To Write a Wrong

by Robin Caroll

  “Nice digs.” Rafe smirked. “Maybe I should’ve gone into politics.”

  “Nah. You’re too honest.” The door opened and Rogers escorted Governor Eason into the room. Hayden, Rafe, and Ingram all stood. The governor nodded at them. “Please. Sit down.” He took a seat on the couch beside Ingram. “Now, how may I help you? My assistant insisted the matter was urgent.”

  Rafe cleared his throat. On the ride over, they’d decided he should lead the questioning since he had the bureau’s jurisdiction. “Does the name Oswald Vance ring a bell with you?”

  The governor’s eyes widened for a split second. “Should it?”

  Hayden recognized the stiffening of Rafe’s spine. It matched his own. Rafe caught the governor’s slip.

  “Yes, it should.” Rafe leaned forward. “You granted him a full pardon.”

  “My staff prepares recommendations and I review the information carefully before I make—”

  “You granted him a full pardon . . . right after you took office.” Rafe stood, looming over the politician. “I want to know why.”

  The governor’s face flushed. “Well, off the top of my head, I can’t say for certain. I’ll have my—”

  “Let me refresh your memory.” Rafe sat on the coffee table directly in front of the governor. “He was a convicted drug dealer. Served seven years in prison. Had six months parole upon release, then petitioned the court to legally change his name. Of course, as a convicted felon, he couldn’t. Less than six months later, you signed a full pardon.” Rafe rested his hand on his holster. “Coming back to you yet?”

  His face whitened. “Mitchell, why don’t you leave us for a few minutes. I’ll buzz you if I need you.”

  The aide looked perplexed. “Are you sure, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  Mitchell stepped from the room and closed the door.

  Hayden pulled out his notebook.

  “No notes. I’ll tell you everything, but as much as possible, I’d like to keep this quiet.” For a man in his position, the governor sure seemed . . . weak.

  “As much as we can.” Hayden tucked the notebook back into his pocket. This should be good.

  Eason nodded at Rafe, who had stood and paced behind the couch where Hayden sat. “It was right after I’d taken office.”

  Rafe dropped to the arm of the couch directly across from the governor. “We already know that.”

  “I received a note, here, in my office. Telling me I was to grant the pardon request on Oswald Vance when it came through, which arrived that very week.”

  “So?” Hayden couldn’t help himself from interrogating.

  “There was a second sheet of paper . . .” His face turned as red as the stripes in the flag standing in the corner of the office. “Documented proof of my involvement with . . . well . . . er . . . with a woman.”

  “You were having an affair? And there was proof attached to the note?” Rafe shook his head.

  “Yes. No. I’d had the affair prior to being elected.” The governor nodded, his carefully styled hair not moving with the bounce. “You have to understand, I was newly elected. My first term. If it came out right then that I’d had an affair . . . well, you can imagine the political suicide that would be for me even in Louisiana.”

  “So you pardoned this drug dealer because he blackmailed you? Because you were having an affair?” Hayden couldn’t believe the corruption. Well, yes, he could. But still, he always wanted to believe the best about people. And about the system.

  Instances like this made it hard for him to keep doing his job.

  “Had an affair. Before I took office. I ended it before my swearing in.”

  Did he think that made it better? More palatable? What a champ.

  Rafe stood. “We’ll need everything you have. The note. The proof. The pardon paperwork. And we’ll need to know what he changed his name to.” He pointed when the governor started to speak. “Don’t lie and tell me you don’t have it. I know you kept it.” He glared.

  The governor licked his weasel-lips. “I have the note and the document. I can get you the pardon paperwork, but I don’t know what he changed his name to. I didn’t know he’d even tried before. I swear.” He stood, wiping his hands on his suit pants. “Can you please keep it quiet? My wife doesn’t know. We have children. Our first grandson is only two months old.”

  Shame he didn’t think about that before he started sleeping with another woman. Where were the morals? The family values he’d rode his political career on?

  While Rafe continued to dig for details from the governor, Hayden couldn’t keep the frustration from slithering up his spine. Without knowing what Oswald changed his name to, they were back to square one.

  Only this time, they knew they were dealing with a murderer, drug dealer, and a blackmailer.

  What lengths would he go to not get caught?

  Hayden quietly opened his phone and dialed the station’s private line. “Bob, it’s Hayden. I need you to pull everything you can on an Oswald Vance. I want to know when he cut his first tooth, when he took his first step, what sports he played, and who he took to his senior prom.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m on it right now.”

  “Thanks.” He shut the phone.

  They might not have much to go on, but there had to be something in Vance’s background that would clue them in to his future identity. Everyone carried a remnant of their childhood with them into adulthood.

  Even Oswald Vance.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Do not pervert justice or show partiality.

  Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise and twists the words of the innocent.”

  DEUTERONOMY 16:19

  Riley Baxter demanded his personal attention.

  Oswald ran the cloth heavy with oil over the old desk. Rubbing each scratch. Buffing carefully.

