Inadvertent Disclosure (16 page)

CHAPTER 25

Sasha was raising her hand to
knock again on the sheriff’s door, when he called out, “Come in.”

She took a long breath of the
hallway air before pushing through the door and into an enclosed space with the
sheriff. He swung his legs off his desk and made a halfhearted movement, as if
he were going to stand to greet her, but instead just slumped back into his
chair.

“Do you have a few minutes to
talk about our investigation, Sheriff?” she asked, hanging back near the door.

He flashed a toothy grin. “Did
you come to congratulate me?  I had a feeling about that hippie bastard who
attacked you.”

He waved her toward a guest
chair.

She walked over and took a seat
while she tried to formulate a way to back him off Jay as his only suspect
without insulting his police work.

She settled in the rickety
chair before she said, “Well, I understand from Deputy Russell that the
Sheriff’s Office is convinced this Jay guy shot the judge?”

“Damned straight,” Stickley
agreed, punctuating with a vigorous head bob.

She gave him a cool look. “Why
don’t you go ahead and run your theory and the evidence that supports it by
me?”

He raised his eyebrows but
didn’t speak.

“I’m the special prosecutor,
remember? Seems like I have a say in this.”

“Well, now, I don’t know about
that,” he said. “Seems to me, you were appointed to make sure one of our fine
barristers wasn’t mixed up in this, in light of the threats Judge Paulson had
been getting. But, some lefty wacko environut, who’s shown a propensity for
violence? Nah, wouldn’t say that’s in your purview.”

Anger flared in her chest. She
focused on keeping her pulse low and steady and her breathing slow and even. As
a rule, showing anger put a person at a disadvantage in a negotiation. She
tried hard to only let her temper show when doing so would throw her adversary
off his footing or otherwise benefit her cause.

When she was sure she could
speak calmly, she said, “Why don’t you just run it by me anyway?  Call it a
dress rehearsal for your upcoming press conference?”

He stared at her trying to
decide and then shrugged.

“Sure, okay. Jay Last Name
Unknown has been on the sheriff office’s radar ever since he viciously attacked
an unarmed female attorney in the municipal parking lot. He appeared to believe
she was involved in the hydrofracking industry, based on comments made before
the attack. That led us to tie him to the local environmental protesters known
as PORE. Led by one Daniel McAllister. Although the suspect is currently a
fugitive, he left a bag of clothing and other possessions at the residence of
Mr. McAllister, who gave this office permission to search it.”

He paused here and scratched
his neck, digging under his yellowing collar with dirty fingernails.

“The bag contained, among other
items, a document that set forth Judge Paulson’s afternoon routine, and a list
of sporting goods stores, which may have been where the suspect acquired the
hunting rifle used in the attack, the ammunition, or both. We are following up
on that now. Also in the bag were four mini-cassette tapes that appear to have
been stolen from the judge’s chambers.”

Sasha cut him off.

“What’s your theory on how Jay
gained access to chambers?  It was an active crime scene. Russell was posted at
the door during business hours and you took the keys into evidence.”

She didn’t plan to mention tape
number two. She’d see what, if anything, Stickley said about it.

Stickley appraised her with a
measured look. Then he leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice.

“I’ll tell you my theory but it
is not for public consumption. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

He yanked open his top desk
drawer and took out a manila tag with a number printed on it.

“I haven’t shared this piece of
evidence with anyone yet, but the duffel bag also contained the evidence tag
from the judge’s set of keys, which were removed from the evidence locker by
person or persons unknown at some point yesterday evening. The keys themselves
remain missing.”

He held up the tag toward her
for a minute and then returned it to his drawer.

“I believe Jay is working with
someone in this office—quite possibly Deputy Russell, as much as it pains me to
say it. Russell cannot know the evidence tag was in the duffel bag.
Understand?”

Not Russell. Stickley was just
trying to misdirect her. Stickley took the keys; so, of course, he’d have the
tag. It didn’t implicate Russell.

She stopped herself. She didn’t
know Russell from Adam. Or Stickley or Gloria, for that matter. She didn’t know
any of these people. She was making snap judgments based on the fact that
Russell made good coffee, Stickley stunk to high heaven, and Gloria seemed
nice.

