“It will one day,” Starsky said. “Maybe not until they’re both out of prison while you’re still sitting in your cell trying to get good behavior so you can play solitaire on the library computer.”
Amara arched her eyebrows. “Good one. Me, I’d have gone with some play on solitaire and solitary. But, hey, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have.”
He took hold of Haley’s arm and headed toward the door. “Grab some food on the way to the station. Vending machine was almost empty.”
“How about some cash there, chief?”
He paused. “Tradition. Rookie buys when they close their first case.”
“Surprised I never heard that before now. And this case is a long way from closed.”
“Perfect. My stomach’s a long way from full.”
55
Amara leaned against the wall and stared across the hall at Starsky. He looked as tired as she felt. She lifted the coffee cup to her mouth, but the smell roiled her stomach. The stuff was just a prop at this point. Any more and her guts would revolt against the bitterness. The adrenaline had worn off hours ago as she’d muddled through the phone calls and paperwork to get everything taken care of.
A couple of hours ago, around six, Matias Lucero had been arrested and now waited in a holding cell. All his electronic equipment had been seized and turned over to CSI, who would process it sometime in the next millennium. Wasn’t going to be anything on it anyway. She’d requested a full search of the house to look for any hidden cash or other items, but the judge felt the scope was too broad. And Liam was supposed to turn himself in before noon today. A patrol car sat outside his home to ensure he didn’t try to flee.
“Ready for this?” she asked.
He tapped the back of his head against the wall several times. “Sure. She’s not going to talk though. Not if she’s as smart as I think she is.”
“Maybe not, but if I stand out here much longer, I’ll be asleep on my feet.” She moved into the room and nodded to Haley. The girl slouched in her seat, a scowl on her face. A single empty chair, off to the side so it didn’t block the camera’s view, was the only other item in there. Amara sat and waited for Starsky to settle against the wall. He shifted several times. Left leg bent and foot on the wall. Nope. Feet spread wide and arms crossed. Nope. Right leg bent and foot on the wall. Yes. No. Slide to the corner and—
“Go get a chair,” Amara said.
He pressed his back against the wall. “I’m good.”
She turned to Haley. “Before we get started, I’m going to read you your rights again.” When finished, she returned the card to her pocket and set her coffee on the floor. “Get you anything?”
“You can get me out of here,” the teen said.
“Probably could, but I won’t. You understand your rights? You don’t have to talk to us.”
“When do I get a lawyer?”
Amara crossed her legs. “If you have an attorney, I will arrange for you to contact them. If you don’t, sometime today or tomorrow you’ll have your bond hearing. You can request that the court appoint counsel for you then.”
“Do you know how much my bond will be?”
“No,” Starsky said. “Typically it’s very high in first-degree murder cases. Add to that your hidden money and I can see why you might be considered a flight risk.”
Amara nodded. If the teen managed to make bail, no way was the judge going to appoint an attorney. If she could afford one, she could afford the other. “Once the DA decides what to charge you with, he’ll take it to the grand jury for an indictment. After that, you’ll get your arraignment to have the charges against you officially filed. Then come the pre-trial motions, discovery, blah blah blah, and finally the trial.”
“I want a lawyer. I’m not saying anything else until I get one.”
Starsky straightened and yawned. “Works for me.”
“So I’m clear,” Amara said, “you have no attorney and will ask the judge to appoint one. Is that correct?”
“Yeah.”
She planted her hands on the armrests and grunted as she stood. “Works for me too. I’ll get someone to return you to your holding cell.”
The detectives stepped into the hall. “No surprise,” Starsky said. “You got a meeting set with the prosecutor yet?”
“This afternoon. The LT’s going to be there too. Does he always go?”
“Nah.” He covered his mouth as a yawn erupted. “But you’re new. He wants to see how you handle yourself. What are you doing until then?”
“Home for a shower and some sleep. Not in that order.”
“Need a ride?”
