Till Justice Is Served (3 page)

"Good. Let's get started. Penelope Holdstrom was found dead early this morning. Her mother discovered the body when the girl's alarm went off but continued to blare. She'd been stabbed multiple times. Crime scene investigators are analyzing blood spatter and searching for clues. My sources tell me something was printed on the wall of the girl's bedroom." Harold made a note on his pad.

"What did it say?" Erin asked.

"My source either didn't know or couldn't reveal that information."

A look of defeat slid across Erin's face. She dropped her head forward and cradled her face in her hands. Her fingers massaged her temples. If she was faking revulsion to such a heinous crime, Rafe was impressed as hell. When she lifted her head, the pain radiating from her eyes hit him in the gut.

"I can't imagine the horror of walking in to wake your child and finding her murdered." The healthy glow of Erin's creamy complexion had vanished. If anything, she was pasty white. Death, sometimes bloody and gory as hell, had become the norm in Rafe's world, but not hers.

"How could anybody believe I could do something like this?" Erin pulled the rubber thing from her ponytail and dropped it on the coffee table, allowing her hair to fall in waves well past her shoulders.

All those waves tumbling and sliding across her neck sent a bolt of heat blazing through his veins. The image of his hands buried deep in those silky strands flashed through his mind. He started to speak, but his breath caught.

"Everybody in this room is here to support you," Harold assured her.

Rafe didn't comment for fear his voice might crack like a teenager's. Truth be told, he was leaning toward believing in her innocence. Experience had taught him never to assume. This last undercover operation busted a drug ring run by the sweetest-looking grandmother in Dade County. The sixty-five-year-old woman wouldn't have hesitated to slit anyone's throat if they had crossed her or her family. She and her son were currently sitting in a federal prison awaiting trial.

"This murdered girl," Rafe asked. "When did you last have contact with her?"

Erin turned to face him. Her eyes revealed nothing, but her mouth drew to a tight line. "Does that matter?"

"It does to me. I'm going to look into your situation from the perspective that you're innocent."

She turned toward Jeff, who'd folded his arms across his chest. "Erin, girl, Lotty and I love you. I'll call in the devil himself if I have to."

Erin mumbled something that sounded like, "Looks like you already have."

Rafe kept his mouth shut, opting to send her a smile.

"I'm sorry," she added quickly. "I keep waiting to wake up and discover this was all just a nightmare."

"No problem," Rafe said, feeling like a dick for not being a little more understanding. "Let's try this again. When did you last see the girl?"

Erin's shoulders shuddered. "I hadn't seen or spoken to Penny since the day I laid that plastic bag of yellowish powder on Principal Mueller's desk."

"Back up and tell me how the drug came into your possession," Rafe said.

"Penny's grades had fallen drastically over the past semester. I'd called her to my office to talk about them. She became defensive and angrily grabbed her purse to leave. It slipped from her hand and hit the floor. The contents scattered. I knelt down to help her, and there next to my knee was the clear plastic bag. She shoved me, trying to get to it first."

"But you beat her to it."

"Yes. I tried to get her to talk to me. She denied knowing where it came from or how it got into her purse. She refused to say a word, so I escorted her to the principal's office." Erin paused and rubbed her temples again.

Rafe didn't push her to continue. He had to know everything she remembered, but she needed to move at her own pace.

"I left Penny with Principal Mueller's assistant. I went in his office, put the baggie on his desk, and then explained what had happened."

"When did he notify the police?"

"Not until after he'd called Penny into his office and asked where she got the drugs." Erin's color paled. "At first, she claimed to have no idea how they got into her purse. I reminded her that she'd almost knocked me over trying to get it away from me. Her face crumpled, and she began to sob. Principal Mueller waited a few seconds before asking her again where she got the drugs.

"When she lifted her head, there wasn't one sign of a tear. As calmly as anything, she said I'd made sexual advances toward her, that she'd rejected me, and I was trying to get even." Erin's hands covered her stomach. "It was as if she'd flipped a switch in her head. She looked me in the eyes and said I'd warned her that I'd get even. Right in front of us, she'd morphed into a different person."

