“Well, it wasn’t done maliciously,” said Frankie. “I think the investigating officers thought they were doing the right thing. They thought Tony Watson was lying, so they kept badgering him until he gave them a different story.”
“And that was the story about Fisher calling Watson for a shovel?” said Elke.
“Yeah,” said Frankie.
Iain turned around from the table, holding a glazed donut. “The Reid questioning technique, that everyone’s taught, it’s not effective. I went to the captain of the department last summer, and I told him that I thought we should look into alternative interrogation methods, and that everyone should be trained in them. This was right after that documentary came out about the man in our jail system who’d been convicted even though he was innocent. I thought it would be a proactive thing for the department to look into. But he didn’t go for it. In fact, I think that’s why I ended up in the CRU.”
Elke laughed. “And we are glad to have you.”
Iain sat down. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to continue using a technique that has such serious flaws.”
“Well, training every single officer in a new interrogation technique?” said Frankie. “That’s got to be expensive.”
Iain sighed. “It’s always about money.”
“I don’t know what it’s about,” said Elke. “And I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? The important thing is that Fisher never asked anyone for a shovel. That’s good.”
“Doesn’t make him innocent,” said Iain.
Frankie came over to the table and pulled out a chair. “Well, it’s a good sign.”
“Look, that phone call never proved anything. Even if he had called and asked for a shovel, it still had no concrete ties to the scene,” said Iain. “The fact remains, there’s DNA. Fisher’s DNA. Basically, all the hard evidence points toward Fisher.”
“But there’s a reason his DNA would be there,” said Frankie. “And we’ve been through this.”
“I’m only saying that whatever you’ve uncovered, it still doesn’t make any real difference,” said Iain. “We need evidence that Fisher didn’t do it, or evidence that someone else did. We’ve got nothing on either of those counts.”
Frankie sighed. “Way to burst the bubble, Hudson.”
“He shouldn’t have,” said Elke. “Because he’s wrong. Maybe to people like Hudson, that phone call meant nothing, but I think it was important to a jury. When you think about the evidence that the prosecution had against Fisher, they had that phone call, the DNA, the statement from Noel Hughes that Allison was frightened of Fisher—”
“Yeah, and that never happened either,” said Frankie.
“What?”
“I also talked to Noel this morning,” said Frankie. “It’s a big thing. If you want, I can explain, but maybe we’re not done with Watson?”
“You get anything on the Sanders front?” said Iain.
“Well, no, I’ve been a bit busy, since I’m the ‘warm’ one, and I have to interrogate all the touchy suspects,” said Frankie.
Iain rolled his eyes. He turned back to Elke. “Why don’t you give me back the Sanders thing?”
“No,” said Elke. “You have to see that sexually traumatized women aren’t going to be as comfortable with you.” She turned to Frankie. “But I hadn’t realized how much I was piling on you. Maybe you should let me field the Sanders stuff.”
Frankie spread her hands. “I didn’t mean to imply that I couldn’t handle it, because if you need me to, I can do it.”
“I’m sure you could,” said Elke. “But I’ll take over the Sanders case. And I’ll get on it right away, Hudson. I know you’re chomping at the bit about that guy.”
“You think Sanders did it?” said Frankie.
“He’s hiding something,” said Iain. “I need to know what.”
“Well, it’s amazing how many men there were sleeping with teenagers,” said Frankie.
“So, you know something about the cheerleading coach, then?” said Elke.
“Yes,” said Frankie. “Noel says that she and Vinnie, as she calls him, were in love. She also says that they were together when the murder was being committed.”
“So, they’re each other’s alibi,” said Elke. “Convenient that he’s dead, isn’t it?”
“Well, we never did find a motive for Noel,” said Frankie.
“True,” said Elke. “Still, I don’t think that’s enough to eliminate her as a suspect or her creepy, too-old lover. But what was this about saying that Allison wasn’t afraid of Curtis?”
“Oh, right,” said Frankie. “She said that she was with the coach the night before, and she didn’t want anyone to find out about that, so she said that Allison was with her and that she was afraid of Curtis. But that never happened. Noel was just trying to protect the coach.”
“Oh, yuck,” said Elke. “Protect a man like that?”
“I agree,” said Frankie. “Disgusting. Still, I don’t really get a feeling she’s a murderer.”
“Feelings?” said Elke. “Hudson will strangle you.”
Iain laughed a little. “I can’t see any reason to suspect Noel. Nothing ties her to the murder.”
“But what about this Vinnie person?” said Elke. “He’s a pedophile.”
“Well, they were five years apart,” said Frankie. “I mean, it’s completely irresponsible on his part to go after this girl while she’s in high school, and I’m not saying he’s a good guy. But maybe he’s not a pedophile?”
“Whatever,” said Elke.
“All that forbidden romance stuff could have made it all seem pretty appealing,” said Frankie. “Maybe they were just stupid kids, nothing more.”