She shook her head. “I’ll drive my car. Why not? Everybody who’d mess with me is either in jail or on the way. Should stop by and get a new phone, but I just don’t have the energy to deal with that.”
“Get some rest,” he said. “I’m gonna go crash too. Good luck this afternoon with the DA’s office.”
“Think I’ll need it?”
His tired grin lit up his face. “Just remember that prosecutors like to win. The stronger the evidence, the more likely they are to take the case to the grand jury.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.
“No. You won’t need luck. Just patience.”
“Patience? Why?”
“So you don’t hurt someone if they tell you they need more evidence.”
The wall clock echoed its ticking through the prosecutor’s tiny office. Lieutenant Segura tapped his armrest in time with it while Amara tried to keep her focus. Hard to do considering it’d been nearly twenty minutes since anyone had spoken.
Harold Beckerstreet, bowtie and all, was nothing if not thorough. He read and reread each page and cross-referenced the information with the notes he’d taken during her presentation. The guy reminded her of Dr. Pritchard, minus the ME’s semi-endearing quirks. And personality.
Would it be okay to excuse herself for a few minutes? Step outside and call Mama? See how she was doing today? Maybe if Segura wasn’t here. He’d remained mostly silent, speaking only to clarify a point here and there. That was a good sign. Wasn’t it?
Beckerstreet glanced up, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and returned to his notes. At the rate he was moving, they’d have to release Haley before getting around to charging her. Finally, he dropped his pen.
“Nice work, Detective,” he said. “There are some holes, but that’s not unusual. There will be time to address those. Maybe get the two boys to testify against Ms. Bricker. We’ll see. The issue of the ransomware is easy enough. We’ll have to prove the attacks originated in Texas and the victims were also in the state. All the others we’ll turn over to the FBI after we’re done. Or possibly use the threat of federal charges to gain more cooperation from the three.”
Amara clasped her hands. “Have you decided on other charges?”
“I assume you mean ones relating to the death of Zachary Coleman?”
She nodded.
“As it stands now, the state will not file on that issue. There’s simply not enough evidence to show a murder occurred. We’ll wait for the toxicology report from the ME. If the results point toward the possibility the boy was indeed killed, the state will reconsider its position.”
Her heart pounded. Careful, Amara. “I respect your opinion, however—”
“Thank you,” Lieutenant Segura said. “If we obtain new information that’s relevant to the case, we’ll be in touch. Please keep us informed as it moves through the system. Detective Alvarez and I are available when you need us.”
Beckerstreet stood and shook hands with Amara and the lieutenant. “Thank you both,” he said. “And again, well done, Detective. I appreciate your efforts and look forward to presenting our case to the grand jury.”
Segura guided Amara out of the office toward the elevator. “Not now,” he said.
Not now for talking to him or not now for asking the prosecutor why there’d be no murder charge y
et? “Yes, sir.” She pressed the down button. “If I may, though?”
He sighed, pulled a partial cigar from his jacket, and stuck it between his teeth. “Let me ask you, Alvarez. Yes or no. Can you prove to me that Coleman was murdered?”
“I can demonstrate motive and opportunity,” she said.
“Can you now?” The doors opened and they stepped into the empty elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby. “So what? There’s probably hundreds of people in San Antonio that have motive and opportunity to murder someone. Depending on how you want to look at it, everybody has motive and opportunity.”
“I would argue that, in this case, the circumstantial evidence points toward a murder.”
The doors opened and they walked into the lobby. “There’s the problem. You’re not arguing it. Mr. Beckerstreet is and I’m confident he has far more experience in these issues than either of us. Would you agree?”
“Yes, sir. But that—”
“Nope. There is no but. Haley Bricker killed that boy. You and I both know it. You’ve done your job, now let him do his. We wait and see what the tox report shows.” He pulled the cigar from his mouth and pointed it at her. “That would be evidence a grand jury could see. Something tangible. Until then, we move to the next case.”
