Past Crimes (Alexis Parker Book 20)

by G. K. Parks

  “The evidence is pretty clear. Ballistics doesn’t lie. The unregistered gun hidden in Cross’s SUV was used to kill Trey Knox.”

  “But it’s been eight freaking years. Why would Cross keep the gun? And why hide it in a vehicle designated for company use? None of that makes a damn bit of sense.”

  “He went to the bank. Don’t you find that suspicious?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what’s your current theory? Vindictive cop or disgruntled Cross Security employee?” Mark asked.

  “Either one’s possible, unless Cross is right, and Knox’s killer is someone Knox pissed off. But the gun makes no sense. You’ve visited Cross Security enough to know how that place operates. There’s no way a gun remained hidden in a company car for eight years without anyone noticing. Someone put it there. Recently.” Cross’s words about trusting me played through my head as I picked up my phone and read the copy of the report Mark had forwarded to me, which he’d received from Moretti. “The police didn’t find any prints on the weapon. I’d say it was planted. The unsub could be doing all of this just to keep us distracted.”

  “Possibly. Playing defense means you don’t have much time to work on offense.”

  “That’s why I asked for your help.” The check arrived, and I picked it up. “I just worry about the ramifications down the road. Right now, the unsub is targeting me, but the second that changes…”

  “Alex, stop. I’m okay. Whatever happens, it’s not your fault. It never was, and it never will be. Frankly, I’m amazed you even asked for a favor.”

  “You hate when I ask for favors. As I recall, you have a tendency to remind me the federal government has better things to do with its time.”

  “It does, but I can squeeze you in if it’s something important.”

  “Like giving me a ride back to my car?”

  “I guess that can be arranged, but let’s not make this favor thing a habit.”

  Twenty-three

  After contacting Justin and getting a copy of Lucien’s schedule from Monday, I did my best to retrace my boss’s steps. Cross had four meetings that day and didn’t miss any of them. He managed to squeeze in the bank trips around his meetings.

  I spoke to the two other bank managers. They recalled Lucien touring their vaults and safe deposit rooms, asking questions, and writing down the information concerning pricing and insurance fees. But he didn’t open a box with either of them.

  His story checked out. Almeada would play that aspect up to a jury. I could already hear the violin music in the background.

  Regardless, I didn’t buy it. I doubted the prosecutor would either. Sure, I was cynical and jaded. Perhaps, with enough time, Cross could convince me a client set him up, so I made some calls to be proactive.

  Mr. Rathbone had asked about alternative options for stashing sensitive materials. He didn’t tell me what those materials were, and I didn’t ask. But that backed up Cross’s story. However, Rathbone was a long-time client and personal friend of Lucien’s, which made their interaction suspect in my mind. Rathbone would probably cover for Cross, not the other way around.

  Cross used his normal car service to go to the banks. His driver didn’t remember Cross toting around any suspicious items or hardware. And since the USB had been left inside the safe deposit box, I figured Cross hadn’t been able to break in. The two-key lock was supposed to be nearly impenetrable. But all locks weren’t created equal, and I’d seen someone jimmy boxes open without wasting much time on the locks. But maybe Knox had picked a better bank with stronger security measures in place.

  Since I’d never figure out the truth behind Cross’s visit to the bank or what he gained from accessing the safe deposit box room, I moved on to other issues. By now, Cross Security was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be with its leader behind bars.

  “Hey, Justin.” I leaned against the counter, watching the hustle and bustle going on inside the nearby conference room. “Busy day?”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Next time, I’ll wear a big rubber nose.”

  “What happened to your face?”

  I rubbed the bandage. “I slipped on a banana peel.”

  “Fine, don’t tell me.”

  Jerking my head toward Cross’s office, I asked, “Can we talk in there?”

  “Sure.”

  The room looked a lot different. All the drawers in the filing cabinets had been emptied. Cross’s computer was gone. And the closet had been searched.