“Maybe,” said Elke, “or maybe he had a thing for young cheerleaders. Maybe he and Allison were involved and she threatened to tell, and so he killed her.”
“And left no DNA?” said Iain.
“We’ve been over this too,” said Elke. “He could have been careful.” She considered. “I guess I hope it’s not Vinnie-the-coach because it would suck to solve the case and have no one to lock up for Allison’s murder, since he’s dead. That wouldn’t be a particularly great public relations move. But I still don’t think that there’s any reason to eliminate either of them as suspects. They stay on the board.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When Iain got home from work that night, Harley was in his apartment. She hadn’t gone into his kitchen to cook him some surprise dinner or anything this time. He guessed she was still angry with him about, well, everything.
She was sitting in his living room on his couch, but she wasn’t doing anything. When he walked in, she was just staring at the carpet.
Iain didn’t like that at all.
He knew Harley pretty well, and he was as familiar with her moods as he could possibly be. He didn’t always understand them, but he remembered them. Sometimes she was angry and raging, sometimes crying and upset, but she wasn’t usually like this. He only remembered seeing her so subdued and sad after Dale.
He sat down next to her on the couch. “What happened?”
She didn’t look up. “Nothing, really.”
“Are you okay?”
She raised her shoulders and then lowered them. “I guess so. Or I will be.”
He reached out to touch her.
But she took his hand, and placed it on his own leg, and shook her head at him.
He didn’t know what to do.
She straightened up. Took a deep breath. “I came by because I want to talk.”
“Okay…?” He was hesitant.
She licked her lips. “You think you’re better than me.”
He shook his head. “That is not true. I swear to God, I don’t think that. We’re different, and we both have our faults, and they’re different faults, but as for the amount of faults we each have, I’d say it’s about equal.”
She smiled a little.
He smiled too.
Then she turn
ed away, shaking her head. “I think it, too.”
“Think what?”
“That you’re better than me. That’s why I want you.”
He was confused now. What was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to disagree with her? In point of fact, he maybe hadn’t been telling the truth a minute ago, because sometimes, he did think of her as sort of… beneath him, in a way that he couldn’t quite quantify. But he cared about her. She was Harley. In the end, did any of that matter?
“I mean, all those years, while we were just screwing around, I was sure that you’d never want me for anything other than, you know, sex.”
“Harley—”
“Let me finish.” She put up a hand.
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Then, after that thing with Otis, I suddenly realized it wasn’t like that. That you actually had… I don’t know, that you liked me.”
“How could it have taken you so long to realize that?” he said.
“You’re not letting me finish.”
“Because that’s ridiculous, and I don’t believe you. You knew I liked you, because you were always over here asking me for stuff.”
“I knew you liked screwing me,” she said. “When we were in high school, when we first met, you were so smart and together and everything.”
He drew back. “What? In high school, I was a wreck.”
“You got good grades.”
“I had no friends.” He considered. “I mean, maybe I still don’t have friends, but people are at least mostly polite to me.”
“Iain.” She shook her head. “There was no way a guy like you was ever going to be interested in a girl like me. I knew that.”
“No,” he said. “It was the other way around. You were the one who was never going to be with someone like me. Why are you trying to say something different?” He wondered if this was some kind of elaborate manipulation on her part. She could be pretty manipulative when she wanted, although he had to admit that she’d done that less since they’d started officially dating.
“I’m trying to explain to you how I felt,” she said. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“Listen, do you want something, Harley? You know if you want something, I’m going to give it to you. Just tell me what it is.”
She got off the couch, her face crumpling in hurt. “Is that what you think of me?”
He sighed. He was screwing this up, wasn’t he?
She walked over to his mantle. He had a faux fireplace that was made of marble. On top of the mantle, he had several framed photos and a couple small pillar candles. She picked up one of the candles. “I guess maybe it’s fair that you’d say that. Because I was always trying to think of ways to get your attention, and I knew if you thought I needed you, you’d be there. Because you’re a good guy, Iain.” She turned back to look at him. “So, maybe I was always making up emergencies.”
He raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this, but it was strange to hear her admitting it.
“Anyway, after the thing with Otis, I realized maybe I didn’t need to do that. I thought maybe we could actually be together.”
“We are together,” he said.
“No, I know,” she said. “But it didn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
She set the candle back on the mantle. “Back before, I used to have this fantasy. I thought that if I could get you to be my boyfriend, like really and officially, that it would make everything different. I thought if you acknowledged me that way, it would change me somehow. I thought it would make me into a respectable person or something. Like, all the crappy things I do, they’d go away, because whatever it was that was broken in me, you would fix it.”
He shook his head. “I can’t fix anything, Harley. Maybe sometimes, I can figure out how something got broken, like when I solve a crime, but nothing really gets fixed. Maybe I understand it, but it’s still broken. Someone’s still murdered.”
She smiled again, sadly. “It’s always about work with you.”