What if the tox report was clean? How was she going to prove Zachary Coleman was murdered? She froze as her mind spun. Something tangible. Like photographic evidence. “Sir, what if I had proof Haley was with Zachary when he died? Maybe not enough to confirm she did anything, but enough to show she was there?”
“If you’ve got something like that, why haven’t I seen it?”
“I don’t,” she said. “Not yet. But I think I can get it.”
He stuck the cigar back in his mouth. “You planning to share how that’s going to happen?”
“Once she’s charged with a crime, it becomes public record. We can use that.”
“As it relates to the charges, yes. But you are not to go to the press and accuse her of murder. That’s a headache I don’t need.”
“Understood. I’m simply going to ask a few people if they might have knowledge of her whereabouts on the day of Coleman’s death.”
He frowned. “How many is a few?”
“Hundreds.” She smiled. “Thousands.”
56
It took less than ten minutes for Amara to recap her plan for Mr. Beckerstreet. Talk to Haley again. Explain to her that the SAPD and Cannonball Water Park were posting notices on their websites and on social media asking anyone who was at the park on the day of Zachary Coleman’s death to review any video or photos they might have taken. Police had someone they wanted to speak with. The notice would include two large pictures of Haley, one in her disguise and one not.
There would be proof. No question. Wannabe detectives would scour the background of every picture they’d taken. At least one would give them what they wanted. Evidence the girl had been with the boy near the time of his death. Maybe even ones showing her handing him the water bottle. Better yet, images that showed her at Day’s End Cove with him.
The DA would have enough to pursue murder charges, but Haley had an option. Confess to the killing prior to that, give all the details, and in return the prosecution would reduce the charge from capital murder to first-degree. The death penalty would be off the table. She’d spend a long time in prison but could be eligible for parole somewhere down the road. She would have until twenty-four hours after her bond hearing to decide. By then, she’d have a lawyer one way or another.
Beckerstreet signed off on the plan. Make sure the conversation was recorded. Mirandize her again prior to the discussion. Keep him in the loop. And don’t do anything to jeopardize the rest of the case.
Just over an hour later, she sat across from Haley in the same interrogation room they’d used earlier that day. “Don’t say another word,” Amara said after reading the girl her rights. “Not unless it’s to explicitly indicate you’re waiving your right to have an attorney present. I’m not going to ask you any questions, but I do want you to be aware of what’s about to happen.”
She recapped the plan for the teen, who responded with a smirk and shrug.
That smug look would disappear soon enough in prison. The tough-girl routine wouldn’t last a day. “Final thing I’ll tell you and then you can return to your cell. We have the preliminary tox report.” She placed her hands on her knees, afraid she’d slip one behind her back to cross her fingers. “Be another week or so before we get the details, but we do know Zachary’s death was no accident. That part of the story is over.”
Haley sat in stony silence.
“That’s what my boss was most worried about. Oh, he knew you killed Zachary, but it’s the jury who matters. We could prove you had the motive to do it. Opportunity too. But proving his death was actually murder? That was the hard part. Kudos to you. Wanna know a secret? How this whole thing got started?”
The girl’s shrug had lost most of its intensity.
“His fingers and toes weren’t wrinkled.” Amara turned her palms up. “Dr. Pritchard caught it. He’s the medical examiner. Isn’t that the weirdest thing? That’s how we knew someone killed him. You’re in the water that long, your toes ought to be wrinkled.” Amara stood. “I suppose this will be the last time I talk to you. Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to make new friends.”
“Wait.”
“Uh-uh. No talking, remember? When you get your lawyer, if you want to speak after that, fine.”
“What about Dexter?”
Her dog? “I suppose he’ll be taken to a shelter. Check with your attorney if you want something else done.”
“Will you take him?”
Uh, that’s a hard no. Even if Larry wasn’t in the picture, the dog wasn’t coming anywhere near her home. “Haley, I don’t have room for Dexter or time to take care of him.”
A tap on the door interrupted the conversation. “Give me a second.” She peeked into the hallway. A man stood there holding a piece of paper.
