Fate of the Fallen

by Ellery Adams

  Cooper hesitated until she saw Nathan and Jake flanking Dave like two guardian angels, ready to fly into action should the need arise. She swallowed back her trepidation and nodded. “I was at Sphinx. I repaired your copy machines.”

  “Yeah,” Dave said. “And this guy was messing with the plumbing.” He jerked his thumb toward Jake. He bent down so that his face was close to hers. “What kind of game are you playing at?”

  Nathan put a firm hand on Dave’s shoulder. “Easy.”

  Dave backed away, giving Cooper some much-needed breathing room.

  “We aren’t playing any kind of game,” Cooper replied. “Nothing about this is a game. I’m not sure what the guys told you, but—”

  “They said they’re trying to figure out who killed Sinclair. I told them I don’t care who killed him. They said they want to know my alibi. My alibi. Like they’re trying to pin it on me or something!”

  Jake shook his head. “Like we told you, we’re not trying to pin anything on you. We’re just trying to get all the facts straight.”

  “What for? The cops already got the one who did it. Christine.”

  Nathan’s face turned red. “She didn’t kill him.”

  “Yeah, right. It’s always the one you don’t expect that turns out to be a psycho. Am I right?”

  “Careful,” Jake said. “The lady you’re talking about is this guy’s sister.”

  Dave turned and saw the anger in Nathan’s face. His own blanched. “Oh . . .” he said meekly. “Sorry.”

  Cooper was amazed at how quickly Dave backed down when facing someone of his own size and strength. She felt her courage grow. “We know you told the police you were in the first aid tent,” she said, getting straight to the point. “We also know you were lying.”

  Dave said nothing, obviously surprised by her frankness.

  “How do we know?” Cooper continued. “I’ll tell you. Our friend got a bad sunburn at the park that day. Just before we got supper, he wound up in the first aid tent. That was the same time that you claim to have been there.”

  Dave stammered and stuttered, but no words came out. Beside him, Nathan stood silently, his arms folded over his chest.

  Jake picked up where Cooper stopped. “So you see, Dave, we know exactly where you were not. We have our own ideas as to where you were.”

  “What do you want?” Dave finally asked.

  Savannah started tracing little swirly outlines on the table with her fingertips. “Why don’t you tell us where you really were when Sinclair died?”

  “Are you cops?”

  Savannah shook her head.

  “So you aren’t with the police? That means you don’t have authority to make me tell you squat.”

  “You’re right,” Nathan said. He looked past Dave to Cooper. “Coop, let’s head down to the police station. I’m sure Inspector McNamara will be glad to hear how Dave lied about his whereabouts during a murder.”

  Cooper slid to the edge of the booth, ready to leave.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Dave exclaimed, putting up his hands to stop them. “There’s no need for that. We can work this out.”

  “The only way we’re working this out is if you tell us where you actually were,” Jake said. “No other options. No more lies.”

  “Believe it or not, we really do have good motives,” Savannah assured him. Hers was the only voice devoid of judgment. “We don’t want an innocent person punished for Sinclair’s death . . . that includes you.”

  “If you’re innocent,” Nathan added.

  Dave looked at Savannah and only Savannah, probably because of her kind tone. “All right,” he said, keeping his voice low as he slid into the booth. “You’re right. I wasn’t in the first aid tent. I mean, I was there earlier, but not when Sinclair died.”

  “That’s how you knew they weren’t keeping track of people,” Savannah said gently, helping him along. “When the police needed your alibi, you thought it was a safe bet.”

  Dave nodded. “I figured there was a chance the paramedics there would remember my face, but I doubted they’d remember the time. If nothing else, no one could prove I wasn’t there . . . except that your friend apparently really was.”

  Savannah put her hand on Dave’s arm. “If it helps, he didn’t enjoy being there. His neck is still peeling.”

  Dave laughed and relaxed, but Nathan didn’t look at all amused. He wanted to stay on topic, and so did Cooper. Nathan blew out a loud, impatient breath. “Back to where you really were, Dave.”