  She’d even managed to get his assassin arrested. But Oswald would take care of Job the minute the man was out. He hadn’t refrained from killing her himself because he was too squeamish. He’d proved numerous times he wasn’t a wimp or weakling. He’d simply chosen to keep his hands clean with the minor details like Riley Baxter. The joy of killing he saved for the ones who mattered—the ones who turned him into a cripple.

  The revenge.

  But Riley Baxter had become too much of a complication for him to leave her future to others. Even Simon Lancaster, who should want to wipe her off the face of the earth like a bug under his shoe, hadn’t acted when given the chance. If Oswald cared, he’d take care of that spineless loser too. But he didn’t. He had more important assignments.

  If only Riley Baxter would stop interfering.

  Her smugness reminded him of Governor Eason. So certain he could have his cake and eat it too. Win the governorship on his ticket of family values, his pert little blonde wife standing by his side, but as soon as night fell, he tangled the sheets with the redhead. The siren with a penchant for the arts and a smoldering look that had the governor writing checks on an account his wife knew nothing about.

  Oswald had come too far, overcome too many hurdles to allow a chit like Riley Baxter to mess it up.

  Smiling and flirting with the police commissioner. Endearing herself to his family. Making herself right at home in his mother’s house. Gold digger.

  Just like Kelly had morphed after his future died at the hands of ruthless bureaucrats.

  As if she had a right.

  Riley Baxter using people to further her career. Exposing that girl. Her little brother. The woman.

  Oswald almost felt guilty enough to help Peggy Wilson. She’d been dealt a hand similar to his mother, but instead of giving in and giving up, Peggy had fought. Had stood up and did what she could for her children. Despite the circumstances, she had
n’t turned to the first man to take care of her. She hadn’t turned into a shell of a woman.

  She wasn’t a quitter. She wasn’t a loser.

  In a way, he admired her. Respected her.

  He didn’t like what had happened to her, but that couldn’t be helped. She was a bystander in the scheme of things. He had needed to change his name to start over. No way could he have a drug record following him around. He’d needed ammunition to get the pardon, and one of his cell mates had inadvertently given him what he needed when the poor sap had said his sister was having an affair with Mr. Soon-to-be-governor Eason. Pictures weren’t enough—Oswald had seen them explained away when a woman was so desperate to believe the man in her life.

  No, Oswald knew Mrs. Eason would need something more than a photograph. What better proof for a woman than to see her husband spending money, lots of money, just because another woman asked? Giving another woman the money that rightfully belonged to her?

  What better vehicle than the check he signed, in his handwriting, in an account other than the one Mrs. Eason was aware of? Proof positive not just of giving himself to another woman, but giving his money to another woman. No way would Mrs. Eason allow that.

  But to obtain that proof, Oswald had needed to get inside the museum. He’d been intent on not framing a soul, but then one of the partners he’d gotten for the job had requested certain heavily insured items be stolen. He’d agreed.

  He hadn’t expected the arrest of Armand Wilson. The conviction. The incarceration. Oswald certainly hadn’t planned that part. Of course, neither had Peggy Wilson. But the situation worked for Oswald. Not so much for Peggy, but Oswald couldn’t be concerned with that.

  Simply put, she was expendable. Her family was expendable.

  Maybe after he completed his mission to make all the devil’s minions pay, he’d help her. Anonymously, of course. That would make him feel good, right, to do something nice for someone else. Isn’t that what all the good folk said?

  He finished oiling down the desk and set the rag back in the kit, folding it neatly. He washed his hands, then straightened his glasses before checking his planner.

  If he hurried, he could make the bank before they closed. After all, he still had a business to run.

  All day, Riley had waited for Rafe or Hayden to call and check in with her. Neither did. She didn’t know whether she should be pleased that they weren’t hovering or upset that they seemed so unconcerned. All day, she’d been split in her thoughts about Simon Lancaster. She still wasn’t sure what she believed about him anymore. Or how she felt about him.

  As soon as Hayden’s car pulled into his mother’s driveway, she rushed to the porch, barely noticing the setting sun as a beautiful backdrop. “Are either of you going to tell me about the text to Simon Lancaster?”

  Both Hayden and Rafe stopped in their tracks, wearing twin expressions of confusion.

  “What are you talking about?” Hayden asked.

  “What about a text and Lancaster?” Rafe added.

  This was most peculiar. “Didn’t Simon Lancaster’s parole officer call and tell you about the text he received to kill me?”

  “What?” They spoke in unison.

  Riley sat on the oversized rocking chair and told them about Simon’s visit. “I have the number. Hang on.” She went inside, grabbed the slip of paper from her purse, and handed it to Hayden. “I got it directly off his cell.”

  Hayden was already on his phone. “Yeah, 225 area code.” He rattled off the rest of the numbers. “Call me back as soon as you have it.” He shut his phone. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

  “I can’t believe Lancaster tracked you down. What were you doing at a pawnshop?” Rafe crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I needed to talk to the owner. For my series.” The article she’d written about Thayer’s obvious deception. The one she’d already sent to Jeremy for publication in next week’s magazine. “Hayden, I know you want to believe everything’s on the up-and-up with your friend and all, but it’s not. Cam Thayer lied on the stand. I don’t know why, but he did.”

