Captain Timothy turned to introduce the woman following him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Luke didn’t miss the protective gesture. “This is Pete’s partner, Tully Meara.”
Luke’s breath snagged in his throat. At the funeral, standing in the rain, she’d looked bedraggled and awkward. Now that he was close, awkward was not what occurred to him. He was sharply aware of her.
She was pretty enough but, in another scenario, some random bar scene, he wouldn’t have noticed her. Wavy blond hair fell around her face, and dark jeans hugged a fit body that looked underfed. The simple blue shirt she wore deepened the blue in her eyes. Like the Captain, she sported dark purple rings under her eyes.
What Luke noticed was the veneer of control that everybody around her, even the Captain, seemed to buy. It was missing in the cemetery. But now, cleaned up and removed from the emotion of a funeral, this woman was trying to act like it didn’t bother her. No one seemed to notice.
To Luke, the hard look in her eyes telegraphed desperation, not strength. But then she just buried her best friend. He knew what that felt like. And the unconscious cruelty of grieving people looking to someone as empty and broken as them for strength and hope, he knew what that felt like too.
Then he noticed a long scar on her left cheek. It was barely visible but her hair on that side was slung forward and wavier like she was trying to hide that too. It made her seem vulnerable despite her icy bearing.
For the first time since he walked into that seedy Atlanta apartment, Luke felt his resolve falter. He cleared his throat and extended his hand to her.
Her hand inched up as she squinted at him. Then Luke saw the recognition register. She’d seen him at the funeral.
She yanked her hand back and threw her chin up. Stalking to the middle of the table, she made sure to put space between them. When she turned her back, Luke saw the print of a gun in the small of her back beneath her shirt. Her weapon. She slumped into a chair, studying Thad under hooded lids. Captain Timothy trudged to the other side and sat across from her.
Luke yanked on his already loose tie and took his seat. Tully’s pursed lips parted, and she refused to look at him. Luke caught himself staring at her mouth. He cleared his throat again. “I’m um, I’m Luke Marshall. This is my partner Special Agent Thaddeus Aulden,” he gestured to Thad who gave a quick wave then went back to his laptop. “Thank you both for seeing me. I know this is a difficult time.”
The Captain acknowledged him with a tired nod. Tully studied the wall with a stone face.
“I have a few questions related to the shooting last week,” Luke said.
Tully broke her silence, her voice dripping with disdain. “Why is the FBI here about a police shooting? It’s not federal jurisdiction. The FBI has no reason to be here.” She made a show of addressing Captain Timothy, not him.
“I’m afraid I do,” answered Luke keeping his voice even. “But I’m not here about the shooting exactly. I’m here about the suspect, Nicholas Cummings.”
Tully drew her shoulders back and dropped her chin but said nothing. She still hadn’t looked at him. He pushed ahead. “Do you know why he was here that day?”
“No.” She finally focused a chilly stare on him.
“Any guesses?”
“Well, he brought a gun. I dunno, maybe that’s a clue.”
Luke ignored her sarcastic dig. “Does he come to the station a lot?”
Tully smirked. “Not unless he’s in handcuffs.”
“ you do know him.”
Tully took a deep breath and swiveled her chair around to face him. She leaned back and crossed her legs, resting her left arm on the table. Luke saw her eyes flicking over him as she sized him up.
“Everybody knows Nick Cummings, Special Agent Marshall.” Her eyes flicked back to his face. “Everybody.”
“Tell me about him.”
“A low-level drug dealer. His own best customer, if you know what I mean.”
“Did your partner know him?”
She leaned forward and jammed her index finger into the wood. “You find me an officer in this town who doesn’t know Nol Prosse Nick, and I’ll give you a million dollars. He gave new meaning to the term frequent flyer.”
“When did you see him last?”
“You mean before I killed him?”
Luke couldn’t stop a smile. “Yeah.”
“It’s been a while,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table.
“Did you ever arrest him?”
