The Reveal: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery (Book 6) (26 page)

Chapter 30

I leaned my head inside the
chief’s office. “You got a minute, Chief?”

He waved me in. “Where’s Ryan?”

“He’s at the hospital. That’s what I wanted to
talk to you about.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. The Virginia Rinaldi case broke this
afternoon. I want to fill you in on where we are.”

“Why is Ryan at the hospital?” His tone was a
little impatient.

“He went there with Abby Demarest. The porn-video
girl? She got tossed into the reservoir. He dove in and got her. He’s fine. We
don’t know about her yet. She’s alive, but whether she lost any brain function,
we won’t know that for a while.”

“Start at the beginning.”

“Abby Demarest met up with Martin Hunt, the idiot
from the fraternity, under the cross out at the dam. He beat her up, threw her
into the reservoir. Ryan jumped in and pulled her out. Abby and Ryan are at the
hospital. Martin Hunt is in Holding.”

His eyes narrowed. “I have a few questions.”

I nodded. “I thought you might.”

“Didn’t you tell me Abby was lying low? Why did
she go out to meet Martin Hunt?”

“I planted the story that we were arresting Krista
for the murder of Virginia Rinaldi.”

“The prostitute?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you said she didn’t do it.”

“I did say that.”

“So you’re not going to arrest her.”

“No, I’m going to arrest Martin Hunt. It might
take a while, but I’m going to arrest him.”

“How did you plant the story that we’re going to
charge Krista?”

“Chief, before I tell you, I want to be really
clear about this: This was my idea. Ryan didn’t want to do it.”

“How did you plant the story, Detective?”

“We couldn’t communicate with Abby because the
university was keeping her under wraps—”

“How did you plant the story, Detective?”

“I got Mary Dawson, the dean of students, to call
her.”

“So you lied to a dean at the university?”

“No, I didn’t lie to her. I talked her into lying
to Abby.”

“How did you do that, Detective?”

“Remember the university attorney, Arthur Vines?”

The chief waved his hand in a small circle,
telling me to continue.

“He’s trying to cover his ass about the death of
that girl, Jennifer Taylor, in the arson fire. He’s saying he offered her a
place to live so she wouldn’t be in danger, you know, if anyone came after
Abby. He’s lying.”

“How do you know that, Detective?”

“Because Ryan and I interviewed Jennifer after
Abby moved out. She didn’t even know that Abby was being harassed.”

“All right. So the dean apparently agreed with
you?”

I nodded. “I told her the truth—”

“Doesn’t quite sound like it to me, Detective.”

“Chief, I’m taking full responsibility. I’m not
gonna fight you on this. If you want my shield right now …” I pulled the chain
up over my head and offered him the shield.

“Why did the dean go along with your idea?”

I shook my head. “No idea. Maybe she’s got some
issues with the attorney, things I don’t know about. But I persuaded her that
if Abby thought we were gonna arrest Krista, she’d get in touch with Martin. I
knew Krista didn’t kill Virginia, and the only way to break this open was to
force the real killer out of his hole.”

“And the killer is Martin Hunt?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I know it, but I can’t prove it yet. Two reasons
I think so: One, the DNA under Virginia’s fingernails comes from a male. It
isn’t Richard Albright, the Jesus thug—we have his DNA on record—”

“He could’ve subbed out the murder.”

“True. But here’s the second reason. As soon as
Mary Dawson phoned Abby, she called Martin Hunt, not Richard Albright. Hunt is
the one she’s in with. When they met up, under the cross, he tried to kill
her.”

“So why can’t we charge Martin Hunt?”

“We can. We can charge him with two things. One,
rape. He and the other slugs in his fraternity raped Krista at the fraternity
party. And two, Ryan and I saw him beat up Abby and throw her into the
reservoir couple hours ago. That’s assault—at least. It’s a felony.”

“So, once he signs off on the assault, we get his
DNA.”

“Which we match to the DNA from Virginia’s
fingernails. Then we’ve got him for murder.”

“You say we have Martin Hunt in Holding right
now?”

“That’s right. I lied to him—told him Abby is
talking. So he’s churning it in his head. I mean, about what Abby’s telling us
about Virginia Rinaldi.”

