by Carsen Taite
Skye grabbed her arm, but her touch was gentle. As Morgan faced her, she saw the questioning lines on Skye’s face settle into a knowing look. After all, there was only one person it could be. Skye’s response was a whisper. “I’m sorry for what I did, but it was a long time ago. She’s forgiven me.”
“She may have forgiven you, but she still bears the scars.” Morgan shook off Skye’s hand. She didn’t want to be having this conversation with Skye for a multitude of reasons, including the fact she would be skewering this witness on the stand first thing in the morning. If there was anyone she should be talking to it was Parker. Parker, with her sparkling charm in public, but guarded pain in private. Morgan wanted to erase the hurt that haunted Parker and see the affection she felt reflected in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Morgan looked into Skye’s face, and noted her cocky demeanor had been replaced with genuine angst. She nodded and walked out.
*
Parker answered the phone because she knew no one else was home. If Kelsey or Erin had been there, she would have enlisted them to screen her calls. Parker imagined Dex was calling to give her a blow-by-blow of the first day of the trial and she knew him well enough to know if he wasn’t able to reach her by phone, he would show up at her door. She was torn about wanting to hear the details of the trial. Dex would be gushing about Morgan’s prowess and justifiably so, but she didn’t want to talk about Morgan. She had done enough talking about her professor during her afternoon appointment with the dean, and it had worn her out. She focused on making her voice sound sleepy, hoping he would take the hint and keep the conversation short.
“Parker? You sound like you’ve been sleeping. Well, get up, girl. We have things to do.”
It was Jake. Parker’s first reaction was to tell him she was off the case and explain her work earlier in the day had been a freebie but she was officially retired from the Chavez defense team. She started to form the words, but curiosity forced a different response. “Gimme five minutes. I’ll be out front.”
Parker waited on the porch, watching for the lights of Jake’s car. She wondered at her eagerness to jump back into the case when she’d spent the afternoon explaining to Dean Ramirez why she was dropping the Advanced Evidence class. Her decision to drop the class was calculated to protect Morgan, but she couldn’t deny the small part of her that hoped removing their professional relationship might open the door to something more. If nothing else, now that she was no longer one of Morgan’s students, she could work on the case without jeopardizing Morgan’s career.
Jake’s car pulled into the driveway and Parker shrugged off the lingering questions about her motivation and climbed into Jake’s sedan. “Okay, Sherlock, where are we going?”
“Leslie Hammond got a letter in the mail and he wants to show it to us.”
“A letter?”
“Yep. From Camille Burke.”
*
“Here it is.” Leslie’s hand shook as he passed the envelope to Parker. Clearly he deemed her to be in charge of the investigation. Parker took the envelope and carefully pulled a sheaf of pages from it. Casting a gentle look at the tearful young man, she asked, “May I?” He nodded and Parker began to read. Camille Burke’s last letter was both gripping and horrific. Parker was caught between the desire to race to the end and the urge to cram the gruesome story back into the envelope. When she finished, she handed the pages to Jake and focused her attention on Leslie. “When did you receive this?”
“It’s postmarked the day she died. It was in a pile of mail being held at the post office until I returned.”
“Before you got this, did you have any idea?”
“No. I knew she was troubled, haunted even.” His voice choked. “She was breaking up with me, for God’s sake. I thought her distress was all about me, wanting to end things with me, wanting to be rid of me. I had no idea, none, she was in her own personal hell. I never would have left if I had known.” He wiped away tears. “I loved her.”
She was sure he did and equally sure it would be a long time before he recovered from the knowledge the woman he had loved had been systematically victimized for years by her own brother. She knew Teddy Burke was a talented sociopath, but the juxtaposition of his public persona with the tale of horrific abuse he heaped on the sibling he purported to love would repulse even the most jaded. Parker, who had felt the raw pain of too many sickening revelations during her career as a cop, was no less sensitive from her experience, but necessity demanded she stuff her feelings. They had work to do.
