by Annie Bruce
“So, not that long.”
“No, not that long,” she agreed, “and we could only meet about once every two weeks to avoid suspicion.”
She kept talking, anticipating his next question. “Owen would bring me more letters and other paperwork to analyze and I’d give him an analysis of what I had looked at so far. Like I said before, the only things that stood out were the papers I already showed you.”
“Do you still have everything he gave you?”
“Yes, it’s all right over there.” She pointed to a desk area just off the kitchen where a computer was stationed.
“I’d like to have a look at it.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“If you say so!”
Morris sat back as Maggie left the table and opened a slatted door near the computer station. He soon understood her incredulous response to his request.
“Have you actually gone through all of these documents?” He was incredulous.
“Mostly, yes.”
“Mostly?”
“You’ll see.” She shot him a look that said - I know what you’re in for and you don’t!
“You really don’t expect to go through all of these tonight?”
“Well, not now that I see how much there is. Maybe you can point me to the more important piles.”
“Sounds like you’re staying for awhile.”
“If that’s okay with you and your sons.”
“It’s okay, but don’t you have other things you’d rather be doing?”
“You want to get to the bottom of this don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“And, so do I, so let’s get started.”
She turned to haul another box from its hidden storage area. “Shall I make a fresh pot of coffee?”
The box she was holding began to slip from her hands and he quickly reached over and saved it from scattering across the floor.
“Thanks.”
“Tell you what. I’ll finish hauling out boxes. You make the coffee.” He gently touched her arm. “Deal?”
“Deal.” A smile spread across her face as her gaze locked with his. This time there weren’t any children to interrupt them but he turned away. He had to. Equal parts of guilt from keeping Owen Cassidy’s secret and needing to stay objective to investigate the case made him step back from her and their obvious attraction for each other.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. There’s just a lot to get through.”
“Well, we’d better get to work then.”
The sound of water from the faucet was followed by beans grinding then the smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air. He turned his attention to the stack of boxes before him, noticing the markings on the outside. Most had dates and page number ranges reminding him of the types of materials received from law firms. Opening the box with the most recent dates he found it jammed tight with business reports, calendars and meeting agendas.
“Pretty boring stuff, huh?” Her voice broke through his concentration.
“So far, yes,” which made him wonder aloud, “–why did Cassidy feel that it was important for you to have this information?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to ask him. These were delivered just before he was–” Maggie’s voice started to break.
“Its okay, Maggie, its okay.” The urge to hold her in his arms was overwhelming. But right now he was afraid that if he had that kind of body contact with her he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He also wanted to tell her that Owen Cassidy was alive and well. He couldn’t. He had made a promise and he kept his promises, especially when the safety of another officer was involved.
“I’d better go check on the boys.” Maggie excused herself which left Morris alone to decide where he wanted to start. Looking at the many boxes before him he decided to start at the beginning. He took the box with the oldest date and placed it on the table. Peeling off the lid he quickly scanned through stacks of financial documents and corporate meeting memos finding them rather useless.
The next box of documents proved more interesting. Several letters of correspondence piqued his interest. He wasn’t exactly sure where their contents would lead him, but the detective in him knew they were important.
He was deep into his project when a sudden movement caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadowy figure move along the expanse of the kitchen window. Someone was outside the house.
With a sense of casualness he didn’t feel, he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a fresh cup. He placed it on the table and stretched his arms above his head looking out the corner of his eye. He would have to talk to Maggie about having motion sensing lights installed, but before he could plot his next move, he was interrupted by a scream.
Maggie walked down the stairs more excited than she’d felt in years, anxious to return to her kitchen despite the boxes of documents waiting for her attention.
“Well, boys are in bed and I think they’ll sleep through the–” Her unfinished sentence hung in the air punctuated by her screaming voice, fear in her eyes. He quickly pulled her from the kitchen and into the safety of the hallway preempting any additional screams that might give them away and startle two sleeping boys.
“Maggie, I want you to go upstairs and lock yourself in your boys’ room just as you did before.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”
“But it could be dangerous,” regretting the words as soon as she said them. This was his job. His job was dangerous. She fled up the stairs and did as he said. Boys were still asleep and for that she was grateful. Now waiting was all that she could do.
Hearing a thud she rushed towards the window and saw Morris standing over a body. Without thinking, she almost sprinted down the stairs and grabbed Jacob’s bat – a Louisville Slugger. Fleeing out the back door, she came around the side of the house just in time to see Morris point his gun in the suspect’s face.
“All right Davis, what the hell is going on!”
“You know this man?”
“Yeah, I know him. He’s a cop.”
