TIL DEATH

by Annette Dashofy

  It didn’t work. “Just ‘too much.’”

  “Oh.” Maybe Pete needed to have a man-to-man talk with Seth. “Guys can be such…men,” Zoe said.

  This brought a laugh, although it sounded more like a sob. Abby shook her head. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Footsteps in the hall silenced them. Abby wiped a sleeve across her eyes before Seth appeared in the doorway. “There you are.” His voice held an edge until he spotted Zoe. “Oh. Hi. Is the Chief here?”

  “Nope. He’s in Brunswick meeting with a friend of his from the FBI. I stopped in to let you know he might be a few minutes late.” The partial lie brought a grateful smile from Abby.

  “No problem.” Seth looked at his partner. “We have a call. Car versus tree out on Cowden Road. Minor injuries.” To Zoe, he added, “No need for your services, I’m afraid.”

  “Good,” she replied, although the lure of jumping into the ambulance tugged at her soul. Her past career of racing to a scene with the very good chance of saving a life rather than dealing with death maintained its allure.

  On her feet, Abby met Zoe’s gaze. “It was good talking to you.” Then she strode out the door on Seth’s heels.

  Zoe rose from the chair and followed, finding Nancy coming in through the front door as Seth and Abby rushed out. The secretary looked after the officers before facing Zoe. “What’d I miss?”

  “Car versus tree,” Zoe said.

  “That explains them. What about you?”

  She told Nancy about Pete’s basketball meeting. “He should be back in time for his shift.”

  Nancy crossed her arms. “He sent you here to talk to Abby, didn’t he?” Under her breath she muttered, “Coward.”

  Zoe laughed. “I volunteered for the job.”

  “Men are clueless.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I meant Seth, but Pete qualifies too.”

  “Do you know what caused the rift between those two?”

  “What did Abby tell you?”

  “She mentioned Seth might be feeling like they’re spending too much time together.”

  Nancy huffed. “She left out a few details.”

  Zoe waited.

  Nancy plopped her purse down on the counter and removed her coat before saying more. “I didn’t go into it with Pete because I didn’t want him to clobber Seth. Abby caught him with another girl.”

  “What? Seth?” He’d saved Zoe’s life once, so she admitted a special fondness for the young cop.

  “She didn’t exactly walk in on them in bed or anything,” Nancy said, “but they were definitely acting cozy. When Abby called him out on it, he got steamed. Abby didn’t tell me exactly what he said, but I can guess.”

  “I can too.” Zoe had heard her share of lies and excuses in her younger days. She’d thought Seth was better than that.

  Pete doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees while sucking air. He was too old for this shit. If not too old, definitely too out of shape. Around him, the squeak of shoes on polished wood and the thud of a basketball being dribbled up the court echoed against the block walls.

  Ethan jogged up to him and slapped him on the back. “Man up, Adams. You’re making me regret picking you for my team.”

  “I regret…agreeing…to show up…at all.”

  The player Pete was supposed to be blocking had the ball and was loping toward him and the net. Despite being oxygen deprived, Pete straightened and charged toward the guy. He darted to Pete’s right. Pete feigned going left but spun and swiped the ball from his opponent’s hands. Pounding down the court, Pete heard the other men giving chase. He drove to the net, leaped, and sent the ball one-handed toward the backboard. He knew he’d sunk it. He also knew he shouldn’t have made that jump. Coming down at an angle, his ankle twisted. The hardwood rushed up, the impact jarring the breath from him.

  “Ow,” he heard himself moan.

  He lay there, convinced he was going to die of asphyxiation.

  Ethan’s face floated over him along with the other players. “Quit laying down on the job, Adams.”

  A small amount of oxygen reached Pete’s lungs. He struggled for another inhalation, finally inflating them enough to wheeze, “Son of a—”

  Snickering, Ethan extended a hand to him. Pete grasped it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. At least his ankle held.

