Accused (12 page)

18

“My wife was a woman of boundless energy and optimism,” Galen Burke began Teresa’s eulogy. “She loved the city of Las Playas and worked hard to make it prosper and grow.”

Burke was a medium-sized, average-looking man. Except for the fact that his suit was obviously expensive and tailored, there was nothing outstanding about him. His hair was a dirty-blond color, kept longer than what Carly considered normal for those in public service.
But then,
she thought,
he’s not in public service. He’s a private businessman who was married to a public servant.

“The world lost a bright, bright light when Teresa left us.”

He broke down several times while he spoke. Carly was surprised by how touching the speech was. She pressed the center of her vest, the reassuring stiffness helping her keep her composure. She hated crying in public more than she hated funerals.

When the pastor spoke, Carly half listened, catching phrases here and there because they were phrases she’d heard from her mother and at her father’s funeral. She let her gaze roam, noting the reactions and postures of those who were considered important enough to be seated near the casket.

As the pastor droned on, all Carly could think of was leaving. Adding to her discomfort was a loudly growling stomach. She’d skipped breakfast and now regretted that decision. She willed the pastor to hurry through the message.

Carly sagged in the patrol car on the way back to the station, wishing she hadn’t agreed to attend the reception. The funeral had sucked away her energy and left her with a pounding headache. She removed the clips that kept her hair off her collar and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Tired?” Nick asked.

“How about drained and wrung out? I hate funerals.” She almost canceled on the reception but bit her tongue before she voiced the thought.
There will be food there, and maybe it will lift my mood.

“Maybe the reception and something to eat will make you feel better.” Nick read her mind, and Carly turned to look at him. He kept his eyes on the road.

He did that when we were married, knew what I was feeling and thinking.

He caught her looking at him, and she turned away to look out the window.
What am I doing spending so much time with him?

“You okay?” He voiced the question as he turned into the PD lot.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you in the lot after I change, then follow you to the Hacienda.” She jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped and fled to the locker room. Her life was a roller coaster right now, and she had no clue how to get off.

The Hacienda, the city’s most famous historical landmark, was hosting the reception. Mayor Burke had helped a great deal with the hotel’s latest reconstruction. Her efforts helped turn the place into a very popular tourist attraction. Built in the twenties, the hotel had survived storms, hoodlums, earthquakes, and financial setbacks to develop into a high-class, exclusive resort. It was situated against the highest cliff in Las Playas, facing the coast. This design completely protected the view from the harbor area, which spread out from the other side of the cliff, northward.

Carly enjoyed the drive and tried to relax and take in the scenery while she followed Nick’s truck.

Rocky breakwater walls built in the forties protected the coastline of Las Playas. They were good for business, boating, and houses built along the water, but there was no surf here. Carly shook her head as the flat, sick-looking waves that resulted from the protection of the breakwaters came into view. The ocean was wimpy along this part of the coast. The road ran along the water until it made its way up the Hacienda’s driveway.

Lined with the obligatory palm trees, the driveway ascended gradually, curving inland. The hotel’s buildings came into view abruptly and breathtakingly. Renovation hadn’t taken away the charm and decadence of the 1920s design. Carly was always reminded of Hearst Castle when she looked at the Hacienda. Everything the surf lacked in majesty and beauty, the architecture of the hotel made up for—in spades.

A bellhop in traditional uniform, right down to the little round cap, greeted Nick and Carly. He directed them to the Lilac Room, and as soon as they stepped inside, she sensed depression hanging like an oppressive, heavy fog. Everything about the room reminded her of death. An overwhelming wave of dizziness enveloped her, and for a moment she thought she would faint.

“Carly? Are you okay?” Nick leaned close, and focusing on his voice helped her keep her balance.

“I need to sit down.” With Nick’s hand on her elbow, Carly made her way to a plush, high-backed chair and sat.

“You’re white as a sheet.” Concern edged his voice. Nick kept a grip on her arm.

“I think I need some food; I haven’t eaten since last night.”

“I’ll get you some water. If you feel better, we’ll hit the buffet table.” Nick hurried for a water pitcher.

Carly reclined in the overstuffed chair and closed her eyes. She’d felt this way once before, in the academy when she’d stood at attention too long with her knees locked and got lightheaded. Today, she was certain it was lack of food—and maybe a little too much stress. Alone in a corner, she was able to relax until the sounds of a quiet conversation drew her attention. At first she didn’t pay any attention to the voices. They were in the background, outside the doors of the Lilac Room. But the familiarity of one of them made Carly tune in.

“He’s not going to recant; I promise. Even if he does, the confession is on tape.”

Confession? Tape?

