Jessie hoped to change that soon.
She and Leary found a pocket of space in the crowd just big enough to accommodate them if they stood hip-to-hip. As always, an almost electric current raced through her when their bodies touched. She didn’t know whether to be happy or irritated about this—it seemed even the tragedy of seventeen murdered people couldn’t damp her attraction to Leary, and she wasn’t sure how she should feel about that.
“Hello,” the mayor said. His voice boomed across the park. “I want to welcome you all, and thank you for coming together to honor our lost friends and loved ones on this very somber occasion.”
The mayor spoke for fifteen minutes. Most of his talking points were predictable. He expressed solidarity with the families and friends of the victims. He called for an end to hatred and violence. He cited a desperate need for nationwide action to address the senseless tragedy of school shootings. He sounded sincere—even wounded—and Jessie thought in this case he might be. He had two children of his own. He was affecting.
She wiped her eyes. As a new speaker took the mayor’s place at the podium, she observed the crowd. The mayor’s speech had struck a chord, and many faces were shining with tears. Teenagers were crying into their parents’ shoulders. Bodies were hitching with ragged sobs. She saw one man—a six-foot giant with a full beard and trucker hat—who was openly weeping. She looked up at Leary. His cheeks might be dry, but his eyes were red and shined more than usual. She took his hand in hers and squeezed.
She was mildly surprised when he skirted the subjects of gun control and violent media, but then realized he’d only delegated them to the people sitting behind him. A plea for stronger gun control in Pennsylvania would be coming in a subsequent speech, as well as some finger-pointing at the graphic violence that TV, movies, and video games exposed to the country’s impressionable youth.
Jessie would have preferred her leaders to keep politics out of this memorial service, but she’d been working for the government long enough to know there was zero chance of respect for the dead outweighing an opportunity to advance an agenda. This fact didn’t disgust or upset her as it might have ten years ago. It was simply the way things were.
Sometimes, she knew, killers liked to haunt the funerals of their victims. Was True_Man here now, in Fairmount Park, among the hundreds of people who’d come to grieve and pay their respects? That thought did disgust her.
I will find you.
Her phone vibrated. Looking at the screen, she saw Warren Williams’s name. “I need to take this,” she said to Leary.
“Here?”
She nodded.
“Work?” he said.
“Yeah. Maybe Manpower complied with the warrant.” It seemed too quick for that, but she felt a surge of hope anyway. If she could just put a real name to the person she knew as True_Man, her conspiracy case would begin to come together.
She scanned the park for a space where she could step outside the crowd. There was none. The memorial service had drawn a huge number of mourners. They stood practically shoulder-to-shoulder now, waiting for the next speaker.
With no other option, Jessie put her phone to her ear, plugged her other ear with her finger, and ducked down. “Warren? I’m at the memorial service. Can’t really talk.” Someone shot her a dirty look, and her face flushed hotly. “Is this about the warrant?”
“You could say that.”
“Good news?”
“A lawyer representing Manpower, LLC reached out to the district attorney’s office today.” His voice was hard to hear over the sound of the crowded park.
“Warren? Tell them to contact me or Emily Graham to coordinate handing over the data.”
“That’s not why they called me.” The people around her faded as she strained to hear. “It was to request that this office voluntarily withdraw the warrant.”
“What?” Anger spiked through her. “What did you tell them?”
“I declined. Obviously.”
“Good.”
“Not good. My take on this lawyer? He’s not finished. Manpower isn’t going to willingly comply with the warrant. And worse, they’re going to refuse publicly. They’re going to try to make a media event out of this.”
“All publicity is good publicity,” she said.
“What? I’m having trouble hearing you,” Warren said.
“I said all publicity is good publicity.”
“Maybe for sleazy websites. Not for elected officials. This is going to get messy. There’s going to be a fight.”
“The law’s on our side.”
“Are you even listening to me?” She could hear his exasperation even over the background noise. “This isn’t just about the law. This isn’t your everyday, ordinary murder. This is a school shooting in Philadelphia. It’s news. And you need to control the news. If there’s blowback, if Rivera is made to look bad, you will be looking for a new job. A new career. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She didn’t, really. As far as she understood, the only thing that mattered was that she do everything in her power to bring an evil man—a man she now believed to be a killer by proxy— to justice. But Warren was a political creature, and he wouldn’t want to hear that. So she said, “I understand.”
“Good,” he said. The call ended.
“Everything okay?” Leary said as she straightened up and put away her phone.
“No,” she said. At the podium, a middle-aged man was talking about young lives cut short, bullet casings on a football field, cheerleader uniforms riddled with blood and bullet holes. He was talking about a community in pain, a city in need of action. “Nothing is okay,” she said.
They stood together, silent, listening.
When the service ended, they walked out of the park together. She leaned into him as they walked. His body was reassuringly sturdy, strong, exactly what she needed.
