Will hurried back to his friend’s office and put the phone on his desk. “Andi called and said one of the Riverbend COs almost died in a car wreck last night. This call is from the corrections officer we talked to yesterday about Jimmy’s letter. I’d like you to listen in.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“He thinks this officer took Lacey’s letter.”
“Okay, I’ll listen, but I’m not sure it’ll change anything.”
Will punched the speaker button. “Can you hear me, Mr. Simmons?”
“Hear you just fine.”
“Sergeant Hollister is here with me,” Will said. “Why do you think this Johnson took the letter?”
“I’ve suspected him of taking things from the prisoners before. Wasn’t anything I could prove, just a hunch. I talked to a few of the other guards today after we found out about the accident, and they all said he’d asked questions about Jimmy almost every day. Things like if he got any unusual mail or phone calls. And one of—”
“Mr. Simmons, this is Sergeant Hollister. Didn’t the other officers think that was strange?”
“Since he didn’t ask the same person every time, nobody thought much about it. Lots of times, we talk about the prisoners. Helps to know what’s going on with them and if we need to be on the alert. If a prisoner gets bad news from home, he’s liable to do most anything.” Simmons hesitated. “But Johnson seemed more interested in Jimmy than anyone else.”
“Did you mention the letter after Jimmy received it?” Will asked.
“Ah . . .” Simmons cleared his throat. “I mentioned it to the other COs when I went off duty, and they told Johnson—he works the day shift. Another guard said he saw him near Jimmy’s cell right after the shift changed. Jimmy was working in the kitchen.”
The question now was, who was Johnson working for? “Do you know why he was so far from Nashville?”
“That’s what I was about to say a minute ago. You have to understand that Johnson is always talking about all these things he’s gonna do, and it wasn’t always easy to tell when he was lying or just bragging. Yesterday at lunch, he told one of the other officers that he was taking off for Vegas next week, that he was coming in to a big sum of money.”
“Did he say where it was coming from?”
“No. Sometimes he said he had this rich dude in his back pocket, but he never mentioned a name.”
Brad leaned toward the phone. “Do you know what caused the accident?”
“No, but I’d be surprised if it had anything to do with his truck since that Silverado was his pride and joy. It could have passed a Marine inspection, inside and out,” the CO said. “Did hear one of the other officers say his brother investigated the wreck and that something went wrong just before the bridge across the Tennessee River. Johnson was thrown out before the truck went into a ravine. They say he’s critical, maybe paralyzed.”
Will picked up his phone. “I appreciate that you called me. I’ll check this out.”
“I didn’t particularly like Larry Ray,” Simmons said, “but if someone tried to kill him, I wouldn’t want to see them get away with it.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out. You be careful yourself.” Will’s thumb hovered over the disconnect button. “Oh, wait. Was Johnson married?”
“Getting a divorce.”
After Will disconnected, he shifted his gaze to Brad. “One more piece of circumstantial evidence to add to the pile.”
“It could mean nothing,” Brad said. “Wrecks happen every day.”
“You think it’s another coincidence?” Will chewed his thumbnail as scenarios swirled in his mind. “But let’s just say someone messed with the truck. Maybe tampered with the brakes—it’d be hard to tell. And let’s take it to the extreme—say Jimmy didn’t kill Steph, and whoever did was paying the corrections officer to spy on Jimmy. When he discovered that my cousin received the letter from Lacey, the guard stole it, thinking he could cash in.”
Brad tented his fingers. “But even if what you say is true and someone wanted Johnson dead, why would they tamper with his vehicle and take a chance on what happened—him not dying? Why not just kill him outright?”
“An outright murder would bring a lot more investigation into his activities, where an accident would hardly cause a ripple.”
Brad shook his head. “You’re grasping at straws. There’s no way to prove any of that.”
“And you don’t want to see the possibility that someone other than Jimmy killed your sister.”
“How many times do I have to tell you—your cousin confessed and the investigating officer found his prints on the gun and that he’d struck her before. I don’t want my family put through another investigation when it’s unnecessary. It was bad enough the first time.”
“That investigating officer was George Barnes.”
Brad’s eyes narrowed. “Barnes?”
His friend knew the cop’s reputation as well as Will did. “Yes. And that’s where I’m starting as soon as I get back from Nashville.”
“You’ll find him at the cemetery.”
Will’s heart sank. “Then I’ll have to prove it some other way. Maybe Johnson’s bank account will give some answers. Could be something at his house.”
“You don’t have enough probable cause to get a warrant to search his house or his bank records.”
Will tucked the case file under his arm. “Thanks, Mr. Sunshine. Maybe the wife will help me out.”
12
DAVID LISTENED AS WILL LAID OUT THE FACTS, his antenna going up when he learned George Barnes had investigated the original case. If ever there was a cop who didn’t belong on the force, it was Barnes. Rumors of him being on the take had floated around the precinct for years before he retired.
“You say this corrections officer saw the actual letter?”
“He delivered it to Jimmy.” Will took out his phone. “Here’s the photo he took of it. Unfortunately, he’s a terrible photographer.”
