The parking lot of the Forks Diner was mostly empty. A good time to grab a bite without being bothered.
Inside the diner, the place was quiet except for the clanking of dishes from the kitchen, probably the dishwasher trying to catch up from the usual lunch rush.
Tammy led Brandon to a booth by the window.
“How about back there?” he said, pointing to a more isolated booth in the back.
“Suit yourself,” she said.
She poured him coffee, and he ordered a turkey BLT with fries. He thought about a salad but figured by the time he added the dressing it would be just as unhealthy.
He set his notebook on the table and began sketching the case against Erik Olson a.k.a. Gillman and Alisa Nygard.
Tammy delivered his food and left him in silence while he worked.
If Olson wasn’t with Nygard, he’d either left the county or was staying with someone who would protect him—his father, Judge Gillman. But busting into the judge’s home without a warrant or probable cause would bury Eli’s case forever. And it would be the last thing Brandon did as an employee of the police department. That itself wouldn’t be the end of the world. Ruining his one chance to solve Eli’s case would.
Brandon pulled his wallet out and set it on the bill.
Tammy approached but didn’t reach for his card. That was when he noticed Margot standing behind her.
“Here he is,” Tammy said, stepping aside.
“Hey, Brandon,” Margot said. “Mind if I sit?”
“I was getting ready to leave,” he said.
“I’ll fetch you a coffee, little sis,” she said to Margot.
“I’ll have what he had,” Margot replied.
Tammy returned with the coffee, refilling Brandon’s cup but leaving his card and bill on the table.
“Glad to hear you solved the Dunn case,” Margot said.
“Me too,” he said, glancing at the clock
With a twist of her head, she flicked her long black bangs out of her face. “Not to mix business and pleasure, but I’m assuming that means my client can leave without permission?”
“I’ll let you know if we need her. Probably the prosecutor will call her as a witness.”
“She just wants to move on with her life.”
“Leaving a life of crime behind, right?” Brandon said.
“People change,” Margot said. She ripped open two sugar packets and poured them into her coffee. “Can I borrow your spoon?” she asked, already reaching for the unused utensil.
“I’ll bet you’ll have more time to work on your brother’s case, now,” she said, eyeing his notebook.
Brandon flipped the top page of the notebook.
“It’s not a secret,” she said. “Remember, I’m the one who told you about the Randall family connection.”
Brandon considered her. “I wonder what else you know you aren’t telling me.”
“I’m just trying to help,” she said.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find Thomas Erik Gillman?” he asked, using Olson’s real name.
The spoon clanked against the side of her cup as she pulled it out.
“Gillman?” she said, blinking at him. “As in Judge Gillman?”
“His son,” Brandon said. “Also known as Erik Olson.”
He studied Margot, gauging her response.
“Judge Gillman’s son was involved in Eli’s murder?” she asked.
“Why, are you fishing for cases?” Brandon asked.
“Funny,” she said. “Although a murder defense would be a new one for me.”
“He’ll need a good attorney if I get my way,” Brandon said.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her excitement palpable.
“Nothing. Yet.”
“It seems like you’d go after the judge. He’s harboring a fugitive,” she said.
“It’s not that simple. Put your defense attorney cap on. Police can’t just go raid someone’s home searching for a suspect.”
“Why not try for a search warrant from one of the superior court judges up in Port Angeles?” she asked.
“Unlikely they’ll approve a warrant on another judge.”
He didn’t mention the fact that if the sheriff learned about a warrant for Judge Gillman’s property, it would mean the end of Brandon’s career in Forks.
“You can’t let Gillman get away with this,” Margot said.
Tammy arrived with Margot’s sandwich.
“Is my little sister bothering you about one of her cases?” Tammy asked.
“Trying to help me with one of mine,” Brandon said.
“Oh, good. I thought I heard the name Gillman,” Tammy said. “Isn’t that the judge…”
Her voice trailed off. There was a quick exchange between the sisters.
“Judge Gillman,” Brandon said. “What about him?”
“Oh, nothing,” Tammy said, grabbing Brandon’s bank card. “I’ll be right back.”
Brandon stared at Margot, waiting for an explanation.
“What?” she asked.
“Tammy mentioned something about you and a case and Gillman.”
“So?” she said. “I work a lot of cases in his courtroom.”
She took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly as if to have an excuse why she couldn’t expound on her answer.
Margot was hiding something. Her offer of information in the Eli case was more self-serving than he’d imagined. He knew she wouldn’t answer him truthfully, so he left her, grabbing his receipt and card from Tammy at the counter.
Brandon didn’t like being played the fool, and he had a strong suspicion that’s what had happened.
The only real piece of information Margot had passed along was the hint to locate Marion Perry—the judge’s wife. It was information that had led to the connection between the judge and the Randall property, but he’d had to find that out on his own. It was as if she was trying to help him, but not too much.
What was Margot’s motive for helping Brandon? She’d led him straight to the judge. It must have something to do with Gillman.
