Dark of the Night Page 17

  She crossed the room to the oil painting of Rivercrest. It wasn’t very good. Her mother’s sister fancied herself a painter. Still, it was perfect for hiding the safe. She glanced out the door, and then carefully pushed the painting out of the way. It slid back on specially installed runners, exposing the cold gray steel of the safe.

  Twisting the knob first left and then to the right, she prayed that her father hadn’t changed the combination. A satisfying click indicated he hadn’t. She drew in a breath for fortification, reminding herself that she and her father had no secrets.

  The safe, like the desk, was neatly organized. Papers in one compartment, other precious things in another. It was tempting to look at her mother’s jewelry, but there wasn’t time. Praying that she was doing the right thing, she reached for the papers.

  There were titles and deeds, report cards and birth certificates, the little things that marked the life of a family. Almost at the end of the pile, she found what she was looking for. Caroline’s death certificate and the autopsy report.

  She carefully folded the papers and stuffed them in her pocket, then closed the safe, sliding the picture back into place.

  “Riley? Darlin’, what are you doing in here?” Her father stood in the doorway, leaning against the door-jamb.

  She jumped a mile, heat rushing to her face. So much for her undercover skills. “You startled me.”

  “I can see that.” Her father frowned. “Are you all right?”

  She sucked in a breath, pasting on a smile. “I’m fine. I was just lost in thought.” She scrambled for composure. “I thought you’d already gone.”

  His face relaxed. “I’m on my way. Just thought I’d give my best girl a hug before I left.”

  She stood up, moving into his embrace, feeling guilty for deceiving him, but it was in his best interest, and that had to count for something. They broke apart, and this time her smile was genuine. “You’re going to be a great success tonight. I just know it.”

  “Well, I’d better be. People paid good money to attend this thing, and they’ll be expecting something wonderful.”

  “They paid their money because they support you, Daddy. They’re expecting to see the candidate, nothing else.”

  He ruffled her hair. “I suppose so. Sure you don’t want to change your mind and come with me?”

  “And upset the entire seating chart? I don’t think so. Besides, Leon will be there. And Maudeen. You don’t need me.”

  “I always need you, princess.”

  “I know, Daddy. Me too, you.” She blew him a kiss. “But right now you’d best get a move on.”

  He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I’m already late. Leon will not be happy.”

  She grinned. “Or at least he’ll pretend that he’s angry.” Leon’s bark was much worse than his bite. “When should I expect you home?”

  It was his turn to blush. “I, ah, won’t be back until in the morning. It’s over an hour’s drive from here, and the wine will no doubt be flowing, so I thought it best to stay close by.”

  Her father always carefully limited his alcohol at official functions, but she wasn’t about to call him on it. If he wanted a night away with Maudeen, so be it. She certainly had no right to question his needs. Not after last night.

  “That seems prudent. No sense taking chances.” She smiled at him, telegraphing her support.

  Besides, his absence meant she could take what she’d found to Jake without having to answer questions. Maybe fate was actually on her side. She’d show the report to Jake and have it safely back long before her father got home.

  “Thank you, darlin’.” Her father hugged her again, then headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Knock ’em dead.” She flashed the victory sign, and his smile widened to a grin.

  “I love you, princess.”

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she whispered as he left. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  “Megan Green called.” Walter Finley waved a sticky note in his face as Jake walked into the newsroom. “Said it was important.”

  Jake took the Post-it and headed for his office, stopping halfway, turning back to face Walter. “So what happened the day of the rally?”

  Walter had the grace to look embarrassed. “I caved. Fell off the wagon completely. So much for the twelve steps.”

  “But I thought you’d been doing a lot better.”

  The older man shrugged. “I’d been going to meetings. Obviously that wasn’t enough.”

  “So you just went on a binge?” Jake sat on the edge of the desk, his instincts tingling. Walter was a lush, and he didn’t always manage to get to work, but he rarely missed something important. And the rally was big news in Atlanta.