  Minutes later, he sat on the second row of a set of bleachers, chugging ice water from a bottle.

  Ethan approached with a towel draped over his shoulders. “I’ve tortured you enough for one day. Let’s talk shop.”

  Pete held up one finger as he gulped more water. Swallowing, he said, “Don’t forget. I scored the winning shot for your team.”

  “Granted.” Ethan ran the towel over his damp hair. “You said on the phone you might have a murder weapon belonging to our serial killer.”

  Pete told him about the Landis homicide, the lone witness to a tall male in a black hoodie running from the scene, the murder weapon found days later wrapped in black sweats behind Landis’ place of business, and the subsequent conviction. “The conviction’s been overturned, and our DA has assigned me to investigate the case all over again.” Pete dug through his gym bag and pulled out the now crumpled newspaper stories. “Landis’ attorney gave me these.”

  Ethan skimmed the pages, clearly having seen them before. He handed them back. “Odd that a defense attorney is turning over his case to the prosecution.”

  “I thought the same thing. Landis insists he’s innocent.” Pete tapped the wrinkled pages. “Help me out. Did we put an innocent man in prison and let a serial killer get away?”

  Ethan’s mouth arched in a thoughtful frown. “Your case has a few variations from the others I’ve investigated.”

  “Such as?”

  “The murder weapon’s a big one. Why frame the husband? As far as we’ve been able to determine, our guy has no connection to his victims. He seems to be more drawn to lonely parking lots and a certain type of woman. We’ve never found any evidence of him stalking his victim or any link to the families. If it was him who killed the Landis woman, he had to know who her husband was. It’s too big a coincidence to think he randomly ditched the gun in that dumpster. Second, the witness. Our guy has been too shy to let anyone see him.”

  “You have no idea what he looks like?”

  “One time—” Ethan held up a loan finger. “—he got caught on a security camera. A business owner across the street had just had it installed that morning, so we figure our killer cased the parking lot earlier when it wasn’t there. Even so, the image sucked.” Ethan met Pete’s gaze with a hint of a grin.

  “But?”

  “The man in the footage was wearing black. I couldn’t tell you for sure if he was tall or had an athletic build, but I can tell you he wasn’t overweight.”

  Pete swore. “So Elizabeth Landis could’ve been one of your serial killer’s early victims.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’d love to question your eyewitness.”

  “She still lives in the area. I have to question her again for the new investigation.”

  Ethan nodded thoughtfully. “Too bad I’m leaving for Quantico this afternoon. Do you mind if I hook you up with another agent who’s been working this case?”

  “Not at all. I appreciate the help.”

  “She’ll want to see the weapon used too.”

  “No problem.”

  An eager smile crossed Ethan’s face. “I know you hate the idea of having put an innocent man behind bars, but this overturned conviction might just help us catch a killer who’s been preying on women for more than a decade.” He slapped Pete on the shoulder. “Come on, Adams. Let’s hit the showers so you can get to work on time.”

  The morning sky had brightened to a flat, gray dawn while Zoe was inside t
he station. When she reached for the driver’s door of Pete’s Ford Edge, the vehicle she’d been using since her truck was in the shop, a small gray sedan wheeled into the lot and parked next to her. She faced the new arrival and crossed her arms as Lauren Sanders climbed out.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” the reporter for the Pittsburgh newspaper said across her car’s roof. “I came to ask Pete some questions but wanted to talk to you too.”

  Zoe fought a moment of panic. “You’re not backing out of doing the barn work while Pete and I are away, are you?”

  Lauren dismissed her concerns with a wave. “Never. I can’t wait to get to play with the horses. In fact, I wanted to confirm you still needed me.”

  “Absolutely. I’m leaving it up to you and Patsy to work out a schedule.”

  “No problem.” The brunette glanced toward the police station. “I assume Pete’s in there.”