  “Who’s Sgt. Rostokowski?” I asked.

  “Sara?”

  “That’s her name?”

  Justin nodded. “She’s always looked out for Lucien. When we get stuck on something or need to see some files we can’t access, he calls her. He’s fond of her.”

  That would explain the ball. “Did she tip him off about Knox’s body being discovered?”

  “No.”

  I could kick myself for not questioning Justin sooner. “Who did?”

  “No one.”

  I scrutinized him, but I didn’t see the lie. “What about incoming calls and Cross’s phone records?”

  “You already looked, remember?”

  “Someone tipped him. Tuesday morning before the police came to arrest him, he knew what was about to happen.”

  Justin rubbed his eyes. “He didn’t run. Doesn’t that mean anything? Guilty people run.”

  “He’s too smart to run.” The problem with running is once you start, you can’t stop.

  Reaching into his pocket, Justin pulled out his phone, thumbed past several screens, and handed it to me. “That’s what you want.”

  Monday afternoon, Justin received a call from the precinct. “Who called you?”

  “Officer Joe Gallo.”

  Gallo. That name was on my list. He worked the Knox break-in. “Why would he call you about this?”

  “He and Lucien are friends, sort of. When Lucien found Knox’s belongings inside the storage unit, he called in the anonymous tip to Officer Gallo. Gallo had been first on scene. They shared intel on Knox. I guess you can say Cross trusts him.”

  “The feeling must be mutual.”

  “I guess. Every once in a while, when a client gets into some minor trouble, Gallo gives us the heads-up.”

  “Us?”

  “Lucien isn’t always reachable. I am. Gallo tells me what’s going on, and I assess the situation and contact whoever can handle the issues our clients are facing.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “For the last six or seven years.”

  How could so much have been going on at Cross Security that I never knew about? “Do the police know about this? Have they checked your phone records?”

  “No.”

  “Gallo called you because he didn’t want anyone to know what he’d done. Who else trades favors with Lucien?”

  “A few other officers and civilian staff, but not on a regular basis. Occasionally, Lucien will go to KC’s if he gets desperate.”

  “Jade mentioned it to me. Who’s the proprietor?”

  “Jim Harrelson. He worked with Lucien’s old man. They were partners back in the day.”

  “I take it Jim watches out for Lucien.”

  Justin snorted. “I’d call it more of a love-hate relationship.”

  “Ah, family obligation.”

  “They aren’t related,” Justin said.

  “Not by blood, by the badge.” Justin seemed confused, but I shook off his question. I couldn’t explain it, but I lived it. “When’s the last time Lucien stopped by KC’s for a drink?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay.” I stared at him, hoping whatever else he might be hiding would shake loose, but he didn’t say anything. “I need to see the logs of who used Cross’s SUV.”

  “Lucien doesn’t have an SUV.”

  “The navy blue armored truck in the garage is registered in his name, not in the company’s.”

  “That must ha
ve been an oversight. It’s strictly for company use.”

  “Regardless, I need the logs.” Going with my gut, I added, “The police found the gun used to kill Trey Knox hidden inside the SUV when they searched it this morning.”

  “What? That’s not possible.” He appeared genuinely shaken. “Let me get them.”

  I followed him out of Cross’s office and down the hall. Records was housed in a small alcove. The room was in disarray. The police had taken the files and computers. But Justin had downloaded a copy onto a separate hard drive from the cloud, so Cross Security could continue to function. He plugged the drive into his personal laptop and clicked a few keys. The printer whirred to life, and I grabbed the warm sheet of paper before it landed in the tray.

  In the last year, the SUV had been used at least once by every security team Cross employed. Everyone had access. The gun could have been placed in the compartment beneath the tire at any time, but the teams always checked everything before they picked up a client. The last time the SUV had been used was a month ago. After that, it had collected dust in the garage. “Do we have security footage of the garage?”

  “Yes.” Justin brought it up. “How far back do you want me to go?”