“But we don’t know if Abby knows Martin Hunt
killed her.”

“True. But we don’t have to know exactly what he’s
worried about. My guess is that if we offer to drop the rape in exchange for
pleading to the felony assault, he’ll be so relieved we’re not thinking about
the murder charge he’ll sign a confession right now.”

“All right, Detective. Has he been assigned a
public defender?”

“Yeah, he’ll be ready in about an hour. You want
to run the interview with Hunt?”

“Why?”

I looked at Robert Murtaugh. “I assume you want my
shield, or at least pull me off the case.”

“Why would I want to discipline you?”

“For manipulating the dean.”

“You didn’t manipulate her. You laid out the
reasons for doing what you asked her to do. She didn’t have to do it.”

“For dragging Ryan into it.”

“No problem there, either. You said he told you he
didn’t like your idea, right?”

“Yeah, he made that clear.”

“But he chose to go along with you rather than
come to me. He always had the right to come to me. All police personnel can go
up the ladder if they think they’re being asked to do something improper.”

“I almost got him killed.”

“No, he almost got himself killed.”

“Yeah, well, we got lucky this time.”

“Why would I want to discipline you? You haven’t
explained.”

“I should’ve run the idea by you.”

“Why? Because I’m your supervisor?”

“I’m sorry, Chief. Won’t happen again.”

“Answer my question, Detective. Why should you
have run the idea by me?”

“Because you’re a cop. A really smart cop. You
might’ve seen something I didn’t see.”

“That’s right, Detective. I might have seen
something you didn’t see.”

I was looking down at the carpet, trying to keep
it together. Ever since I thought I’d gotten Ryan killed, I’d been a mess. I
looked up. The chief was looking at me hard.

“I’ve been chief for more than a year. I trusted
you to stay sober. And most of the time, you have. You’ve been an excellent
detective. Now it’s your turn to trust me. If you bring me an idea I don’t
like, you should want to know why I don’t like it. Not because I’m the boss.
Because I’m another cop, and I’ve been doing this a long time.”

I nodded. “What did I screw up?”

“Nothing. If you’d lied to the dean, that would
have been wrong—and stupid. It could’ve blown up in our faces. You were
straight with her, let her make the decision.” He paused. “But I’m not talking
about this case, Karen. You’re not hearing what I’m saying.”

I took a deep breath. “You have to understand
something about me, Chief. I’ve fucked up so many things for so long … I don’t
know. I didn’t want you to tell me how dumb I am. I’d rather just do it my
way—then let you fire me when it turns to shit.”

“I can’t have you working out your insecurities on
the job. You said you almost got Ryan killed. You’re wrong about that. But what
if you were right? If your plan didn’t work, and Ryan got killed. And you
hadn’t run it by me—because of your own issues. How good a detective would you
have been after that?”

I nodded, which was enough of an answer to the
chief’s question. The chief was right. If that had happened, I couldn’t have
stayed on the job. I’d probably be dead inside a month.

He paused a moment. “You don’t get to decide that
you’re unqualified to serve as a detective in this department. I do. When I
reach that conclusion, believe me, you’ll be the first to know. Work out your
personal insecurities off the clock. That shield you wear says Rawlings Police
Department. When you carry it, you’re a member of this department. The whole
department, including me. If you can bring that attitude toward the job, we all
have a better chance of getting the job done—and staying alive.

“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m putting a letter
of reprimand in your file. Failure to exercise professional judgment. Do you
have any questions?”

“No, Chief. That’s fair. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I took a moment. “Do you want to run the interview with Martin Hunt?”

“You don’t think you can handle it?”

I looked at him. “I’ll let you know how it went.”

He held my gaze. “I would appreciate that,
Detective. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, Chief. It won’t happen again.”

I left the chief’s office and headed to the
ladies’, where I tore into myself a lot harder than the chief just had. I threw
up some, cried a little bit. Then I cleaned myself up and tried to pull it
together.

I walked back to the bullpen and set up the
interview with Martin Hunt and the public defender for three this afternoon,
which would give me time to run over to the hospital and check on Ryan and Abby
Demarest.

