Dead Center (The Rookie Club Book 1) (38 page)

"Could it be an old print?" Hailey asked. "Some sort of joke thing they gave out a long time ago?"

"We don't think so," Carl cut in. "It was a brand-new car. Wesson only had it a couple weeks before he died."

"And Fredricks' is the only print on the button," Sydney added.

Hailey realized she'd screwed up big-time. She'd missed something on the Dennigs. There was a third person, had to have been. "What about the button from the last scene? Was there a print on it?"

"We're running it again. It was only a partial. We didn't have enough to get a match the first time."

Stephanie crossed the rooms, rolling the gloves off her hands. "Under the scope, it looks like the same print. You can see the tented arch in both."

Hailey shook her head, stared at Sydney. "You were right."

Sydney didn't acknowledge that. She merely said, "We'll send the buttons out to be sure."

Hailey nodded as her phone rang.

"Hailey." It was Mackenzie's voice, breathless.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I just got the full list of awards."

"Who's on it?"

"Chip Washington."

"It can't be Washington—he's—" She stopped herself. What? He's an attorney? Was that a defense?

"Jamie's not answering her cell phone and he's not in his office," Mackenzie continued.

"Maybe her battery died," Hailey said, not at all reassured by her own words.

"I'm going down to her office now," Mackenzie said. "If I can't find her, I'll go to his."

"Mackenzie, wait."

"I can't. This place's empty. Why wouldn't she answer her cell phone?"

Hailey turned back to Sydney. "I've got to go."

Sydney nodded as Hailey ran for the door. "I'm at the lab, but I'm leaving now. I'll meet you there. Don't go anywhere until I get there."

"Hurry!"

Hailey sprinted across the linoleum and up the few steps to the gravel parking. Her feet kicked up dirt as she dashed to her car. Breathless, she yanked the door open, jammed her key in the ignition. She revved the engine and threw it in reverse, tires spinning on the gravel. She tried to tell herself it was nothing. Jamie was in her office, had turned off her phone.

As she sped up the road out of the naval station, she fumbled with her phone to dial the department's main number. When it was answered, she asked for Washington's line. Thirty seconds passed and she heard his voice mail. She hit end and dialed the main number again.

"This is Inspector Wyatt. I'm trying to reach one of the assistant district attorneys—Chip Washington. Do you have a cell phone number for him?"

"Sure. Want me to connect you?"

"Please."

Hailey listened to it ring as she raced through the streets toward the Hall. She hit a yellow light, flattened the accelerator to the floor.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then she heard a click and a woman's voice. "Hello."

"Jamie."

"No, I think you have the wrong number."

"I'm sorry. I was trying to reach Chip Washington. Did I dial wrong?"

"No. This is his cell phone."

"My name is Hailey Wyatt. I'm an inspector with the SFPD. Is Chip there?"

"Oh, hello. This is his wife, Shirley. No, I'm afraid he's not here."

Hailey squeezed her eyes closed. Shit.

"I think he's still at the office," Shirley went on. "He left his cell phone at home."

Hailey shook her head. "Is there another number I could try?"

"You tried the office?"

"No one answered."

"He might be on his way home then. He always has his cell phone, but his car got hit last week, so it's being worked on."

Hailey held her breath as she sped around another corner. "Mrs. Washington, can I ask you something?"

"Oh, please. Call me Shirley."

"Shirley?"

"Sure."

Hailey thought about Tim Worley. As she turned right onto Third from 25th, she asked, "Does Chip stutter?"

"Oh, Lord, no."

Hailey exhaled. This was all wrong. Thank God.

"I haven't heard him stutter since law school. Well, once in a while when he's really upset."

Hailey couldn't bring herself to say anything else. She punched the end button and dialed Jamie's cell phone again. There was no answer.

Her heart racing, Hailey called the main number and told them to pull together every available officer to start combing the building for Jamie Vail. She called Mackenzie. The rookie didn't answer.

She dropped the phone onto the seat beside her and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

Tried to bargain with God again. Please, save Jamie.

She pressed the accelerator to the floor and prayed she made it there in time.

Chapter 38

Jamie moved slowly across the office despite the gun Washington had jammed in the small of her back. It was her backup gun and she knew it was loaded. He held it in a Lysol wipe he'd pulled from his desk drawer—the same kind he had used to wipe down Devlin's desk after he'd killed her.

She knew why—this was going to look like a suicide if he had his way. She was a perfect candidate. Even she thought so.

"I almost dumped the stupid thing," he said softly, nodding to the trophy. "But the department is always encouraging us to show them off, like some fucking award makes the public feel more confident about our abilities. I thought it would be too obvious if it was missing, so I left it."

"What happened, Chip?"

"God, she was such a whore!" He tensed, aggravated, and he shoved the gun into her spine.

She let him talk, trying to think of a way out. Nothing came to her. She was trapped.
Think, damn it
. All that came to mind was: not twice in two days.

Cracking the office door, he peered out. Pushed her into the hallway.

"You didn't mean to kill her," Jamie whispered.

