“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent. But the mere thought of that woman...” She took a deep breath. “Please continue.”
“So you never saw any evidence that Sam Pryor hit his wife?” Hunter asked.
“I’m aware of one occasion. Lily came to see me after it happened. She said it was the first time he’d struck her. She asked my advice. Since there was no regular pattern of abuse, I suggested they go to their pastor for counseling. I believe they did so. Lily never told me of another incident.”
Hunter cast an impish grin at Davis. “The situation with Mrs. Kaufman is out of our jurisdiction, you understand. However, off the record, there is a possibility that if you contact Todd Hastings, away from his wife, he might help you. No promises.”
Maddie patted his hand. “Thank you. Perhaps I’ll do that. Todd always liked Elsie.”
The housekeeper showed them out. When the door closed, Davis turned to his partner. “You know you shouldn’t have said that.”
Hunter shrugged. “Probably not. I liked Mrs. Kaufman…and I’m not at all fond of her daughter. And God works in mysterious ways.”
Davis expelled a deep breath. “Hunter, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you are not God.”
CHAPTER 18
Twin Falls Police Station
Matt arrived at the station at half past eight Saturday morning, giving him time to prepare for the nine o’clock meeting with Davis and Hunter. The desk sergeant waved him over as he walked through the lobby. “Ralph Simmons, from Custom Body Works, called a few minutes ago. Sounded excited about something. Wants you to call him.”
Matt took the note to his office. He called Davis. “Any updates for the meeting?”
“No. We’re going back out to the Cook place with a search warrant later. Why?”
Matt read the phone message the desk sergeant gave him. “Then let’s postpone until tomorrow.”
He disconnected with Davis, then called Simmons.
A receptionist answered and put Simmons on the phone. “Chief Foley, do you remember the BOLO notice you sent out a few years back, about the red Mustang with damage to the driver’s side?”
After the accident, they’d towed Josh Bradford’s car in. Paint smears, left by the hit-and-run vehicle, allowed McCulloch to identify the make, year, and model. The detectives sent out the notice to all the body shops in the area.
Simmons continued, “This morning, we received a car that matched your bulletin. A miracle we caught it. I hired a new man who read the old memo posted in the break room. It had been there so long the other guys ignored it. Anyway, the new guy noticed the vehicle he was about to work on matched the description.”
Matt sucked in a breath. “Good catch. Who brought the car in?”
Papers rustled in the background. “Lance Cushing. He dropped it off. Asked to have the body repaired and wanted the car made ready for state inspection. The sticker and license plates were both outdated. I have his phone number on the worksheet.”
“Hold on to the car. I’ll send someone over right away. Give me the license and VIN numbers.” Matt jotted down the numbers as Simmons read them off, then called McCulloch to have him pick up the vehicle.
Matt ran the license plates through DMV. The car’s outdated Louisiana tags, listed the owner as Margaret Manning. She purchased the vehicle at an automobile auction in that state six years ago.
He dialed Sergeant Kennedy and gave him Cushing’s telephone number. “Ask him to come in for questioning.”
Later, he located Lucy Turner and asked her to take the interview. He gave her the background information on the kid. At four-o’clock, she buzzed to say she had Cushing in room one.
“Be right there.” Matt strode down the corridor to watch the proceedings from the room next door. He closed the door and switched on the monitor in the corner. Detective Cole Allen joined Lucy and took a seat at the table.
Cushing looked nervous. The blond soul-patch under his lower lip gave a slight quiver. “Am I in trouble?”
Lucy didn’t answer. She leaned back in her chair, across from Cushing. “Mind if we record this?”
Cushing placed both hands on the table. He looked around the walls as if the answer might appear. “No...I guess that’s okay. Do I need a lawyer?”
Lucy shrugged. “We just want to ask a few questions. We’re not charging you with anything, but I’m gonna read you your rights.” Lucy switched on the recorder and read the Miranda warning. “Do you understand these rights as read to you?”
