Black Water (25 page)

Dawes turned to Merci. "But guess what? None of that really matters too much because this case will be decided on physical evidence. Here are some things that the deputy cannot deny, because they a proven facts. We have no evidence that there was another person
on the property
that night, let alone inside the deputy's house. We know the deputy was home that night. We know that the deputy owned the gun that killed her. We know the gun was in his possession that night. We know it was in his
hand
that night. We know he
fired
it that night. We know his fingerprints are not only on the gun that killed her but
on the brass that contained the bullets that killed her.
That means he loaded it as well as fired it. And again, who owned that nine millimeter? Whose gun was it? The deputy's. That, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is why you have to reach a verdict of guilty. That, Sheriff Abelera and District Attorney Brenkus, is why you need to file.
That
Sergeants Rayborn and Zamorra, is why you have to
do your job
and arrest him."

"Good," said Abelera. "The defense?"

"He can't prove all that," said Merci, ignoring the assistant DA. "He can't prove they were going broke, because they weren't. They' spent a lot of money in the last year because they'd made two million in a legitimate investment. It left the Wildcrafts about a million two after taxes. There are still almost two hundred grand in investment and accounts. Dawes can't prove that Archie was homicidally jealous--- we're not getting that picture from friends and family at all. We're also not getting that she was an outrageous flirt, or that he was angry or that he was losing her. It wasn't Archie and Gwen arguing that day at all, and neither one of them threw anything through a window. The whole rape scene is bullshit. There's not a shred of evidence that it wasn't consensual sex. Next thing he's coming through the bathroom door with a gun, ready to shoot her? Why? There's no motivation to do that, if you realize they weren't going broke and they were happy and in love with each other. We've got three separate witnesses to two men in a black Cadillac STS leaving the scene. We've got footprints—big, size sixteens—in
exactly the place a shooter would hide
if he was waiting to take out Archie. We've got Archie Wildcraft's prints on his own gun, but no proof that he was even conscious when his fingers touched that gun. Of course his prints are on the brass—he loaded his own gun, for cryin' out loud. We need more time, sir. We think we found the black Caddy. Huge footprints all around it, just like under the tree at the Wildcrafts'. We've got some indication that it could have been a contract hit by
La Erne.
Dr. Stebbins said the bullet in Wildcraft's head
could
be anything from a twenty-two to a thirty-eight, which means a second weapon is possible. Which, if true, would sink Dawes's theory all the way to the bottom of the ocean. And Archie is remembering more about that night and events that led up to it. We need to polygraph him—which he's agreed to—and we might want to consider hypnosis, when he's had a few more days to equalize emotionally. We need time to investigate further. We're not ready. It's a loser in court and I won't put my name on it. Pure and simple."

Dawes didn't wait before he commented, "Besides the potty mouth, you'd make a decent defense counsel."

"Decent enough to beat you."

"I can't wait."

"You'll have to wait," said Merci. "Because I'll make an arrest when I've got the facts. Not just to give an assistant DA a headline maker."

"Merci," said Abelera.

"Another headline maker," said Dawes.

"Cool it, Ryan," said Brenkus.

"Do you want the truth, Rayborn, or just hugs and kisses from your department?" asked Dawes.

"Shut up, Ryan," said Brenkus. "This won't take us anywhere we need to go. Vince—let me speak now. There's some truth in what Dawes said, some truth in what Rayborn said. But be aware that we're getting a lot of calls about this. I know you are, too. The public is angry about it and they want action. Fine, we can put them off until we're ready—a pissed-off public never made a case. But I'm getting pressure from the news media, too, and we don't want that. They're speculating already that your department is being slow to investigate because you're covering for the deputy. If that gets into the air—ii people start to believe that—you set up an adversarial mood in this county, and I'm not convinced we're ready for that. Your predecessor brought some genuine distrust onto your department and it hasn't just vanished. That was bad cops covering for bad cops. People are eager to give you a chance, Vince, but they're going to be just as quick to hang you if they smell more secrecy and dishonesty coming from this office. Even if they just
think
they smell it."

"Well said. Paul?"

"Nothing I've learned about Wildcraft yet puts him in an at-risk category for suicide. He's not fitting the profile. But I'll tell you what I told Merci, I don't trust him. I think he's trying to run something on us. More reason to keep on him. Keep on him, sir. That's all we can do. Don't go off with a half-cooked case. We need to polygraph him and hypnotize him, like Merci said. We also need to surveil him. I think it's worth the time and money, sir."

"Consider it approved. Clay?"

Brenkus stood. "We'll stay busy. We'll keep Al Madden busy. We'd like swift communication between your people and ours. Gilliam's been slow. Don't leave us out of the loop, Vince."

"I wouldn't consider it. Would you, Merci?"

"No, sir. Absolutely not."

The sheriff stood and shook hands with Brenkus. "Clay, thank you. We're working hard on this one. Give us a few more days."

"Absolutely, Vince."

"Mr. Dawes?" asked Abelera.

Dawes stood straight and buttoned his suit coat. He looked at Merci. "We could grand jury it. Let them decide whether or not to indict. And if they want a longer investigation, then we're right back to where we are now."

"No," said Merci. "There's no way we're letting twenty-one people question a guy with a bullet in his head and no lawyer."

"Why not?" asked Dawes.

"Because his memory is coming back, that's why."

"Gwen Wildcraft was a human being," he said. "This isn't a game, Sergeant."

"Then don't turn it into—"

Merci was about to say "one" when the door flew open and Assistant Sheriff Dale Knox blasted in. "Boss, you better see CNB, right now. Unbelievable."

