“Cody Sawyer.” The name popped out of his mouth without thinking. “Thanks, Sophie. Now you need to leave. Start your car and drive away.” Jackson glanced at the road to see if Quince was coming, then turned back to his own car.
“Jackson, there’s more,” Sophie said softly. He spun back around.
“There’s a dead guy in the house, and it looks like a suicide.”
Adrenaline flooded his veins. “You went in the house?”
“No. I saw him through the bedroom window, and he’s obviously dead. It looks like he put a shotgun in his mouth.”
Jackson’s brain scrambled to form a plan. This wasn’t the EPD’s jurisdiction, but it was his case. The sheriff’s department would have to be notified, but he had two murder suspects to apprehend immediately. They may have killed the old man and made it look like suicide. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Sergeant Lammers, but the call wouldn’t go through. He radioed the department instead and gave the details.
While he was talking, Quince came flying down the driveway and parked behind his car. Jackson got out and trotted back to him. “They’re down this road, parked in the grove. Let’s both drive back.”
“Right behind you.”
Jackson jumped in his car and pulled forward. He made a point to drive slowly, not wanting to spook the suspects. He didn’t expect them to be armed, but he’d operate on the assumption that they were. Pittman’s weapon had disappeared from his house the night he died.
He drove past a fallow field and neared the clump of trees. The dirt road went through the middle of the grove, and the Charger was parked about twenty feet in. Off to the left, he saw Sierra and Sawyer. What were they doing? Digging a grave? His pulse escalated, and he touched his Sig Sauer on reflex.
At the sound of his engine, they stopped and looked up. The couple froze, shovels in hand. Through his windshield, he saw them talking to each but couldn’t hear what they were saying. Jackson parked, shut off his car and stepped out. Behind him, Quince did the same.
“Put your hands in the air,” Jackson called out.
He took one step, and they bolted for the Charger. Shit!
“Freeze!”
He had his hand on his weapon, but he didn’t draw it. The suspects weren’t armed, and he had no reason to shoot them. They scrambled into the vehicle and fired up the engine. Jackson considered shooting at their tires, but his training didn’t call for it. The tactic was rarely effective, and people got hurt. Blocking their escape made more sense. He jumped in his cruiser, trying to determine how far the dirt road went and what was beyond it. He hoped it would dead-end into a fence or the river.
Mud flew at this windshield as the Charger raced through the trees ahead of him. Jackson gunned his engine, staying close behind. Beyond the trees was another field, this one smaller. Jackson tried to see past the vehicle in front of him. How deep was the property? Did it have a fence across the back? He sensed Sawyer knew the area and thought he had a chance to get away. Jackson envisioned them abandoning the car and jumping into the river. The shooting pain in his gut told him this would not turn out well.
Ahead and to the right, he saw the far corner of the acreage. A wire fence ran along the back, but it leaned heavily away from them. Sawyer planned to run through the fence. Beyond it were more fields and a strip of trees running along the horizon. The river!
The Charger flew past an old hay barn, plowed over the decrepit fence, and careened to the left. Jackson gunned his engine and followed, ending up on another dirt road. They raced down a path that cut between fenced fields on both sides. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Quince’s vehicle right behind him. He wondered where Evans was and where this road came out. Instinct told him it emptied onto a main road. Was Sawyer’s plan to outrun them?
Idiot!
As predicted, the dirt path came out on Hayes Lane, and the Charger made a wild turn to the right, headed for River Road. Jackson slowed for the corner, and the fleeing car gained ground. They rounded a curve, and a flatbed truck came into view, driving toward them from the other direction. The truck began a wide turn across the road, aiming for a tree-lined driveway, still unaware of them. Jackson slammed his brakes, steered to the right, and prayed Quince wouldn’t rear-end him. He heard the squeal of the Charger’s brakes as it slowed and veered off the road to avoid a head-on collision with the farm truck. As Jackson skidded through the gravel and came to a stop, he saw the sports car bounce through a shallow ditch.