  “You’d assume wrong.” At one time, Zoe had believed Lauren carried a serious torch for Pete. And who could blame her? But if the attraction remained, Zoe knew it was one-sided. The two women had become close friends. Enough so that Zoe trusted Lauren would never act on her feelings. “He should be here in time for his shift at eight o’clock.”

  “What about you? Care to answer a few questions as chief deputy coroner?”

  “Depends. What about?”

  Lauren motioned to her gray sedan. “Get in. It’s too cold to talk out here.”

  Zoe obliged, sliding into the passenger side.

  Lauren started the car and bumped up the heat before plucking a pen and notebook from the center console. “What can you tell me about the reopened investigation into Elizabeth Landis’ murder?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I wasn’t on duty with the ambulance the night it happened. And I didn’t start working for the coroner’s office until a few years ago, so I wasn’t a party to that investigation.”

  “But you’re with the coroner’s office now. What does your boss have to say about it?”

  “Anything I could tell you would be hearsay.”

  Lauren looked at her askance. “I’m a reporter, not a lawyer. Your ‘hearsay’ is my ‘confidential source.’”

  Zoe debated how much to share. “I haven’t had any reason to talk to Coroner Marshall about that case. Like I said, it didn’t involve me. I can tell you Detective Wayne Baronick is assigned to the investigation along with Pete.”

  “I already knew that. He’s on my list to question too.”

  “Did you know Dr. Charles Davis has been assigned as ‘expert witness’ for the defense?” Zoe made air quotes.

  Lauren blew a raspberry. “Good old Dr. Davis. Politician first. Forensic expert second. Human being? Somewhere way lower on the list.”

  Zoe choked back a laugh. “So it’s not just me who feels that way?”

  “Nope.” Lauren scribbled a note. “What about Pete? Does he have an angle he’s working?”

  Zoe eyed the reporter. Did she already know about his meeting with the FBI and was fishing for details? “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “I know you two discuss cases at home. Give me a crumb. I won’t share where I got the information.”

  “Like Pete wouldn’t know it was me? My wedding’s in less than two weeks. I’d prefer he not call it off.”

  Lauren clicked her pen and stuck it in her coat pocket. “He’s crazy in love with you. He’d never call off your wedding. But that’s okay. You just admitted there is information even though you’re unwilling to share it.”

  Zoe swore to herself. Lauren was good.

  The exchange reminded Zoe of another time Lauren had a source she refused to reveal. “By the way,” Zoe said, “it’s been almost three months since you helped me find Scott, and you’ve yet to tell me who clued you in about me having a brother.”

  Lauren responded with the same enigmatic smile she’d given Zoe back in November. “That’s right.”

  “Come on, Lauren. Who told you?”

  “I only obtained the information by promising to protect my source’s anonymity. Nothing’s changed.”

  “But—”

  Lauren shushed her with a wave of a hand. She gazed at her rearview mirror. “Here comes the man I want to talk to.”

  Zoe turned to look out the back window. Pete’s township-issued Explorer cruised into the lot and parked on the other side of the Edge. Facing Lauren, she said, “You will tell me one day.”

  “Don’t count on it.” The reporter opened her door, paused, and met Zoe’s eyes. “I shouldn’t need to tell you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Lauren winked. “Think about it.” And she climbed out of the car.

  Eight

  Getting up early was never a problem for Pete. Thanks to his insomnia, he’d been awake for hours. But playing basketball at five a.m. with a bunch of fitness fanatics? Not something he cared to do on a regular basis, despite Ethan’s invitation to join them anytime. Finding Lauren Sanders waiting for him when he arrived at the station hadn’t improved his mood.

  Nor did Zoe’s furtive reply when asked if she’d talked to Abby. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  He didn’t want to discuss it. He wanted his officers to patch up whatever had muddied their partnership waters and leave him out of it. He was Chief of Police. Not a romance counselor.