“A cop!”
“Tell the lady, Davis.”
“I would prefer to do it standing.” The man did look pretty ridiculous laying there on his back.
“I’m sure you would. Get up.” Morris’s tone was firm.
Maggie watched as the stranger pulled himself to his feet, brushing grass and dirt off his clothing.
“Look, is there a place we can talk?” His tone was almost too casual for someone facing the wrong end of a gun.
“Why should I trust anything you have to say at this point?”
“Well you won’t know that until we talk, now will you?
“Well, I’m calling your supervisor.”
“No–” It was a simultaneous plea as both men looked her way.
“No, Maggie.” Morris kept one eye on Davis as he silently willed Maggie to wait. “Not yet.” He appealed to her.
“Can we talk inside?” Davis’ voice was firm, confident, and not the familiar tentative and uncertain one that Morris came to expect.
“Would that be okay?” Morris turned towards Maggie and begged with his tone and body language that she agree to his request.
“You just said you couldn’t trust him!” She threw a look of disdain in Davis’ direction.
“Trust me on this.” Morris appealed to her. “I know what I’m doing.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’d never put you or your family in danger.” Their eyes locked. “Never!”
“Put that away first.”
Morris didn’t have to ask her what she meant. He knew. He shot Davis a warning look not to try anything stupid as he holstered his weapon.
“That’s better.” Maggie led the way into the house.
Once inside, Maggie excused herself to check on her sons.
The last thing she needed right now were two curious boys asking lots of questions.
Morris took advantage of her absence to start questioning Davis.
“Now, you wanna tell me what the hell’s going on? Or do I have to beat it out of you?” His tone defied any resistance.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Davis sighed and pointed to the living room. “Can we go in there and have a seat?”
Morris gestured, his voice still in control, his hand not far away from his weapon. “After you.”
The two men sat across from one another, the air thick with tension and anticipation.
“It started about a year ago.” Davis finally broke the silence and the tension.
“What did?”
“My investigation into your partner’s death.”
Chapter 9
Morris felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.
“Since when was my partner’s death turned into an investigation?”
“Since the Maryville case was reopened.”
Flashing back to the day he found Davis standing by the file cabinets looking through the Maryville case folder, he took a deep breath. “What does that have to do with my partner being killed?”
“Detective Smith was working undercover for us.”
“Us? Who’s us?”
“The Governor’s Commission on Police Corruption.”
“Is Davis even your real name?”
“Yes, Carlton Davis is my real name.”
“This day just keeps getting better.” Morris ran his hand through his hair as a hiss of frustration escaped between his clenched teeth. “I think you’d better start at the beginning.”
Davis shifted his body weight, hesitant to talk.
“I mean it, Davis.” Morris’ voice was firm with an edge of lethality thrown in for good measure. Smith was not only his partner, he was his friend and his determination to restore his friend’s reputation and honor was now fueled by the news that he may have been murdered.
“About two years ago, Detective Smith overheard a conversation about the Maryville case. He was in a back file room looking for something when he heard voices. The men who were speaking didn’t realize he was there. Apparently a pay-off was in progress.” Davis paused, waiting for a reaction.
“Go on.”
“Smith decided to investigate on his own. He discovered that the two young men sent to prison for the Maryville case were framed by some of his fellow officers. He went to the State Police who in turn referred him to us.”
“Who was involved with the payoff?”
“Smith didn’t get a look at them. He only heard their voices, which he didn’t recognize.”
“Why didn’t he tell me!” Morris didn’t know if he was mad at Smith for not trusting him enough to tell him what was going on or if he was mad at himself for not knowing that his partner was in trouble.
“We asked him not to.”
“Why!”
“The blue wall of silence.”
“I don’t protect dirty cops!”
“We know that now, but the more people who knew about our investigation, the less control we had. We needed to insure we had good evidence and a solid case to convict.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying that’s what got Smith killed?”
“That, detective is what I’m here to find out.”
“Then what the hell are you doing snooping around Maggie Faraday’s house?” Morris looked fierce and mad enough to do some real harm to anyone who got in his way.
“I’d like to know the answer to that question as well.” Maggie’s voice penetrated the tension in the room. Both men turned in her direction uncertain how long she’d been standing there.
“I was just following a lead, ma’am, that’s all I can tell you.”
“Well, that isn’t good enough.” Morris watched as Maggie’s Irish temper bubbled near the surface.
“I understand that ma’am, but–”
“No, you don’t understand.” Maggie’s temper was now fully unleashed. “I’ve had a very stressful day. Not only have people been trespassing on my property but they’ve been trespassing on my life.” She didn’t hold back.
