by Regan Black
It bothered him that she hadn’t noticed how thorough they’d been when she’d studied the case file in the evidence room.
Pushing back from his desk, he headed downstairs. The case was recent enough that all the documentation would still be here. He’d feel better when he could confidently tell her that Wentworth was the only person with motive and access to commit the crime. Then she could drop that case and he would only have to shelter her from the less direct threat of Capital X.
Considering how that “bank” operated, it would be more than enough to keep him busy.
He signed in with the officer on duty at the evidence desk and was allowed into the cage. When he reached the shelf where the Wentworth box should have been, it wasn’t there. He double-checked the case number. “Must be misfiled,” he muttered to himself.
He verified that the cases boxed up before and after were in place, but there was no sign of the box he needed. A chill skated over his skin. This didn’t have to mean anything suspicious. Someone had probably checked out the box, or shoved it out of place when they were looking for another case. Happened more often than anyone in the department wanted to admit. Sometimes people were just in a rush.
Like he was today. This was supposed to be quick. Over and done.
The lack of sleep made him grumpy, and he started dragging boxes off shelves to check the contents. The Wentworth case had to be here. Feeling frantic, he stifled curse after curse when he kept finding cases unrelated to the Hicks murder. Where was it?
All the noise he was making brought young Officer Swanson from the front desk. “Detective Iglesias, do you need a hand?”
“Please,” he replied. “Bring over that ladder.”
“Sure.” Swanson complied in a hurry.
“Who’s at the desk?” he asked over the obnoxious metallic rattle as the young officer dragged the rolling staircase closer.
“No one right now,” Swanson said. “I locked the window to come check on you.”
Emmanuel stomped up the ladder to the top shelf, a sick feeling in his stomach. He could hope forever, but the Wentworth case file wasn’t up here.
“Which case are you after?” Swanson asked. “I can help.”
Ignoring him, Emmanuel moved every box on the top shelf, checking inside each one, careful with odd shaped objects and paperwork so he didn’t compound his current problems. “No, thanks.” He would not say the case name aloud. “There’s nothing matching the case number I need. It’s not here.”
From the floor, Swanson gazed up at him earnestly, like a puppy eager to please the big dogs. “Let me run it and see who checked it out,” he offered.
Emmanuel bought himself a minute to think while he descended the rolling stairs and pushed them back out of the way. “I guess that’s the smartest next step.” Though he did not want anyone knowing he was looking at this. The rumors alone would be problematic, especially after he responded to the call at Pippa’s condo last night. He took his time, making sure every box was in the right place. Little comfort when the effort only made the absence of the Wentworth case more obvious.
“Wow, thanks,” Swanson said. “I really appreciate that, Detective. You must have worked down here.”
Emmanuel had never had this job, but he believed keeping things organized helped everyone. “Are you calling the GRPD a bunch of slobs?” he joked.
Swanson cleared his throat. “Well, coming back and straightening up is part of the routine.”
He clapped the kid on the shoulder. “I’ll try to remind everyone to do better,” Emmanuel said as they walked back to the front of the secure area. He slid the paper with the case number on it across the counter. “Can you let me know who checked out this file?”
Swanson entered the case number into his computer, and they waited for the system to respond. With a little luck, the kid didn’t follow gossip columns or the upper echelon of Grand Rapids society.
Luck was not on Emmanuel’s side today. The kid gave a low whistle and shot Emmanuel a look. “Wentworth?”
“That’s the one.” He was paging through the log of recent visitors. Any officer or visitor had to sign in with their name and badge number, and the visit was entered into the computer system, as well.
Swanson studied his computer screen, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. He typed something else and then used the mouse, scrolling up and down. What Emmanuel wouldn’t have given to see what had upset him.
“What’s the matter, Swanson?”
“No one has checked out the box, Detective. It should be there.” His fingers pounded the keys again. The poor kid looked like he might burst into tears. “I don’t have any record of it being signed out.”
“Do you recall anyone asking about Wentworth besides me?”
“No, sir.”
Pippa implied she’d been here. “I thought I heard something about her new attorney stopping by.” Had she lied to him?
“Well, yes,” Swanson said. “Her new attorney called and set up an appointment. She came in ten days ago.”
The sign-in log in front of Emmanuel went back only seven days. He pulled out his phone and opened the app he used to take notes. “What day?” he asked. “Were you here?”
“Yes, sir,” Swanson confirmed. “She was very polite.”
No doubt. He suspected Pippa could turn on the charm when it suited her purposes. Not that he blamed her. He did the same thing at times.
“I carried the case file to the back table for her,” Swanson said. “She was here for hours.”
“Do you have the sign-out time?” Emmanuel made another note of the kid’s answer. “Did you put the box back or did she take it?”
“I don’t know. She was still here when the shift changed and Officer Mitchell replaced me.” Swanson tapped a pen rapidly on the counter. “He would’ve put the box back for her.”
“Anything else?”
“No.” That pen kept tapping. “I don’t have any requisitions for the file or notes. This is bizarre.”