Cushing nodded.
“You’ll have to answer yes or no, Mr. Cushing,” Turner said.
Cushing leaned forward. “Yes.”
Cole reached for a pen in the table drawer to hide a smile. He slid a waiver form across the desk for the man to sign. Cushing hesitated, but signed, then slipped it back to Cole.
“Do you want to waive your right to an attorney?” Lucy asked.
Cushing mumbled, “Yes.”
Lucy resumed the interview. “Okay, let’s get started. Did you take a red Mustang to Custom Body Works this morning?”
Cushing nodded. “Is there a problem? I have the title. Just haven’t had time to transfer it.”
“When did you purchase the car?”
“I didn’t buy it. My uncle passed away and I inherited it. The title was in my uncle’s papers, the last owner signed it over to him.”
“What’s your uncle’s name?”
“Cook, Robert Cook. I don’t understand. It’s not a stolen car, is it? Like I said, the previous owner signed the title. I didn’t know—.”
Matt moved closer to the monitor.
“Did you ever drive the car while your uncle owned it?”
“I didn’t even know he had a second car. When Uncle Bob passed away, I found it in a storage shed on the property. The car seemed in good condition, except for the body damage. It started right up when I jumped the battery. I decided to fix it up for my wife to drive. I don’t—”
“We confirmed the car was involved in a hit-and-run accident four years ago. Attorney Joshua Bradford died in the crash. Paint smears on the Mustang match the paint on Bradford’s car. Did you know Mr. Bradford?”
Visibly shaken, Cushing’s eyes widened. He sat up straight in the chair. “No, no, you don’t think I—my uncle drank a lot, but I don’t think even he would leave an accident.”
Matt walked back to his seat. Cushing apparently decided not to take the rap for something Uncle Bob might have done. Cushing could be telling the truth. It would be difficult to prove otherwise with the uncle dead.
Lucy continued. “And you never drove the car before today?”
“No, like I told you, I’d never seen it before yesterday when I took over the property he left to me.”
“Do you have any idea where you were in August, four years ago?”
Cushing paused for a moment. “Uh...four years ago I was still in college at the University of Tennessee. I can’t be sure, but I think that’s the summer I stayed on campus to take some summer courses.”
Lucy pushed back her chair and stood up. “That will be all for now. Thank you for coming in. If we need anything further, we’ll call you. By the way, we’ll have to hold on to the car for a while, and I’ll need to see that title.”
After Cushing left, Matt caught Lucy in the hallway. “Joshua Bradford interviewed Robert Cook the night he died.”
Lucy lifted an eyebrow. “I checked Cushing’s driving records before he arrived. He has a few traffic tickets. Nothing else. We’ll check Robert Cook’s record, then contact the college to confirm Cushing’s story.”
“Bring Davis up to date when he gets back.” Matt massaged his neck muscles on the way to his office. He stood at the window behind his desk, running the interview details in his mind. Outside, gusts of wind whipped red and orange leaves in circles on the sidewalk, finally settling them in piles on the grass.
After four years of investigation, could the soluti
on be this easy? Had Cook followed Bradford and run him down? For what reason? Accident maybe?
Detectives had interviewed Cook after Bradford’s death. According to the casebook, the man had been drunk, almost incoherent, that evening. Cook had a number of DUI’s. The state had revoked his driver’s license. Reason enough for Cook to leave the scene. Especially a fatal accident. No Mustang had been registered to Cook at the time and the case went cold. Now Cook looked good for both murders, Penny and Josh Bradford’s.
****
When Matt returned to the station after lunch, a crowd of soccer moms, with their embarrassed kids filled the lobby, all trying to out-shout each other. The usual fight between parents, coaches, and referees had broken out at the game.
Amazing. Sometimes kids were more mature than their parents.
He strolled down the hall to the crime lab. Dale McCulloch sat on a stool, peering into an elaborate microscope.
Matt cleared his throat.
