Friday Edition, The (21 page)

They had followed Sam from the time she left the
Perspective
Friday afternoon until she arrived at her apartment shortly before eight that evening.

Before she left work, Wilson told her to relax. “You love to go to the movies,” he said.

“But I really want to see April, if only she’d be willing to see me.” She sat heavily against the chair, trying to ignore the sticking pain in her right side.

Wilson studied her over his reading glasses.

“I’m going over after work, but she just doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. If something happens to her because of me, I might as well die, too.”

Wilson removed his glasses, folded them and slipped them in his shirt pocket. He folded his hands over a pile of papers on his desk. When he spoke his voice was quiet.

“Sam, nothing’s going to happen to April,” he said. “I think Jonathan has taken care of that as you asked him to.”

She glared at him.

“Look at what happened to Robin and now Rey. They made my sister’s death look like a suicide and his like an accident.”

“Do you want to stop now?” he asked.

“No,” she said and her voice was glum.

“I understand your predicament, Sam,” he said patiently. “You want to bring your sister’s killer to justice and expose this drug smuggling operation. But you want to protect the only true part of you that remains.”

She stared silently at him, nodding her head slightly. “Go see your daughter. Then go home and get some sleep. Come back Monday and hit it hard. By Friday, it’ll be behind us.”

She hoped it was that easy.

Sam arrived to see the police car sitting outside April’s bedroom window, with two officers inside and just in time to put April to bed. And, to her surprise, Jonathan let her tuck April in. She was asleep before Sam left her bedroom. At the door she turned out the light. She stood for a moment watching April sleep from the light that fell into the bedroom from the hallway. Sam smiled softly. April looked like a breathing portrait of innocence. She didn’t say good-bye to Jonathan when she left the house a few minutes later, and she felt happier than she had in weeks.

She went home and built a roaring fire. She fell asleep on the couch to the smell of wood and a crackling fire. When she woke at 3 a.m. the hearth was dark, but the lamp on the end table was still on. Five minutes later the house was dark and Sam was in bed with Morrison curled up at her feet.

The men had waited in the parking lot all evening for her lights to go out. Finally, when the apartment went dark, they called Captain.

He arrived within minutes. They spoke briefly. Captain stayed in the car and watched as they walked toward Sam’s Mustang. Within seconds they had popped the locks and were inside. Captain knew they had to work quickly. His eyes shifted often to Sam’s apartment. His mind worked overtime remembering the night he had driven to Robin’s place.

He had stayed in the car and stared at her condo a long time before he finally knocked on the door. He remembered the look in her eyes when she opened it. She was happy to see him, thinking he was there to help.

Robin’s eyes had come to him in a dream last night. He had awakened with beads of sweat on his brow, his heart racing. The last he remembered of the dream was Robin screaming as she fell to earth. It had been with him all day.

He turned his attention to the two men who were huddled inside Sam’s Mustang. He checked his watch; soon they would be finished. He tried not to think of what would happen to Sam after they completed their task.

He did not want to be part of this plan, but he knew now there was no way to get out. He was in too deep and had too much at stake. Captain had been staring at Sam’s bedroom window when they tapped at his car window. “It’s done,” one said. “She won’t feel a thing.”

Captain nodded silently and he watched as they drove from the parking lot. He stared a long time at the Mustang.

The explosive they set was not rigged to the ignition, but connected to the headlights. At dusk tomorrow evening, or the next time she was in her car at nightfall, it would be as they said. She wouldn’t feel a thing.

Captain drove away with some consolation in that her death would be quick and painless. He felt relieved that the last person who could expose their operation would be eliminated. Well. Not really. But he knew it was too late to turn back.

The rest of Sam’s
weekend passed uneventfully. She left her apartment once Saturday afternoon for groceries, but was home well before dark. She was home the rest of the weekend. She talked to Nona on Saturday morning and her telephone rang only once that evening, but it was a telemarketer, so she didn’t answer. She called to talk with April Sunday afternoon, but they weren’t home. She left a message, but the call was not returned by the time she went to bed.

