Murder One

by Robert Dugoni

  “I better be getting home,” Jenkins said, finishing his only beer.

  It was the first time the two men had seen each other in three weeks. Sloane left the day after the trial for the beach house in Zihuatanejo. Jake joined him for two of those weeks, his Christmas vacation. They spent much of the time fishing, bodysurfing, and eating more than they should. Sloane told Jake that it hadn’t worked out with Reid, and the boy had accepted the explanation, though Sloane knew he was smart enough to understand there was more to the story. This time Sloane didn’t stay in Zihuatanejo nearly as long as his retreat following Tina’s death. He left Seattle to escape the insanity he knew would follow Reid’s second arrest, for the murder of her private investigator, Zach Bergman. As Sloane had warned, the game wasn’t over, and no one was perfect. Everyone made mistakes. She’d made a big one. Bergman had beat her, as she had paid him to do, so she could blame Felix Oberman.

  But Oberman was left-handed, and the blows were clearly delivered by someone with a dominant right hand. No one had paid that close attention ten years ago, during a bitter divorce proceeding. But Hamilton took the lead and uncovered evidence of cash withdrawals from Reid’s account that could not be accounted for, sums of money that identically matched sums Bergman had deposited in his checking account.

  As for Oberman shooting Bergman, he already had an airtight alibi ten years ago. He had fled on a cruise ship to get away from his ex-wife at the time Bergman was shot and killed.

  Lori Andrews had also confessed, saying it felt cathartic to rid herself of the guilt. She told Crosswhite that ten years earlier she had agreed to set up Oberman in exchange for enough money to pay for her sex change. The money was delivered by Zach Bergman, but Andrews knew where it had come from. Barclay Reid. She said Bergman had brought the money along with a message: “Don’t think there’s any more here. This is a onetime payment.”

  Bergman should have heeded his own words.

  A friend with Bergman in a bar the night he was shot provided a statement that Bergman had been bragging about a client who kept on giving while throwing around a lot of cash.

  There being no statute of limitations, Reid would again stand accused of murder in the first degree, and Seattle would have another sensational trial. She would never plea. She would never admit defeat. The media wanted to know if Sloane would defend her, but he left word with Carolyn to advise anyone who asked that he believed representing Reid would be a conflict of interest, given their prior personal relationship.

  Reid remained incarcerated in the King County jail, her bail denied. Trial was set for the spring. She had called Sloane from the jail. The first two messages, she sounded like the woman he had met and fallen in love with, pleading with Sloane to help her. The third call, he barely recognized her voice. She called him vile names, and told him when she got out, she would find him and get even.

  Before leaving town, this time for good, Oberman advised Rowe and Crosswhite he considered Reid a sociopath and likely schizophrenic. Sloane hoped, at the very least, she would receive the treatment she had long needed.

  “You going to be okay?” Jenkins asked.

  “Aren’t I always?” Sloane twisted the cap off another bottle of beer.

  “Quite a collection,” Jenkins said.

  “I’m just getting started.”

  “And I’m leaving before the neighbors start talking about the two of us watching sunsets together. You need anything before I go?”

  Sloane shook his head.

  The log shifted when Jenkins stood. Sloane listened to the fading sound of his friend’s shoes sinking into the rocks.

  “Charlie?”

  Jenkins turned back.

  “Thanks.”

  The big man nodded, turned, and walked off.

  Sloane slipped his hands under his armpits to keep them warm and watched the sky continue to change color. Tina had said the colors reminded her that there was beauty in the world, and that it was important to stop every once in a while and acknowledge that beauty. Sloane saw it as the end of another day, one more he had survived since her death. He was unsure what the future would have held with Barclay Reid, but while in Zihuatanejo, he had also come to realize that it was that uncertainty that had made him feel alive again from the moment he first stumbled into her, not knowing what each new day might bring. In some strange way, he believed that was why Reid had entered his life, at a time when he was so vulnerable, to serve as a vivid reminder that things were never as good or as bad as they seemed.

  They just were what they were.

  He wasn’t prepared to say it had all been a part of some divine plan, as Father Allen had intimated during a recent chat. Sloane didn’t really believe God worked that way, controlling everyone’s life like moving pieces on a chessboard. But he felt a sense of strength he hadn’t expected. The loss of another woman he had grown to love could have devastated him, but he didn’t feel that way. He saw it as a step forward in his grieving process, and he knew now what Jake had meant about the pain being part of the healing.

  He also knew he could love again.

  And that he could survive anything the world had yet to throw at him.

  Unlike after Tina’s death, he no longer feared the unknown. He’d come to realize it was not knowing the future—the unexpected—that made life worth living.

  He picked up his fishing pole and reeled, not getting far before the line snapped taut and the tip of the pole bent forward. In his head, Sloane could hear Jake’s voice.

  I told you so.