McCulloch looked up and gave him a lopsided grin. “Help you, Chief?”
“Find anything on the vehicle?”
“We pulled it in. You already know the paint smears on both cars matched. I also found minute particles of blood in the dents. It’s the car, all right. No question.
“I did a computerized reconstruction of the accident. The damage to both vehicles matched. You may remember from the crash site, there were no skid marks on the road. An intoxicated driver might not have braked. No way to tell whether it was deliberate or alcohol confusion.”
Matt pulled out a stool and sat down. “There’s a good possibility Robert Cook is responsible for Joshua Bradford’s death. What about the car’s interior?”
McCulloch turned from the microscope to face Matt. “Not much, except four years of dust. Someone wiped the inside clean before the dust settled. That’s not something an innocent person does. There were recent fingerprints on the steering wheel, gearshift and car door. I assume they belong to the nephew, placed there when he drove it to the repair shop. I’ll check the prints against the ones the detectives got from Cushing.”
The CSU Chief picked up a bagged leather-bound book from the lab table and tossed it to Matt. “We did find a day timer under the car seat. Didn’t you say the car belonged to Margaret Manning? If so, the book can’t be hers. The initials don’t match.”
Matt caught the bag. He looked down at the embossed gold initials and almost dropped the container. The initials S B were stamped on the cover.
Sara Bradford.
The monogram’s significance slammed him like a punch in the gut. The notebook proved a connection to the car that killed her husband. Proof he’d been looking for over the past four years. It should make him happy, but it didn’t.
Had Sara hired Cook to kill Josh? Certainly a possibility. Sara must have been in the car at some point to have left it there.
Matt held up the day timer. “Any fingerprints?”
McCulloch nodded. “A few, all belonging to the same person.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Something strange about that, though. There were no prints on the leather cover, someone had wiped it clean. All the prints I found were on the inside. And, the calendar dates were two years after Bradford’s death.”
Matt’s gaze shifted to the notebook. “From that we can assume we have a murderer who is smart enough to wipe the prints off the cover. But dumb enough to leave it in the car with her initials on it?”
“Sounds right to me. Her?”
“Yeah. Bradford’s wife’s name is Sara.”
Mac whistled. “Wow. I can verify ownership of the notebook by the fingerprints, make sure they’re hers.”
“Do that as soon as you can.” Matt bounced the book against his palm. Sara Bradford might be many things, but she wasn’t dumb. “You sure none of the prints in the car match those in the calendar?”
McCulloch shrugged. “If there are, we haven’t found them. We gave the car a thorough going over. The only prints inside belonged to whoever drove the car last and they don’t match those in the notebook.”
Sara Bradford’s Home
The church sale finally behind her, Sara had spent the afternoon boxing the leftovers for the Goodwill and Salvation Army before heading home.
As she got out of the car, Matt Foley’s Expedition pulled in behind her. His solemn expression gave her a déjà vu moment. He wasn’t bringing good news.
Sara grinned anyway. “Hi, Matt. I came home to grab a bite. I missed lunch. Come in. If you haven’t eaten, I’ll repay you for the lunch you bought.”
“Thanks, I’ve eaten.” Matt didn’t return the smile. A moment of silence followed before he spoke again. “Sara, there’s something important I need to discuss with you. Where can we talk?”
A nervous quiver lodged in her stomach. “This sounds serious. Let’s go into the kitchen. You can talk while I eat. Whatever it is, you can tell me in front of Maddie.”
Sara led the way down the hallway. She pulled cold chicken and fruit salad from the refrigerator, then set them at the island.
Maddie entered from the hall. “I thought that was your voice I heard, Matthew. What brings you out?”
He pulled a stool from under the counter and sat across from Sara. Her aunt eased into the one beside her.
“We found the car that killed Josh earlier today. It belonged to a man named Robert Cook,” Matt said.
A welcome relief flowed through her body. Sara inhaled a deep breath. “That’s great news. Have you arrested him?”