That was foolish. And
dangerous. Daniel, her Krav Maga instructor, had a mantra: Niceness isn’t a
character trait. It’s a tool.

People are nice in an effort to
gain something. A person could be pure evil to the core and make the decision
to be nice to get his way. Her job was not to be taken in by a display of
niceness.

She considered the sheriff.

“Do you really believe it’s
Russell?”

He shook his head, “I don’t
know what to believe. But the sooner I flush out this Jay bast—, er, character,
the sooner I’ll know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for our press
conference.”

He pushed his chair back and
moved toward the door.

She stood up to follow him.
“Wait. Our press conference?”

He jerked the door open and
gave her another big smile.

“Why, yes, ma’am. You’re going
to thank this office for its diligent work and announce that your investigation
is closed. Go on, now, I’m sure you’ll want to check your makeup or what have
you.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sasha stormed back to her
temporary workspace and sped by Gloria without saying anything. She shut
herself up in the office and tried to decide what to do next.

Connelly really didn’t want Jay
to be named as the suspect, and she didn’t know why. Stickley was hell-bent on
tying up the investigation with a big red bow and sending her on her way. She
had serious reservations about his investigation. And about Gloria’s truthfulness.
And maybe about Russell, too.

A band of sharp pain radiated
from above her left eye out around her ear and toward the back of her head.
Tension headache.

She walked over to the window
with its cardboard square marking the bullet hole and stood, looking out over
the square. Trying to cut through the noise in her brain and formulate a plan.

Her ringing phone interrupted
her efforts. She picked it up from Judge Paulson’s desk and checked the
display.
Unknown Caller.

“Sasha McCandless.”

“Sasha, it’s Bob Griggs.”

“Sir.”

“Just calling to congratulate
you on your fine, fine result. I understand we have a lead suspect.” The
attorney general’s voice was upbeat, almost jolly.

“I can’t really take credit for
that,” she said.

She paused, considered what she
was about to do, and then forged ahead. “In fact, I have some concerns that the
sheriff’s office is rushing to judgment, sir.”

His tone got serious fast.
“What makes you say that?”

“Well, a number of things. For
one—”

He cut her off. “Actually, it
really doesn’t matter, does it?  You were appointed because the chief judge had
concerns that a member of the bar was involved. Have you found any evidence of
that?”

“No, but my investigation isn’t
even twenty-four hours old. I think—”

He jumped in again. “And, of
course, you don’t have any law enforcement experience, so your judgment of the
sheriff’s investigation can best be called uninformed, don’t you agree?”

That stung her into silence for
a second, but then the words came out before she could stop them. “With all
respect, I have the same qualifications I had yesterday when you appointed me
the special prosecutor.”

He softened. “Of course, of
course. I don’t mean to offend you. The Attorney General’s Office—indeed, the
Commonwealth—is grateful to your service on short notice and under the
circumstances. I’ll have the press office draw up a very complimentary release.
Now, with my personal thanks, your service is no longer required.”

The band of pain spread from
the back of her head and circled all the way around to her right temple,
creating a halo of pressure. She considered how best to argue against this
course of action, and the image of Judge Paulson and Chief Justice Bermann
smiling into the camera at some chicken dinner flashed into her head.

“Has Chief Justice Bermann
agreed to shut down the investigation?”

He answered with an undercurrent
of warning in his voice.

“The chief justice would never
presume to meddle in a criminal investigation. He’s well aware of the division
of power. Now, it’s time for you to go back to Pittsburgh and savor your
victory. Add it to your resume and move on.”

CHAPTER 26

Sasha’s cheeks still burned
with impotent anger. Having to stand next to the rank-smelling sheriff and
smile and nod while he puffed out his chest and trumpeted his great detective
work to two local newspaper reporters and a field reporter for the nearest
television station had not improved her headache.

She’d made a beeline from the
courthouse steps to Gloria’s house. She wanted to get out of town as quickly as
possible.