Back at the office, a quick online search led him to Margot’s attorney license number. Then, he searched the statewide database for upcoming hearings.
Margot had a small list of active cases. A mix of criminal, family law, and a few general civil cases.
Then, he found the case he was looking for. In re: Estate of Frank J. Randall, patriarch of the Randall family. Margot was representing a woman named Nancy Randall. The opposing party in the case was Marion Gillman.
Margot was counsel for a litigant in a lawsuit involving Judge Gillman’s wife.
And all this time, she’d been trying to lead Brandon to the connection between Olson—a cop killer—and the judge.
She’d done a nice job of providing him as little as possible—just the hint about the name Marion Perry. He’d done the rest on his own, including finding out that Olson was the judge’s son.
She certainly had faith in his investigative skills. Her one hint could have led nowhere. But Margot had been counting on the fact that Brandon would follow the bread crumbs, knowing he wouldn’t stop until he solved Eli’s case. Judge Gillman would be the collateral damage she needed in her case involving the Randall property.
Her motive probably had something to do with smearing the judge’s reputation or implicating the judge and his wife in a crime, hoping it would affect whatever the disagreement was about in the case regarding the Randall estate.
Despite Brandon’s investigative skills, she’d duped him. He’d trusted Margot because she was Mark’s little sister. He’d trusted and underestimated her all at once.
Leading Brandon where she wanted him wasn’t all Margot had done. More than once, she’d encouraged him to steer clear of Lisa and her nagging about his involvement in Eli’s case.
He was overcome by an unexpected urge to speak with Lisa, to fix what they’d broken that night when Brandon had said he wa
sn’t ready for a relationship.
Brandon pulled out his cell and called Lisa.
“This is Lisa,” she said.
“Hey.”
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Just, um, wanted to talk. You got a minute?”
“I’m in the middle of something,” she said.
“Work on a Saturday?” he asked in a friendly tone.
“Personal,” she said, in a not-so-friendly tone.
“Lisa, about the other night…”
“I got to go, really,” she said. “I have company.”
Company? A date? Had she moved on from their relationship that quickly? They hadn’t even had a chance to finish their conversation. Then again, Brandon hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make things work once he realized Lisa wasn’t happy with things the way they were.
But why assume she was with another man?
“We’ll talk later,” she said.
“Yeah, right.”
He disconnected, trying to shake the image of Lisa on a date with someone else. He wasn’t sure which was worse: Lisa moving on, or the pity in her voice while she’d dismissed him.
Brandon glanced at the clock.
It was already half-past one in the afternoon. Brandon and Emma were supposed to meet Tori in Aberdeen at three-thirty. Emma was spending the long Veterans Day weekend with her mom, and Aberdeen was their agreed-upon meeting spot.
Tori seemed to have moved on from her frustration with Brandon around him not telling her about the Matthew Nygard incident. He asked if she wanted to have dinner in Aberdeen, but Tori had plans for the two of them back in Seattle. Something about sushi and pedicures—Emma’s request.
It was a good thing Emma had Tori, he thought, because he had no interest in either of those.
On the way back from dropping off Emma, Brandon stopped by the grocery store and bought himself a six pack, then ordered a pizza from Carl’s Pizza. He ate alone, flipping through his notes until his mind grew fuzzy from overuse and exhaustion. He slipped into a troubled sleep, feverish dreams haunted by doubt-filled visions where everyone was a villain: Nygard and Margot, his father and Olson.
Chapter 30
He woke up after seven the next morning, shaved, got dressed, and headed for church. His dad had avoided him on the phone and had been nearly possible to pin down since the incident with Nygard in town. He’d have a harder time avoiding Brandon at church.
Brandon waited in the back pew, next to his dad’s usual spot. Service started and the seat next to Brandon remained empty. He glanced at the entrance. Where was he?
Fifteen minutes later, the worship music ended and there was still no sign of his father.
When the service ended, Brandon checked the parking lot for his dad’s truck. Not finding it, he called his dad’s home phone and cell.
Nothing.
Brandon called Emma and asked her if her grandpa had said anything about being out of town. No, he hadn’t.
Brandon drove past the house. His truck was missing.
Where the hell had he gone?
He considered putting out an APB, then held back. How pissed would his dad be if a sheriff’s deputy had picked him up like a runaway kid?
Probably out fishing again, he thought. He wants to be left alone.
Brandon had things to do around the house. Rake the leaves, clean the kitchen, clean the gutters. But he knew the only thing that would keep his mind off his father would be to work Eli’s murder investigation.
***
Jackson was at her desk, working on the Dunn homicide.
“How’s our lovely couple doing?” Brandon asked.
“I’m putting evidence together for the prosecutor,” Jackson said, stretching her legs out.
“Coffee?” Brandon asked, holding out the carafe.
“Sure.”
He refilled her cup, then poured one for himself. He sat down at the table that took up most of the bullpen.
“We’ve got Sabina’s confession, the blood on her gloves, not to mention she attacked you.”