  I gave him the date the SUV was returned and scanned the screen. “You’ve got to be kidding. Aren’t there any other cameras in that area?” Only the driver’s side of the vehicle was fully caught on screen. From the angle of the parking spaces, I couldn’t even see the rear gate.

  “Let me check.” He clicked the links to the other feeds, but nothing covered that area. “That’s all we have.”

  “What’s the next closest camera that someone would have to pass in order to get to the SUV?”

  Justin brought up the footage. “I’m not sure how this helps.”

  “That makes two of us, but make me a copy anyway.”

  He did as I asked and handed me a thumb drive. “We need to prove the gun isn’t his.”

  “Possession is nine tenths of the law. The SUV is his, which doesn’t help matters. Not to mention, Cross basically threatened to send a kill squad to eliminate Knox. This won’t exonerate him. Honestly, I don’t think anything will.”

  “He didn’t do it,” Justin insisted.

  “Look at the evidence. What do you see?”

  “One hell of a frame job. Lucien wouldn’t be stupid enough to do the things he did if he killed Knox.”

  That’s exactly what I thought. “Why didn’t you tell me about Gallo? You can’t conceal things from me. It only hurts Cross and implicates you. If you believe he’s innocent and you want me to prove it, you have to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

  “I don’t see how that phone call was relevant.”

  Sighing, I collected the copies and left the records room. I went downstairs and spoke to the members of the security team who’d last used the SUV. None of them recalled finding a handgun hidden beneath the spare tire or anywhere else inside the vehicle. When they finished escorting our celebrity client around town, they made sure to clear out all the gear.

  “We checked everywhere and returned our equipment. It’s in the logs. Didn’t you see them?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but I wanted to be thorough.” After ascertaining their alibis for the previous night and this morning, I returned to my office, pulled each of their personnel records, cross-referenced them to Trey Knox, and ran their financials, but they were clean. Whoever put the gun inside Cross’s SUV had done so within the last four weeks.

  Plugging in the drive, I scanned the surveillance footage, marking down possible suspects. Unfortunately, every single member of Cross Security traipsed right past that SUV on a regular basis, even Lucien himself. Without footage of someone accessing the SUV, I had nothing. Maybe my luck would improve at KC’s bar.

  Twenty-four

  The bartender poured a lemon drop martini and placed it on a napkin in front of me. From the look of disdain on his face, I could tell he didn’t approve of such a girly cocktail. Normally, I wouldn’t imbibe while at work, but the pain relievers from earlier had worn off. I’d have to stop by the store on my way home to pick up more. But for now, this would have to suffice.

  I took a sip. “That hits the spot.”

  “You looking for someone, sweetheart?” He wiped the bar and tossed the rag over his left shoulder.

  “The only person who calls me sweetheart is my boyfriend.”

  “Does your boyfriend come here a lot?”

  “I’d be surprised if he did.”

  The bartender filled a pitcher from the tap and slid it down the bar before the guy approaching could even ask. Ah, the benefits of being a regular. “So why are you darkening my doorstep?”

  “Do you talk to all of your customers like this?”

  “Just the ones I don’t know.” He scowled at the martini. “I’m guessing this isn’t the kind of place a lady like you normally goes.”

  “You’d be surprised.” I spun on the seat. A dartboard hung from the wall. Aside from that, I didn’t see much in the way of entertainment. “This is the kind of place people go to drink away their troubles before they bring ‘em home, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  I took another sip and smiled up at him. “Just my kind of place.” Too bad Heathcliff wouldn’t let us hang out here for an hour every Monday and Thursday night. I’d rather do this than spend it in a church basement. “What do the initials stand for?”

  “Hell if I know. When I bought this place, the sign was already out front. I thought about changing it but saw how much that would cost and figured it’s as good a name as any.”

  “You’re Jim?”

  “That depends. Are you looking to serve him papers?”