“Agreed.” Emmanuel sighed heavily, thinking of Pippa’s floor safe. She’d never opened it in front of him. Because she didn’t want him to know she’d taken the evidence box without permission? Would she have pushed the line that way? If someone believed she had the documentation on the Wentworth case that would explain the break-in and search.
But not the message. It was a rare burglar who came armed with spray paint, just in case he needed to leave a threatening message.
He jerked his thumb toward the security camera over the door. “How far back do we keep surveillance footage?”
Swanson shrugged. “I’m sorry, Detective. I don’t know.”
The feed was monitored by someone. If his lieutenant didn’t know, the captain would. Or one of their administrative assistants. “Thanks for your help,” Emmanuel said. “I’ll take it from here. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”
“Any suggestions on how I should write this up?” Swanson asked.
“I’m guessing there’s a form.” The kid nodded. “Just fill it in to the best of your ability,” Emmanuel continued. “It’ll work out. Most likely we’re dealing with a clerical error. No one likes to admit it, but we all know those happen.”
“Am I in trouble?” Swanson wondered.
“Not from where I’m standing. Just fill out the form.”
Fired up, Emmanuel went straight to Lieutenant Tripp McKellar’s office to get a look at the security footage. If Pippa had walked out of this station with the Wentworth case file, he was going to lose his mind. His thoughts ticked back and forth like a metronome, sure she hadn’t been so foolish and certain she’d taken the risk to save her client.
Then again, if she had taken that risk and the box had since been removed from her possession, he couldn’t imagine her waiting it out in her condo last night. She would’ve le
aped into action of some kind. Unless she’d had the box in the car—the one place no one had checked.
At the lieutenant’s open office door, Emmanuel knocked. “A minute, sir?”
McKellar waved him in. The lieutenant was a rising star in the department who’d earned the trust of the officers he supervised. When Ingrid had met him, she’d told Emmanuel that McKellar had promise and a good character.
“What’s on your mind, Iglesias?”
“I was doing some research and just found out an evidence box is missing from storage.”
The lieutenant’s eyebrows lifted. “Not misfiled?”
“No, sir. We’ve searched top to bottom,” Emmanuel said. “It’s possible the box was removed by the last person who accessed it. Any chance you have access to the footage from that camera over the door?”
McKellar scowled. “Can you narrow that down with a date?”
“Yes, sir.” He gave the date of Pippa’s visit and the time Swanson’s shift ended.
“Let’s take a look.” McKellar invited him to watch the monitor over his shoulder.
When the footage for the right day came up, Emmanuel caught a high-speed view of Pippa signing in. Just as the young officer had said, she stayed for hours and the shift changed. When she exited the room, she had only the briefcase she’d brought in.
Emmanuel hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it all came out in a whoosh of relief. Why did he care so damn much if she was guilty or innocent?
“See something helpful?” the lieutenant asked, pausing the video with Pippa frozen at the door.
“Yes and no,” Emmanuel replied. If Pippa hadn’t taken the file, then who? And when?
“That’s Sadie Colton’s older sister, right?” McKellar asked.
“One of them, yes.”
“Right. Graham Colton had four daughters.” He didn’t sound entirely thrilled by the fact. “Hope she found whatever she was looking for. I’m not entirely comfortable with having Colton Investigations so involved with the Capital X and RevitaYou situations.”
Emmanuel agreed wholeheartedly. “I would’ve thought you’d have a bigger problem with her trying to find something to reverse the Wentworth verdict.”
McKellar laughed. “Let her dig. We all know that case is airtight.”
It helped to hear it from his lieutenant. “Thanks for the assist,” Emmanuel said on his way out of the door.
Relieved in one aspect, he was still twisted up over too many other unknowns. If Pippa hadn’t taken that file to support her efforts to overturn Wentworth’s conviction, who had?
He kept running into the same dead-end conclusion. With the evidence box missing, the break-in and search at Pippa’s condo, and her inexplicable trouble at the prison, the culprit was likely tied to the GRPD. He would need to find a way to keep reviewing the video footage.
His stomach cramped, and the discomfort had nothing to do with being overtired, grief stricken or hungry. Someone in this building—or at least someone with access to it—was determined to keep the truth under wraps. He checked his phone for any word from Daniel that might be better news.
Nothing.
Did he dare tell Pippa and fuel a hunch she was surely entertaining? The woman was too smart not to think her client had been set up by someone on the force. Might be better to do more digging first. Notions wouldn’t free her client, only facts. He smothered an oath, thinking about her reaction if she ever learned he’d kept this to himself.
“Trouble, Iglesias?” Joe McRath asked, pausing as he walked through the bullpen. “You look like hell.”
“Ingrid,” he said. He couldn’t tell Joe what had him really upset. Emmanuel wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on career longevity right now. The sergeant believed that working a case, solving it and moving on was the best way to avoid burnout. Only the cold cases were worth dwelling on in Joe’s opinion.
“We’re all gonna miss her.” Joe swiped a hand over his eyes. “Heard anything about the service or final arrangements?”