“With bleach.”
Jackson pointed at him. “At least you get a new uniform out of it.”
“It was new.”
“Oh,” she said.
“And Todd Dunn? We’re sure he had nothing to do with the murder?”
“He’s not talking now that assigned counsel got ahold of him. But he and Sabina both claim that’s the case.”
“We got him on the voyeurism charges,” Brandon said.
“If I have my way, he’ll be a registered sex offender by the time he leaves prison.”
“What will happen to the Dunn house?” Brandon asked. “Any news about relatives?”
“Nothing we could find so far. The will says the property is to be sold and the proceeds go to a national animal rescue charity.”
Brandon scoffed. “She’s stealing cats and gives all her money to help pets.”
“Maybe she felt guilty.”
Brandon chuckled. “Penance?”
“You need anything from me?” Brandon asked.
“I’ll pass it to you when I’m done,” she said. “You can fill in the blanks. They’ll be plenty for you to write, considering I was gone for a few days.”
He was glad she was back. As much as he’d chaffed at Sheriff Hart’s admonition for Brandon to remain in a leadership role and let his staff do the work, he had a point. But that meant he had to have staff skilled and experienced enough to do the work. Jackson was his top officer when it came to complex cases.
Just as it had all morning, his mind turned to his father. Where the hell was he?
“You okay?” she asked.
“I haven’t been able to reach my dad.”
“Fishing?”
“I don’t know. He was pissed at me, but he usually leaves a note or something.”
“You need help finding him?” she asked.
He waved a hand at her. “No. He’s probably fine.”
“How are you and Lisa doing? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He glared at her. “I do mind.”
“I figured,” she said.
“Figured what?”
“It wouldn’t last. But that’s not my business.”
“What made you think it wouldn’t last?”
“You’re busy. She’s busy. More than an hour apart most days,” she said.
“You don’t believe in long-distance relationships?” Brandon asked.
“Not if one side is busy trying to solve his brother’s murder, running a department, and raising a teenager,” she said.
“Good point.”
He downed the rest of his coffee and tossed the cup in the recycle.
“Any news on Eli’s case?” she asked.
Just then, Will wandered in.
“Yeah, do tell, Chief,” he said, sitting down at the table across from Brandon.
He debated how much to tell his two most trusted officers about the judge and Olson. In the end, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to hear what they had to say.
“This stays in this room,” he said.
They both nodded in agreement.
“You know Nygard is on the Randall property,” Brandon said. “And that Alisa Nygard and Erik Olson were likely involved in Eli’s death.”
“That was your theory,” Will said.
“It turns out the Randall property is held in a trust. Managed by Marion Gillman.”
“Judge Gillman’s wife?” Will asked.
“Right.”
“What’s she doing giving a known criminal a place to set up shop?” Jackson asked.
“Exactly,” Brandon said. “I paid a visit to the judge’s chambers…”
“You what?” Will asked.
“Please tell me he was there when you visited his office,” Jackson said.
“He was. The first time.”
“Chief…” Will said.
“I’ll spare you the detail about how I found what I di
d,” Brandon said. “but there was a picture of Judge Gillman and Erik Olson hunting together.”
“Judge is friends with Olson?”
“He’s Olson’s father,” Brandon said.
Will’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. Gillman had a kid named…what was it?”
“Thomas Erik Gillman,” Brandon said.
“That’s it,” Will started. “Wait…”
“Name change,” Jackson said. “Probably with the help of his dad.”
“After Eli was murdered,” Brandon said.
“You know all of this?” Will said.
“One-hundred percent.”
“And you can’t do a damn thing about it,” Will said.
“Why not?” Jackson demanded. “Judge’s son or not, he’s subject to the same laws as the rest of us.”
“Right,” Brandon said. “But how?”
“You tell the sheriff?” Will asked.
“I’m sort of avoiding him,” Brandon replied.
“Makes sense,” Will said. “considering the judge and Sheriff Hart are fishing buddies.”
Brandon cocked his head. “How the hell did you know that?”
“I thought everyone knew that,” Will said. “If you’d have asked…”
Brandon got it. He’d kept the case to himself. But working alone had its downsides.
“The worst part is, I was duped.”
“By whom?” Jackson asked.
“Margot, little sister of my high-school best friend. She’s an attorney now. She gave me the first hint about the Randall property. Kept encouraging me to follow the crumbs.”
“And?” Will asked.
“I did, found out everything. On my own. Except that was exactly what she wanted. Turns out she is representing another Randall family member. Someone who’d profit from the judge’s downfall, once all this comes out.”
“Ouch,” Will said.
“She acted like she was interested for personal reasons,” Brandon said, trying to convince himself he hadn’t been that duped. “She even offered to help with taking care of my dad.”
Jackson shook her head. “Men.”
“What?” Brandon asked.
“A pretty young thing comes offering your help and you take the cheese…”
“Watch it,” he said. “I’m still your boss.”
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