She took a long, hot bath and went to bed at eleven. She felt tired but not enough to sleep. At 1 a.m., she was still staring wide-eyed into the darkness. Her thoughts worked overtime. Rey had been on her mind all day.

She had gone over everything they had uncovered during their short time together. Thoughts of the evening she had found his business card in her purse after she had been beaten persisted. She could see them the evening they had gone to the records department to look at the reports. She could see herself watching Rey as he marked his place with his business card. They thought they had retrieved all the cards, but they were wrong. “How foolish,” she said into the darkness. “How could we have been so stupid and careless with so much at stake?”

Then she remembered what Rey had said about the police reports. “The only pattern about these reports is that there is no pattern …”

But there had to be some kind of example—a link that pulled each of the reports together.
Come on, Sam, dammit, think.

Then the thought came to her with such strength that she sat straight up in bed. “Of course. That’s it. Why didn’t I think of it then?”

Her movement and the elevated sound of her voice woke Morrison and he snuggled closer. She stroked his chin. “That’s the answer, Morrison. Now the only question is how do I get back into the records room to confirm my suspicions?”

She remembered Shari, the dispatcher who had been so helpful. Sam decided against seeking her help. She wasn’t certain she could trust her. Sam knew there was only one person she could trust enough to get her inside that room and would tell no one that she had been there.

She would call him in the morning.

Sam woke Monday morning with a start. She showered and dressed quickly, fed Morrison and arrived at work shortly before nine. Nick Week’s office was still dark, but Wilson was in his talking on the phone. She poked her head inside. He motioned her to the chair. “Morning. How’s the bruises?” he said when he finished his telephone conversation.

“Much better,” she said. “But I’m still a little sore.”

“How are you doing otherwise?” he asked.

Sam had a grin on her face.
Today she felt hopeful, elevated by what she expected would be a revelation. She told Wilson her suspicions about the files in the records department. “You think the same authorizing signature is on all the drug-related records?” he asked.

“I have a feeling it is,” she said. “But I won’t know until I have another look.”

“You could be right, Sam, but how are you going to get in there?”

She sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders, wishing Rey were still alive. “I have one chance, Wilson, and …”

Her voice fell away. Wilson’s eyebrows drifted above his reading glasses as he waited for her to continue. “And?” he said.

“And … it’s through Brady Gilmore.”

Sam waited for Wilson to show his surprise, but he registered no emotion, instead spoke in a steady voice. “Brady? Sam, are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’ve been thinking about when he and Robin were together. They were still so close and they shared everything. I know they still spoke to each other in the strictest confidence. Robin never worried that Brady would reveal her secrets. She knew what she told him would stay with him.”

“You think Brady knows more than he’s saying?”

Sam pursed her lips and nodded.

The room was still as they quietly visited their own thoughts. Sam kept her attention fixed to a pattern on the floor, but when she felt Wilson’s eyes on her, she looked at him. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “How am I going to get Brady to tell me what he knows? And how am I going to let him know he can trust me?”

Wilson leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over the top of his head. “You’re not one of his favorite people,” he said.

“It’s been a long time since he’s wanted anything to do with me,” she said.

“Until the airport exhibit.”

“Yes, until then,” she said and stared at him across the desk.

Wilson was stroking his chin with his index finger. “It’s worth a shot. When will you call him?”

“I thought we might go for pizza after work, then to the police department.”

“Keep me posted,” he said.

Sam left Wilson’s office and phoned Brady. He returned her phone call quickly and, much to her surprise, agreed. She would tell him the rest at dinner. It was dusk when Sam headed to her Mustang. She unlocked the door, slid inside and gripped the steering wheel. It was cold and sent a chill racing up her spine.

She slipped the key into the ignition. She turned it over to start the car, but nothing happened. She stopped a moment and stared at the key in the ignition, checking it, as if she had done something wrong. She turned the key again. Nothing. Sam looked around. Wilson’s Honda Accord was the only other car in the parking lot. She went inside the building and found him working at his computer.