"Then the principal reported the drug find?" Rafe asked, providing a gentle nudge to keep Erin talking.

"Yes. He notified city law enforcement, the school district police, and Penny's parents." Erin shook her head, keeping her gaze focused on the floor. "The rest of the day only got worse."

"How so?" Rafe asked.

"The police treated me as if they believed her accusation. The district sent an investigator, who at least started out friendly. His attitude changed after he heard Penny's side of the story. By the time they were finished with me, I was embarrassed, hurt, and angry. I was sent home, pending results of the investigation."

"That scenario certainly sounds like a motive for murder, but you're innocent until proven guilty," Harold said. "The police need hard evidence in order to file charges."

Rafe had been so zoned in on Erin, observing every facial and body movement, that he'd almost forgotten Harold was taking notes.

"They may have it." Erin's bottom lip quivered. "Sara Monroe came forward this morning and claimed to have heard me threaten Penny."

Harold dropped his pen on the legal pad and leaned toward Erin. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I'm sorry." Erin's tone was defensive. "Her statement makes me the logical suspect."

Harold waved his hand as if wiping out Erin's words. "Motive and hearsay do not constitute hard evidence. Finding your DNA or fingerprints at the crime scene would be hard evidence."

Rafe bit back an argument. He'd been involved with more than one trial where a sharp district attorney had spun an airtight case using circumstantial evidence. Harold could soft-pedal the situation all he wanted. Truth was, Erin was in a lot of trouble.

A knock on her front door interrupted the discussion.

Erin sprang to her feet. Rafe caught her arm just before she turned the knob. "Let me take a look first."

"Aren't you being a little paranoid?" Her eyes dropped to his hand on her arm. "My life's not in danger."

"You're sure about that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't a plan to discredit me be useless if I'm dead?"

No way was he backing down, but he released her arm. "Humor me."

She huffed out a breath, then peered through the peephole. Yes, sir, she'd grown into a nicely proportioned woman. The evidence was right in front of him. He felt a stirring in his groin that he mentally batted away.

"It's my neighbor."

"Company? That's what you need." He released her arm and stepped back.

She opened the door and gasped. "What the hell?"

Rafe slid one arm around her waist and pulled her behind him, placing himself between her and the man on her porch. Rafe quickly realized what had shocked her. A handful of local TV station vans were parked in front of her house. Half a dozen reporters ran up the sidewalk, all shouting questions.

Rafe stepped back and allowed the neighbor to come in, then slammed the door closed. "Vultures, every one of them," he mumbled.

"We agree on that." Erin's tone of voice had lost its edge.

Her gaze met his and held for a second. It was long enough for him to see how hard she was working to hide her fear. Erin was scared. He understood. Her entire life was in shambles, and she was about to become nationwide news.

"I found this propped against the door," the neighbor said, handing her a manila envelope.

"What's this?" she asked, ripping the packet open.

Rafe reached to stop her but too late. She'd opened the damn thing and had removed the sheet of paper. She turned toward Rafe, stumbling backward. She held the page away from her body as if it were about to explode. He read the one word aloud.

"Murderer."

Rafe spun toward the neighbor. "Who are you?"

"Linc Hawkins," Erin answered. "He's installing the new computer system for the high school."

Rafe nodded to the neighbor. "Erin," Rafe said, "where would I find a couple of baggies?"

"Check the cabinet by the sink. Middle shelf." Erin still held the note away from her body. He liked her savvy. She knew she was holding something important.

Wearing plastic bags in lieu of gloves, Rafe took the letter from Erin and placed it on her breakfast bar. Then he picked up the envelope, which she'd let flutter to the floor.

Harold studied the note from a few feet away. "You need to give this to the cops."

"Why let them know everybody is passing judgment even before all the facts are in?" Erin's tone was defiant.

"Doesn't matter," Harold insisted. "If you get ten of them, you should call ten times."

"I'll call Detective Beckett." Erin fished a card and her cell from her pocket. She walked to the sliding glass doors overlooking her backyard.

Her hands trembled. She was hiding her shot nerves exceptionally well, and Rafe respected how she hadn't fallen victim to self-pity.

"Erin isn't capable of killing anyone," the neighbor said.