"God, no. I came to see her, to congratulate her on her award." His breathing was labored as he urged her forward. "We'd been together for a few weeks. Only a few times. But when I saw her with"—He moaned—"that old man. I was so disgusted. I was so angry."

She considered running. She ached, could barely walk, and the gun was too close. She didn't doubt he would shoot. He couldn't miss.

She considered a bullet. She could take one, but not in the back—not if she ever wanted to walk again. Panic gripped her. She fought to stay calm. She would think her way through. She had a few minutes. She could do this.

Washington gripped her arm as they passed through the empty hall. He stopped at the stairwell, motioned her to open the door. She did, praying someone would be just inside. Empty.

They were eight floors up. Someone would be here. It was the Hall. Even at night, there were always people.
Just be calm. Distract him.
Her heart jackhammered in her chest.

"It was an accident, right? You didn't mean to hurt her."

Washington didn't seem to hear her. "She was fucking an old man right there on her desk."

They started slowly down the flights. Jamie's back throbbed, her legs shaky as she descended.

"It was so awful," he said.

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I couldn't! I was frozen. I was so appalled, so humiliated." His breath hissed through his teeth. "Then I got angry. I was so angry."

"Deputy Chief Scanlan left her office."

"Yeah. He hiked up his pants and walked out, shining like a sweaty pig."

"Scanlan didn't see you?" she asked.

"No. I ducked into the custodial closet and watched him get into the elevator. Then I went back to her office. And when she saw me, she had the nerve to ask what I was doing there. That bitch," he snarled. "You're all bitches," he added, thrusting Jamie toward the next flight of stairs.

Jamie stumbled, grabbed the banister, pain rocketing through her rib cage. She tripped, caught the rail. Tried to swallow the pain. Tears pressed in her throat. "She just used you," she whispered. "She used all of you."

"No. It was different with us. At least until that night."

Jamie grew shaky, weak. She drew her anger to fight the weakness. She would not give up. "Bullshit," she said to him. "She fucked you the same as the others."

"No." Washington launched himself at her. Her hand slipped from the banister. She fell forward as he slammed the gun into her skull. The crack hit her just above her right ear. She toppled to her knees on the concrete stairs. The walls spun around her.

She hung her head, fought the urge to vomit. As her vision cleared, she thought to roll. The gun was right back on her. Too slow. She was too slow.

"It was different," he said again. "You don't know. I'm not like those others—like Worley or Scanlan. She wanted to be with me, but she let the others have her. I knew about them, but I thought it was over until I came in and saw them.

"She acted like the whole thing was funny, like it was no big deal. She'd had too much to drink and she started to egg me on. She made fun of me and we fought. I pushed her. That's all. Just one push. She tripped on her goddamn shoe.

"She fell and hit her head. That's how she died. It wasn't my fault. It was an accident. I'm not going to jail for it. If she hadn't been such a whore, it never would have happened. She should have been loyal. I was loyal to her."

"Loyal? You're married!"

His frown deepened.

They reached the fourth floor. Still no one. She dragged a breath, changed her tactic. "I'm not the only one who knows."

"Your partners, Hailey and Mackenzie? I know about them, too. It's a big mess, but it's not my fault. I just have to clean it up; then it'll be over. I can forget about that whore and get back to my life."

Jamie remembered. "You told the press about her list."

"Sure. I wasn't on it. It gave you idiots an entire list of folks to chose from, men she'd screwed. Put a little pressure on, get the case closed fast. But you couldn't handle that, could you?"

She stopped midway between the second and third floors, bracing the steel rail as she lifted her head. She blinked at the white spots.

"Move," he commanded, thrusting her forward. She stumbled, wondered what time it was. Was it almost nine? Would Tony be waiting for her? Would he come after her?

"Where are we going?"

"Just go."

She stepped down the next stair. Pain resonated through every inch of her. And still, her mind turned the pieces of it, trying to get it to all fit. She looked at him, forced her back straight. "You killed her, Chip. Even if it was an accident, you left her there and she didn't deserve that."

He let out a growl, shoved her. She pitched forward, tumbled down the stairs. Crumpled on the landing, she could barely lift her head. Tears streamed freely down her face. The pain was like a vise on her skull. She moaned.

When she opened her eyes, he stood above her. "I didn't kill her. I pushed her, that's it. I hit Worley that night. I just pushed you. He's alive; you're alive. It was bad luck. That's all. And it wasn't my fault."

She tasted blood, swept her hand across her mouth.

"G-get up!" he shouted, the vein in his neck like a rope along the skin.

Let him shoot, she thought. "N-n-n-o," she mocked.

He hoisted his foot to kick her again. She closed her eyes, stiffening against the blow. But instead he gripped her hair. He jerked her head up. "That's enough. I'm in control here, not you."

Blood trickled down her chin like dribble. She looked at his brown eyes, at the way his lips snarled as he spoke. He and Marchek were two of the same. Two beasts. At least she'd gotten one. "Fuck you. Chip."

He dropped down and shoved the gun in her neck.

Their faces were inches apart. She could smell his breath, the scent of sweat.

His hand still gripped her hair at the base of her neck. He used it to drag her to her feet as he rose.