Abelera nodded, Knox slammed the door shut and hustled across the big room to the TV.

County News Bureau—the television wing of Gary Brice's Orange County
Journal
—came in loud and clear.

Wildcraft aimed the riot gun at the camera, said,
You're trespassing.

Brice's off-camera voice:
I wanted you to tell me what happened.

Merci couldn't believe Archie Wildcraft's face. His eyes were wide and shot with red. His stubble was black. A big vein rose under the skin of his forehead. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled and there was a dirty pink-brown stain on the bandage wrapped around his head. He looked like a soldier at Antietam, or some malevolent genie just escaped from his bottle.

Get off my property
, he said.

Brice backed away and the camera jiggled and Archie held the shotgun at an angle that threatened to blow away the CNB viewer.

"Where the hell are they?" asked Vince.

"His house," said Merci, putting together the pieces. "Brice found him. He's got snitches at the medical center."

The camera was in retreat now, jiggling and moving farther away.

Brice:
Did you see who killed your wife?

Archie:
Get out.

Brice:
What are you going to do?

Archie:
I'll kill. . . myself.

Halfway through that sentence the camera jerked wildly and Archie's face flew out of the frame. When the camera steadied, he offered a demented smile.

Brice:
Did you shoot her and yourself sir?

Archie:
Go to hell, you little BLEEP.

Merci felt her heart fall and she got a quick, bitter taste of what it would feel like to be wrong about this man.

The last few seconds of footage showed Archie way up on his property, shotgun still in hand, staring down at the camera. He looked like a menace.

"Oh, man," said Merci, but what she was thinking was considerably worse.

"He certainly looks and acts innocent," said Dawes.

Merci heard Brice ask,
Maybe someone should explain why the police haven't formally questioned this man.

"Pick him up right now," Abelera ordered Knox.

"Wait," said Merci. "Let us go get him. We've got rapport and he might be ready to talk. Please, sir—don't send in the uniforms. He's very ... extremely messed up."

"Oh, really?" asked Dawes.

Rayborn saw the anger flash in Abelera's eyes. "Arrest him, Sergeant. Before he kills himself, or someone else."

"Yes, sir." She swung around the couch and followed Zamorra out the door, her heart pounding out three beats of anger at herself for every one at Dawes and Gary Brice.

_T
he two Sheriff's Department cruisers were still blocking the Wildcraft driveway. The four deputies stood beside them, beating the heat. They said that Archie had been inside the whole time, no one had tried to come or go except for his parents, who parked on the street at noon and left at ten after one.

No answer at the front door, so Merci knocked again. She tried the door and found it unlocked.

She pushed in, popping the thumb snap on her hip rig. With her left arm she reached behind her back and gathered a low handful of jacket material out of the way of the gun. She didn't think Wildcraft would come out shooting but she wasn't wearing armor and didn't want the ceiling to be the last thing she saw on Earth.

"Archie!" she called with kind authority, as if she was hupping a wayward pointer. "Archie—it's Rayborn and Paul Zamorra!"

Silence. She moved across the entryway, noting that Wildcraft's cut-down shotgun no longer rested in the corner. She leaned through the kitchen entry then angled quickly in. "Arch?"

She looked to the counter and saw that his prescription bottles were gone. Through the mullioned windows of the breakfast nook she looked out to the pool, where Archie had conducted his press conference with Gary Brice. Sky-blue water, the yellow hibiscus in bloom, no Wildcraft. They quickly searched the house. Still no Wildcraft. There were two photographs missing from the music room wall, and three stone missing from the rock room. The master bedroom looked the same to Merci, except for a blank spot on one wall where a portrait of Gwen Wildcraft had hung.

In the master bath Merci found a loose wad of faintly bloodstained gauze lying on the counter.

"He took rocks, pictures, the riot gun and split," said Merci.

The garage still housed Archie's silver Boxster and Gwen's new white Durango. They checked the pool area and the grounds around the house.

They stood in the shade, not far from where Wildcraft had faller "What did he do, Paul,
walk
out of here?"

Zamorra looked at her.

They picked up a set of footprints leading down to the steps that wound through the wildflowers. The steps led to the gate. It was easy to see where the gate had been opened because it was out of plum and had scraped a fresh gash in the earth.

"That's where Brice came in this morning," she said.

"And probably where Archie went out. There's a car rental franchise down on Moulton Drive," said Zamorra. "It's not far. Put the stuff in a duffel. Leave it by the gate, walk down, get a car and come back for it. The deputies wouldn't even know he'd left the house."

"Goshdamnit, Paul. I should have seen this one coming."

"I didn't think he'd run. He had plenty of opportunity to do that earlier."

"It didn't cross my mind until Brice's stunt."

"It might not have crossed Archie's until then, either," said Zamorra. "That's why he didn't tell us Brice had been here. And Archie might have thought we didn't buy all his stories this morning. Which we didn't."

"It's too much to hope that he checked himself back into UCI Med Center, isn't it? Or went to his parents, or out to the Kuerners in Norco?"

"We'll see," he said, pulling the phone from his pocket.

"Dawes is going to love this."

"Everyone's going to—detectives let armed and dangerous murder suspect drive away." Zamorra mimicked the grave tone of a TV news intro:
"Or did the cops want him to get away? "

"Dial Abelera, Paul. And don't forget the partner, Damon Reese. Archie saved his life."

She looked out to the pale blue sky and listened to a hawk crying and cursed herself again for letting this happen.

They walked back to the driveway so Merci could quiz the deputies again. While Merci learned nothing at all, Zamorra used his cell phone and found out that the Wildcrafts hadn't seen Archie since leaving here just after one.