The letter was no more than a blue blur. “And the letter is gone?”
“Yes sir, and one of the other COs at the prison is in a coma after an accident last night. Simmons indicated the CO had been overly interested in Jimmy’s visitors and mail. As soon as I take care of a couple of things around here, I’m driving to the site.”
David tented his fingers. “There’s nothing concrete, but in the right hands, it might be enough to get a stay. At least I hope it is—I’d hate to see an innocent man executed.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
“Who is Jimmy’s attorney? He needs this information.”
“Jimmy hasn’t heard from his public defender in some time; besides, he retired a couple of years ago. My cousin asked me to talk with Madeline Starr on his behalf. See if she’ll take on his case.”
“You only have three days. That’s not enough time to bring in a new attorney.”
“I know, but he insisted. He doesn’t believe the attorney he had would be any help, even if he came out of retirement.”
“Do you know Ms. Starr?”
“I knew her when she was a college student, and judging by the way she cross-examined me in court on a case, I don’t think she remembers me,” he said.
“Sounds like she might have raked you over the coals.” David twirled his pencil. “Let me broach this with her. I’ve been in the courtroom with her, and while she’s tough, I’ve found her to be fair.”
Will stood. “That would be great. I wasn’t looking forward to approaching her. And this frees up my time so I can go to the accident site and get back here by midafternoon. I want to go over Lacey Wilson’s house again.”
He stopped at the door. “By the way, Andi Hollister is friends with Ms. Starr, and she indicated she’d go with me when I talked to her. You might want to give her a call.”
Will walked back to the desk and wrote Andi’s number down. After he left, David called Andi. “This is Lieutenant David Rai
nes,” he said after she answered.
“How can I help you, Lieutenant?”
“Will Kincade was just in my office and indicated you might accompany me to see Madeline Starr. I need all the reinforcement I can get.”
She chuckled. “I bet Will told you I know her softer side.”
“Something like that. Any chance you can go now?”
“Can you wait? I haven’t left the house yet, and it’ll be at least forty-five minutes before I can be downtown.”
“Tell you what. I’ll go ahead to her office,” he said. “Why don’t you come straight there? That way if I’ve made a mess of it, you can vouch for me. And you can give her firsthand information about Jimmy.”
“See you there.”
David hung up and glanced out the window at the sunshine. Walking the few blocks from the CJC to Madeline Starr’s office on Front Street would give him time to get his thoughts in order. Not to mention, at forty-one, he needed all the exercise he could get. He closed the folder he’d been working on.
To say Madeline had little use for cops was an understatement. The story was, her brother had gone to prison before DNA became accepted evidence. And while it’d been DNA that eventually cleared him, it was after his death at the hands of another prisoner. Now Madeline Starr was on a crusade to make sure no one else suffered that fate. Unfortunately, that usually put him on the opposite side of the fence from the beautiful attorney.
His stomach rumbled at the aroma of something yeasty as he passed the bakery on the corner. It took every ounce of his willpower to walk past it without going in. Mentally, he marked three hundred calories saved and then laughed at the game he played with his weight. But he caught a glimpse of his trim reflection in a mirrored building. Watching his calories and hitting the gym four times a week paid off.
When he reached the law office building, he checked the directory in the lobby. Twelfth floor. Probably a good view of the Mississippi River.
A few minutes later, he opened the door with Madeline Starr’s name etched in the glass, and his feet sank into the carpet as he approached the lawyer’s receptionist. The nameplate on her desk read Shawna Patterson. Her dark-chocolate eyes zeroed in on the gun on his belt as he showed his badge and said, “I’m Lieutenant Raines. Is Ms. Starr in?”
“Um, she’s with a client, but please wait. I’m sure she’ll make time to see you.” Murmuring something about providence, she punched the intercom just as angry words blasted down the hallway.
“You’ll pay for this!”
Shawna gasped. “Oh no! I was afraid of that. I tried to get Ms. Starr to let me call the police.”
“What’s going—”
A crash jerked his head around, and he ran down the hall with his gun pulled. Madeline’s door was partially open, and a man stood with his back to David. Was that a gun in his hand? A glass vase lay next to the wall in a puddle of water.
“You missed, honey,” the man said.
“You better leave.” Madeline’s voice was calm. “I’m sure my secretary has already called the police.”
The man raised his hand. “For—”
David slammed the door open and dove toward the man, knocking him off balance. He reached for the gun, but the assailant reacted faster than David expected, backhanding him with the gun.
His head snapped back as black dots blurred his vision and pain shot through his cheek. The assailant wheeled toward Madeline, and David tackled him again, and they crashed to the floor. The gun skidded across the room.
The man outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, and David struggled for leverage, finally wrestling one of his arms behind him. David straddled his back and clamped a cuff on his wrist, then yanked.
“You’re breaking my arm.”
Panting, David said, “Not yet, but I will if you don’t put your other hand behind your back.”
When he was slow to move, David yanked the handcuffs again.
“Okay, okay. I’m doing it.”