16
Graham and Novak did not attend the memorial service. Novak seemed to think this was because Graham couldn’t face the immensity of the sadness that the event represented, but that wasn’t it. She wanted another crack at Wesley Lanford, and she thought showing up at the man’s house during the memorial service of his son’s seventeen victims would be excellent timing to put him off his game—whatever game he was playing. She still wasn’t sure what game that was, but she knew something was wrong about the guy, and she intended to flush it out, using every strategy at her disposal.
She stood with Novak at the front door of the Lanford house in Chestnut Hill. When he answered the door, she started with, “Is your girlfriend here today, Mr. Lanford?”
“Detective Graham,” he said, obviously surprised by their visit. “Detective Novak. Come in, I guess. Tanya’s here. Why?”
“We’d like to go over some questions with you, and with Tanya as well, since we missed her last time.”
“Right now?”
“That isn’t a problem, is it?”
“No.” He walked them into the house, where they were met by a blonde woman who looked even more striking in person than she had in the photographs Graham had seen during their previous visit. A trophy wife, no doubt. “This is Tanya. Tanya, these are the detectives investigating the … you know….”
Tanya nodded gravely. “I’m so sorry to meet you under these conditions,” she said. She shook their hands. Graham met her gaze and tried to gauge her sincerity. The woman looked away. Her hand trembled when she shook Graham’s. She was nervous, and probably hiding something.
“So, how can we help you?” Lanford said when they reached the kitchen. “Is it about the Manpower website? Have you looked into that?”
“We’re in the process of looking into it,” she said, “but that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to ask you a few more questions about your upcoming move to Delaware.”
“Okay,” Lanford said. “What do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you start by telling me why you lied before.”
Lanford and Tanya excha
nged a glance. Graham caught it and knew she was on the right track. These wealthy fathers were all the same—no sense of familial responsibility, always looking to move on to the next best thing. “I didn’t lie—”
“The last time we were here, Jessica Black asked you about the move. You implied that you were moving to get away from the notoriety caused by Russell’s actions.”
“Well, that’s partially true.”
“Partially true? I’m not familiar with that concept. Are you, Novak?”
Novak looked at her blankly. She doubted he’d been paying attention, but he was quick enough on his feet to turn to Lanford and say, “Why don’t you help us understand?”
Lanford’s gaze shifted around the room. He looked trapped. “We’d already started planning the move before the incident,” he said. “But the incident, well, it accelerated things, I guess. Originally, we planned to sell this house first. Now, given everything that’s happened, we’re going to move to Delaware now and live there while we try to sell the house. Is that important for some reason? I don’t understand.”
“I’m just wondering why you didn’t explain it that way the other day? Why did you lie to two homicide detectives and an assistant district attorney?”
Tanya let out a little gasp. Lanford’s face flushed. “No, no, I never lied. Maybe I got distracted and didn’t correct what Ms. Black said, but I never lied—”
“Tell me about Russell’s mother,” Graham said.
If her previous questions had discomfited him, this one really threw him for a loop. He practically reeled back in his chair, almost knocking it over. Beside him, Tanya looked stricken, as if this were the last subject on Earth she wanted to hear about. Hit a nerve?
Lanford cleared his throat and sat up straighter, regaining his composure. “What does Russell’s mother have to do with any of this?”
“The last time we spoke, you indicated that she left when Russell was young.”
“That’s right. It was about ten years ago.”
“Where did she go?”
“I have no idea. She called that night from a motel in Ohio, but I don’t know if she stayed there or moved on. We didn’t keep in touch. When she left, she left our lives completely—”
“She didn’t stay in contact with Russell? Check in on him?” Graham said. She loaded the questions with an incredulous tone. “Novak, you’re a parent and a grandparent. Does that sound right to you?”
Novak glanced up. “No it does not.”
“I never said it was right,” Lanford said, seeming to bite out each word. He looked pissed off now. That was good. When a suspect was pissed off was when the good stuff had a tendency to slip out—which was fortunate for Graham, since she seemed to have an innate talent for making people angry. “It’s what happened.”
“I’m trying to understand how and why,” Graham said. She made her voice extra calm and patient, knowing that tone would aggravate him even more.
It worked. He looked like he was about to explode. Before he could, Tanya put a hand on his hand and massaged it in a comforting gesture.
“Maybe some things just can’t be understood,” Tanya said. She looked sadly at Lanford, then at Graham. “Caroline made a selfish decision. Terribly selfish. It’s hard to comprehend how any mother could leave her little boy behind and never look back, but that’s what happened. It is what it is.”
A tear welled in Lanford’s left eye and then rolled down his cheek. Nice touch, Graham thought, but I’m onto you.
“How do you know what happened?” Graham said to Tanya. “Did you know Wesley at the time?”
“What are you implying?” Lanford said.
“I’m asking if you and Tanya knew each other at the time your wife disappeared.”
Lanford bared his teeth. “She didn’t disappear. She left. And yes, Tanya and I knew each other. Platonically. There was nothing going on. We weren’t having an affair. She worked as a secretary at my company.”