  “No. At least that wasn’t my intention. I got a call about a tip.”

  Jake frowned. “From who?”

  “I don’t know.” Walter drummed his fingers against the desk, the staccato sound audible in the already noisy room. “It was a man. Said he had information—something to do with illicit funding.”

  “For the presidential campaign?”

  “He didn’t say. But I got the feeling he was talking about local stuff, and given the problems we’ve had of late, I thought it might be interesting to hear what he had to say. He wanted to meet at the Velvet Hammer.”

  “The tit bar?”

  “I think the tits are a bit long in the tooth, if you know what I mean.” Walter grinned. “Anyway, I figured I could meet the guy and still make the rally.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Informant never showed. I waited for about an hour. Not drinking.”

  “And then something happened.”

  “Yeah, guy I was sitting next to started buying rounds. What can I say . . .”

  “You got wasted.”

  Walter dipped his head. “I don’t have an excuse. I simply couldn’t handle it. But at least I had the presence of mind to call the paper.” He looked up, his eyes begging forgiveness.

  “Yeah. At least you did that.” Jake sighed. “You remember what the guy looked like?”

  “I’m afraid it’s all pretty fuzzy.” The older man frowned, obviously trying to force the memory. “He was small, I do remember that. And sort of dandified.”

  Now there was an archaic word. “What about hair color?”

  Walter shook his head. “It’s all just a big blur. Why you asking?”

  “Because it seems awfully coincidental that you get a call that ultimately leads to your getting drunk, right before I get my car blown up.”

  “I thought they blew up the wrong car—that it was supposed to have been someone’s in the O’Brien entourage.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it was a setup.”

  “You think someone got me drunk on purpose?”

  Jake blew out a breath, his mind whirling. “It wouldn’t be hard to do.”

  Walter stared down at his hands. “And since you always cover for me, you’d be called in.”

  “It’s plausible.”

  “But pretty far-fetched. What if I’d ignored the call? Or been strong enough to resist the drink?”

  Jake met the old reporter’s rheumy gaze.

  “So it was an odds-on gamble. But why would someone want to blow you up, Jake? You investigating something that big?”

  He thought about the police chief—about Hank Larsen. Was there something there worth taking him out? And if so, who was pulling the strings? He sighed, returning his attention to the old man. “I don’t know, Walter, but I sure as hell intend to find out.”

  Chapter 15

  “HEY, YOU WERE supposed to call me back.” Megan Green leaned against the partition that formed the outside wall of Jake’s cubicle.

  “Sorry. It’s been that kind of a day.” He indicated the chair across from his. “You didn’t have to come over here.”

  She shrugged and sat down, crossing one shapely leg over the other. “I was on my way home, so I had to drive by here an
yway.”

  “I take it you found something?”

  “It was more about not finding, actually. Which raises some interesting questions in my mind.” She frowned. “We don’t have any record of the autopsy or the report.”

  Jake opened his mouth to ask a question, but she waved him silent.

  “I’m not surprised, really. As I told you earlier, the record keeping in the new building isn’t up to snuff, and the older cases seem to be the ones that wind up misplaced. What does surprise me, though, is that there isn’t a police record either.”

  “Maybe because it was an accidental death?”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t track. We’re talking government bureaucracy here, and we save everything. There should have been something.”

  “You mean there isn’t even a file?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. There’s nothing. It’s as if officially the woman never died.”

  Jake ran a hand through his hair. “So what does it mean?”

  Megan shrugged. “Probably nothing. But I figured it was enough of a coincidence that you’d want to know about it.”

  “Thanks.” His mind was turning over the possibilities, trying to make sense of something that quite possibly didn’t.

  “How’re you coming on the Larsen story?”

  “Slow and steady, I guess. I’ve got an article running in the morning. I guess you heard that the fire has been ruled arson.”

  “Yeah, word filtered down. David Mackenna is good at what he does. So now you’re looking for an arsonist?”