  “Right. I, uh . . .” Dave cleared his throat and held up his now empty glass. “I don’t suppose you’d splurge for a refill.”

  Jake took his glass. “Finish your story, and I just might.”

  “Okay. Look, if I tell you, are you gonna go to the cops?”

  “If you didn’t kill Sinclair, what’ve you got to hide?” Nathan asked.

  “Just because I didn’t kill him doesn’t mean I have nothing to hide.”

  “Stop stalling and tell us the truth. After that, we’ll figure out what to do.”

  Again, Dave cleared his throat, either his nerves or his lack of a drink getting the better of him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and temples. “When Sinclair died, I was in the parking lot.”

  “Doesn’t sound too nefarious,” Savannah said.

  “You don’t know why I was there.”

  “Then tell us. Why were you in the parking lot?”

  “I went to slash Sinclair’s tires.” He watched their expressions change, their interest piqued. “You see now why I didn’t want the police to know. Vandalism isn’t a good alibi for murder.”

  “Wait a sec,” Cooper said. “I don’t recall hearing about Sinclair’s car being vandalized. You’d think someone would have mentioned it.”

  “That’s because I didn’t actually slash his tires. When I got to the parking lot, I thought I remembered where his car was, but I didn’t. I finally narrowed it down to two of the same model and color. I flipped a coin. Got out my pocketknife. Then, this little old couple came up to me and asked if they could help me. Turned out I’d picked their car, not Sinclair’s. Luckily, they got to me before I got to their tires.”

  “Would they be able to vouch for your whereabouts?” Nathan asked.

  Dave shook his head. “I doubt they remember me. I told them I’d mistaken their car for my friend’s, and they left. So, I went for the other car, and I stabbed my pocketknife into both the left tires. I heard somebody coming, so I hid.” He wiped his forehead again and then pressed his fists against his chin. He looked ashamed. “It wasn’t Sinclair. It was a woman and her daughter . . .”

  “Oh, no,” Cooper said. “The car was theirs, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I guess Sinclair drives a really popular car. I mean, drove a popular car. There were at least three others around the lot that day.”

  “What did you do about the mother and daughter?”

  “I pretended I was just walking out to the lot myself. They asked if I’d seen anything. I told them I’d seen a guy running off. I gave them Sinclair’s description.”

  Jake shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned down in disgust. “That was pretty low.”

  “If I’d known he was dead, I wouldn’t have done it.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it, regardless!”

  Dave waved away Jake’s concerns. “I knew he wouldn’t get in trouble. He’s not the sort to go around slashing people’s tires. I thought he’d get questioned, and it’d be a big inconvenience for him. That’s all. The man slept with my wife. I think an inconvenience is the least I owe him.”

  Nathan rubbed his hands together. “Dave, it’s talk like that that makes me question your integrity.”

  “Huh?”

  “Why should we believe you about the parking lot? Why should we believe any of this? You just said you owed Sinclair for his alleged indiscretion with your wife. Why stop at a mere inconvenience? Here’s what I think happened. You want
ed to scare Sinclair. You waited until you knew he was alone. You followed him into the woods. You approached him to talk about Nala. You probably threatened him, hit him, even. Maybe you acted like you were going to do worse, so Sinclair pulled out his gun, the one he carried for self-defense. You saw your chance. There was a struggle. You got your hands on his gun. Then, you shot him in the head and put the gun in his hand to make it look like suicide. All this nonsense about the first aid tent and the parking lot is just a smokescreen. I think you killed Sinclair.”

  Dave sat back, thoroughly unimpressed. “Nice speech. You sound like that idiot Kenneth when he starts droning on about company policy.”

  “Nice deflection, Dave,” Cooper commented. “You sound like a man avoiding the issue.”

  “That lady in the parking lot filed a police report, or at least she said she was going to. She’ll remember me. She’ll vouch for my whereabouts.”

  “She’ll press charges,” Jake replied.