  Then the line darted right across the surface of the water, the tip of the pole dancing, the reel buzzing—the big fish making a determined run.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Last spring, I had the unfortunate and fortunate experience to sit in on a capital murder case in King County Superior Court. Knowing that I would soon force my protagonist David Sloane into the criminal justice system, I thought it prudent that I educate myself, a civil attorney, on as many of the nuances of that system as I could. The case received publicity nationwide; the defendant, in his midtwenties, was accused of walking across the street and brutally murdering two women and two children he did not know, then setting the bodies and the house on fire in an attempt to conceal his crimes. I quickly realized that while the physical courtroom looked the same as those I had entered many times while practicing law—the two counsel tables facing the elevated bench, jury box to the right, the gallery behind—that was where the similarities ended.

  Each day, before trial, the presiding judge took the bench, the lawyers took their seats at the counsel tables, and the defendant entered escorted by sheriff’s deputies and wearing handcuffs. The courtroom had very much the feel of the greenroom backstage of a theater production, where the actors and directors discuss their performances and upcoming scenes. Upon completing this daily routine the bailiff would seat the jury and the curtain would rise on another day. Unfortunately, what I was watching was not theater, but the aftermath of a horrific crime. I spent much of the day focusing my attention on King County Senior Prosecutor Scott O’Toole and his innate ability to interact with the jurors through his opening statement and the dozens of witnesses he would call on behalf of the state. While Scott would not talk to me about the case, he would answer general questions about criminal proceedings. I learned a tremendous amount, including that if I ever were to commit a crime, and I don’t intend to, I would not want Scott prosecuting me. Excellence does not quite describe how good he is. The trial would last months, but he entered each day looking fresh and energized, and his direct and cross-examinations rarely strayed from perfect.

  While I did not talk to the attorneys representing the defendant I did have three months to observe them and their demeanor. In addition, I asked questions of attorneys Russell H. Dawson and John Kannin, both of whom have spent years navigating the criminal justice system on behalf of their clients and who have developed well-deserved reputations as proactive advocates. I am grateful for th
eir assistance.

  I am also grateful to Kelly Heafy Rosa, investigator, Criminal Division, King County Prosecutor’s Office, and good friend. Kelly helped to put me in touch with many of the specialists who generously gave their time so that I could try to get the police procedure accurate and include cool things like man-tracking, dog-scenting, and forensic ballistics. Thanks for coming through, Kell.

  The first person Kelly put me in touch with was King County sheriff detective Scott Tompkins, Major Crimes Unit/Cold Case Homicides. Despite his busy schedule, Scott spent the better part of half a day discussing the idea for this novel, how he would investigate the crime as I presented it to him, and gave me ideas on how I could make it even more intriguing.

  Scott, in turn, put me in touch with Detective Jennifer South-worth of the Seattle Police Department Crime Scene Investigations Unit. That’s CSI for you TV folks. Detective Southworth not only provided me with a tour of the King County Evidence Center, but also spent her time discussing how a CSI unit would respond to the crime scene I proposed. In addition, she spent time discussing with me what it is like being a female detective in what remains a predominantly male profession.

  Detective Southworth put me in touch with Detective Dana Duffy, Seattle Police Department Homicide/Assault Unit. Detective Duffy is Seattle’s only female homicide detective. Again, I was grateful for her willingness to answer questions, her suggestions such as the polygraph test, and her insight on being the only woman on the homicide team. Both detectives helped me to create what I hope to be a realistic portrait of a female homicide detective. I’m grateful for their time and honesty.

  I am also grateful to Kathy Decker, King County Sheriff’s Office search and rescue coordinator and instructor/sign cutter, otherwise known as a “man-tracker.” Detective Decker helped me to understand how a tracker can follow signs that most of us would never see to track where a human being has been, or where they might currently be. It is a fascinating science and I hope my brief explanation in the book does it justice. It was Kathy who suggested I get in touch with and speak to King County sheriff’s deputies Randy Houser and Zbig Kasprzyk, K-9 Unit. They explained the science behind training a dog to scent a human being. As good as Kathy and her compatriots are at their jobs, man’s best friend was blessed with a sense of smell we can’t come close to, and it allows them to do remarkable things in the hands of their trainers. I’m grateful to both men for meeting me and answering all my questions.

  Along my research journey I was also placed in touch with Washington State Patrol supervising forensic scientist, Firearm/Toolmark Section, Rick Wyant. Rick, I was told, is the “boy wonder” of forensic science, and he did not let me down. His motto is “Why speculate when you can simulate,” and he gets to do for a living things that make most men salivate—shooting and blowing up things to help him determine the trajectory of bullets and how a crime unfolded at the crime scene. I hope I did his profession justice and thank him for his time.

  As Rick and I sat talking I was introduced to Seattle police officer Tom Burns, Southwest Precinct. Officer Burns agreed to take me through the steps of a police officer responding to a report of “shots fired” and the presence of a “prowler.” Officer Burns’s insight, from more than twenty years on the job, was a great help to me.