“Can’t. He died from natural causes a few days ago. Do you know him?”
She plumbed the recesses of her memory. After a moment, she locked in on the name. The name had been among those Josh’s law firm had requested from the notes in his briefcase after his death. “Cook, wasn’t that the name of the man Josh interviewed the day he died?”
Matt nodded. “Have you ever met or had any dealing with Cook?”
She scanned the stoic expression on his face and it hit her. He’d known about Cook all along. He’d been testing her. “Not to my knowledge.”
“The car wasn’t all we found.” He held out a photo of a desk calendar. “We found this inside the vehicle. Does it belong to you?”
Disbelief and a touch of anxiety crept up her spine. She recognized the notebook. “It’s mine. It went missing ages ago from my desk. I assumed I’d lost it or someone took it by mistake. How could it turn up in that car?”
He didn’t speak, just stared straight into her eyes.
Realization dawned. She could feel the blood drain from her face. Unable to suppress the tremor in her fingers, she replaced the fork on the dinner plate. “Good heavens, Matt. Did you come here to arrest me? How can you think...? The automobile doesn’t belong to me.”
He looked down at his hands. “It wasn’t registered in your name, and I didn’t come here to arrest you. But I may have to, unless the DA thinks we need more evidence before filing charges. He may go with Cook’s bad driving record, but the notebook connects you to Cook. Are you sure you’ve never spoken to him?”
Sara shook her head. “I can’t say with absolute certainty...but not to my knowledge.”
Maddie spoke for the first time. “You can’t believe Sara had anything to do with Joshua’s death, Matthew. I remember you as being smarter than that when you were in school.”
He glanced at Sara then back at Maddie. “If I believed her to be guilty, I would arrest her.” He picked up the photograph. “But this is evidence that can be used against her.”
He walked across the room and stood in the doorway. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but this case has reopened. You should find a good attorney. If you are arrested, with your clean record, a lawyer can get you out on bond. You might also want to consider if there’s anyone who dislikes you enough to frame you for murder.”
His footsteps echoed down the hallway, the door closed, and he was gone.
The sound of the car engine faded into the night. Lunch forgotten
, Sara laid her head on her arms and closed her eyes. Her job was in turmoil, someone was trying to kill her, and now the police had evidence to tie her to Josh’s murder. Matt had said he hadn’t arrested her because there’d been no proof. Now he could connect her to the hit-and-run vehicle. All the terror demons from the past were unleashed, and it surprised her that she could handle it.
For the past four years, she wondered what would happen if this moment came. Odd, but a sense of calm washed over her. Uncertainty had kept her off balance. Now, at least she had something to fight against.
When she opened her eyes, Maddie’s troubled gaze met hers. “You need to call Harold Golden. He’ll know what to do. No one in their right mind would believe you were involved in Joshua’s death.”
Sara nodded. “You’re right. Harold can tell me how to proceed from here.”
She’d met Harold Golden through her husband. Josh introduced Golden as “the foremost criminal attorney in the country.” In the early days of her marriage, she and Josh spent no less than two evenings a week in Golden’s company.
Harold Golden’s home had been a Mecca for young lawyers. Invitations to join one of his late-night sessions were coveted by young attorneys, and Josh had been Golden’s favorite. She dialed his private number. “Hi Harry, it’s Sara Bradford.”
His tone came across a little stilted. “Yes, Sara. How may I help you?”
“I’m sorry to say this isn’t a social call. As of a few minutes ago, I’m a suspect in Josh’s death. I wanted you to know that before you decide to defend me, if you can fit me into your caseload.”
“Why is it, after all this time, they’ve decided to pin this on you?”
Sara told him about Matt’s visit. The scratch of his pen sounded as he took notes. When she finished the story, he spoke, “I don’t think you have a problem. The evidence they have is circumstantial at best, not enough for an arrest warrant. I’m swamped with other cases. I don’t think I could do your defense justice. I can send you a list of good attorneys...”
Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense Page 39