“Hey,” she said.

He looked at her then checked his watch. “You still here? I thought you left to get Brady.”

“My car won’t start. I think the battery’s dead. I have to call Brady and tell him I’ll be late.”

“Take my car,” Wilson said.

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll call my sister or get a taxi. This is more important and I don’t want you to keep Brady waiting.”

She looked at her watch. She was ten minutes late.

“I hate to see you be without a car,” she said.

“Don’t worry about me. We’ll fix yours tomorrow. Pick me up in the morning when you come to work.”

“Thanks,” she said smiling.

Wilson tossed her the keys and she headed out the door to Grandview City Hall.

Sam drove into the parking lot and relief washed over her when she saw that Brady was still standing at the main lobby doors, waiting for her. She rolled down the window and called to him.

“What happened to your cool Mustang?” Brady asked when he got inside Wilson’s Honda.

“Battery’s dead, I guess. I was coming to get you and when I tried to start it nothing happened.”

“Whose car is this?” Brady asked, eyeing the interior.

“It’s my publisher’s.”

“What does ‘Page 83’ mean?” he asked.

Sam looked at him puzzled. “Page 83?”

“It’s on the license plate. I saw it when you drove in.”

Sam hadn’t noticed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Wilson what it means.”

“But I like your car better. It’s cool.”

“I like it too, Brady. But I hope you won’t mind riding in this one tonight.”

“I’m glad you came, ’cause I was gettin’ hungry.”

“Me, too.”

They went to a small Italian restaurant on 38
th
Avenue between Wadsworth and Sheridan boulevards. The place was nondescript, but intimate and the food and service were always good. They spent an hour eating and talking. She told him why she needed to visit the records department after business hours. She was relieved he understood and was so willing to help.

By 8 p.m. they had returned to city hall. The double doors in the main lobby slid open automatically as they approached and dim lighting greeted them when they entered. They walked together down the central corridor until they reached the police department’s administration offices.

The small blue sign to the left of the door read:

Administration – Grandview Police

Brady used an alternate route to the records department so they could bypass the emergency dispatch operators. He held his wallet to the magnetic strip. When the light on the strip turned from red to green, he pulled the handle down and the door opened with ease. Sam followed him down one corridor, then another before they reached the hallway she recognized.

She had traveled this same path only a month ago with Rey. A yawning sadness pulled at her. She thought of his wife and daughters and wondered how they were coping. She thought of his little girls growing up without their father and, as she had often done, wondered why life was so unfair.

“This way,” Brady said, motioning for her to follow.

She smiled at him, though he did not see it. Her smile was for something new she had noticed in him. Brady was standing taller. His shoulders were firm and straight. His eyes were focused and had a clarity that she hadn’t seen in years. It was the determination and awareness that she saw in him now when he was on the basketball court.

“Can we close the door?” Sam asked when they reached the record’s room.

“Sure,” Brady said and shut the door softly.

When the door clicked shut, Sam’s heart, as if on cue, began to race. She knew she did not have the luxury of time or permission to be in this room. She was aware of the rush of adrenaline surging through her body. She turned to face the wall of files and felt her blood pumping along the sides of her neck. When she grabbed the first file, her hands were clammy and she ran them along the front of her slacks, smiling nervously at Brady. Then she shrugged off the anxiety and began to search the files.

Brady stood behind Sam looking over her shoulder. As she searched, she told him about the first night she had been here. She was surprised when Brady said he knew Rey.

“Do you know him because you work here?” she asked looking over her shoulder at Brady.

He shook his head.

“Did he help Todd with your basketball team?”

Again Brady wagged his head.

“Then how did you know him?”

“He was helping Robin.”

She swallowed involuntarily. She turned to face Brady. “You knew Rey was helping Robin?”

Brady nodded innocently.

Her inklings were confirmed. Brady did know. Robin had confided in him. He listened to what Robin had to say and then she would tell him their conversation was just between them.
“This is our secret,”
she would say.