Her eyes fluttered shut and her neck contracted as she swallowed hard. “Are we gonna play verbal ping pong all day? Or are you gonna start asking the questions you came to ask?”
She didn’t play and he liked it. Time to rip it off. “Nicholas Cummings came to me last week. He said he had information about a case I’m working. A possible murder.”
A derisive laugh came from Tully. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
The Captain threw her a reproachful look as Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Why is that?”
“What the hell is a ‘possible murder’?”
“Why is it unfortunate?” Luke prompted.
“Nick Cummings, as an informant, is not the most reliable source of information. And that’s being kind. He’s tried to sign on as a paid CI in five,” she wiggled the fingers of one hand for emphasis, “local jurisdictions including this one. Nobody will work with him because he’s unreliable on a good day. Every other day he’s a pathological liar. Ask any of our vice guys, they all know him too. Let me guess. He asked for money? Relocation?”
Thad and Luke looked at each other. She saw it. “He’ll say anything you want to hear if it pays for his next hit.”
Luke pushed ahead. “How well did you know your partner, Peter Easton?”
Tully’s chest rose sharply. When she spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “We worked together for six years. He’s my best friend.”
“Security footage shows…”
“I’ve seen it,” she interrupted him, but he wasn’t giving up the floor. She was getting agitated and out of habit he pounced.
“Then you saw them talk for over a minute and a half before Nicholas pulled out his gun. They seemed to know each other. Their discussion seemed a little…heated.”
She flushed. As the blood rushed to her face, the scar stood out; a silvery pink line cutting through her red check. “They did know each other. Anything else I need to repeat?”
“It’s hard to deny that it looks like he came looking for something or someone. He tried to get inside, and he seemed intent on something.”
“Yeah. Killing a cop. I’d say he accomplished it.”
His calm was agitating her, so he lowered his voice even more. “It didn’t start out as a fight.”
“The fuck?” She was yelling now. “Did you watch the whole tape or just what was convenient for your little theory?”
“What theory?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“What were they talking about?”
“I. Don’t. Know. But in my line of work, if somebody brings a gun to a police station, he ain’t here fer the donuts,” she spat out. “Who he fixated on probably wasn’t even here. It doesn’t matter. Pete was the only person in the parking lot. If he came here to kill the Chief, he would have run into Pete first.”
“Shooting a random cop seems like a little bit of a stretch with his history. Cummings doesn’t have any violent crime on his sheet.”
Luke watched, impressed, as she mastered herself. The red in her face drained and she turned icy again. Her eyes seemed to darken as she grew angrier, but when she spoke her voice was low and even. “It sounds an awful lot like you’re callin my dead partner bent.”
“No, I’m not,” said Luke. “What I am saying is that Nicholas came to me with information that, by all accounts, he shouldn’t have. He was afraid he would die, and now he’s dead.” He leaned in, “Go on, you tell me why.”
Tully
seethed in her seat. Suddenly her fist crashed down, rattling the table. “Pete’s body is barely cold, and you come in here dragging his name through the mud based on the word of a strung-out dope dealer?” She was shouting again. He’d pushed the right buttons. The veneer was cracking.
Paper rustled behind her, but she was so focused on Luke she’d forgotten about the other agent in the room. Thad muttered under his breath, “He’s just asking some questions.”
Luke tensed as he saw her face contort. She shoved her chair back and whipped around to face him. Thaddeus registered shock as he saw her advancing on him with her right hand cocked back. He scrambled to his feet sending paper flying.
It took Luke a split second to realize what was happening and rise from his chair. Two swift strides brought him up behind her. In one smooth motion, he grabbed her coiled arm with his left hand and spun her around. Her eyes looked nearly black now. They rounded with surprise when he forced her face to face. If he thought his iron grip would take the fight out of her, he quickly found out he was wrong. All she did was switch targets.
Her hair whipped out as she whirled. Without hesitating, she yanked her wrist back pulling his hand to her chest. Then she dropped low trying to throw him off balance. In a flash, she and her free elbow came up and around, aiming for his jaw.