“You better be sure. We don’t have much else, and you know who does
not
want a hung jury.”

19

Carly sat up a little straighter and strained to hear more, blocking out the other noises of the reception.

“It won’t even get there. The public defender will want a deal to save the scum’s life.”

“We are not going to let everything ride on the public defender! You better be positive about your end.” The familiar voice was raised, angry.

“The public defender is bought and paid for. Don’t worry; he can be trusted. This is a perfect setup—the other will take the fall, everything will be tied up—”

“Sorry it took so long.”

Nick, bearing water, jolted Carly back to her surroundings. He handed her a glass and said, “You will never believe what everyone is talking about.”

Carly shook her head and tried to stop him, tell him she was eavesdropping and was about to put a name to the voice. But Nick pressed on. “Drake and Harris were taken off the Burke case!”

With that statement, Nick commanded Carly’s full attention. The shadowy voices faded. But she turned her body in order to see who came through the doors while she asked Nick, “What? Why?”

“The story is that someone got a confession from Darryl Jackson.”

Confession.

She gulped the water and stood, now facing the door. “But he invoked his rights; he didn’t want to talk. And who would try to talk to him outside of Miranda?”

“Apparently this detective was a friend of Jackson’s public defender. The attorney actually called him up and asked him to talk to his client.”

“So why take the department’s best off the case?” She sidled toward the door and peeked out. No one was there. Nick frowned at her and she shrugged. “I thought I heard someone out there.”

“Captain Garrison made the decision. His reasoning is that this will streamline the court process, fewer officers to subpoena, so he’s put the entire investigation in the lap of one person.”

“That makes no sense! Other detectives have already been involved in the investigation; they can be subpoenaed by the defense if it’s perceived they were removed to hide something.” Carly sat down and rolled the cool water glass across her forehead. The conversation she’d overheard pushed back to the forefront. Was there a connection? There was too much information to process on an empty stomach.

Nick shrugged. “I agree, but Garrison thinks this is a clever move, and in a way, he’s saying that only the boss of the detail can be trusted.”

Carly looked at Nick in shock. “The boss? You mean the sole investigator now is Sergeant Tucker?”

“Yep. He was the detective who got the confession. He’ll still use his subordinates for little things, but the bulk of the investigation is on his shoulders.”

“He’s a supervisor! Who’s in charge while he’s wearing his investigator hat?”

“That’s what everyone is asking. But it gets worse, especially for the juvenile. Jackson fingered Londy as being the killer. He even told Tucker where they threw the murder weapon, which he claims was a piece of rope from a duffel bag. And Harris filled me in on the preliminary autopsy results: Mayor Burke was strangled with a rope.”

Carly said nothing for a minute, digesting this information. For Darryl to have details of the crime, logically, that would implicate the nineteen-year-old. “How will that stand up in court? It’s obvious he’s trying to save his own skin. That can’t possibly make the whole case.”

“I know, I know.” Nick nodded and scanned the room before turning back to Carly. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just lack of food. I’ve got a hunger headache, but the dizziness is gone. I need to get something to eat.” She got up, and they started for the buffet table.

A glance around the room at all the people and the different moods took her thoughts back to the service. She wondered if Trejo was at the reception. She felt ornery enough to give him a piece of her mind.

She followed Nick to the buffet table. Many people they passed were already on their way to needing designated drivers. Carly scanned the crowd for Drake, Harris, or Tucker and came up empty but for Harris, who was speaking to Papa-doc Guest. Garrison was close to Burke. Carly also saw the man Nick named in the photo, Mario Correa, hovering near the widower.

I wish I could talk to Jef
f
!
Why did he open a can of worms and then disappear? His accusations are making more and more sense with each passing day.

Nick and Carly filled their plates with food from the buffet line and picked a corner table to sit and people-watch. Carly couldn’t help but notice that their fellow mourners were segregated along professional lines: cops on one side; politicians, city employees, and newspeople on the other. However, the topic of conversation was consistent—the Burke case assignment change.

Her headache faded and her strength returned after she got some food in her stomach. Some of the guys Nick supervised pulled him away, and she was left to her own thoughts. She scanned the banquet room and saw a lot of new faces mingling among many familiar ones she hadn’t seen in years. Included in the mix was the pastor who officiated Teresa’s service. He chatted with different people on both sides of the divide. Carly knew Pastor Jonah Rawlings, which was partly why she hadn’t wanted to listen to him. He was her mother’s pastor and had conducted the funeral service for Carly’s father. Since Carly didn’t go to church, she hadn’t seen the man in five years.