“And it’s not ending any better than it started.” Her tirade continued as she marched further into the living room. “It’s bad enough that I’ve had to deal with Owen’s death but to have my home threatened twice in the same day, well it’s just too much. So, when I say I want some answers, I mean it!” She stomped her foot for emphasis.
“You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Maggie waited impatiently for an answer. “Tell me what, damn it!” Her anger was vented equally for both men as her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.
“Maggie, I don’t think this is a good time to–”
“Oh, it’s a very good time to go into it.” She finished the sentence for him. “What haven’t you told me?” She locked eyes with Morris determined to stare him down until he told her what she wanted to know.
“I think we’d all better sit down.”
After a slight hesitation she sat down, crossing her legs and arms with an air of expectation laced throughout her body language. “I’m sitting down.” Maggie’s voice interrupted his search for a way out, “–and, I’m all ears.”
Morris took a deep breath and searched his mind to find something else, anything else to say instead of, “Oh, by the way, Owen Cassidy isn’t really dead.”
“Well, I guess you’re going to find out anyway.” He paused, keeping the secret just a little longer, not wanting to be the one to hurt her this way.
“Yes?” Her tone determined, her eyes piercing.
“It’s about Owen.”
“What about him?”
“He’s very much alive.”
She sat rigid across from him as if frozen in time.
“Maggie?”
No response.
“Maggie, did you hear what I said?”
Her arms fell to her side, her legs uncrossed and she rose slowly from the couch and walked towards the kitchen leaving the two men to wonder what she would do next.
Morris saw her shoulders tense as she drew further away from him. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to know what was going through her mind. He was worried.
Then as suddenly as she had left she returned and sat across from the two concerned men.
“What did you say?”
“Maggie, are you okay?”
“Just say it again.”
“Owen Cassidy isn’t dead. I met him earlier today. The Captain introduced us.”
The silence was deafening.
“I see.” Her face remained expressionless. She was holding everything in so tightly that he was afraid she would explode.
“And, just when were you going to tell me?” She chocked back her tears.
“I had a good reason, Maggie.”
“And what would that be?” Her calmness scared him.
He looked down at the floor then back up at Maggie.
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t tell me?” Her voice became louder. “Why can’t you tell me?” She shot off the couch and stood before him. “Is there a big secret undercover operation going on?” She waved her arms around in frustration.
Morris contained his laughter. In the midst of all the seriousness her way of describing things amused him.
“I just can’t tell you—” pausing for emphasis “—you’re going to have to trust me on this.” Standing he grabbed her gently by the shoulders to calm her down. He needed her to focus.
She lifted her tear-filled eyes and looked up at him.
“Oh, like I trusted you to tell me the truth about Owen?” Her words stung.
“Please, Maggie, you’re going to have to trust me.” He felt her body sag from the weight of frustration.
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.”
“N
either do I.”
Maggie looked out her kitchen window and into the darkness that confronted her. The fear earlier that day that almost kept her from ever looking out this window again was now displaced by exasperation and a sense of helplessness – and betrayal. How could Owen deceive her!
In one silly day her life had been turned upside down. She wished she could twitch her nose and make the day go away, make everything that transpired be nothing more than a bad dream. Just like on television.
But this wasn’t television and Maggie knew she couldn’t make it all just go away. Her tears fell faster, harder. That earlier sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelm her again and Maggie Faraday hated feeling helpless. Whether it was her Irish temper or growing up with only a brother and a strong, supporting family, helplessness was not part of her vocabulary or attitude.
“Trust me.” Morris’ words echoed in her head.
She knew he was right. She had no choice. Not if she wanted to solve the mystery behind Owen’s pretend death and why so many people were now after her. The situation seemed to be pushing ahead whether she wanted it to or not.
She needed to go check on her boys. She needed to make sure they were safe. She needed to be in control of at least that much.
Morris watched as Maggie disappeared into the kitchen.
“Is she okay?”
Davis broke the silence first.
“No,” his tone matter-of-fact, “but she will be.” He’d known her just a day but deep in his heart he knew it was the truth.
Both men stood in silence, one not knowing what to say, not wanting to say anything more.
Then just as suddenly as she had left, Maggie was back.
“I’m going to check on my sons.”
They watched as she disappeared up the stairs.
“Tell me more about your investigation.”
“I’m not sure this is the place, detective.”
“Oh, it’s definitely the place and obviously the station is not.”
Davis mulled that over for a moment. “You have a point.” He cleared his throat as he sat on the edge of his chair.
“As I said we’ve been investigating police corruption and brutality.”