David snapped the cuff in place. For the first time, he heard sirens outside the building. “Next time, don’t attack someone six blocks from the CJC,” he said as he stood. Three uniformed officers rushed the room. He flashed his badge and said, “Lieutenant Raines. I’m not the bad guy.”
Madeline stepped beside him. “Don’t arrest him. I think he just saved my life.”
David turned to her. “You think?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the woman should have let her secretary call the police earlier.
Her face paled, then she lifted her chin. “I could have talked my way out of it.”
He clamped his mouth shut. If he answered with what was on his mind, he’d blow any chance of her listening to him about Jimmy Shelton. Pain shot through his cheek, and he reached to touch it.
“Don’t. You’ll get germs on it,” she said, snatching his hand away. She pulled a tissue from the box on her desk. “It’s bleeding. Here.” She gently pressed the cut on his face. “It doesn’t look like it’ll need stitches.”
Her light fragrance enveloped him.
Suddenly, she jerked her fingers back and held out the tissue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your space.”
“You didn’t. Thank you.” Her perfume lingered, nudging emotions David thought long dead. Nothing but adrenaline rush. He took the tissue and stepped out of the way so the uniformed officer could take the assailant out while she explained to the other officers what had happened.
Madeline, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater, recounted that she’d been working on briefs when the man showed up, angry over a case. Someone she represented had escaped jail time for a hit-and-run accident that involved the assailant’s daughter.
An image of Alexis popped into David’s mind, and he steeled his face to not react. He’d seen more than one criminal get an acquittal because of a slick defense attorney, and in truth, he didn’t blame the man for being upset. If someone had hurt his daughter . . .
After the officers left, she turned to him. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did. I’m very good at reading people. You probably need to remember that.”
“I will.” He uncrossed his arms.
“The boy who hit her suffered a blackout caused by a heart arrhythmia he didn’t know he had. When he came to himself, he was a mile from the accident. It was dark, and he didn’t even know he’d hit anything until the next day when his father asked what happened to the front light.
“He came forward once he read about the hit-and-run and figured out he might have been responsible. He was relieved that the girl’s injuries were minor. His family hired me because Thompson wanted him hung, and he carries political clout.”
“Political clout?” David hadn’t paid much attention to the man. “Did you say his name was Thompson?” When she nodded, he winced. “Tell me that wasn’t H. G. Thompson, the mayor’s bodyguard?”
“Afraid so.”
Relations between the police department and the mayor’s office hadn’t been the best with this mayor. “He shouldn’t have pulled his gun.”
“Agreed.” She tucked the cuffs of her sweater in her hands and pulled the sleeves tight as she hugged her body. “What brought you to my office, Lieutenant Raines?” she asked as she walked to her desk and sat down.
Madeline Starr wasn’t fooling him. He was pretty good at reading body language himself. She was much too pale, and he figured it’d been sit down or end up on the floor. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said. “It’s okay to be shook up.”
“Excuse me?”
Uh-oh. She thought he’d been condescending. Maybe now would be a good time to mention Andi. “I mean, given what just happened here, anyone would be upset.”
She continued to take his measure.
“Ah . . . and Andi Hollister said to tell you hello—she’s meeting us here. She should be here soon.”
She gave him a curt nod. “And by the way
, you’re wrong—I do have to be strong. You didn’t say what you wanted.”
For the first time since he entered her office, he heard faint strains of music. “You like Michael Bublé?”
Once again, surprise registered on Madeline’s face and then a smile. She glanced toward the phone on her desk, and he realized that was where the music came from.
“I came in early this morning and put on my Bublé playlist. His music helps me to stay focused while I work,” she said, her voice warming. “You?”
He was glad to know they shared at least one thing in common. “Just the opposite. It’s what I listen to when I get home and try to relax.”
“I can see that.” She planted her hands on the desk and rose. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a little fresh air. Could we walk while you tell me what you came to see me about?”
After Will left David’s office, he took the elevator down to the third floor to see the district attorney. He had a good working relationship with Laura Delaney and had been surprised when Andi told him she’d been Stephanie’s roommate. He wasn’t certain how she’d take being questioned about a murder that happened eighteen years ago.
It could prove to be sticky, with her election bid for the US Congress. She was running on her tough law-and-order record, and helping Jimmy get a stay of execution with no more evidence than Will had . . .
“Jace, is the district attorney in?” he asked her secretary.
“She is, Sergeant. Can I tell her what you want to see her about?”
“It’s about a case I’m working on.” He hated being evasive, but he wanted to see Laura Delaney’s reaction when he brought up the subject of the murder. Not that he thought she had anything to do with it, but often if people were prepared, they filtered their answers.
Jace picked up the receiver and dialed. “Will Kincade is here to see you about a case he’s working on.”
As he waited for the DA’s response, the entry door opened, and from the corner of his eye, he recognized Adam Matthews, Lacey Wilson’s ex. Questioning him again was on Will’s long to-do list. “Surprised to see you here,” he said.
Matthews stood a little straighter. “Yeah, well, I wanted to talk to Laura about Lacey’s funeral.”
Justice Delayed Page 11
