by Mallory Kane
“So between you and Timmy and the commissioner, nobody thought to tell me about the press conference? I had to find out at the last second from Chief Hammond. Not to mention that my family was blindsided. I barely had time to call them before the damn thing started.”
“I was wondering if anyone had thought to tell you.”
“Hammond called me in right before he left for the commissioner’s office.”
Rachel shrugged. “Then you knew before I did. I was summoned to the commissioner’s office, and when I got there, Uncle Charlie was already there.”
That seemed to take the wind out of Ash’s sails. “Well, somebody dropped the ball. Uncle Craig is going to have his lawyer call the commissioner. We should have been involved. As the family of the victims, we should have been kept apprised of everything that was going on with any petitions to have evidence reexamined.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I agree with you, Ash,” Rachel said. “Completely. I can’t say what I would have done if I’d known whose sample it was I was running, but I can tell you I’d have thought long and hard about it.”
Ash’s stiff shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s something, I guess,” he said grudgingly. Then he looked at her assessingly.
“So you and Timmy,” he drawled.
“Ash, I already told you, I am not dating Tim.”
“You two looked real close there on the platform, whispering back and forth. And just now, too.”
“Right,” she said, exasperated. “I was whispering no.”
Ash’s mouth turned up as he looked at his watch. “I have to go. Chief Hammond wants to talk to me. He said to get with him as soon as the press conference was over.”
“Are they done with my apartment?” Rachel asked.
“No, not nearly.”
“When am I going to be able to go home?”
“Forget about going home. So far, we haven’t found anything that even begins to explain why he broke in or whether your attack was planned or if you just got in his way. I’ve got the crime scene unit going over the place with a microscope. Until they come up with something, as far as I’m concerned, you’re still in danger. And that means you stay with me.”
ASH HAD INTENDED TO SPEND the morning trying to find out something about the car that had sat outside his house the night before, but first he’d been hit with the information about the press conference and then, Chief Hammond had told him that he needed to see him as soon as the press conference was over. He was glad Hammond had called him in. He wanted to talk to the chief, too.
Ash knocked on Chief Hammond’s open office door. He was on the phone. He gestured for Ash to come in and sit. “Hell, no!” he yelled at the receiver. “Do you think I care who’s in the hospital?…He should have thought about that when he was taking all those long weekends…?. No, he’s taking too much time off. One more hour this week and you suspend him, without pay. And by the way, when he gets in, send him back to canvass that neighborhood again on the Loyce case. From the way his report reads, he did a bad job the first time. He needs to cover all bases. I won’t tolerate loose ends.”
Ash winced. He was pretty sure he knew who Hammond was talking about. One of the uniformed officers in the district had a child with leukemia. Ash knew the police department was shorthanded and everybody needed to pull their weight. But Hammond had a reputation as a hard-nosed boss.
After a few more curses and orders, Hammond hung up. “Damn, I hate shoddy police work,” he said with a shake of his head. Then he greeted Ash.
“Kendall, how are you and your family holding up?” he asked, his voice changing from hard to concerned.
“As well as can be expected, I guess. I wish I’d known about the news conference in time to warn my family.”
“I know. I was under strict orders not to mention it to anyone. But I gotta tell you, I had a hard time keeping it to myself. I spent a lot of time with your aunt and uncle during that whole investigation. We got to be good friends.”
“I remember,” Ash said. “They’ve always been so grateful that it was you heading up the investigation. I’m grateful, too.”
“Hey, it was my case. And you’re no cop at all if you don’t put your whole heart into every single case.” Hammond shook his head. “You kids were so sad and scared. It ’bout ripped my heart out.”
Ash glanced at the wall behind Chief Hammond. There were several distinguished service awards, one dated in March after the Christmas Eve Murders. Next to it hung a photograph of him being sworn in as the youngest deputy chief to ever head the Ninth Division of the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department. The date on the photograph was less than five years after the murders. Judging by the wall, it was obvious that Hammond’s career had been made by his role in bringing Campbell to justice for the Christmas Eve Murders.
Hammond followed his gaze. “That’s right,” he said as if reading Ash’s mind. His chest visibly swelled with pride. “It was the Christmas Eve case that landed me the deputy chief position.”
He paused and shook his head. “I never wanted to profit from your parents’ deaths, but I like to think that in this position, I’ve been able to help other families whose lives have been touched by tragedy.”
He turned back to Ash. “That probably sounds pompous. I don’t mean it to. I think it’s a great thing you’ve done, becoming a detective. You know what I’m talking about—being able to help other people.”
Ash nodded, not quite sure what to make of Hammond waxing philosophical like this. He took the discussion back to Campbell. “I’ve read the case file and the newspaper accounts of the investigation. Was Campbell the only suspect?” he asked.
Hammond’s demeanor changed, and he eyed Ash narrowly. “We nabbed him a few streets away. He had some rare coins and jewelry on him that he’d taken from a couple of your neighbors’ homes,” he said, ticking off the items on his fingers. “He was out on bail for some previous burglaries, plus he had scratches on his arms. The blood type was O positive, the same type blood as under your mother’s fingernails. It was pretty much an open-and-shut case.”