Sam knew her sister. Robin would make Brady promise not to tell anyone. Not her. Not Todd. Not his father. No one on the basketball team. Not any employee at city hall. There was not much that Brady could do for Robin now, except one thing. Keep her secrets.

Sam returned the file to the shelf and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. When she spoke her voice was low and reflective.

“You knew what Robin had been doing, didn’t you, Brady? She waited for him to speak. She could see he was processing whether to tell her what he knew. He pulled nervously at his fingers and avoided looking her in the eye.

“Brady,” she said softly.

The sound of her voice brought his eyes to hers. He tried to look away, but she wouldn’t let him. “Brady, please. Please tell me. I can’t do this on my own. I … I need you. I don’t know where else to turn. I can’t trust anyone else. Please. I’m running out of time.”

Brady kept his attention fixed on Sam. She wondered if he could see the quiet desperation in her eyes.

“Robin liked to walk around the lake at Crown Hill,” he said.

“Crown Hill?”

Brady’s comment caught Sam off guard, but only for a moment before she registered what he was saying. She knew Robin liked going to Crown Hill, a 177-acre park that abutted a cemetery bearing the same name. It straddled Wadsworth Boulevard to the east and paralleled Kipling Parkway between 26
th
and 32
nd
avenues on the west.

The 1.5-mile Lake Loop Trail around Crown Hill Lake provided a breathtaking view of the foothills. It was a tranquil place to walk and weather made it accessible year round. Sam knew that Robin liked to walk there because bells from the cemetery chimed every half-hour, sending a soothing sound reverberating into the distance. Robin would often walk the loop alone or with a companion. The lake lent itself to conversation.

“You’d walk with Robin, wouldn’t you, Brady?” Sam asked surprised that she didn’t stop to think that Robin would walk the loop with Brady.

Brady nodded. “We went a lot,” he said. “But I couldn’t go around the lake as many times as she could. So we’d sit at one of the benches and talk.”

“And she told you everything.”

“Uh-huh.” Brady began to fidget with his fingers again. “But I did something wrong.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “What could you possibly do wrong, Brady?”

“Maybe I shoulda said somethin’ to Todd or you or somebody. Robin might be here now.”

She sighed softly, sadly. “Brady, you couldn’t say anything to Todd, me or anyone. You were doing what Robin asked you. She spoke to you in confidence. She asked you not to say anything and you were honoring that request. These people are very bad people and Robin was trying to protect you. She didn’t want you to get hurt. She didn’t want any of us to get hurt…”

Her voice fell away. Her mind was spinning.
If she had done differently would Robin still be alive?
“But we have to do something now, Brady. Robin would be the first to tell you it’s okay to tell me what you know.”

He turned from her and began to scan the files. “I don’t know where a lot of them are, but Rey and Robin were here one night and color-coded them.”

Sam frowned. “How did they manage to do that?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that call someone’s attention to the file?”

“Nah,” Brady said still searching the files. “It was just a little mark. Nothing so that anyone would notice.”

He found one of the files and showed her. “See.” He showed her a small red dot at the lower left-hand corner outside the manila folder. It looked inconspicuous enough. His eyes were smiling when she looked from the folder to him.

“Are these on all the files?” she asked.

“Just the ones Rey and Robin marked. I don’t know where they’re all at. But some of them I do.”

Sam swallowed hard as she took the folder from Brady. She was afraid to open it, afraid of the initials she might see on the report marked with the little red dot.

She took a deep breath, flipped the file open and began to scan the documents.

Written at the top of the report in bold lettering was:

Grandview Police Department

Evidence/Property Inventory and submission report

In a small box next to it was the case number. In the first column below were the initials of the arresting officer, followed by the item number, quantity and sub code. The next section began with the word ‘description’ and included enough space to write what had been confiscated during the arrest. A column called ‘disposition code’ followed.

She did not recognize the arresting officer’s initials, P.C.S. “Do you recognize those initials, Brady?”