Kallie leaned beside him. "That makes sense. I can't help thinking we are missing the why of this situation. Why would Dawson kill his one ticket out of hell?"
"Yeah, Samuel was one hell of a gravy train for that man."
Kallie jumped and grabbed Brock. "Gravy train. We haven't looked into financials."
"You think Dawson or Cynthia were trying to blackmail Treyson? Squeeze him for money?"
"Yeah, maybe. Think about it. Dawson has nothing. According to her cousin's unsolicited comments today, Cynthia is money hungry. It's worth running it to the ground. They aren't going anywhere." Kallie motioned toward Dawson.
Brock nodded. "My gut is telling me Cynthia was driving Samuel's car and lost control of it around that corner." Brock thumped his notebook with his pen. "It's a hairpin curve. Hell, I can recall five or six cars being fished out of that damn river. Drivers going too fast and not paying attention to the warning signs. That guard rail has been replaced and fortified, but cars still go over."
"The techs are working that angle."
"But Cynthia doesn't know that." Brock looked at her.
"True. Neither does Dawson. He admitted Cynthia threw her keys at him and told him to get lost."
"So, you think Dawson was at the warehouse?"
"Yep."
"Before or after the murder?"
"Don't know, but I think it’s time to find out. Would you care to join me, Detective?"
Kallie turned and looked up at him. "Why does that turn me on, Detective?"
"Because you’re dating a cop, and you think I'm hot."
"Nuclear, Detective. Nuclear. Your brain is sexy as fuck, too."
"Right back at yah, Tiger." Brock leaned down and kissed her cheek quickly.
"Boundaries, Detective King."
"Nobody was watching, Detective Redman." He wrapped his arms around her.
"Well in that case, kiss me like you mean it, and then let's go get us a murderer." She sighed into the warm embrace and delicious kiss. The quick intimacy was not enough, but with the way things were unfolding, it could be their only time alone, together, today. She leaned back when he moved away from her. "Are you ready?" She ran her hands up his arms.
"I am. You?"
Kallie chuckled. "Raring to go. But we can go question the suspect if you insist." She laughed at Brock's pained groan. She popped him on the arm with her notepad and headed to the door.
She waited for Brock outside the interview room and wiped the smile away, putting her game face on. They entered together. Dawson’s gaze switched between them but he didn't ask any questions.
"We have a couple follow up questions, Dawson."
"Sure." The man nodded.
"Where were you between 6:00 and 9:00 on Wednesday evening?" Kallie leaned back as she asked and flipped open her notebook. She then stared at the man in front of her.
"I was with Cynthia."
"Where?"
"Ah... We worked that day."
"Until when? Oh, never mind. I can get the surveillance tape. What did you do after you left the store?" Kallie jotted a note down on the side of her clean sheet of paper and moved slightly as her phone vibrated in her pocket.
"I don't remember." The man looked down at his hands.
"Come on, Dawson. It’s a simple question." Brock leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table, clasping his hands together.
"I think I need a lawyer." Dawson muttered.
"Are you telling me you want a lawyer or asking if you need one? See, there is a big difference in those two variations. If you want a lawyer, and dude, you've got every right to talk to a lawyer, as a matter of fact, let me advise you of your rights." Kallie recited the guy's Miranda Rights, pulling her card even though she knew the damn thing by heart. She asked him if he understood what she'd just told him. Her phone vibrated again.
"Yeah, I understand."
Brock took over. "Cool. So, the question is do you want to talk to a lawyer because let me tell you what is going to happen if you do that. We are going to get up and leave, and we are going to go in and talk to Cynthia. What do you think she's going to say, Dawson? Do you think she's going to hold back, or do you think she's going to paint us a picture with you as the bad guy, just like the allegations she made that you pushed her down the stairs Wednesday night?"
Dawson was adamant. "I didn't do that. I was at the club. I've never hurt anyone."
"And we are checking that out, because that's what we do. We find the truth. The real truth, not a convenient shade of the truth. Now, do you want a lawyer, or are you willing to answer questions?"