  “I don’t plan on telling her I’m the one who vandalized her car.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Savannah said, her tone still compassionate, her expression a smile. “You see, we’re good friends with Christine’s family, and furthermore, we value the truth. We’ll be telling the inspector that you weren’t in the first aid tent, because we won’t stand by and help you lie about it. After that, he’ll want to know where you really were. Either we can tell him, or you can. I’d rather you take responsibility and do it yourself.”

  “I’m not sure about this.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Dave. Everyone lies. Everyone acts in ways they shouldn’t. It’s what you do when given the chance to make amends that defines your character.”

  Dave stared into Savannah’s pale eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “So what’s it gonna be, Dave?” Jake asked, less patient than his better half. “Either we tell McNamara you’re a liar, and you take Christine’s place behind bars while he checks out your alibi, or you fess up to being a royal jerk, and maybe, just maybe, the cops won’t try to pin the murder on you. It’s your choice.”

  Nathan stood, allowing Dave to slide out of the booth. “We’ll be checking with McNamara in the morning,” Nathan said as Dave walked away. “You have until then to make the right choice.”

  When Dave had left the Black Boot, Cooper, Nathan, Jake, and Savannah enjoyed the rest of their dinner. They talked about work and family. Nathan told them all about the many photographs he’d received and how much help he was going to need to sort through them.

  A couple of hours later, they wandered from the iconic Black Boot out into the night air. Despite the late hour, the streets were bustling with locals and tourists alike. Friday night meant concerts and parties, and it seemed the whole of Richmond was concentrated in old town, every person walking with purpose, with someplace to be.

  As Nathan took his phone from his pocket, he slipped his other hand into Cooper’s. “This turned out to be a good night,” he said. “Not as good as I’d hoped, but . . .”

  “Were you hoping Dave was guilty?” Cooper asked.

  “Maybe. It would’ve meant Christine’s freedom. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “Not at all,” Jake said. “At least we know Dave’s alibi now. That means we’re one step closer to finding the real killer.”

  “Or finding out if there is a killer,” Savannah added. “Don’t forget about the possibility that Sinclair did it himself.”

  Nathan let go of Cooper’s hand so he could better use his phone.

  Cooper watched as his brow furrowed in concern. “What is it?”

  “I missed four calls,” he replied. “Give me a sec.” He stepped out of the busy sidewalk and into the shadow of a closed shop, his phone pressed against his ear. He was listening to his voice mails. His eyes narrowed. His lips pursed. His jaw tightened. Something was very wrong.

  When he rejoined them, stuffing his phone back into his pocket, his pace was quick, determined. He brushed past Cooper, Savannah, and Jake, rushing toward the parking area. Cooper scampered after him to catch up.

  “Nathan! Nathan, what is it?”

  “McNamara’s favors ran out,” Nathan said. “The police commissioner caught wind of him keeping Christine at the station and he put a stop to it. Sunday afternoon Christine’s being transferred to county.”

  “A nice girl like that?” Jake asked. “In prison?”

  Cooper swallowed back her fear. Christine wouldn’t do well in prison, forced into the general population with hardened criminals. She was too sweet, too naïve. Once she went in, she’d never be the same person again.

  Nathan continued. “We have until one p.m. Sunday to either prove Christine was watching the juggler when Sinclair died, or to prove who actually killed him.”

  Savannah and Jake were right behind them. “What can we do?” Savannah asked.

  “I was waiting until I had all the pictures so I could compare them and try to piece the whole scene together,” Nathan replied, fishing in his jacket pocket for his keys. “There isn’t time now. I need everyone who can to help look through the pictures from the festival.”

  As Jake reached for the door handle of his van, he already had his phone out. “I’m calling Quinton.”

  “I’ll call Trish,” Savannah said, hopping into the van’s passenger seat.

  Cooper hurried to Nathan and, before he could get into the car, snatched the keys from his hand. He was distracted and worried, in no state to be behind the wheel of a car.

  He gave her a confused look.

  She kissed him on the cheek. “You call Bryant. I’ll drive.”