  She explained what had happened when she showed him the photos. “Someone told him to lie, Hayden. I know it.”

  He sighed. “I’ll look into it, but I told you not to go around accusing people. You could have been hurt.” He reached out and softly wound a strand of hair behind her ear.

  The intimate gesture sent chills down her spine and raised goose bumps on her arms. She liked it.

  “But I wasn’t.” She smiled.

  He reached out and gave her a gentle hug. “Don’t push it.”

  His cell rang and he popped it to his ear. “Hayden Simpson.”

  She stared up at him, admiring the defined lines of his jaw. The five o’clock shadow on his chin.

  “Are you sure?”

  Rafe pushed off the rail where he’d leaned.

  “Yeah. Do. Thanks, Bob.” Hayden put his cell phone back in its clip. “The phone number traces back to one of those throwaways.”

  “Hate those,” Rafe muttered.

  “Yeah. But Bob put in a call to Lancaster’s parole officer. The man never called to report the text, which is a huge breach.”

  “Reeks,” Rafe said. “Lancaster’s up to something.”

  Riley shook her head. “He came to me with the news, remember? He could’ve just let his parole officer handle it, which we see he isn’t doing anything, but Simon Lancaster didn’t. He tracked me down to warn me.” As far as she could tell, nothing he did was to his own benefit, which confused her all the more.

  Hayden took Riley’s right hand. “Do you realize he had to be following you in order to tell you this? He has an order not to come within two hundred feet of you or Maddie.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so concerned that the text had come while the assassin was behind bars. Still . . . she hadn’t felt threatened by him. Not by anything he’d done anyway.

  Hayden put his arm around her waist. “I’d prefer it if you stayed around Mom’s for the next couple of days. Until we can figure some things out.”

  “But my article.” She had to keep digging. Keep investigating. Otherwise, an innocent man would stay behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit.

  “I’ll talk with Thayer, I promise. See what I can find out. But you need to stay around here.”

  She couldn’t promise that. Riley knew all too well how that went. She’d seen Rafe pull the macho act more than once. She wasn’t the type to sit idly by. “I have to go to my doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  Rafe’s sigh was exaggerated.

  She turned and wagged her finger in her brother’s direction. “Hello? I got shot, remember? Have to go for a follow-up appointment.”

  He closed the distance between them, wagging his finger back at her. “Hello? You were shot, remember? Someone’s trying to take you out. You have to be smart, squirt.”

  “I can’t very well ignore medical attention, now can I?”

  “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay confined to a room, Ri.”

  “Why don’t I get Emily to take you?” Hayden glanced at Rafe. “At least there’s some safety in numbers and she can take you there and come straight back home.”

  “Like a guard?” Somehow, Riley figured she’d let it go. Emily would break any rule just for the fun of it. Especially if it would irritate her brother in the process. “Never mind. That’s fine.”

  “Let me call her right quick and get this set.” Hayden had his phone to his ear again. “What time is your appointment?”

  “Ten fifteen.” She smirked at Rafe.

  “Hey, Em.” Hayden turned away and walked to the edge of the porch.

  “Maddie made it home okay, by the way.” Riley had talked to her earlier.

&n
bsp; “Yeah, Remington called.” Rafe checked his phone. “Speaking of, I promised Rem I’d call and update her. I’ll be back.” He disappeared into the house.

  Hayden returned. “Em says it’s a date. She’s meeting Thomas for lunch, but I assured her you’d be done by then and she’d have plenty of time to drop you off before she goes to meet him.”

  Riley frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Hayden leaned against the porch’s railing.

  How much should she say? Emily hadn’t wanted Hayden to know about Thomas, but when he’d come to her apartment . . . and the gash.

  “Riley?”

  “I don’t like Thomas.”

  Hayden chuckled. “Who does? I can’t believe Emily likes him. If it weren’t for her dating him, I’d swear he was . . . well, that he didn’t like ladies.”

  “Don’t let him fool you, Hayden.”

  He sobered instantly. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s not as effeminate and harmless as you think. He’s got quite a temper. Anger issues.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Sorry, Emily. “That gash on her face?”

  Hayden nodded.

  “He did it. Emily says the actual cut was an accident. She was holding up the Coke bottle bottoms, making fun of his glasses and prosthetic, and he reached to slap her face and the glass slid down her face.”

  Hayden’s face twisted into horror.

  “And the other day when I went to Emily’s apartment with her for pizza, he showed up. Before he realized I was there, he acted very threatening. Basically told Emily how dare she try to end things with him. He changed his entire attitude when he saw me, but he was seething.” Riley could only hope Emily would forgive her in time for telling Hayden. But he needed to know.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Because you’re her brother. It’s embarrassing when you let a man get away with hurting you. Even worse when your big brother is in law enforcement.” She shrugged, remembering how Garrison had acted and how she hadn’t wanted Rafe to know. “It’s not logical, but that’s the truth of it.”