"It doesn't matter, man. I'm dead if I talk, and if I don’t, they're going to say it was me, and I spend my life in jail."
"Where were you between 6:00 and 9:00 that night." Brock asked.
"We closed the store between 5:00 and 6:00. She was pissed, so damn mad. She told me to get into the car. We drove to the harbor. A big building. A warehouse." A tear slid down the guys face.
Kallie clarified, "To be exact, the 'she' you're mentioning is Cynthia White?"
"Yeah."
Brock snapped the next question, "What did you do there?"
"She met a guy. He told her to get Samuel to come out. She made me call him."
Kallie once again pushed for more details, "What time was that?"
"I don't know, it was after sunset, maybe 6:30, a little after."
Brock asked the next question. They were tag teaming the witness like they'd been doing it for years. "How did you call him?"
"She gave me a phone after she dialed the number."
"Was it her cell phone?" Kallie moved her attention from her notepad when she questioned Dawson.
"No, it wasn't it. It wasn’t a smart phone, like she has. It looked like my pay-as-you-go phone." Dawson sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"What did you say to Samuel?"
"What she told me to say."
"Which was?"
"She told me to say I slipped away, and could he meet me at the warehouse at the end of Livingston Avenue, down by the docks. I told him go to the back and come inside. I was afraid she'd track me down. I told him not to tell anyone where we were meeting."
"Then what happened?"
“Over in the corner of the place, she and some man argued. The words echoed around, and I couldn't tell what they were talking about, but she was pissed for a long time. Finally, she must have gotten her way because she laughed and said, 'Deal.' She threw her keys at me and told me to get fucking lost and stay lost until she found me."
"What did the man look like?"
"I don't know. I couldn't see him too good. He stayed in the shadows."
"Was he tall? Could you tell by the way he talked if he was from the local area? Did he have an accent?" Brock peppered the guy with questions.
Dawson shifted slightly and winced. "He was maybe five-ten, six foot. Cynthia had to look way up at him. He talked like a smart person. Proper speaking and shit."
"Did he sound young or old?" Kallie tried to get more information.
"I don't know, but I would recognize his voice if I heard it again."
"Okay, what happened then?"
"I left."
Brock cleared his throat and continued the interview, "What time was that?"
"I don't know, but I saw Sam's car when I got onto the freeway. He was going the other direction and taking the off ramp onto Livingston."
"What car was he driving?"
"The red one. The sports car. It’s a..." Dawson shook his head. "I think he called it a McLaren. I don't know much about fancy cars. I'm not a gear head, but once you see that car, you know it."
Brock nodded. "What happened then?"
"I went to Fire and Ice and met up with some of my friends."
Kallie held up a finger, stopping Dawson. "What time was that?"
"9:00. They rang the late-night happy hour bell as I was walking in." Dawson sniffed and shook his head. "She killed him,
didn't she?"
Neither she nor Brock responded to his question. Instead, she asked, "Did you see any vehicle besides the one you and Cynthia were driving?"
"No, but then again I didn't look around. She was really mad on the way out, you know? She kept muttering that the bastard couldn't do that to her. She kept saying he was cheating her. She was ranting about money. It makes me a fucking pussy, but I just didn't want her to start on me again. I shut up and kept my eyes on the floor. If she saw me looking anywhere else, she... I just didn't want to risk it."
Brock interjected, "And when you left?"
"I just got in the car and went, man. I didn't know why they wanted me to call Sam down to the warehouse, you know." He wiped his cheeks slowly, but deliberately. "Fuck, did I ever find out why they wanted me to do it. She said to keep my mouth shut if I wanted to live."
"Why were you beaten?" Kallie asked since he was talking and cooperative.
He shrugged. "I guess 'cause I told her I was going to call you. I took that card you gave her. She threw it in the garbage after you left. I should have known I was in a world of hurt."
"Why's that?" Brock looked up from his notebook.