I took the Charger over to the hospital and parked
in the horseshoe outside the emergency entrance. A squad car was already there.
Ryan must have called for a uniform to protect Abby in the ER or wherever she
was.

I checked in with the attendant, who told me there
was no “Demarest, Abby” in the hospital. I took out my shield and asked about a
wet young detective with a young woman, then a uniformed officer. She told me
to go to the second floor. I took the stairs. Ryan, the blanket still over his
shoulders, was talking with the uniform outside Abby’s room. When the uniform
saw me, he retreated a few feet to give me some privacy with Ryan.

“How’re you doing?” I said.

“I’m fine.” He smiled. “A little clammy.” He
pulled at the wet T-shirt clinging to his chest.

“I see. You get a chance to talk to a doctor?”

“They can’t tell yet whether she’s suffered any
significant cognitive damage.”

“She was under a couple of minutes?”

“That would be my guess. She’s conscious and
appears to track with her eyes, but she isn’t talking.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not what I told Martin Hunt.”

“He’s at headquarters?”

I looked at my watch. “We’re set to interview him
in about forty-five minutes. He’s with the public defender now. Here’s the
plan. We’re sticking with the story that we’ve arrested Krista for the Virginia
Rinaldi murder. This whole thing revolves around him believing we’re sure it’s
her. Then, we sell him the idea that we can nail him for rape at the party.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“We’ve got a girl’s selfie showing him dropping
something into Krista’s drink.”

“We do?”

“No, we don’t. We’re gonna offer to drop the rape
in exchange for the felony assault at the reservoir. Once he cops to the
assault, we get his DNA, match it to DNA under Virginia’s fingernails.”

“Why would he take the assault rather than the
rape?”

“Because the rape puts him on the sex offender
registry for life. The assault is a fight. A youthful indiscretion.”

“Did you run this by the chief?”

“I did. He’s good with it.” I spared him the rest
of my discussion with the chief.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“You tell the doc we want updates on Abby?”

“Yep.”

We headed out to the Charger and I drove us back
to headquarters. As we walked in the rear entrance to the building, Ryan said,
“Do I have time to shower?”

“Listen, Ryan, why don’t you head on home? I can
handle this.”

“No way I’m going to miss this one.”

“You sure?”

“See you in ten minutes.”

I walked over to the break room and got some
coffee. When I got back to my desk to sit down, I realized how wrung out I was.
My legs buckled and I almost fell into my chair. After everything Ryan had been
through today, he looked a hell of a lot better than I felt.

A few minutes later, I jumped when I felt someone
touching my shoulder.

“You okay, Karen?” Ryan looked concerned. “We’re
ready to go.”

“Absolutely.”

It took me a second to get my bearings and heave
myself out of my chair. We walked over toward the interview rooms. We went
through the door marked “Janitor,” into the passageway between the two
interview rooms where we watch through the mirrors.

Martin Hunt was seated at the table, his fist
tapping on the metal bar with the handcuffs. He wasn’t cuffed. His eyes darted
around, and his forehead was wrinkled in apprehension. It was obvious he knew
he was in serious legal trouble. Next to him sat his public defender, a grey
looking man of about fifty, scribbling on a legal pad.

“You know this guy?” Ryan said.

“He’s Gregory Macmillan. He’s okay. I was hoping
for a newbie.”

“We should be all right, though, don’t you think?
As long as he doesn’t know we like Martin for killing Virginia Rinaldi, we’re
okay.”

“Let’s hope so. I’ll be pissed if this thing blows
up.”

“By the way, did you get a chance to get the chief
up to speed?”

“Yeah, I did. He knows you pulled Abby out of the
water.”

Ryan shrugged his shoulders, like it was no big
deal. “I mean, about the story how we’re gonna arrest Krista?”

“He said he thought it might work. He’s giving me
a reprimand.” It just came out.

Ryan turned to me. “You’re kidding. What for?”

“For not running it by him first.”

“That’s crazy. It’s a good plan.”

“No, he’s right. I should’ve brought it to him,
with you there. That way, you could’ve said you didn’t like it. You could’ve
gone on record as saying no, convinced him you were right. A conversation with
the three of us would’ve been better than just you and me.”