  And Lauren. As far as reporters went, he’d come to tolerate her. But when she was in pit bull mode, like this morning, he wanted to give her a flat “no comment” and shut the door in her face. Instead, he’d been polite but evasive, promising she’d be the first to know when he had anything to release to the public.

  Then he shut the door in her face.

  Seth and Abby returned from the accident scene and retreated to their desks in the bullpen to complete their reports. No bickering. No angry looks exchanged. But also none of the easy banter he’d become used to from the partners. Instead, they were extremely professional.

  Too professional.

  How long had this been going on without Pete noticing? He’d been so wrapped up in his own personal business—getting his house on the market, moving his stuff to Zoe’s farm, trying to not think too much about the wedding itself—that he’d missed all the nonverbal clues that his officers were having issues. Zoe’s whispered warning told him nothing. And everything. There was definitely something to talk about.

  A half hour later, his graveyard shift officers clocked out and gave him a terse, “See you tomorrow.” They left without the usual chatter between them.

  The bells on the front door jingled as Pete tried to console a local resident over the phone about her son constantly skipping school. Pete had talked to the same kid last fall and had scared the boy straight. For a while.

  Wayne Baronick appeared in Pete’s office doorway, a pair of Starbucks cups in his hands. Pete motioned for him to take a seat.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said to the distraught mom on the phone. “I’ll track him down and have another talk with him.”

  She thanked him and ended the call.

  Baronick set one of the coffees next to Pete’s mug of Maxwell House. “I thought you could use this.”

  More caffeine? Always. “You come bearing gifts. Why am I worried?”

  “No need. I wanted to touch base with you about the Landis case. Frattini wants to know what we’ve come up with so far.”

  “It’s been less than a day on a case that’s nine years old.”

  “You know our DA. He wants everything done yesterday.”

  Pete drained his mug and set it on one of the existing coffee rings on his desk. “You first. I understand you talked to Franklin Marshall yesterday.”

  The detective leaned back in his chair. “If you could call it that. They had him on some meds that were making him loopy. He did make it pretty clear he wasn’t con
vinced of Landis’ guilt.”

  “Marshall and Frattini nearly came to blows over it.”

  “He failed to mention that part.”

  “As coroner, his job was to determine cause and manner of death.”

  “Zoe gave me copies of the autopsy report and photos. COD was a single gunshot to the head. Tox screen was clean. No signs of a struggle. She didn’t have time to react to seeing the gun in her face. Obviously, he ruled it a homicide.”

  “And that was all Frattini needed him to testify to on the stand. As far as our DA was concerned, determining who fired the shot was outside of the duties of the coroner’s office.”

  “Franklin’s not usually one to overstep. What were his reasons for believing Landis was innocent?”

  Pete pictured the scene that night. The blood spattered across the inside of the windshield. “The trajectory of the bullet indicated it was fired from the backseat while Elizabeth sat in the front. She got in. Closed her door. Must’ve heard someone behind her and started to turn around. That’s when he shot her. Marshall felt if the husband had done it, he’d have had no reason to lurk in the backseat and would’ve sat in the front.”

  “That’s pretty flimsy.”

  “No argument,” Pete said. “But Rick Hirst, Landis’ attorney, ran with it. You’d have thought Franklin Marshall was a witness for the defense by the time Hirst was done. Marshall’s well respected in this county. Hirst felt the opinion raised reasonable doubt.”

  Baronick rubbed his chin. “I wonder if time has changed Franklin’s mind. If not, Imperatore will have two forensic experts on his side. You heard about Charles Davis?”

  “Zoe told me.” As much as Pete disliked Davis, Baronick had a point. If two known opponents shared the same translation of facts, the district attorney might have his hands full.

  Baronick reached for his cup and took a sip. “How’d your visit go with Dustin and his lawyer?”

  Pete pulled the crumpled pages from his desk drawer where he’d stashed them. “Imperatore handed his defense strategy over to me.” Pete slid the photocopied news articles to Baronick. “What do you make of these?”