Ash nodded. He remembered all that from the case file. “And there was basically no DNA testing at that time, right?”
“That’s right,” Hammond said, scratching his neck as he settled again in his desk chair. “I don’t think there was even a DNA lab in the States back then. If there was, it probably belonged to the FBI. Nope, we used every resource we had and every bit of evidence pointed to Campbell.”
“It’s so strange now, to think that it was someone else who actually killed them,” Ash said.
“Listen to me, son.” Hammond sat up straight. “If that DNA isn’t bogus, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.”
Hammond was as vehement as Ash and his family had been that Campbell had to be the murderer. But no matter what any of them felt and thought, Ash was sure of one thing. “Rachel wouldn’t falsify data,” he said firmly.
“Aw, hell, that’s not what I’m saying.” Hammond picked up a pencil and jabbed the air with it. “All I’m saying is, what if somebody managed to switch the samples or something? ’Cause I’m telling you, Campbell was there. It had to be him. I always figured he went into your folks’ bedroom by mistake and surprised them in their beds, then had to kill them.” He rocked back in the desk chair, the spring squealing. “I’m going to look into that. I know what we saw and I know how Campbell acted. He’s guilty as sin, and I’m not going to sleep until he’s back behind bars where he belongs.”
Hammond spread his hands. “That was all I wanted, son. Just to tell you that I’m on your side in all this. Come talk to me anytime.”
“I have a request, sir.”
Hammond frowned. “Sure. What is it?”
“I want to work the case.”
“The case? Which—oh.” Hammond stopped himself. “The Christmas Eve Murders? No. No way.”
“I need to do this,” Ash retorted. “Not for revenge, if that’s what you think this
is. My family and I need closure. I couldn’t do anything back then. Now I can. Please.”
Hammond shook his head. “Can’t be done, son. The commissioner has appointed a task force to reexamine all the evidence and follow up on any new leads.”
“Then get me assigned to help them.”
Hammond again shook his head. “Give it up, Kendall. The commissioner and the D.A. aren’t going to let you within ten feet of that case.”
Ash frowned in disgust. “I’d be an asset.”
Hammond studied him. “You think you would, but trust me. When a case is this personal, when you’ve got this much riding on the outcome, it eats at you. You can’t look at the suspects as innocent-until-proven-guilty, you get obsessive about dead-end leads—you keep trying to make the case fit the lead instead of the other way around.” Hammond stared at Ash. “Nope. I’ve got to agree with the commissioner on this one.”
“Well, they can’t stop me from studying the case files,” he said.
“You can’t get to them. The task force has requisitioned every piece of paper in existence.”
That’s what they think. Ash clamped his jaw as he stood and held out his hand to Hammond. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you talking to me and I understand what you’re saying.”
He turned to go but Hammond called after him. “By the way,” he said.
Ash turned back. “Yes, sir?”
“You know Rachel’s dad and me, we were big fishing buddies until he died on the job. Ned Stevens was one of the best.”
“I’m sure he was,” Ash said, unsure of where Hammond was going with this. Had he heard that Rachel was staying with him until her apartment was released as a crime scene? Was the chief about to warn him about Rachel?
Too late.
“He raised a mighty fine daughter, too. She was the apple of his eye, as they say. He even took her to the firing range with us from the time she was nine or ten years old. Taught her how to shoot his Glock 9 mm. Once she got her driver’s license, he taught her how to tail a suspect without getting spotted.”
Ash was surprised. “Rach—Rachel is proficient with a handgun?”
Hammond shrugged. “I don’t know if she kept up the training after he died, but she was.” Hammond waved a hand. “The reason I’m telling you this is Rachel’s book smart, and she can handle herself, but she hasn’t got much sense about men. You might want to watch out around her. She’s been awfully chummy with A.D.A. Meeks lately. Did you know that he’s the one that pushed the D.A. to get Campbell’s case reopened? I think he smells a gold mine—careerwise.”
“I heard the commissioner had the DNA redone.” It still rankled Ash that Commissioner Washington hadn’t given him the courtesy of a heads-up.
Hammond nodded. “That’s right. But Meeks and Allen are the ones that put it before the commissioner. Hell, Meeks has been in here to question me two or three times already.”
Ash knew Rachel had gone out with Meeks a couple of times, but he was pretty sure that was all. Despite the accusations he’d hurled at her in anger, he knew she wasn’t seeing him. In fact, last weekend, he’d seen Tim Meeks with one of the legal secretaries from his office. Of course, that didn’t mean that Meeks hadn’t influenced Rachel.
He thought about his declaration to the chief. Rachel wouldn’t falsify data. He was sure of that.
But what if the data she’d been given was tainted?
Chapter Seven
As soon as Ash left Chief Hammond’s office, he headed for his desk. Anger boiled up within him at the commissioner and his damn task force. The argument that he couldn’t work a case that he was connected to was ridiculous. If they’d give him a chance, he could be an asset. He could be rational about the case. Hell, he had twenty years’ distance from that night. A niggling voice in the back of his mind said, So why all the fury?
