Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (18 page)

He headed to the meeting room. As expected, all four members of his team stopped talking as soon as he stepped into the conference room and gave him their attention.

“Thank you for giving up a good night’s sleep and meeting with me on such short notice.” He shoved a hand through his hair for effect. “I just got this emailed to me.”

He tossed the eight-by-ten glossy photo on the table and waited for their reactions.

Harrison was the first to pick up the photo and study it as the others looked on. He glanced up. “I don’t get it. What is Stone doing with Gary Cho?”

Richard took in a deep breath and mentally prepared for his finest acting job. “He was hanging him. The noose is halfway over Cho’s head.”

He’d done a brilliant job retouching the photo to eliminate the red marks around Cho’s neck. The picture implied Stone was putting the rope around the neck, rather than removing it.

“This is impossible,” Tom chimed in.

“Pictures don’t lie.”

Harrison passed the photo to Nancy. “I’m glad to see Ms. Chapman appears to be alive, but why would Stone harm Mr. Cho?”

Richard had spent time preparing to answer that exact question. “To divert attention away from Peter Caravello.”

The team searched the faces of the other members. Tom looked more pissed than confused.

Nancy leaned forward. “Why would Stone want to protect a suspect?”

Thanks to one of his blackmailers, he’d extracted a lot of information about Stone Watson’s upbringing. Richard pulled up the remaining empty chair and sat.

“I think you all know that after Stone’s mother died, he was put up for adoption at age seven.”

The heads nodded. Richard continued. “Apparently neither his grandmother nor his aunt wanted custody, so he went in the foster care program.”

“That’s in his file,” Tom said.

“What does this have to do with Peter Caravello?” William said with more than a small amount of irritation.

“I’m getting to that. When Stone was nine, he got a Big Brother from the program. You’ll never guess who it was.”

Harrison’s jaw clenched. “Just tell us.”

“Nicky Caravello.”

All eyes but Tom’s widened. Interesting. He must have known about Stone’s childhood difficulties. Damn, he was going be a hard sell.

“Shit,” Harrison said. “So he was friends with Peter when they were growing up.”

“More like brothers. Peter’s mom died of cancer when Peter was fourteen and Stone nine. Given Stone was shuffled between four foster homes, he knew what it was like to lose a mom. The two bonded.”

Richard waited for them to figure out the connection.

William wove his fingers together. “When we arrested Peter, are you thinking Stone thought that if another juror died while Peter was in custody, we might let Caravello go?”

“That’s what happened, wasn’t it? One of the jurors died while Caravello was in custody, and we released him.”

Harrison nodded, the bags under his eyes pronounced. He was taking these deaths too personally. Richard pushed aside his growing guilt. He waited for the next question that someone surely would ask: What should we do next? He tapped his fingers on the table, then stilled. He wanted to wring their necks for being so dense. Did he have to draw them a picture?

“We’ll have a put an APB out on Stone and the girl,” Harrison said.

Good man, Harrison.

Tom shoved back his chair. “Listen to yourselves. Stone is one of us, not some criminal. Maybe he was taking Mr. Cho down after someone hanged him. Ever think of that? We can’t be sure whoever sent this photo didn’t doctor it.” He tapped the picture. “Ms. Chapman is in the background. No way he would harm Cho with a witness present.”

Richard needed to step in and stop this Stone-is-innocent crap. “I’ve thought of that, but there were no rope markings on Cho’s neck. There would be if Stone had found Cho hanging.”

“Where did you get this photo?” Harrison asked.

Richard had expected that question too. “It was sent to my iPhone.”

“From?”

“Number unknown.”

Tom slapped the table. “And you didn’t question the source?”

He didn’t want to go down that path. “I tried to get a trace, but couldn’t. Besides, what’s there to question? This is Stone with a juror in his arms. If you look closely, you can see two burn marks on the neck. I’m betting they came from a stun gun. That’s why Cho is limp.” He wasn’t sure they if they would see through his thin evidence, but it might deflect someone from drawing any link between him and the crimes.

The group remained silent for a good thirty seconds.

Harrison rubbed his eyes and blew out a long breath. “We have no choice. We have to bring Stone in and ask him.”

Perfect. He couldn’t have orchestrated the scene any better. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

No one stopped to discuss Watson on the way out. Good. They were all on board. He checked the atomic clock on the wall. It was late and his wife would hopefully be asleep. She always worried when he spent too many hours at work.

The usual forty-five-minute drive took only twenty-five. He pulled into the garage and headed for the kitchen for a much needed drink.

Once he mixed his scotch and soda, he went to check on the kids. No matter how late he dragged in, he made it a point to kiss them good night. Didn’t matter they rarely remembered the visit in the morning.

He opened Ethan’s door. The nightlight next to the bed glowed, but his son wasn’t in his bed. Ethan often liked to cuddle with his older sister after Kathleen had her operation. Soon he’d have to insist he stay in his own room, but for now he’d let him have his solace.

Richard stepped down the hall and eased open the door. The bathroom light poured into the pink and lavender room. Empty. His heart nearly exploded.

He raced to the master bedroom. Maybe Kathleen had had a relapse. Heart transplant patients were so unpredictable. He threw open the door, expecting to see the bedside lamp illuminating his family, all cozy in bed.

Kathleen opened her eyes. “Richard, what’s wrong?”

His palms sweat imagining something had happened to his two precious kids. “Where are the children?”

“In bed.”

“No they aren’t.” He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. Damn. She couldn’t afford any more stress.