He hung his head. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I realize now that it was stupid to think that you would fix me. Or that I would fix you. That you would change. I mean, I should have realized you wouldn’t change. You couldn’t change.”
“Is there something I’m not doing that you want me to do?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
She sucked in a breath and let it out in a huff. “I guess… this thing we have, it’s not… I think we need to break up.”
The words hit him in the center of his chest like a crushing weight. It was all he could do to keep himself sitting up right.
“Oh, geez.” She ran her hands through her hair. “I said it. I actually said it.”
“Is this about the other night?” He was finding it hard to speak. His throat constricted. “About what I said to your grandmother?”
“No, I think you were right about her. She’s not a very nice person.” She twisted her hands together.
It was quiet.
“What if I don’t want to break up?” The words burst out of him.
Her eyes widened. “Well… why?”
He got up off the couch. “Because I care about you. Because I like that you’re…” His voice dropped in pitch. “Mine.”
She parted her lips. “Oh, geez, Iain, that was sexy as hell. Maybe we could have break-up sex.”
“No,” he said. “Let’s not break up.”
“I think we have to,” she said. “Because we’re not really good for each other.”
“You are good for me. Since we’ve been together, you’ve been challenging me, making me get out of my shell. I went to the bar with your friends, and I met your grandmother, and—”
“Those things were all disasters,” she said. “You don’t get along with my friends. And you forgot about the dinner with my grandmother. You’re very focused on your work, and you forget about me when you’re there.”
His shoulders sagged. “Every woman I’ve ever been with has said that to me. You used to be different, because you didn’t put demands on me.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“If we break up, can we go back to the way it was before? When we didn’t have any responsibility toward each other?”
“I don’t think—”
“No,” he said darkly. “Because then you’d be with other men again.”
“Iain, listen,” she said. “I was trying to say this earlier, but we got off track. You think you’re better than me.”
“I don’t.”
“And I think I’m lacking. I think I need to be fixed, and for a long time, I told myself that you could fix me. But that’s insane. You can’t do that. Only I can do that. I’m the only person who has the power to change myself.”
“That’s true,” said Iain quietly. Except, well, he wasn’t completely sure about this idea of changing oneself. There were a lot of things about himself he didn’t like, things he’d like to change, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself not have autism, for instance, and he often thought that one thing would solve all his problems. On the other hand, he was also fairly sure that it was what allowed him to be such a good detective, and he loved his work. He would never want to give up that joy, so… he accepted it. Some things couldn’t be changed. He wasn’t going to say that to Harley, though. Maybe she wasn’t like him. Maybe she could change.
“Anyway, I think that’s what I need to be focusing on right now,” she said. “Myself. I need to get myself together. I’m in my thirties, and I can’t keep a steady job. By now I should have a damned career, you know?”
“Well…” He didn’t contradict her. She had a point.
“And I drink too much,” she said.
He didn’t say anything.
She nodded. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s all I wanted to say, so, I guess I’ll
be going.” She started past him.
He caught her by the arm. “Wait. Don’t go.”
“Iain, we broke up. Now, we should be apart.”
“I don’t agree,” he said. “I don’t want to break up. So, you want to change. Great. Change, and let’s stay together. If you had a job and didn’t drink as much, it would be better. That would help.”
“No,” she said. “It wouldn’t. Because if I fix that stuff about me, then it’ll just make me resent the things that are wrong with you.”
He dropped her arm, stung.
“Sorry.” She touched his face. “I didn’t mean things are wrong—”
“No, it’s fine.” His voice was cold. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t said things like that to each other before.
“It’s the way I handle it right now,” she said. “When we were just fuck buddies, I told myself that I was too screwed up for you to ever be with me. Now that we are together, when you ignore me or when you seem to forget I exist, I handle it by reminding myself that I’m a big screwup too, and that I can’t ask for anything better.”
His jaw twitched. The words coming out of her mouth were like tiny, sharp barbs that were hooking into him all over.
“So, if I change,” she said, “then I won’t have any excuse for, you know, dealing with you.”
To his horror, he felt twin pinpricks behind each of his eyes. Tears. He blinked them back, hoping she didn’t see. It had been a long time since anyone had ever made him cry. A lot of people thought he was made of stone, and that he was some kind of machine with no emotions, but that wasn’t true. He felt pain. He just did his best not to react to it, because his reactions weren’t like other people’s, and he was always doing that wrong.
He turned his back on her and stalked through his house to the door. He opened it. “Go,” he rasped.
She came after him, slowly. “Damn it, Iain, I said all that wrong. I didn’t mean it to sound—”
“Go,” he said again, and he was pleased that his voice was steadier this time.
She nodded once. “Okay.” She had hung up her coat on a hook near the door. She took it down. “Look, you know that no matter what, I’ll always care about you, right? And there’s so much you’ve done for me, and I could never repay—”
Truth and Consequences Page 16