A moment later, it plowed into one of the thick trees along the driveway. The air filled with the deafening sounds of crunching metal and glass and screaming truck brakes. The big vehicle slammed to a stop just before it pinned the Charger to the tree.
Jackson shut off his engine and glanced back. He saw Quince in the ditch, but both he and the cruiser seemed fine. Jackson radioed for help, then jumped from his car and ran toward the wrecked vehicle. The passenger’s side was totaled, and he hoped Sawyer and Sierra were still alive.
CHAPTER 34
Wednesday, November 15, 3:30 p.m.
Jackson stood in the hallway of the hospital, waiting for the double doors to open. A nurse in yellow scrubs came through, and he identified himself. “I’m here to see Cody Sawyer. I cleared it with his doctor earlier.”
“Follow me.”
As they walked past open doors, Jackson kept his eyes straight ahead. He’d made many visits to the hospital, but it never got easier. Sick and dying people were almost harder to deal with emotionally than the dead victims he investigated. The nurse led him into Sawyer’s room, where Cody’s mother sat in a chair, reading.
She startled at the sight of Jackson and stood, as if to protect her son. “I don’t think you should be here.”
“Five people are dead, and I need answers.”
Jackson glanced at the young man. He had a white bandage on his forehead, and his left arm was in a cast, but he was surprisingly undamaged after driving his car into a tree. His passenger had not survived.
At the sound of Jackson’s voice, Sawyer opened his eyes.
Jackson decided to be gentle and use his first name. He wanted the suspect to open up. “I need you to answer some questions, Cody.”
His mother started to protest, but Cody cut her off. “It’s all right, Mom. I didn’t kill anybody on purpose, but Sierra is dead, and that’s my fault. I need to take responsibility.” His voice was raspy and maybe a little drugged.
“Your father wouldn’t want you to do this without him present.” Mrs. Sawyer stepped toward her son.
“I don’t care. Please leave us alone.”
She looked back and forth between the men, grabbed her purse, and walked out. He suspected she would call her husband right away. Jackson took a seat by the bed. If Sawyer was ready to talk, he didn’t want to be intimidating. He showed him the recorder, and the suspect nodded his consent.
“Let’s start at the beginning. Whose idea was it to create the Veterans Relief Fund?”
“Jake thought of it, but I set it up because Jake and Rafel didn’t have the skills. I didn’t want the money, and I never took a dime of it. I did it to help my friends because they were broke and miserable.”
“What about Molly’s money. Did you take it?”
“No! She wanted to donate to the veteran’s fund, and she asked me to help her set up an automatic transfer.” His distress seemed real. “Jake got the access information from me one night when we were drinking. I’m so sorry about Molly. That should never have happened.”
Jackson wanted to hear every detail, but he knew he had a limited amount of time, so he went for the guts of the story. They’d found Rafel’s journal near his father’s dead body, and Jackson had stayed up late reading it. Heartbreak and anger had leapt off the pages, tearing at Jackson’s emotions. Rafel’s journal had given Jackson chunks of the story, but there were still big holes surrounding Jake’s death. The best they could figure, Rafel had mailed the journal to the old man—wanting him to know
the whole ugly truth—and his father had killed himself after reading it.
“What happened the night Rafel died?”
“I didn’t know it then, but Rafel and Jake had formed a suicide pact.” Cody squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. “They both felt like they’d lost everything. I knew they were miserable, but I didn’t know how bad it was.”
Jackson waited, letting him tell his story in his own way.
“Their plan was for Jake to take Rafel’s life in a mercy killing and frame Sierra for it. Rafel knew Sierra was cheating on him, and he wanted to punish her.”
“When did you learn about this?”
“Not until Saturday night.” Cody took a sip of water and didn’t look at Jackson. “Rafel didn’t know who Sierra was cheating with though. We worried he would catch us and maybe kill her, but we never suspected he was cruel and calculating enough to frame her for murder.”