What she had heard him say during the service echoed in her mind. The message he’d preached at the church was about life after death, and he talked about heaven as if it were as real as Chicago. People needed a Savior and the hope of heaven, he’d said, very similar to what he’d said five years ago.

My dad believed in your Savior, and he wasted away in a hospital bed.
The pastor’s words dissolved, replaced by an image of her father’s emaciated, jaundiced face. His funeral was the last funeral she’d attended. Lou Edwards told his daughter he felt peace about leaving life to be with God, using almost the same words the pastor used. But neither peace nor God kept him alive.

“You look like you’re miles away.”

Startled, she looked up to see Jonah Rawlings standing before her. He’d made it to her side of the room.

“Actually, I was years away, thinking about something that happened a long time ago.”

“About your dad?”

The abrupt question caught Carly by surprise.

Rawlings took a chair next to her and continued. “Sorry; didn’t mean to be so blunt. It’s just that funerals usually bring on memories of past funerals or thoughts of our own mortality. You were pretty deep in thought, so I just assumed. How have you been, Carly?” He held out a hand, which Carly shook by reflex.

Rawlings was tall and thickly built, with the kind of body type that brought to mind an oversize teddy bear. Carly figured him to be around fifty years old. His eyes were flecked with light brown, his soft brown hair liberally streaked with gray, and his smile warm. His entire persona seemed to say, “Trust me.”

“I’m okay,” she answered, trying not to encourage him to stay. Briefly she wondered if she was ever a topic of conversation when her mother spoke to Rawlings.

“Are you really? I’ve read some unflattering articles about your shooting.”

“Oh.” Carly tensed and leaned back in her chair.
Please, no questions about why so many rounds were fired.

“Relax, I’m on your side. I’m glad there are people like you on the streets doing a dangerous job, a job I couldn’t do.”

“Thanks.” She looked around helplessly. Where was Nick?

“It must have been hard for you—I mean, to take a life.”

“I thought he had a gun. Anyway, my hits weren’t fatal. My partner actually fired the fatal shots.”

He nodded reassuringly. “Frankly I was a little surprised at the unfair press coverage you and your partner received. Sometimes I wonder at people who live their safe lives on the sidelines, yet still want to make all the calls.”

“Thanks again.” Carly crossed her arms and regarded him with indifferent attentiveness.

If he noticed her body language, he ignored it. “Police work is a difficult profession with a lot of pressure. I know. I counsel a lot of officers. I’ve been on a few ride-alongs. You guys protect people like me from all the things we don’t want to deal with.” Rawlings’s voice grew softer. “At your father’s funeral, I told you that you can trust me if you ever want to talk about anything. That offer still holds.”

What would I ever have to talk to you about?
“We have a psychologist, Dr. Guest. I’ve talked to him before. He’s a good listener.”

“That’s great. But I don’t think he can help you with your spiritual needs. I asked you once about what you believed because I have a burden for police officers; I want officers to know the God who looks out for them—”

“And I still don’t believe in your God.” Carly cut him off as she felt her face flush, surprised the pastor had pushed her buttons so quickly. She remembered that conversation. She hadn’t wanted to have it then, and she didn’t want to have it now. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it seems like people use God as an excuse for things they can’t face.” She glared, daring him to keep smiling his stupid smile now that he knew how she felt.

“What do you believe in? What do you think waits for you after you die?” The warmth in his eyes and the smile on his face never wavered in spite of Carly’s antagonism.

“I believe in myself, in my own abilities and talents. And why does it matter what happens when you die? You’re dead.” Even as she said it, she didn’t believe it completely. She hoped for more but doubted more was possible. Still, there was no way she was letting this glorified Bible-thumper know that.

“You don’t believe in heaven or hell?”

“I think they’re myths.”

“I don’t think you’re being honest with me or yourself. You’re very angry, and that anger is directed toward God. But being angry with him and dismissing him as a myth won’t make him go away. He is real, he created all things, and he loves you as a precious child.”

“If I’m angry, it’s at you for being so nosy! Just because you know my mom doesn’t mean you know me. Did she tell you to talk to me?”

“No, no, and I’m not trying to offend you. You just looked so lost for a minute. I had a sense that you’re searching, like a lot of people—searching for God without realizing it. My guess would be that you feel your life is a mess right now, upside down. I know who can turn things right-side up again. I know the answer. It’s God, accepting his love and sacrifice and giving up control of your life. He’s there for you; all you have to do is ask.” His eyes calmly focused on Carly while she boiled.

How dare he!
She didn’t sit still for this when it was her mother talking.

“This stuff may work with my mom, but my life is none of your business.” She stood up and stormed off to find Nick. How could a man she’d talked to only twice in her life know she felt as if her life was upside down?