"She wasn't mad. She was nice. She agreed we needed to tell you what we knew. She said that we'd see you, together. She told me to go home and wait for her but had me run the last drop off before I went home. He was there when I walked in."
"Did you see who it was?"
"No. I was hit as soon as I went in. All I saw was that bat."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"He said to keep my mouth shut. I thought he was going to kill me." Dawson sniffed again, not bothering to wipe the tears this time. "It would have been better if he'd finished the job."
She turned the interview back to questions and not emotions. "Dawson, did you call in sick from work this morning?"
"No. I got no phone. How was I supposed to call?"
Brock shifted the conversation again. "When you drove to the Warehouse District, what route did you take?"
"Interstate to Livingston exit."
"And Cynthia White was driving her car. You were the passenger?"
"Yeah."
"The make and model of her car?"
Dawson gave them the make, model and color.
"Thank you. We're going to need a signed statement from you."
"Whatever you want, man. It doesn't matter anymore. Can you send someone to take me to the bathroom?"
"Sure, we can do that." Dawson closed his eyes and kept them closed as they left.
15
They made their way to the observation room that overlooked Cynthia White's interview room after making a call to the front desk requesting an escort for Dawson. Kallie palmed her phone and looked at the texts. "Check it." She held her phone for Brock to read.
"Cynthia White’s uncle owns part of that warehouse."
"Yep."
"Then she has access–"
"–to where Samuel Treyson was killed."
Brock glanced at his phone and grunted. "Bettis says he's got video of Dawson at Fire and Ice. First positive ID of the man is time-stamped at four minutes after 9:00."
"Let's get Davidson down here again, run this by him, and let him know what we're going to do. Plus, now we have probable cause, and we can use that to go for a warrant on financials. Davidson can run it by the District Attorney's office and ask them to get a warrant."
"I gotta ask. Keeping Davidson this close, it’s not normal, right? I'm not criticizing, but we usually just briefed when we were arresting or if we had problems with external agencies."
"No, he's not usually this hands-on, but this isn't a normal case. My old man is taking a huge amount of heat. You saw the Governor’s speech. If we don't get this fucker, my old man will be crowned with a dunce cap and pointed at by that megalomaniac. He'll lose the credibility he’s worked so fucking hard to garner. I want him to get up to date briefings, and I trust Davidson to channel the information correctly." Brock rubbed the back of his neck. "I think Sebastian Treyson has put a full court press on the police department. He obviously has the Governor in his pocket. I'm waiting for the rest of the politicians to start toeing Treyson's line. Money isn't going to solve this case, but it will definitely ruin careers. Unfortunately, it’s my dad who will pay the price if we don't get this bastard."
"Sebastian Treyson..." Kallie leaned against the wall and stared at Cynthia, who looked like she was asleep. Her good arm cradled her head, and her upper body sprawled across the top of the table.
The sound of Kallie's phone vibrating punctuated the silence. She didn't even look at the phone. He sighed. He'd lay odds it was the fucking ex again. He glanced through the window. "What's rolling around in that beautiful brain of yours?" Brock leaned back in his chair and put his feet onto the small table in the room.
"Who was the man with Cynthia, and what were they arguing about?"
"My bet is on money."
"But from whom?"
Brock closed his eyes. "Deepest pockets. Daddy."
"Do you think we can get a warrant to look at Sebastian Treyson’s bank accounts?"
"Not with what we have now, and with his resources, who’s to say any money that was exchanged came from this country."
"He could have brought it in with him."
"But he was out of the country."
"Was he?"
Kallie leaned forward. "We don't need a warrant to look at filed flight plans."
Brock opened his eyes. "No, no we don't. Assume nothing, validate everything."
"Knowing Daddy was actually across the pond and not blowing us off would allow us to eliminate him from the suspect pool."
"But what does he gain from Samuel's death?"
Kallie slid down the wall and ended up on her ass. She hugged her knees and stared over at him. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. He'd noticed she did that when she was thinking. She glanced up at him. "Power?"
