sweating. He looked about ready to have a stroke or a heart attack.
“Sit tight,” I cautioned Aubrey. Dan and Diane sat behind me. Dan cast a wary look at me. I made a downward motion with my hand. Whatever this was, I didn’t need him on my heels.
Jeanie sat beside Dan. The hallway commotion had her attention as well. As I walked to the back of the courtroom, she got up and followed.
“Do you have any idea what this does?” Jack shouted. My pulse tripped when I got close enough to see who he was shouting at. Tim Bowman stood before him, looking even worse than Jack. His suit was disheveled, his nose swollen from last night’s encounter with Joe. Tim seemed sober, but barely. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved yet. It looked like he slept in his clothes, his car, or not at all.
“It doesn’t do anything. He’s a drunk. A wino. The whole town knows it.”
Jack tore a hand through his hair. He had a hard grip on Bowman’s shoulder. In another second, I expected him to throw his own punch, shattering Bowman’s nose for good.
“Something you boys need to fill me in on?” I asked. Jack reared back, startled. I’d never seen him like this. He was always cool and arrogant. He let go of Bowman.
“Just have a seat on that bench,” Jack said to Bowman. “Don’t fucking move.”
The bench in question was right outside Castor’s courtroom. At the end of it sat another man just as disheveled as Tim Bowman. He looked familiar. Skinny, gray complexion. His hair was slicked back and the strong scent of Old Spice hit me. It barely masked his body odor. He could be thirty or seventy, his nose red and mottled from years of drinking.
“Whatcha doing here, Benny?” Jeanie asked, walking over to him. Benny. Shit. Benny Hyde. Long ago, he’d been a friend and drinking buddy of my father’s. He was the one guy in town who was usually worse off than Joe Leary Sr. What the hell was he doing here?
Benny didn’t answer, but gave Jeanie a nervous look. Bowman lumbered over to him and planted himself on the bench beside him.
“Cass,” Jack said. “We’ve got a little situation. I was just coming to get you. Judge Castor is waiting for us in chambers.”
“You mind telling me what the hell this is about?” I said. “I don’t like walking into meetings when I don’t know what they’re about.”
“Just come on.”
Castor’s secretary, Jennifer, poked her head out of his office door. She gave Jack a stern look and motioned for the two of us to come in. I shot a look at Jeanie. I’d leave her out here to figure out what Bowman and Benny had to do with any of this.
Castor was out of his robes when we walked in, wearing a blue
tailored suit and a scowl. “Jack,” he said. “Start talking.”
We took seats on the other side of Castor’s desk. Jack worked his hands together. He was still sweating. “It has come to my attention that there’s a witness that had not been previously disclosed,” he said. “In the park on the night of the 22nd.”
“A witness to what, exactly?” Castor said, his voice rising.
“It’s Benny Hyde,” Jack said, exasperated. “He was trying to sleep off a bender in the park that night. Hell, he’s probably drunk right now.”
“A witness to what?!” Castor and I shouted in unison.
“He says he saw Coach D on a swing by himself. He says it was 10:45.”
“And just how the hell is he that specific?”
Jack dropped his head. “He says he got a phone call from his wife. He went up to the coach. Talked to him. But his phone rang and it was Dottie, trying to figure out where he was. He turned and walked out of the park.”
My blood boiled. “You have got to be kidding me. Who took his statement? When?”
Jack pressed his thumb to his temple. Goddammit. I already knew the answer. “Bowman,” I answered for him. “Son of a bitch. Tim Bowman. Judge, this is a Brady violation if ever there was one.”
“He’s a wino!” Jack said. “This guy is not reliable. He’s just as likely to admit to seeing spaceships flying over the park on cross.”
“That’s not for you to decide!” I fumed. I rose from my chair and squared off with him. Castor gave me a warning look, but I was too far gone to care. “I can’t even … Jesus, Jack. Brady does not depend on whether the information is reliable. It only matters if it’s exculpatory. I can’t … I don’t even know what to say here. I want cell phone records. I want them right now.”