Luke snapped his head back barely avoiding a direct blow. Her elbow grazed his chin. Enraged, she grabbed his thumb circling her wrist and yanked back, nearly breaking his grip.
She was quicker than he anticipated. Luke barely got his other hand up and around the arm trying to knock him out. He forced her arms up over her head, taking away her leverage against his superior strength. Furious, she gave a low growl and tried to break free. He pushed her backward, using her own tactic of throwing her quarry off center, but her foot slammed into his instep and tripped him.
Momentum sent them reeling into the clear wall behind them. When Tully’s back hit, Luke heard the ping of metal from her off duty weapon slamming against the plate glass, fracturing it. The ear-splitting crack sent heads popping up above cubicle walls.
Tully gasped in pain but threw a knee at his crotch. He kicked it to the side and pushed his body against hers pinning her to the glass. Her chest heaved against his.
His warm breath hit her temple, and he caught the faint smell of sweet gardenia and a spice he couldn’t identify. The urge to brush his lips down her neck barged into his head. Instead, he placed his cheek next to her ear and whispered. “Calm down, Tully.”
Once he took away her leverage, it was easy to overpower her; he was a hundred pounds heavier. But she bucked at the sound of her name. Her effort only succeeded in rattling the glass.
“Tully.” The Captain’s stunned voice behind them made her body relax in his arms. She stopped fighting and Luke released her. She shoved him away and stood shaking with her fists clenched, glaring at him.
“My partner’s right, that’s all we’re here for. Not to accuse anyone.” Luke rolled his shoulders to straighten his suit. His voice was gentle, but his sparring mate flinched at the sound. Considering the hell she went through last week, he probably shouldn’t have pushed so hard. He thought about putting his hand on her shoulder, but he was pretty sure it would start another fight.
“Then depose me,” Tully whispered. Her gaze now hovered on Thad who stiffened. She ripped it back to Luke. “Because this conversation is over.”
Her shoulders slumped. She moved to the door giving the Captain a tormented look. With her hand on the knob, she paused. “You want to know why your star witness is dead?” She looked at Luke. “Because that’s what happens when you kill a cop.”
The door slammed open and she strode past their speechless audience.
NINETEEN
An hour later Luke slumped into his chair and raked his hands through his hair. His head was whirring with questions that had nothing to do with his case. What happened?
Thad immediately sat down and began tapping on his phone screen. He stayed mercifully quiet on the ride back from the station. Maybe he was finally figuring out when to keep his cavity shut. Luke propped his feet up on his desk and focused on the wall trying to sort it out. Dull thumping of a phone case on Formica interrupted his thoughts. He looked over.
Thad tapped the corner of his phone on the desk. “So that went well,” he said when he caught Luke’s eye.
Luke stood up so fast his chair flew into Thad’s. “I’ll be back.” He could only assume Thad wanted to talk about it, but he couldn’t do it. Not right now. He needed to think, not talk. He would hate to have stopped Meara from punching Thad senseless, only to do it himself. It was best for everyone, and Thad’s nose, if he left. Thad gaped after him as he hurried out without another word.
Luke took a left out of the front door away from noisy Bay Street. The square he’d seen for weeks from his window lay a block ahead. He made for it walking fast. The sun had finally come out, but it was cooler than the first weeks he’d spent there. A soft breeze fanned him, and he suddenly felt friendlier toward the old city. When she wasn’t trying to boil him like a crab, she was a pleasant place.
The marbled shade of the square felt even cooler. Most of the park benches under the sprawling oaks were occupied by men and women in business attire, the last of the lunch crowd. The rest were occupied by camera-toting tourists.
Sitting wasn’t what Luke had in mind. He stayed on the brick path cutting through the square. He needed to move.
Their visit to the station went as he expected. Except for the cage match. He didn’t see that one coming. Or her. He smiled as he thought about her gunning for Thad. Luke knew no less than ten people, mostly women, who would love to fatten Thad’s lip, but she was the only one who actually tried. The look on the kid’s face was priceless.
