“I’ll tell you all about it on our way to the hospital,” I said as I climbed into the back of the ambulance with King.
“It doesn’t matter.” King brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I’m just glad you did.”
Just before the doors closed, we watched Tristan’s charred corpse get pulled from the front seat by the coroner. A wave of relief swept over me and I felt King’s entire body relax. He leaned his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. “You know that vacation we talked about taking?” I said I did. “I think I’m ready for it.”
Chapter Ninety-Six
Five weeks later…
The press conference was packed to the brim with reporters—an intimidating sight for any public official who might have something to hide. A murmur of chatter filled the air as a wall of camera lenses and microphones perched behind me, all pointing toward the empty podium. We were all waiting for the mayor, chief of police, and the district attorney to show—and they were running late.
Walker glanced at his watch. “The longer they make us wait, the tougher it will get for them.”
“Probably putting on more cologne to mask the bullshit they’ve been feeding us these last weeks,” Erin said.
I chuckled and glanced to where King was standing. He was near the front of the room and kept looking at his phone as if expecting the call we’d both been waiting for.
The night Tristan died, King told me what happened—all the way back to his father’s affair. I didn’t believe Tristan could be his brother, and King had his doubts, too, but his mother had confirmed the affair. After considerable thought, I encouraged King to request a DNA test and put the matter to rest. He did, and we were still waiting on the results. Knowing an answer was coming soon put his mind at ease.
The door behind the podium opened and we all swept our attention forward.
Anticipation was high as journalists came in record numbers to hear the city admit their mistake. No one was sure they would, but the evidence suggesting Frank Lowe was innocent—or at least deserved a more thorough investigation—proved too overwhelming to ignore. Erin and I were crossing our fingers for good news, too. So was Walker. But, for the city, a mistake this big could open a floodgate to other cases they hadn’t thought about in years, perhaps decades.
Since the death of Tristan Knight and the truth about the recent murders, local TV affiliates as well Real Crime News, couldn’t stop covering Frank Lowe’s questionable conviction. It was all anybody could talk about. It didn’t take long for the story to catch on with local activists, and soon protests began as a snowball of public outrage grew in support of holding the city and the police department more accountable. Even more surprising was how Erin and I became the face of exoneration as we lobbied for Frank Lowe’s release, starting with genetic genealogy to find the true killer once the victims’ hands were tested for DNA evidence—that crucial step that was hidden away decades ago by Andrew Jackson.
“I think they’re too afraid to show their face,” I said when no one came out from behind the curtains.
“Maybe they are human after all,” Erin said.
It had been a whirlwind month and my hopes were high despite the mayor’s empty promises to get tough on crime. The truth was, his policy was failing and we were here to remind him of it with simple facts.
I watched King take a call and exit the room just as the district attorney, Chief Watts, and Mayor Goldberg took their spots at the podium.
The entire room went quiet and they didn’t waste any time in addressing what we were all here to hear. The DA addressed the reporters and Mayor Goldberg couldn’t stop staring at me.
I stared back and thought how they held Marty for nearly twenty-four hours after Tristan Knight had died. Eventually, Marty was released without charge, but the city never apologized for what they did to destroy his reputation. Instead, they left it up to me to apologize for them. Dawson signed on to my idea and gave me front page, above the fold.
Of course, I also apologized to Marty in person—who was more than forgiving. I also promised him I’d personally look into his own case—including the shady record of Andrew Jackson—with hopes of exonerating him of the crimes he was found guilty of committing.
The DA started speaking into the microphone and all I could think about was how this was the first public comment made about Frank Lowe since he’d been sentenced. My knee was bouncing and it didn’t stop until I heard the DA say, “The Denver District Attorney’s office has officially reopened the case file of Frank Lowe and we’re actively reviewing the evidence—including DNA swabbed from each of the victims.”
Erin turned her head and we shared a knowing smile. The DA fell short in admitting why the DNA was never tested, but it was a clear victory for Mr. Lowe.
Then the DA finished by stating, “We’ll also be reviewing every case that led to a confession of guilt under the direct supervision of deceased Detective Andrew Jackson.”
It was clearly good news for the city of Denver. Walker reached his arm over Erin and squeezed my hand. He smiled and said, “This was what Gemma wanted all along.”
There was still plenty of work to do, but I understood his message. Thanks to him and Gemma, mine and Erin’s local stardom was heading to the next level. Just as he promised.
Once the conference was over, we stood and discussed how the city would be forced to prepare for the many lawsuits soon to follow—totaling in the millions of dollars.
“Speaking of money,” Walker said, pulling out a white envelope from his sport coat, “this is for you two.”
I knew what it was without looking and said, “We can’t.”
Walker uncurled my fingers and pressed the envelope into my palm. “Consider it an award from Gemma.”
“But Frank Lowe’s case is only being looked into. Her father isn’t a free man.”
“I have a feeling it will all shake out.” Walker winked and promised his original offer still stood if, at any time in the future, we were in need of an angel investor.
I thanked him and asked, “What’s next for you?”
“New York City.”
I gave him a questioning look, as did Erin.
“Meeting with an organization who specializes in exonerations.”
My lips curled at the corners. “Not one to miss an opportunity.”
“A consulting detective never rests.”
We hugged goodbye and promised to stay in touch. Erin walked him out just as I caught King heading in my direction. He was still walking with a limp but had otherwise healed well, considering the magnitude of the crash.
“So?” I asked. “I saw you take a call. Was it the results?”
“It’s true. Tristan was my half-brother.” King sighed.
I imagined the news was bittersweet. There was a lot King had to accept, but at least now he knew his past better than before.
Neither of us expected Tristan to be lying after the police raided his apartment and found his mother dead just like he said. Tristan killed her by asphyxiation and had left her there for nearly a week before anyone knew she was gone.
I had a feeling King just wanted to let this go—kind of like what he did with Angelina leaving that threatening note on Erin’s door thanks to Tristan leading her to believe King wanted her back—because none of it really mattered in the scheme of life. The truth was, if we dug deep enough and long enough, we’d uncover flaws and secrets in everyone.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” King said.
“Yeah. Me too.”
He promised to call after his shift and I turned to the door with the intention of heading back to Erin’s office to prepare this week’s podcast. My colleagues called out to me as I passed, sent their congratulations, and told me to keep up the good work. I told them to do the same when I was approached by a familiar face.
The spokesperson for the mayor caught my arm and whispered into my ear, “You may have won today, but I suggest you stay in you
r lane, Mrs. Bell.” He made sure to look me in the eye when he concluded, “Death is closer than you think.”
Tap here to read the next gripping Samantha Bell mystery, MAD AS BELL. It’s a riveting thrill ride you won’t want to miss!
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Thank you for reading BURN IN BELL. If you like the stories I'm writing, don’t forget to rate, review, and follow. It really helps my books get in front of new readers.
Afterword
One of the things I love best about writing these mystery thrillers is the opportunity to connect with my readers. It means the world to me that you read my book, but hearing from you is second to none. Your words inspire me to keep creating memorable stories you can't wait to tell your friends about. No matter how you choose to reach out - whether through email, on Facebook, or through a review - I thank you for taking the time to help spread the word about my books. I couldn't do this without YOU. So, please, keep sending me notes of encouragement and words of wisdom and, in return, I'll continue giving you the best stories I can tell. Thank you for giving me an opportunity of a lifetime.
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About the Author
Waldron lives in Vermont with his wife and two children.
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