"Sebastian is the owner, he can't get much more powerful than that. What else could he gain?"
"Control."
"Yeah, but of what?" Brock batted her suggestion back at her.
"Well… how about control of Samuel?"
Brock dropped his feet and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
"His son has an alternate lifestyle; one Samuel went to lengths to arrange and manage so Daddy didn't find out."
"Daddy had an affair with his wife. He knew Samuel wasn't going to rock the boat." Brock dropped his elbows to his legs.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he knew Samuel was getting any on the side. The old man was fucking his kid's wife. Power and control in the extreme. He was the one in charge. He was the one with the power. It got old, and Sebastian drops the wife when he gets bored, but he dropped her, she didn't drop him."
Brock followed the path Kallie was laying down. "So, Cynthia contacts Daddy and blackmails him?"
"She could, or she could contact someone at Samuel's company and threaten to go public unless she's paid off."
Brock followed her thought path. "And someone at the company contacts Daddy."
Kallie nodded. "Cynthia could've threatened to out Samuel’s affairs."
"Dawson and Samuel, or hell, any of the others and Samuel. Sam's married. If he gets outed cheating on his wife, that's a stain on his public image. One that has been carefully crafted..."
"By Daddy." Kallie finished his thought.
"Fuck, its thin." Brock rubbed his face.
"But it makes sense."
"We'll need to be very careful."
"We do." Kallie chuckled when she folded her arms over her knees and stared up at him. "Damn, Detective King, you sure know how to show a woman a good time, don't you?"
He chuckled and grabbed his cell to throw Davidson a text. The man hit him right back. "He's tied up. He'll be here in twenty."
"Twenty whole minutes to ourselves. Whatever will we do with the time, Detective?" Kallie leaned back against the wall and
watched him.
He dropped to his hands and knees from the chair he was sitting on. He crawled the three feet to where she was leaning back against the wall and flopped into position beside her. "If we didn't have boundaries in place, I could think of countless ways to pass the time."
"Countless?" Kallie dropped her hand, and he grabbed it, weaving his fingers through hers.
"I'm sure there is a limit to my imagination. That's when you can take over." He held her hand and kissed the back of it. It felt so damn natural.
"I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and all this will have been a dream." She leaned over and dropped her head on his shoulder.
"God, that would suck." Brock chuckled at her snort of agreement. "You know I'm probably going to fuck up. I've only had a couple relationships, and they ended because of the job."
Kallie shifted so she was leaning into him more, and he shifted, breaking their hand hold, to drop an arm behind her, pulling her into his side. "We both know the hours and commitment it takes to do this job. That's a plus."
"We both have this job, which means twice the shit to deal with." He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, leaning his cheek against her hair. This simple connection was everything. He'd arrived at the mirage he'd been chasing all his life. An oasis of peace and contentment.
"So what? It makes spending time together more important." She shrugged. He felt the lift of her shoulder against his ribs.
"It will. Do you have any regrets? Dating a cop again?"
Her fingers stopped the lazy trail up and down his thigh. "No. See, Rich and I met at the academy. We dated off and on for… eight years. When I made detective, he was pretty fucking jealous. So much so we broke up. Two years later, he gets his gold badge and all of a sudden he's back. I knew it was a mistake, but he was one of those guys who'd charm you. And yeah, I had all the warning bells and whistles going off. I ignored them because I didn't want to be alone. Our marriage was difficult. I wasn't happy, and neither was he. We probably wouldn't have survived him coming back from undercover. We'd both changed and grown."
She moved slightly and twisted to look at him. "With us? I don't have a single warning bell going off. There is nothing telling me I'm making a mistake here. You aren't him. I'm not the woman I was. Going through hell changes a person. I'll never let another person control me or my life, but I do want someone to walk through life with me. If that turns out to be you, then good. If we last for a short time, I'll have been glad to have been with you. No regrets."
A Hope City Duet Page 18