“We need to let the police know. I’ll tell them.” Indicating the letter, she asked, “May I take this?” Leslie nodded.
*
The rest of the night was a blur. She directed Jake to the Palomar and led him to the door of Morgan’s room. She ignored Morgan’s surprised look to find them in the hall of her hotel at the late hour. Parker watched intently while Morgan sat on the end of her bed and burned through the pages Camille Burke had penned. She wanted nothing more than to go to Morgan. She needed the close warmth of Morgan to melt away the pain inside her soul. Instead, she waited quietly for Morgan to finish reading.
“She killed herself.” Morgan looked at Parker as she spoke the words and her look conveyed sorrow for Camille as well as apology to Parker for not having lent credence to Parker’s theories.
“Yes, and who could blame her? Teddy Burke has spent his life skating around the edge of trouble but never coming close enough to be caught. No one would have ever believed he had been raping his sister for years. I’d be willing to bet he paid off Dr. Hudson to make sure there was no tox screen done. If there was a suicide note at the scene, it’s probably long gone. Camille had nowhere to go, no one to tell. I’m sure she was so ashamed, she thought Leslie Hammond would drop her once he found out. Clearly, she loved him. She wrote this letter to him to make sure he knew he wasn’t the reason she broke things off.”
Morgan grasped Parker’s hand. She sensed Parker was internalizing Camille’s pain and she wanted to ground her in the here and now. “Parker, there’s nothing anyone could have done. Camille kept the secret and by doing so, she shut out anyone who could have helped her break free.” Placing her hand under Parker’s chin, she tilted her face until she was staring into her eyes. The connection was electric.
The rough sound of a throat clearing broke the wordless bond. Morgan looked across the room where Jake waited patiently.
“Ladies, I think we need to make some decisions.”
Morgan nodded. “I have Gibson’s cell phone number. She’s probably practicing a stinging opening argument. I’ll take great pleasure in interrupting her. Jake, will you give Ford a call and let him know what’s going on?”
“Yep.” He fished a cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I think I’ll call from downstairs so we don’t talk over each other. Parker, meet me downstairs when you’re done helping Ms. Bradley explain the situation to Ms. Gibson.” Nodding, he left the room.
Parker looked down at Morgan’s hand still clasping her own. “Subtle.”
“Has he always been so perceptive?”
“He’s a regular Sherlock Holmes.” Parker fastened her gaze on Morgan. “I have so much I want to say to you.” All she wanted to do at this very moment was lean in and take. Take Morgan’s hair and sweep it back from her face. Take Morgan’s full lips with her own and kiss away the distance between them. Take Morgan’s clothes and tear away all barriers to her soft and lovely skin. But before she could take, she had to know Morgan wanted to be taken, and now was not the time to solve the case of the unrequited love. Love? Was she feeling love? Surely she desired Morgan; she craved her, even. But love? She turned the question over in her mind and examined it from all angles. The answer was clear, but this was not the time to take the chance. “We’ll talk later. Right now, you need to make a call.”
Morgan’s steady stare almost dissolved Parker. Her brain sent signals telling her to ignore her doubts and take what she wan
ted, but before the synapse fired her into action, Morgan picked up the phone and started dialing. Parker barely caught herself and settled in to listen. Later, she thought. Later.
Chapter Twenty
“I would like a brief continuance to investigate this matter.”
Judge Thompson looked down his nose at Valerie Gibson before glancing at Morgan and Ford. “I assume you two have something to say about this.” Morgan had been up half the night strategizing, but she was poised to respond to the prosecutor’s request. They were scheduled to present opening statements in thirty minutes and Ford was prepared to deliver one for the defense. Immediately following, Teddy Burke was scheduled to take the stand. Morgan had been up late revising her cross-examination, including damning questions about his role in his sister’s death, whether it was suicide or murder. Despite her hours of preparation, she was willing to bet they wouldn’t be presenting anything to the jury today.