Fury at injustice, at underhanded procedures and secret plans wasn’t limited to those with a personal stake in cases, he argued with the voice, but his argument didn’t hold much water, given the way he’d been treating people, especially Rachel.
Sighing, he turned his attention to the mysterious car from last night. All he’d been able to see of the license plate were two numbers, and he wasn’t completely sure about them.
The plate could be from anywhere. He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the placement of the numbers he’d thought he’d seen. Damn it. Without knowing the state, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
He pulled up a page of current and prior Missouri tag styles on his computer. Then picturing the positions of the numbers he’d managed to make out on the vehicle’s tag, he mentally overlaid them onto the computer screen. So, if the vehicle had a Missouri tag, the numbers should be in the third and fifth positions. He made out a request for a list of plates with those numbers in those positions and belonging to a Ford product. If that list didn’t give him anything, he’d expand the search to nearby states. Like he figured, needle in a haystack.
Once he’d turned in the request, he decided to check on the trace evidence from Rachel’s apartment. He picked up the phone, then set it back into its cradle. It would be quicker to run down to the lab, and he wanted to check on Rachel anyhow.
As he passed the DNA lab, he opened the door and peeked inside. Sure enough, Rachel was there. She was dressed in a white lab coat and sitting at one of the advanced scientific workstations, looking through the eyepiece of a big microscope, adjusting the focus with her left hand and writing with her right.
He didn’t want to bother her. He’d acted on his protective urge, wanting to make sure she was all right. For a few seconds he stood there watching her. Her dark brown hair was slipping out of its hair band, exposing the small bandage on her head.
She was totally focused on the sample she was examining. She had no idea that he was there. It was the first time in a while that he’d had a chance to study her without her knowledge, and he took it.
She sat with her back straight in her crisply pressed white lab coat. She looked every inch the professional.
His gaze traced her profile. Her nose was short and tilted up at the end, making her look pixieish. He liked her nose, and her mouth, with its full lower lip. And her eyes, especially the odd reddish-brown ring around the golden irises.
She straightened and groaned softly. Her palm drifted to her belly and her mouth turned up slightly as she glanced down.
Ash backed away from the door, allowing it to close silently. For a few seconds he stood beside the door, eyes closed, savoring his mental picture of her smiling down at the child growing inside her. The sight had to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
His eyes stung and he swallowed against the lump that rose in his throat. He was not ready for any of this. Not being a father. Not being part of a newly created family. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he was ready to be a grown-up.
He kept swallowing, but the lump wouldn’t stay down. It tasted like fear, and he knew exactly what he was afraid of. After spending the last twenty years doing his best to harden his heart, what if it wouldn’t soften even if he wanted it to?
He heard footsteps coming down the hall, so he straightened, wiped a hand down his face and headed toward the crime lab.
The CSI who’d been assigned to Rachel’s case was taking close-up photos of a broken car windshield. “Detective, did someone call you?”
Ash shook his head. “Nope. About what?”
“Nothing. I mean, if you’re down here to check on Dr. Stevens’s case, I don’t have any information for you.”
“No information? Why not? I know you picked up viable samples.”
“Yeah, we did. The intruder wore gloves, so there are no fingerprints. He did drop a couple of hairs. We put the information into CODIS, but didn’t get a match.”
“So the guy’s not in the system,” Ash said.
“Not in CODIS anyhow. If we had prints, we could check IAFIS to see if he has a record. But—” He shrugged.
“All right, thanks.” Ash was disappointed. The FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System was invaluable to local law enforcement, if there were prints.
Frustrated, Ash checked his watch. He needed to get over to the courthouse, where he was scheduled to testify in a domestic violence case. On the way he called the uniformed officer who’d canvassed Rachel’s building and parking lot.
“It’s Kendall,” Ash said when he reached the officer. “What did you find out on Rachel Stevens’s case?”
“Not much,” the officer told him. “I talked to the two people in the other apartments on her landing. The fourth unit’s vacant. Both tenants were at work during the time of the break-in.”
“How about the manager?”
“She wasn’t much help. Apparently she drinks coffee, eats doughnuts and watches soaps all day.”
“I want you to go back and talk to everyone again. See if you can find anyone who came in or out of the parking lot during that time.”
“Again? Give me a break, Kendall. I’ve got other cases.”
“Right. See if anyone saw a red Ford, a subcompact.”
“Like a Focus?”
“Yeah. I could see two numbers on the plate. A five and a one. I’ve got a request in to run Missouri tags, but with only two numbers, I need a witness who saw the vehicle in Rachel’s parking lot.”
“Will do.”
“Can you do it today?”
He heard a sigh through the phone line. “Yes, sir.”
“Thanks.”
WHEN ASH WENT BY THE DNA lab at five o’clock to see if Rachel was ready to go, she wasn’t there. A lab assistant who was cleaning the biosafety hoods told him that she’d left early.
Ash hurried home, worried that she’d had another bout of nausea, but she wasn’t at his house, either. He checked his phone but there were no messages. He called hers, but it went straight to voice mail.
He thought about going by her apartment, but he knew that her keys had been placed into evidence. So unless she had a spare key that she’d deliberately failed to turn over, she wouldn’t be able to get in.