  14

  Saturday morning, bright and early, Cooper rose, showered quickly and threw on comfortable clothes. Today was the day she and the rest of the Bible study group would comb through the festival photos until they were able to prove Christine’s innocence.

  She’d stayed up for several hours last night, reading her Bible and praying. After all that had transpired in the past couple weeks, she was in dire need of some quiet time with God—just some simple, private conversation. She asked for wisdom and peace, and when she woke, any small doubts she’d had about Christine were gone. She was certain of Christine’s innocence, and she was excited to get to work.

  She headed out to her truck, travel mug of Colombian roast in hand, just in time to see Grammy stepping into the same old Caprice with the same white-haired gentleman driver as last weekend. If her work at Nathan’s weren’t so important, Cooper would have followed them to see where they were going. However, Christine’s situation took precedence. Cooper waited to leave until the Caprice was out of sight, just to keep her curiosity from dragging her off course, and then she headed to Nathan’s.

  As she drank her coffee and drove, she mused over who Grammy’s gentleman caller might be and where they might be disappearing to on the weekends. By the time she reached her destination, she still hadn’t come up with a satisfying answer.

  The rest of the group, save Savannah, had just arrived at Nathan’s when Cooper pulled in. They converged on his porch with food, drink, and manpower, ready to stare at photographs for as long as it took. Quinton knocked on the door and rang the bell.

  No response.

  He knocked again.

  Still nothing.

  “Do you suppose he’s still sleeping?” Trish asked. “He might have been up late getting a head start on the search.”

  Cooper checked the door handle. It was unlocked. “Hello,” she said, slowly opening the door and poking her head inside. “Nathan, are you here?”

  The group let themselves in, with Cooper leading them to the living room, where they found Nathan. He sat on the floor, surrounded by eight-by-ten photos. Pictures covered the floor, the table, and the couch. There had to be hundreds of them.

  Nathan looked up from the pictures, bleary-eyed and confused. He checked his Fitbit for the time. “Is it morning already?”

  Cooper nodde
d. “Were you up all night?”

  “I was trying to find Christine in these photos. I can’t believe it’s morning.”

  Jake stepped forward and helped Nathan to his feet. “Savannah wanted you to know you and Christine are in her prayers. She figured she wouldn’t be a lot of help with this job, so she decided to get some work done at home.”

  “I appreciate the prayer.”

  “Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d go to bed for a few hours. We’ll take over.”

  “But there’s no time.”

  “There’s enough time for you to get some sleep,” Trish insisted. “We’re more than capable of looking at photographs. You won’t be any use if you’re falling asleep on the pictures.”

  Nathan looked to Cooper. “Are you guys sure you can take over for a while?”

  “We’re sure,” Cooper replied. She took Nathan’s arm and led him away from the stacks of pictures that surrounded him. “Sleep. If we find anything, I’ll wake you up.”

  “Thanks, guys. For everything. Means a lot.”

  When he was out of earshot, Cooper surveyed the room and the photos and sighed. “There are a lot more pictures than I thought there’d be.”

  “No kidding,” Bryant said as he stooped to pick up one of the photo piles. He stared at it for a moment. “There have to be twenty little faces crammed into this one picture. How are we supposed to get through all of these and ID Christine?”

  Trish opened her purse and handed Bryant a magnifying glass. “Compliments of Phil.”

  Bryant looked at the photo again, this time through the glass. “Much better. What’s your husband doing with such a nice magnifying glass?”

  “He’s an amateur rock hound,” Trish explained. “He’s got a whole collection of magnifying glasses and jeweler’s loupes.” She reached into her bag again and pulled out a handful of the aforementioned items. “When I told him what was going on, he insisted I bring them all to help out.”

  Quinton took one of the magnifying glasses, drew in a deep breath and said, “I guess we’d better get to it then.”

  For the next four hours, the group searched through countless festival photographs of the crowds and the performers. All bore a time stamp in the lower right corner from between five thirty and six p.m.