“He never confronted you with the affair?”
“No. We were very careful.” His eyes filled with tears. “I loved her. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“What happened Saturday?”
Cody shuddered. “Everything. You took Sierra in for questioning and asked her about the syringe. She realized Rafel had somehow dropped one with her prints at the crime scene, and we suspected Jake had actually killed him.” Cody choked back a sob. “Now I know Jake did it out of love, but it still infuriated me.”
Jackson didn’t know if he could ever commit a mercy killing, but he understood why people did it. He waited for Cody to continue.
“I got a bad feeling, so I checked the charity’s bank account and saw that someone had transferred seven grand from Molly’s account. I freaked out. Up to that point, all of the donations were voluntary and the money really did go to a couple of veterans. It was a mostly a legitimate charity, except for being unregistered.”
Jackson could have argued the point, but he wanted to hear about Saturday night. “So what did you do?”
“I tried calling Jake, but he wouldn’t answer. So I finally went over there and confronted him. He’d been drinking and didn’t try to hide anything. He said he took the money because he had debts to pay, and he thought the bank would cover Mrs. Pershing’s loss. I accused him of being an idiot and tried to get him to give the money back. He said it was too late, that he’d already paid some of his debt. Then I asked him if he’d killed Rafel.” Cody stopped and made a face. “I feel queasy.”
“Do you want to lie back?” Jackson needed him to finish his story, whatever it took.
“I think it’s the painkillers. I’ll be okay.” Cody took another sip of water. “That’s when Jake told me about the suicide pact. He said Rafel had begged him to end his life and help him frame Sierra.”
Jackson remembered some lines from Rafel’s journal: More than anything, I want to be free of this wretched body, free of the guilt about what I did to Joanna…My friend Jake has finally agreed to help me die and to make my death count for something.
After reading the journal, Jackson had looked up some statistics online and learned that 110 off-duty National Guardsmen had killed themselves the previous year.
Cody’s hands balled into fists. “He told me how he’d put on a wig, then drugged Rafel and cut his throat, leaving the syringe and scalpel to be found. Jake called Sierra a whore and said she deserved to rot in jail. That’s when I hit him.”
“How many times did you strike him?”
“I don’t know. I was furious. He punched me back, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d been drinking, and the last time I hit him, he fell. The sound of his head thumping the counter was awful. I’ll never forget it.” Sawyer started to cry.
Jackson was unmoved. This man had made too many tragic choices. “What happened next?”
“I tried to revive Jake, but he was dead. I almost called the police, then I remembered Sierra was in jail and you guys were convinced she’d murdered Rafel. With Jake dead too, I realized we’d both be in prison.” Sawyer paused. “So I cut his throat to make it look like the same person had killed them both. I figured it would cast reasonable doubt on Sierra’s guilt.” He gave a grim smile. “My dad’s a lawyer, so I think like one sometimes.”
“Why did you search his house?”
Sawyer looked ashamed for the first time. “After Jake died, I panicked. And it didn’t make sense to leave the cash for the cops to find. Sierra and I were already talking about moving away together as soon as she was cleared, so we needed every dime we could get our hands on. But only some of the money was in the house.”
“What else did you take?”
“Everything. I took his phone and his computer so you couldn’t trace the charity. I took his gun and the wig he wore the night he killed Rafel.” Cody shook his head. “That was stupid. I should have left the wig. I still can’t believe they tried to frame Sierra for the murder.”
The wig explained what Prez thought he saw and the long synthetic hair stuck to Jake Pittman’s back. “Where is all of that stuff now?”
“I put them in a dumpster behind Albertson’s on Thirtieth Avenue.”
Jackson didn’t look forward to that search. “What were you and Sierra doing at Zain Mazari’s house?” Jackson knew part of the answer because a sheriff’s team had found the bones in the bottom of the hole, and he’d read Rafel’s journal.