  “I’m just looking for some information. When’s the last time you saw Lucien Cross?”

  He swallowed. “Who are you?”

  “A concerned citizen.”

  “Get out of my bar.”

  I lowered my voice and leaned closer. “You don’t want me to go. I was hired by his attorney to investigate the crime he’s accused of committing.” I placed my business card on the counter in front of him. “I work for Lucien.”

  He picked up the card, holding it up to the light and flicking the cardstock. “Well, I’ll be damned. The kid’s at least done one thing right in his life.” He put my card down.

  “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “I’m not on the job anymore. I don’t hear all the comings and goings, but when Lucien Cross gets arrested for murder, that causes a buzz. Who do they say he killed?”

  “Trey Knox.”

  Jim sucked something loose from his back teeth and made a face. “Name rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it. Memory’s not what it used to be. Wanna help me out with that?”

  “Knox was one of Lucien’s first clients. He hired him to work a recovery. His house had been burglarized.”

  “That’s right. What can I tell you that you don’t already know?”

  “Plenty, I’m sure. What do you remember from eight years ago?”

  “Not much, except Lucien started coming around a lot more. He only does that when he’s doing something he shouldn’t. The first time he set foot in this place was when he decided to stalk a cop. Don’t get me wrong, the bastard had it coming. He was an abusive son of a bitch with a drinking problem. But still, I warned Lucien to watch his step. He didn’t listen and nearly ended up dead.”

  “Did you warn him about working the Knox investigation?”

  “No, but there was something weird about it. If there wasn’t, he wouldn’t have shown up as often as he did. He told me it was so he could speak to the cop who caught the case.”

  “Joe Gallo?”

  “Yeah. He’s a beat cop through and through. Real boots on the ground type. He does the job and knows his shit. He knows not to overstep even when the detectives are running themselves in circles for no reason. Gallo thought there was something
weird about the Knox break-in. He and Lucien talked about it a few times.”

  “Did you know Lucien called in the anonymous tip which led the police to the stolen merch?”

  “I suspected, but Lucien never said. That was weird too. That kid, smart as a whip with real potential, but a chip on his shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon. If he does anything right, anything that’ll show up his pops, he’ll shout it from the rooftops. That’s why I never understood why he kept that one quiet.”

  “Drugs and guns were found in the same storage unit. They belonged to the Russian mafia.”

  “Jesus.” He ran a hand over his face. “At least his brains override his pride on occasion. Do you think the Russians offed Knox?”

  “No.”

  “But you don’t know who did. And I’m guessing for you to come all the way here, you’re thinking Lucien did him in.” He waited, but I refused to answer. “How much evidence is against him?”

  “Lucien knew Knox was dead before anyone else did. Want to tell me how he might know something like that?”

  Jim wiped the bar again and offered me a refill. “Someone tipped him.”

  “Like Joe Gallo?”

  “Could be.”

  “Any other cops you can think of who might warn Lucien?”

  “Plenty, I’m sure.”

  I sipped my martini, wondering how much Jim knew about the situation. “According to Lucien, the police hate him.”

  “He’s delusional. They don’t hate him, not exactly. Sure, seventy-five percent of the people who frequent this bar wouldn’t mind knocking his teeth in, but he has friends in the department too. His pops is beloved. Out of loyalty, they’d help out his kid. Still, if it has to do with Knox, I’d start with Gallo.”

  “What about Sgt. Rostokowski?”

  He smiled. “She’d knock Lucien’s teeth in for even thinking something stupid. But that’s just Sara.” He assessed me. “You ever been on the job?”

  “If I answer that, you’ll definitely throw me out.”

  “Fed?”

  “Not for some time.”

  “You’ve seen some shit. I can see it in your eyes. Lucien’s seen shit too. He was never a cop, but he could have been a damn good one. His pops didn’t want that life for him. He didn’t want this life for him either. But he’s damn proud. Don’t tell Lucien that. He’d never believe it anyway.”