Rafe wanted to know more about the neighbor. "Linc, isn't it?"

"Yes. I live next door."

"How long have you known Erin?"

"Just a few months, but that was enough to learn how much she cares for the kids at the school."

Rafe sized up the neighbor while he talked. Calm and unruffled by the note he'd delivered to Erin, Linc Hawkins looked like he should have been hanging ten off a twenty-foot wave in his board shorts and faded T-shirt. His curly blond hair fell in every direction.

"And you live nearby?" Linc asked, turning the question back on Rafe.

Erin rejoined them. "Rafe's with the FBI. He's a friend of Jeff's."

"I see." Linc nodded while backing away. "I'll get out of the way. If the cops want to talk to me, I'll be home or at the high school." He paused. "Want me to call 911 and complain about these news people?"

"I doubt it would do any good," Harold said. "As long as they stay off private property and don't block traffic flow, they're not breaking any laws." He stood, buttoning his jacket as he rose.

"I couldn't reach Detective Beckett, but a patrol car will be here soon." Erin's voice sounded stronger.

"If I'm outside when they arrive," Harold said to Erin, "give them the note and tell them exactly what your neighbor said. Direct them to him if they have questions. I'll be right out front addressing the media. It's best to meet them head-on."

"When you come back inside, we need to talk about your retainer."

"I'm leaving after I speak with the press. I have a late appointment with another client. You'll be fine, if you do as I said." He smiled, grasped the bottom of his suit coat, and snapped it into perfect alignment. "Your retainer has been covered."

Rafe figured Jeff had already committed to paying whatever it cost to get her the best representation. Exactly like Rafe's dad had done for Nick on a couple of small arrests.

Erin removed her buzzing cell phone from her pocket. She rose and walked toward the kitchen area. Rafe decided to offer his services to Harold.

"You're going to be swarmed. Need an escort?"

"No doubt you could scare them back." Harold waved Rafe off. "But it's not necessary. I'll talk to them. Feed the beast, so to speak. Maybe I can satisfy their hunger."

Rafe watched Harold cross the yard, marveling at the man's forbearance as the press crowded around. He smiled like a rock star, shook hands, and appeared to be completely at ease with questions peppering him from all sides.

Jeff walked up behind Rafe and chuckled. "Harold was a district judge for years before retiring to private practice. That man always loved being in the spotlight."

Erin had stayed back out of sight. Rafe crossed to the breakfast bar and found her staring at her phone. A swell of sympathy hit him in the chest. He buried that idiotic sentiment. There was no room in an investigation for that emotion. He'd dealt with criminals who could tie a rookie agent in knots with their bullshit. Besides, she wouldn't want him comforting her, even if she was suffering.

Her cell buzzed again. She ignored it.

Jeff wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Are you going to answer that?" Rafe asked.

"No." She shoved the cell farther away.

Rafe leaned over and read the display.
Unknown Caller.
"Have you been getting a lot of crank calls?"

"Mostly reporters. If I give them an exclusive on why I murdered Penny, they'll guarantee I get national coverage."

Rafe dragged a hand through his hair. "We'll get this straightened out."

"We?" Again, her eyes filled with doubt. She caught his gaze and held it without blinking.

"Yeah. I'll nose around. See what I can learn about the drug angle. Was she using or selling? The murder doesn't necessarily sound like a minor deal gone wrong, but weirder things have happened. It will be hard to get anyone to talk. Murder tends to shut people up."

"You're calling the shots," Jeff said. "I can nose around. Maybe pick up some intel."

"Good idea. Talk to your friends at the sheriff's office. Call in a few markers. I get why the girl made those accusations against Erin. She was covering her ass. Jeff, you said Penny died from multiple stab wounds. That sounds like a rage killing. We figure out the why, and we'll be that much closer to the who."

Erin reached over, picked up her phone, and turned it off. "I can't stand the buzzing." She shook her head. "Penny was just a kid."

"A kid in possession of heroin. Hell, she might have been pushing to her classmates." Rafe's hands clenched. He understood that Nick was to blame for his bad decisions, but to hear that after all these years the same crap was still going on at the school made him furious.