“Certainly, we do, Judge. We think the prosecutor already has enough information to dismiss the charges against our client. A county medical examiner will testify Ms. Burke was poisoned and now the prosecutor has a suicide note. I’m not sure what she intends to investigate, but certainly her case is already riddled with enough reasonable doubt for an acquittal.” Despite her attempts to persuade, Morgan knew the judge would most likely grant a short continuance to the prosecutor, who had been as surprised by last evening’s revelations as she was, but she didn’t have to agree to it. The delay was likely to be very short considering the fact they had a jury sworn and in the box ready to go. Judges weren’t in favor of inconveniencing those citizens who actually showed up for jury duty, especially since those same citizens were likely to vote in the next election.
“Judge, this new evidence hasn’t been entirely verified. Plus, it’s not as if any of this information negates the fact Mr. Chavez’s fingerprints were on the gun that shot Camille Burke in the face and he was found standing over her dead body. I’m asking for a day to sort through this. One day is all I ask.”
“Granted. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at eight thirty. Ms. Bradley, do you have any motions to make at this time?”
She was ready. “Yes, judge. Mr. Chavez has been in jail for several months pending the trial of this matter. In light of the new evidence and the additional delay, we respectfully ask he be released on a personal bond.”
Valerie Gibson flew out of her seat shouting “Your honor, defense counsel’s request is premature. We’re only asking for a day delay.”
Judge Thompson studiously avoided looking at Gibson as he made his ruling. “Defense motion for personal bond is granted. Bring me an order and I’ll sign it.” He stood to indicate their meeting was over and everyone should leave his chambers. Morgan and Ford filed past the stunned Gibson on their way to let Luis know the good news. Luis was to be released on his own recognizance pending the outcome of the case. The judge had made known his opinion about the state of the evidence by his ruling. If he thought the trial was going to proceed in a day, it was unlikely he would have agreed to the bond. Morgan knew she should waste no time in case the tide turned, and she planned to spend the rest of the day reviewing her notes even though she knew the adrenaline pumping through her veins would likely rob her of the ability to concentrate. She pondered ways of channeling her energy, but practicality settled in. A resolution about her feelings for Parker would have to wait the outcome of this case. Even as she had the thought, she knew that where Parker was concerned, her feelings were already resolved.
*
Bag of bagels in hand, Parker approached the door to Skye’s duplex. It was a beautiful fall morning and she felt good. She had talked to Dex and gotten a full report on the morning’s activities at the courthouse. He added in that the prosecutor was ranting about the fact both her key witness and lead detective were missing in action. Parker figured Teddy Burke had gotten wind of Camille’s letter. His family’s influence had always saved his ass in the past, and no doubt someone at the courthouse had tipped him off. As for Skye, she was probably taking cover till the chaos at the courthouse blew over. Gibson couldn’t be happy with her for getting the tox screen, and now that her case was falling apart, Skye would be the most convenient scapegoat. Parker didn’t wish that on anyone.
By the looks of things, the Chavez case would be over soon and then she and Morgan could have the talk they had both alluded to. She was so immersed in her own perspective she had only a vague idea of how Morgan felt, but she at least wanted to let Morgan know her job was no longer in jeopardy even if nothing were to come from the feelings she harbored. No matter what, she had to face her past before she could find a future with Morgan, or anyone else. So, bagels in hand, she raised her hand to ring the bell and make one last visit back in time.
Parker stopped with her hand in midair. Skye’s front door was slightly ajar, a small but clear signal something was wrong. Cops weren’t careless. Parker bent down and carefully placed the bag of bagels to the side of the porch. Instinctively, she reached around her waist for the gun she no longer wore. After years of carrying a weapon, she still felt naked without it. Parker leaned forward, almost touching the door frame, and listened through the crack. Tense, whispered voices drifted through Skye’s small home, and though she couldn’t make out the words, Parker felt urgent action was required. She gently pushed Skye’s front door open until she could slip through the opening.