“I see.” Graham shot her partner a look. Novak didn’t return it. He was checking his phone.
“You must have a hell of a data plan,” she said to him.
“Huh?” he said, looking up. “What?”
“Never mind.” Turning back to Lanford, she said, “Did you call the police when your wife left? File a missing persons report?”
“You’re a cop. You would have access to those records. You already know I didn’t.”
Graham shrugged. “Sometimes records get lost. I like to be thorough.”
“You like to badger and intimidate people,” he snapped. “And I don’t appreciate it. Where is Ms. Black? She’s a lot more professional than you are.”
“She’s at the memorial service for the women your son gunned down.”
Lanford exhaled as if gut-punched. “Listen, I’m the one who reached out to the police. To the DA’s office. Me. I’ve been cooperating one-hundred percent, despite my deep, personal loss. I think that entitles me to the benefit of the doubt. Or, at the very least, some respect and sensitivity.”
Graham let him reprimand her. When he ran out of steam, she said, “The police department greatly appreciates your cooperation in this matter, Mr. Lanford. As I said, we’re only being thorough.”
“Are we done?”
“Almost. Just a few more questions.”
“Fine. Ask.”
“How did you know your wife left of her own free will and wasn’t kidnapped or injured or killed?”
“I told you. She called us.”
“And that was that? You made no attempt to get her to come back?”
“It didn’t seem worth the fight—”
“The mother of your only child? You didn’t care enough to at least try?”
Lanford stood up. “I think I need to get a lawyer before I speak to you any more.”
Graham cursed silently. She’d built up a nice momentum with Lanford, and now he’d slammed on the brakes. But she forced herself to smile knowingly at him as if this were a victory and not a setback. Let him think he’d just tipped his hand, confessed.
“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, giving the words a suitable tone of menace. She rose from her own chair, and touched Novak’s arm to signal him to rise as well. “Let us know when you and your lawyer are ready to help us get to the truth.”
Lanford stormed away, leaving Tanya to walk them out. The blonde looked at Graham with uncertainty as she opened the front door. Graham had seen the look before, on the faces of people who wanted to tell her something but weren’t quite ready.
Graham looked in the woman’s eyes. “Despite what you may think, I am here to help.”
Tanya nodded. “I know.”
Graham handed her a business card. “My cell phone number’s on there. If you ever need me, call.”
Tanya nodded again.
“I mean it.”
“Okay.”
Then Graham stepped outside, into the daylight. Novak followed.
17
The next morning, Jessie arrived at work to see a man she recognized as a local process server standing at the security desk, chatting with the guard about college football. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this. The DA’s office was served every day with various motions and court filings. But the way the guard’s gaze swung toward her while the process server droned on about a Penn State quarterback told her that the document in his hand was for her. A pit opened in her gut. This was about the search warrant Judge Katz had issued. She knew it before even taking the document from the security desk.
She skimmed the title: MOTION TO QUASH SEARCH WARRANT.
You gotta be kidding me.
She looked up from the document and glared at the process server. He took a step back and raised his hands. “Hey, come on. I’m just the messenger.”
“I know.” She forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” It was a stupid thing to say—why would he worry; he’d done his job, and it was her problem now—but the words succeeded i
n dissipating the tension. The men went back to their conversation about football. And she headed upstairs to face Warren.
She found her boss still trying to run a Homicide Unit while balanced on a giant rubber ball. She wondered how long he’d stick it out before this exercise scheme went the way of all the others he’d tried.
“Manpower filed a motion to quash the search warrant.” She handed him the papers, then watched him scan through them while bouncing gently. “You don’t look surprised.”
“Well, when they called me yesterday to request that the DA’s office voluntarily withdraw the warrant, I didn’t think that was a coded love message.”
“This is annoying, but I’ll take care of it.”
The bouncing stopped, and he looked sharply up at her. “Annoying? Is that the word you’re planning to use when the press asks why the DA’s office has been accused of trampling the Fourth Amendment? You know, the one about unreasonable searches and seizures?”
Jessie made a face. “Maybe ‘meritless’ would sound better.”
His hard stare continued to drill into her. “Remember what we talked about. Jesus Rivera put you on the Russell Lanford case to make him look good—not to make him look like Big Brother.” The ball squeaked, which only seemed to increase his agitation.
“I said I’ll handle it, Warren.”
“I know you will. Privately, if possible.” He skimmed through the motion again, then pointed to the phone number of Manpower, LLC’s legal counsel. “They’re represented by a law firm in Ohio, but they’re using Noah Snyder as local counsel. Reach out to Snyder and see if you can set up a meeting. Out of the public eye. Make a deal, something both sides can live with.”
Jessie highly doubted such a deal existed. She wanted their data, and they didn’t want to give it to her, despite a search warrant. But she nodded. Warren was in charge. If he wanted her to try to reach a mutually acceptable compromise, she would try.
Jessie Black Legal Thrillers Box Set 1 Page 61