“Not yet.” Thanks to the RevitaYou connection, he wasn’t even sure when the body would be released for burial.
“Go on home, Iglesias. Get some rest.”
Not a bad idea. “Is that an official order, Sergeant?”
Joe smiled. “It is.”
“Thanks.”
Emmanuel grabbed his cell phone and headed out, but his mind kept stewing over the real problem. If someone on the force was interfering with Pippa’s review of the Wentworth case now, it was a short hop to assume that same someone framed Wentworth at the time and he and Joe had overlooked someone who hated Hicks that much.
Furious that he might have been duped then and was being sent on a merry chase now, he sat in his car and sent Pippa a text message. He didn’t dare talk about any details over the phone. Not this close to the station.
In a few hours, he’d be face to face with her and they could talk candidly. Or argue. He smiled despite the hellish day. The simmer in his veins whenever he thought of Pippa was an unexpected bright spot in this twisted mess. While he wasn’t looking forward to explaining what he’d found, he was definitely eager to see her.
Chapter 7
After Pippa met with her insurance adjuster, assured the claim would be paid in a timely manner, she’d deliberately turned her back on the violent message scrawled across her living room wall. The morning hours ticked by as she resumed her work on Anna’s case.
Around noon, when her suspect list was as weak as it had been yesterday, she reached for her coffee cup and found it empty. She stood up to stretch a bit and give her eyes a rest, debating whether or not to have one more cup of coffee. Probably better to switch to water and a healthy snack.
With an apple in hand, she walked out to stare down that message on her wall. “We all end up dead,” she said aloud. “Personally I’d rather go out knowing I did something right.”
In the meantime, it might be better to stop talking to walls.
It still annoyed her that one of her favorite framed prints would have to be redone. She returned to her desk and flipped to her calendar, reviewing her schedule for the rest of the week. After tonight’s appointment with the Capital X loan application, she didn’t have any set appointments. As some point she needed to get back to the prison and have a face-to-face with her newest client.
Excitement simmered through her system whenever she thought about what she was going to do tonight. Her part in helping Brody—and who knew how many others—might be small, but it was crucial. Griffin and Riley had wanted to shut down the unscrupulous loan operation for a long time.
Though she tried, she couldn’t suppress a thrill of anticipation that she would see Emmanuel again tonight too. But that was hours away.
She answered several emails and dictated a few more notes about how to approach the witnesses tied to Anna’s case before the cleaning crew arrived at the back door. Just like this morning, opening the door took more effort than it ever had in the past. She couldn’t stand being afraid. Though it hadn’t even been a full day, she wondered how when she would feel like herself again.
Craig and Rachel Norris were a brother-and-sister team and equal partners in their small business that specialized in cleaning and restoration. “When we saw the pictures, we thought we’d better handle this one ourselves,” Craig said when introductions were made.
“This is a great building,” Rachel added.
The pair put Pippa at ease immediately, and she caught herself smiling as she led them into the living room.
“Wow,” Craig said. The siblings exchanged a long look.
“This is going to look worse before it gets better,” Rachel warned Pippa.
“I understand it’s a process,” Pippa said.
“All right.” Craig cocked his head as he studied the wall. “Might be faster to cut out
the drywall and start over.”
“He’s kidding,” Rachel assured her with a confident smile. “We’ll take care of it and make it as good as new.”
“Thanks.” She wondered if even with a clean slate she’d ever not see those words.
Her phone rang as they started unpacking their supplies. Seeing Elizabeth’s number, she picked it up right away. “Good morning,” Pippa said brightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back with you last night. Things got a little hectic once I got home.”
“What’s that noise?” Elizabeth asked.
Pippa moved away from the cleaning efforts, but regardless of their friendly, bonded and insured status, she wasn’t willing to leave them unattended. At the moment she didn’t trust anyone outside of family. And Griffin was on thin ice for planting Emmanuel in her life.
“Nothing to worry about. I’m just having some professional cleaning done.”
“Really? Your place is always so perfect. Well, I just wanted to let you know I’m going out to see Mom this afternoon.”
“Good,” Pippa said. “Be careful, Elizabeth.” She hoped they wouldn’t change the routine and give Elizabeth trouble now too.
“Is there anything you want me to tell her?”
“Officially, no.” Elizabeth’s conversations with Anna wouldn’t be legally protected. “Just let her know I’m sorting things out. If she’s had an epiphany about who might have wanted to kill Hicks, that would be great, but otherwise, just enjoy your visit.”
“All right. I was going to let her know you had trouble getting through yesterday, if that won’t cause any problems.”
“Please tell her about that,” Pippa said. “I’m hoping to have an explanation before the next time I go out.” That task had topped her to-do list today, but so far her calls to the warden and the prosecutor’s office asking for clarification had not been returned.
None of that would comfort Elizabeth, and any extra burden on her mind would make her visit with her mother more of a challenge. “You can also tell her I’m requesting another look at all the physical evidence in the case.”