Her scent wafted into his mind. He wondered if the rest of her was as soft as her cheek and tripped over a root pushing up the sidewalk. He looked up. To the left and right grand old row homes flanked the tree-lined street, double staircases curling down to the sidewalk. Luke turned right and walked, drawn by their nostalgic beauty.
Soon he came to another square, this one with a gurgling fountain in the middle. Again, every bench was dappled with sunlight and filled with people. Luke slowed to look.
Bells from a church on the other side chimed the quarter-hour, and a street performer broke off his out of tune flute solo. As soon as the bells died down, the man started his halting version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star again. Luke chuckled as he made his way through the square. Then he spotted a bar.
He ducked inside and ordered a beer to go, silently thanking the old city for her liberal public drinking laws. As soon as he went inside, he decided he was going to do some drunk sightseeing. It was a beautiful Friday and this place had caught his attention.
A tattooed redhead behind the bar eyed his business attire but grinned when he smiled at her. Minutes later he emerged with a plastic cup of stout. He preferred something stronger, but historically bad decisions followed whiskey, so he stuck to beer.
He made it through two more squares before his beer ran dry. He detoured to another bar, then continued his aimless wandering with a fresh cup. No matter which way he turned, he found another city square. This place had more than her fair share of beautiful parks.
They called Savannah ‘the beautiful woman with a dirty face’. That seemed unfair to Luke. With every passing step and sip, he was more offended for the old gal. He liked her hair down, partying ways.
To be sure, this place was a contradiction at every intersection. Grand mansions stood next to trash-filled alleys. Majestic oaks older than the nation graced trailer parks outside of town. Everywhere he looked, Luke saw hard, reckless defiance that rendered labels meaningless. The city defied any classification put to her. She was what she was, damn what anyone thought.
Luke’s phone buzzed as his third beer ran dry. It was Thad. “Yeah.”
“Are you comin back?”
“W
hat do you want?” Luke tipped the cup to get the last drop.
“Whoa. Easy. Remember how I was gonna drive to Atlanta tonight? For the weekend?”
“Yeah, your hot date.”
“Well she’s not that hot, but it is a date. But I’ll stay if you need me. It’s not a big de…”
“Get outta here,” Luke cut him off. “We’ll pick it up on Monday.”
“It’s only two.”
“Beat it. You’re gonna hit traffic anyway.”
“Word. See you Monday.” The phone went dead.
Luke envied his partner. Thad recovered easily from nearly being walloped by a girl and bounced right back to his irritating norm. Luke’s head, on the other hand, had been scrambled by a pair of blue eyes. Right now his thoughts were pinging around like a busted pinball machine, and the curve of her neck was driving him insane. He should never have gotten so close to her. Luke tossed his cup in a trash can and started looking for another pub.
Three hours and four beers later, Luke found himself on Bay Street without knowing how he got there. He crossed the busy avenue and followed it until he spotted a stone staircase beside an old cotton merchant building; one of many that lined Bay Street. He took the stairs.
At the bottom, an uneven ballast stone nearly caused him to roll his ankle as he walked between the buildings to River Street. He decided the stairs were a good choice as he looked out on the Savannah River and Hutchinson Island. In the distance, Talmadge Bridge spiked into the blue sky. Luke took a deep breath and stood for a moment, enjoying the sight.
River Street cut left and right, lined on one side with the backside of the merchant buildings, and water on the other. Unlike their fancy facades on Bay Street, the basement floors were made from rough brick and hand-hewn timbers. The wide arching doors once gave easy access to warehouses filled with cotton, tobacco and other plantation exports. These days they held shops, restaurants, and expensive loft apartments.
To his right, Luke saw crowds of tourists milling around stands selling cheap souvenirs. He turned left and headed away from the noise. The buildings on that end hadn’t been restored to the same extent. It had a seedier feel that made him feel more at ease. Even the street hadn’t been fully uncovered. Stone wove in and out of pitted blacktop.
The Last Innocent Page 15