Her hand flew to her chest, and he ran to her side.

He shouldn’t have upset her, but he needed answers. “Are you sure they aren’t spending the night with your sister and you forgot?”

“No. Claire is out of town this weekend.”

His mind had failed to sort through all of the possible scenarios when the phone rang.

He jumped up from the bed. “I’ll take it in the kitchen. It might be work.”

“Richard, please—”

His hand trembled as he ran out the door, blocking out his wife’s pleas.

“Hello?”

“Don’t worry. They’re safe.”

“Who is this?” He tried to keep his voice down to a whisper. He barely recognized the altered voice.

“You know.”

“What do you want?” His legs weakened, and he slid down to the kitchen chair.

“I want you to find Stone Watson and the girl and eliminate them.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for the last couple of days?”

“When they are both dead, I will return your children. I’ll be in touch.”

Chapter Fifteen

Stone hadn’t slept last night, worrying about whether the cops in Brevard had figured out who’d called in Cho’s murder. He mentally ran through everything they’d touched. Had he or Susan had left any trace evidence or disturbed anything other than the body? He’d wiped down the doorknob and the chair, but would they think to lift his prints off Cho’s neck where he’d taken the man’s pulse?

The big question was whether the Transylvania County police department was sophisticated enough to draw any conclusions regarding who’d been there. If the cops did check around town, a few people could attest to the fact two strangers were asking where to find Gary Cho’s place. Would the department call in a sketch artist and search all the databases for a match? He’d shown his badge to the Pisgah ranger, so how much would they learn from him?

Nothing he could do about it now. He thanked the gods he’d gotten an untraceable phone. The 9-1-1 dispatcher would be able to identify the caller as a woman, but since Susan hadn’t mentioned her name, they were in the clear on that account.

He’d secured a room forty miles away under an assumed name and even suggested they sleep in their clothes in case the police roused them in the middle of the night. When the authorities never showed, he began to relax, though he’d only slept in short bursts.

Faint light peeked through the gap in the curtains. He got up and debated whether or not to wake Susan. She looked too peaceful to disturb. During the night, she’d tossed and turned and had only settled down a few hours ago.

Around three this morning, she moaned and twisted around in the bed. He’d been tempted to crawl next to her and hold her, but then he’d want to have her again. Taking his mind off his job even for a moment could prove deadly to both of them.

He checked the time on his cell. T-Squared should be getting home from work about now. Even though he could call Tom at work, his friend’s ability to talk freely went to near zero when he was at the office.

Not wanting to wake Susan with the call, he bundled up and stepped outside. The sun was only now visible over the horizon, and the brisk breeze shocked his system awake. Several motel guests were piling into their cars, even at this early hour.

After three rings, Tom picked up.

“It’s Stone.”

“Jesus Christ. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours.”

“I tossed the Bureau phone and got an untraceable.”

“Smart. That’s why you didn’t answer. Where are you?”

“Asheville.”

“The shit hit the fan at work. You gotta hide.”

“What do you mean?”

“Richard produced a photo of you stringing up Gary Cho.”

The only thing keeping Stone upright was the anger rippling through his body. “That’s impossible.” He told his friend how he’d raced to save Cho. “Susan saw someone in the window. Shit. That’s when he must have snapped the picture. I’ve been set up.”

“I told them that. The photo could have been of you taking off the noose rather than putting it on.”

“It was. Cho was alive when we got there, so the killer had to be nearby.” He turned his shoulder to brace against the wind.

“Is Cho okay?”

“No. He died right after I took him down.” No need to mention Gary’s last words, or rather the last half of a word. “You said Richard had the photo?”

“Yeah. Said someone sent it to him.”

His mind swirled with possibilities, none that he liked. “When was this?”

“Around ten last night. He dragged in me, Harrison, William, and Nancy to discuss what to do. They weren’t pleased.”

So he brought in the heavy hitters. “I bet.” Stone leaned back against the motel wall. “Then it couldn’t have been Richard at the cabin.”

“Thomason? What have you been smoking?”

“Think about it. We put eight people under protection and five of their positions were compromised within a day or two. Only Thomason knew of their locations. He has to be the one leaking the information.”

“I got the info rather easily.”

“You’re the computer specialist who developed the firewalls.”

“True. Could have been Julie, then.”

Thomason’s secretary. “She’s nineteen and way too naïve to pull off a crime this sophisticated. With the series of kills, there have to be several different people involved, and I don’t see Julie having the brains to coordinate such an effort.”

“You might be right.” Stone thought Tom chuckled. “Besides, her old man would personally strangle her.”

“That’s true.” Julie’s father was third in line to be the director of the FBI.

“What time was Cho killed?”

Cho’s death seemed eons ago. “About two hours before Thomason showed you the photo.”

“Brevard’s a good day’s drive to Virginia, so he couldn’t have personally killed Cho.”

“He could have paid someone to do it.” He had no idea why Tom was protecting Thomason. Neither he nor Tom respected the man.

“What would be his motive?”

Tom would have to bring up the major hole in his theory. “Beats me.” Richard appeared to be an honest man, despite his uptight personality. If Stone had had a wife who’d just undergone a heart transplant, he’d be tense and accusatory, too. Richard had said the cost nearly bankrupted him. “What else did Richard have to say?”

“You won’t like it.”

A man slipped out of his motel room four doors down with a small overnight case and got into a black SUV, not even glancing his way. Stone’s body went to full warning mode. The car that had followed them from north Florida had been a black Ford. What was the probability they were the same vehicle? Slim.