Parker stepped quietly through the small hallway and glanced into each room she passed. Skye’s place was modest—one bedroom, one bath, living area, and kitchen. The whispered voices stopped and Parker had only her instincts to guide her. Each room appeared to be empty until she reached the kitchen where she saw the shadow of a figure seated at the small dinette. Parker could only see the figure’s back, but she knew it wasn’t Skye—it was a man. She watched as the stranger raised a mug and drank, slowly, as if enjoying a leisurely cup of morning coffee. There was no turning back now. She knew Skye was in trouble and she had to face this man in order to save her. She had faced him before, but something about the cool, confident way he made himself at home here shook her steady resolve, but only for a moment. She knew she had to display more control than he if she was to wrest away his confidence. She channeled all the hurt and anger from Camille Burke’s last words and drew strength from Camille’s pain.
“Why, Teddy Burke, don’t you know everyone in town is looking for you?”
He swiveled in his chair and faced her. She caught a glimpse of fear in his eyes before his expression settled back into calm. When he spoke he displayed no affect.
“Well, hello, former Detective Casey. If you, a discharged and disgraced detective, found me, I can’t be so very hard to locate, now can I?”
Parker stifled natural responses and merely stared at him. She’d known for years Teddy Burke was a sociopath, but she’d had no idea he was capable of the torment he’d inflicted on his own sister. She was consumed with worry about Skye. Her car was parked outside. She had to be here somewhere. Parker concentrated her full attention on him. She knew her every word, her every action, could mean the difference in whether both she and Skye escaped unharmed. She played along.
“I suppose you’re right. I imagine others will be here soon to look for you.”
His lack of affect was unsettling. “Certainly. We have time to share a cup of coffee. Sit. Drink with me.” He pointed to an empty chair at the table.
The last thing Parker wanted to do was sit. She knew it was imperative to remain in a position of readiness. In addition, she had no desire to drink anything Teddy Burke might offer. But she also knew she needed to buy time, time to learn Skye’s location and time to figure out a way to take control of the situation. She sat and took the mug he offered. Parker drew on years of practice coaxing criminals into telling their stories and offered Teddy the chance to tell his tale.
“I assume you know Camille left a suicide note.”
“I heard something to that effect.”
/>
“She said a number of things about you in the note. Despicable things. I’m sure you’d like a chance to refute her accusations, substitute truth for her lies.”
His eyes flashed anger. “Are you calling my sister, my flesh and blood, a liar?”
Parker realized she was pushing too hard, too fast. “No, no. Not at all. I don’t know why she wrote the things she did.” She took a different tack. “Perhaps someone forced her to write those awful accusations. Someone who was jealous of your relationship with her.”
Teddy Burke stroked his chin and leaned back in his chair, eyes half closed. “There were many who were.”
Ah, I’ve hit on something here. Parker tamped down on her excitement and continued in an easy tone. “I have no doubt you loved her. It must have been hard to know she was desired by many others.”
He looked through her as he answered, his eyes and thoughts focused on a past scene. “If I tell you everything, you will understand.”
It was part declaration, part question. Parker answered simply, “Yes.”
*
“I went to be with her as I had many nights before. Camille was my true love and she always welcomed me. Our bond was special, everlasting.
“I looked for her in the bed. It was late and she should have been waiting for me. Her bed was empty. I looked around and found her lying near her desk, curled into a hideous display of the grotesque. Her arms and legs were sprawled into spasm and her face was frozen into a mask of horror. The sight of her was revolting. I could barely stand to look at her.
“On her desk, I found a letter full of lies and hurt, obviously conjured by a jealous lover who made her write painful words designed to pierce me to the core. My darling would never speak such lies.
“I knew she wouldn’t want to be found like this. Wouldn’t want people to think she was weak. Taking your own life is weak, even if you’re pressured by forces stronger than your own. I burned the note. She would have wanted me to. I would fix her death scene so no one would ever know she had succumbed to frailty.