“Digging up his mother’s body.”
“How did you know it was there?”
“I watched Rafel and Mr. Mazari bury her when I was twelve.” Sawyer’s eyes glazed over in a faraway look. “I was spending the weekend, and the sound of angry voices woke me up in the middle of the night. Then I heard a strange cry, and Rafel got up to see what was going on. I heard more murmuring, then after a while, it was quiet, so I tiptoed out to the hallway and saw Rafel and his father carrying Mrs. Mazari’s body outside. I followed them to the forest, as we called it then, and I watched them dig a hole and bury her. They didn’t know I was there.”
He looked at Jackson for empathy. “I was scared and mesmerized at the same time. When they started filling in the grave, I snuck back up to the house and got in bed. The next morning, they acted like nothing had happened, and I thought I had dreamed it.” Sawyer shook his head at his own gullibility. “Eventually, I blocked it out. Then, Monday, at Rafel’s funeral, as I watched them start to fill his grave, it all came back to me in a rush.”
Jackson recalled another passage in Rafel’s diary. He’d written something like I didn’t kill my mother, but I didn’t try to save her either. And I helped the old man bury her. The guilt never left me.
“Why did you dig her up?”
“I thought they probably buried Mrs. Mazari with her little locket still around her neck. We all thought she kept the key to her journal in it, or so she said. After the funeral, when I told Sierra the story of how Rafel’s mother died, she was sickened. Then later, she remembered that Rafel had once said his mother had stocks she’d inherited from her family that had never been accounted for. He thought his father knew what happened to the money, but the old man refused to talk about it.”
Cody paused, clearly uncomfortable with the rest of the story. “I got it in my head that the key might be to a safe-deposit box and that if we could dig it up, we could find the stocks and cash them in. We needed the money to get away and start a new life somewhere.” Sawyer looked at Jackson with an odd, longing expression. “I want to know if I was right.” He reached for his wallet beside the bed and pulled a small rusty key from the coin zip. “Take this to Rafel’s sister. If there is any money, it’s hers.”
Jackson resisted the urge to shake his head. Sawyer was both a dreamer and a fool. “Why did you run when we showed up?” As many times as he’d seen the reaction, it never made sense to him.
“I loved Sierra with all my heart and soul. I had for years.” He choked up and had to wait it out. “I couldn’t imagine seeing her locked up for something she didn’t do. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.”
His expression shifted to anger. “I thought the police would do everything they could to put her away. You can’t blame me for wanting to spare her that.”
Jackson understood the sentiment, but they still would blame Sawyer for Pittman’s death. And Sierra’s. Even two counts of manslaughter would put him away for a decade. Still, the punishment wouldn’t change anything for the tragic childhood friends. Rafel’s life had been ruined long ago when his father made him complicit in his own mother’s murder, burdening the boy with guilt and a misogynistic view of women. Jake had been dealt some blows too, but he hadn’t been strong enough to handle them. Cody, on the other hand, had had it all and let it slip away when he fell in love with another man’s wife.
Jackson walked out of the hospital, feeling a little dazed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cody’s declaration of love for Sierra. The man had been willing to go on the run and live the life of a refugee for the woman he loved. Even Pittman had slit the throat of his best friend because he loved him enough to put him out of his misery. Jackson wondered if he was capable of doing something irrational to save Kera. Did he really love his girlfriend the way she deserved to be loved?
Until his daughter had been born, he hadn’t believed he was capable of that kind of overwhelming, irrational love. But even if he didn’t have that with Kera, he still loved her enough to know his life would feel empty without her. Jackson knew what he had to do. A moment later, he was running for his car.
He called Kera on the drive over to make sure she was home. She answered, sounding pleased to hear from him. “I’m so glad you called. I want to see you.”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” was all he said. He had to do this in person.
Liars, Cheaters, & Thieves (A Detective Jackson Mystery) Page 25