She was throwing files into her
briefcase, haphazardly, and perhaps with more force than was strictly
necessary. She had already shoved her clothes into the overnight bag and tossed
it by the door.

Judge Paulson’s cats had sensed
the gathering storm as soon as she’d come into the apartment and had slunk
under the judge’s bed to wait it out.

Gloria tapped on the door and
eased it open slightly.

“Sasha, may I come in?”

“Sure,” she said without
looking up from her packing.

Gloria approached her, holding
a cardboard recipe box that bore a drawing of a rooster on one side and the
words “Kitchen Favorites” in a flowery font on the other.

“Here, I know you wanted my
stew recipe and my sourdough bread recipe.”

She thrust the box toward Sasha
like it was burning her hands.

Sasha took it and stared at the
woman.

“Uh . . . thanks?”

She had complimented Gloria’s
cooking at dinner, both to be polite and because the food had tasted good. But,
Sasha most certainly hadn’t asked for any recipes. She’d sooner change the
brakes in her car than attempt to make bread from scratch. Maybe Connelly had
asked for them.

Gloria went on, “I know you’re
in a hurry, so I didn’t take the time to copy them. Those are the originals,
but I don’t need them. Goodness, I have them memorized.”

Sasha shrugged and tossed the
box on top of the papers in her bag. She fastened the briefcase’s buckle and
scanned the room, looking for any items she’d forgotten to pack.

“Well, I guess that’s it. Is
Leo downstairs?”

“Yes, he and Jonas are on the
porch. Are you sure you aren’t going to stay for the memorial service?  Luke
and Linnea are coming in tomorrow; I’d like for you to meet them.” Gloria’s
eyes got soft at the mention of the service.

The woman was a cipher. She
seemed so kind, but she was clearly keeping secrets.

Whatever. It wasn’t Sasha’s
problem anymore. She’d been dismissed.

“I really need to get back to
Pittsburgh, Gloria. I’m sorry. I’d like to meet your children some time. They
sound like great people. And I wish I could stay for the memorial service, but
I’m a one-woman show and my work is really piling up.”

It was true, she had plenty of
work waiting for her at home. But the reality was, she wasn’t sticking around
for the memorial because she wanted to lick her wounds in private.

Gloria nodded. “I understand.”

The cats, sensing a drop in the
tension in the room, emerged from the bedroom, stretching and preening.

“Did you say goodbye to Deputy
Russell?” she asked, petting Atticus Finch.

“I left him a message. I’m not
sure where he is, actually. He didn’t show up at the press conference.”

Sasha’s doubts about Russell
were growing. Again, whatever. Not her concern.

She sighed and hefted the bag
onto her shoulder.

“Gavin’s a good man, Sasha. I
know it. He may have gone out to visit with his folks. They’re kind of isolated
out there in Firetown and now that the last well on their land is active,
they’re keeping to themselves even more.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, it’s so hard to explain
what’s happened here. At first everybody thought fracking was going to save the
town. So much money was coming in. Everybody was for it, even people like us,
who don’t own property on the Shale.”

“And now?”

“Well, now, the town’s
fractured, I guess, you’d say. Brothers and sisters not speaking. The school board
voting to lease the rights under the playground and the parents up in arms.
People lighting their well water on fire and posting it on YouTube. But, then
you have people like Bob, selling the diner, and cashing out, retiring to
Florida. Or even us; I mean, look at Luke. He just graduated and has a good,
secure job thanks to the Shale. It’s a mess is what it is.”

Sasha didn’t know what to say.

“And poor Judge Paulson, so
worried about every decision and its impact on future generations. He never
said anything, mind you, but I could tell. It was taking him longer and longer
to get out his decisions that involved the Shale. I wonder what will happen
with a new judge?”

It was a question without an
answer.

Gloria made an awkward move
toward her, and Sasha realized the woman was going to hug her.

She hugged her back, surprised
at the intensity of Gloria’s embrace, and said, “Thank you for everything. Take
care of yourself.”

She bent to pet the cats, who
were now rolling around, exposing their furry bellies in a bid for attention.

Then she walked through the
door and down the stairs.