  Special thanks also to Bernie Dennehy, corrections program administrator, King County Department of Adult and Juvenile Detention, for explaining to me the procedures when a defendant is arrested and when a defense attorney seeks to speak to his client. As one might imagine, incarcerating human beings is a difficult challenge on a number of different levels and I’m grateful to Bernie for sharing his valuable time with me.

  I also owe a special thanks to Micheal Hurley (that’s the Irish spelling of Michael, he tells me), supervisory special agent, Drug Enforcement Administration (retired). Mike is a good friend who invited me to his home and explained to me much about the drug trade. In past books Mike has been behind the scenes but graciously agreed to allow me to use his name for a character in this book. I could think of no one better to lead a covert drug enforcement agency. Thanks, Mike.

  Special thanks also to Adrian Coombes, who told me to ask for “the Brit” when I visited him at Wade’s Eastside Gun Shop in Bellevue, Washington. Mr. Coombes was a big help with the firearms I chose to use in this novel and how those firearms would react. Finally, I’m grateful to Paula Henry, A.D.E. combat operator, who spent half a day at the Los Angeles firing range demonstrating, then teaching me how to shoot, various weapons. It was a heck of a lot of fun, but also a sobering lesson on the power and force those firearms possess.

  As much as all of these individuals assisted me I am most grateful to Kirkland police detective Brad Porter. Detective Porter was the lead detective on the brutal killing mentioned above. He sat at counsel table beside Scott O’Toole throughout the months, working long days and nights, but always met with me and took my calls when I had questions about police procedure. Detective Porter even read the manuscript so that I could make it as realistic as possible. My thanks to you, Brad, for your kindness.

  As careful as I tried to be, I’m sure there are mistakes. It is difficult to write a novel and account for legal procedure, which can occur over many years before a defendant ever sees a courtroom. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. This experience, more than any other I have had writing novels, made a distinct impression on me. Those who choose to give their lives in law enforcement, be it as officers, detectives, investigators, or prosecutors, really do serve the people of the state. They are dedicated servants doing their very best at a very difficult job to keep people like me and my family safe. Too often in the news we read about one of their brethren making a mistake. Too infrequently do we hear of their heroism, each and every day, that they put themselves out in the community doing their jobs to keep the rest of us alive. We owe them a huge debt of gratitude. I hope this book depicts them as the heroes they are.

  Special thanks to Jerry Willins and Virginia Dugaw for their generous support of the La Conner Rotary Scholarship program. I was pleased to use their names as characters in this novel to support that organization and the good it does. The La Conner Rotary has allowed me to share a dinner and a book signing with them since the publication of my first book, The Cyanide Canary, back in 2004. I very much look forward to my visits, particularly seeing Lee and Dee Carlson, my hosts. Rotaries do great work worldwide and I’m humbled to do my small part to support their greater good.

  Thanks to Meg Ruley of the Jane Rotrosen Agency, my agent. Meg is simply the best. She has an infectious personality that sees the glass half-full. I am indebted to her for so much. Thanks also to the rest of the Rotrosen team who read my drafts and offer suggestions. I do appreciate all of your support. I couldn’t do it without you.

  Thanks to Tami Taylor, who runs my website and does a fantastic job. Thanks to the cold readers who labor through my early drafts and help make my manuscripts better. Thanks to Pam Binder and the Pacific Northwest Writers Association for their tremendous support of my work.

  Thanks to Touchstone/Simon & Schuster for believing in Murder One and in me. To publisher Stacy Creamer, thanks for your support and promotion of Murder One and my career. Thanks to Trish Todd, Marcia Burch, David Falk, Meredith Kernan, Jessica Roth, Lauren Spiegel, art director Cherlynne Li, production editor Josh Karpf, production manager George Turianski, and interior designer Renata Di Biase. If I missed anyone, you know you have my thanks.

  To Louise Burke, Pocket Books publisher, and Pocket Books associate publisher Anthony Ziccardi as well as editor Abby Zidle for great insight and support. And thanks to all on the Touchstone and Pocket Books sales forces. I wouldn’t be writing this without you.

  Thank you also to the loyal readers who e-mail me to tell me how much they enjoy my books and await the next. You are the reason I keep looking for the next David Sloane adventure, and beyond.

  I’ve dedicated this book to my brother-in-law, Jim Fick. Jim h
as overcome so much in his life to become a tremendous man. He cares for all he loves, his mother, his brothers, and his own family, and he has been kind enough to include me. Jim promotes my books as hard as anyone, especially to the legal community. His law firm, Bullivant Houser Bailey, and in particular Matt Hooper and Chris Bakes, has become a big proponent of my work and source of knowledge for me. That would not have happened but for Jim. He gives so much of himself; I hope someday I can give back half as much.

  And always, first in my heart, my wife and my two kids, who are no longer kids. Cristina has raised a wonderful son and daughter and they fortunately inherited many of her wonderful qualities and beauty. You work too hard. I hope to remedy that someday, too. In the interim, thanks for standing by me.

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