“Just got this back,” he said. “Figured you’d want it immediately.”
The document contained ten fingerprints, Haley’s according to the form. But not Haley Bricker. Amara’s blood chilled. The prints matched a girl who’d run away from home four years ago at age seventeen. Haley Bricker was actually Haley Bronson, twenty-one years old, and from New Rochelle, New York.
Everything was a lie. Her ID, school records, all fake.
“Can I keep this?” she asked.
“Yep,” the man said. He smiled. “Have fun in there.”
“Thanks.” She moved back into the interrogation room and remained standing. “Changed my mind. I do want to ask you some questions. You remember your rights?”
“Yeah, and I’m still not talking. Come on, do the decent thing. Take care of Dexter for me.”
“We’ll talk about that later. After you get an attorney. Right now I’ve got to go do a bunch of paperwork on your case. Thought I was done, but that was before I found out you were really”—she read off the paper—“Haley Bronson from New Rochelle, New York. Nice job on your accent, by the way.”
The girl chuckled. “Took you long enough.”
“I’ll have someone return you to your cell.”
“Take him and I’ll talk.”
“What?”
“Dexter. Take him and I’ll talk.”
Seriously? Liam said she didn’t care about anything except her dog. Maybe he was right. “I can’t make deals. You’ve stated you don’t want to talk unless your lawyer is present.”
The girl waved her hand. “Forget all that. I don’t need an attorney for this.” She stared into the corner camera. “I know my rights and I’m agreeing to talk.”
Amara returned to her seat. “You understand that at any point in this conversation you can stop speaking?”
“Yes. So you’ll take care of Dexter?”
A line.
Starsky had said tha
t we all draw our own lines. That wherever she drew hers, she shouldn’t cross it. Ever.
She could lie about the dog. Say she would take him despite the fact there was no chance that would happen. Perfectly legal.
But it felt wrong. The girl had one thing left. Dexter. She wanted to know her dog would be taken care of. That even though she might be in prison, somewhere out there Dexter was having a good life. Haley would never know otherwise, if Amara lied. Dexter might be living in a shelter, or worse, but the girl could dream of her dog. Know that he was safe.
The line. Amara would know the truth. That she’d lied about the one thing in the world that mattered to Haley Bronson.
She reached for the girl’s hands and held them in her own.
“Yes, Haley. I’ll take care of Dexter.”
57
Amara watched Wylie refill the three coffee cups, then sit beside Mama on the sofa. She didn’t know how long she’d been here. Didn’t care. Haley’s confession had gone until nearly eleven last night. After some sleep, more restless than she’d hoped, Amara awoke early and worked out at the gym. Today would be a comp day so the SAPD could recoup some of her overtime costs. Sounded good to her.
Mama said she felt good. More tired than usual, but good. And Wylie had been a huge help around the house.
Amara asked about their marriage plans and they’d both laughed. Casual affair in the backyard. Just waiting for the temps to drop a little.
Wylie insisted on knowing all about her first Homicide case, and she’d complied, surprised at how much his approval meant to her.
Fentanyl. That’s what killed Zachary Coleman. Well, technically, fentanyl mixed with alcohol, though the opioid was deadly enough on its own. Effects similar to heroin and up to a hundred times stronger than morphine. Death would have been nearly instantaneous. Dr. Pritchard said there was a possibility the tox report would come back clean. That in a lot of these cases, the death occurred so quickly the drug never had a chance to metabolize.
Haley Bronson’s confession, spoken, then written, gave the details. None of it shocked Amara. MM12 was the girl’s idea. After a few tries to break into the insurance companies herself, she’d given up and brought Zachary, the better hacker, into her plan. She denied their relationship was merely a ploy to convince him to help her, but Amara doubted that was true. Why would it be? Nothing else was. He’d broken into the two insurers before deciding he wanted out. The girl couldn’t let that happen. No one, Zachary Coleman included, was going to jeopardize her life. If he didn’t want what she wanted, what use was he?
Network of Deceit Page 30