  “Something like that.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit, I’m due at the courthouse in half an hour.”

  “A reporter’s work and all that.” She smiled, standing up. “Kinda late for a meeting, isn’t it? It’s already after seven.”

  Jake shrugged, sliding into his sport coat. “Sometimes it’s best to meet when there are fewer prying eyes.”

  “Enough said.” She walked with him out of the cubicle, toward the door. “Just be careful that you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.”

  If only she knew.

  “You’re looking a lot better, my friend.” Haywood pulled a chair up beside Bryce’s bed. “I would have brought candy, but my access to shopping has been somewhat limited these days.”

  Bryce smiled, his face still a little haggard. “I’m gonna live. Not that anyone will care, mind you.”

  “What about the guys who did this? Any news on them?”

  “Come on,” Bryce scoffed. “You know as well as I do that in here it’s live and let live, and die and let die.”

  “Still, you’d think someone would have seen something.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they did, but no one is saying anything.”

  “So when are they releasing you?” Haywood forced a smile, hoping his concern didn’t show through.

  “You mean back to the main population?”

  Haywood grinned. “Well, the alternative would be preferable, but yeah, I meant back to stripes and bars.”

  “Don’t know. I think they want to give things a chance to die down.”

  “You don’t look like you believe they will.”

  Bryce sighed. “If what I think is happening is happening, there isn’t anything that’ll stop them.”

  “We’re back to your past again.”

  “We’re back to people with more power than you can imagine.”

  “Oh, I can imagine, Bryce. You forget where I come from. So tell me about who’s after you.”

  “The less you know, the better. Suffice it to say that this man makes and breaks people on a daily basis. He builds them up or he tears ’em down, and I don’t think he gives a shit which way it goes, as long as he comes out a winner.”

  “Sounds serious. Maybe I could talk to someone for you.”

  “Talking won’t do no good. We’re way past the talking point, believe me. Something out there’s scaring the man, and so now he’s after me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know too much. Trouble is, I don’t know what the hell it is I know.” Bryce reached for a water glass and drank the contents down. “At least things are looking up for you.”

  Haywood frowned at the change of subject, confused. “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “Michaels is dead, didn’t you hear?”

  A feather of hope tickled against his heart. “Someone killed him?”

  “The bastard killed himself.”

  The feather vanished, replaced with sharp pain. “You don’t think it was my fault?” He hated the need in his voice, but he’d already killed one person, and he couldn’t bear the weight of another death, even indirectly.

  “Because your wife is dead? I can’t imagine that he’d kill himself over that. I mean not after all this time.”

  “It’s only been five years, Bryce. And believe me the pain doesn’t lessen.”

  “Hey man, I didn’t mean it like that. I know it hurts. I just meant that whatever caused the chief to off himself, I don’t think anyone can hang it on you. The good news is, with the man dead, maybe you’ll be able to get paroled.”

  The feather was back, this time with a little more life. “You think so?”

  “It’s surely possible. You said yourself, the biggest reason your parole keeps being denied is that Michaels always attended your parole hearings.” Bryce shrugged. “Now he can’t.”

  “Jesus, Bryce, be careful, you’re going to give me hope.”

  They laughed, the sound companionable. Haywood wasn’t certain he’d ever had a real friend. Besides Melanie, that is.

  “So what are you gonna do when you get out?” Bryce asked.

  “I don’t know. Buy a steak maybe. What would you do?”

  “My sister has an apartment on Bolton, above a Sack and Go. I figure I’d start out there. Until I could find a place of my own. Then I’d look for an opportunity to do some good.”

  “Doing what?” Haywood leaned closer, curious to hear what Bryce thought of as good.

  “I want to work with kids. Help them find their way. Maybe if someone had been around for me, things would have been different. Maybe I’d have made better choices. Known what it really was to be a man.”

  “I can’t imagine you ever being anything less.”

  “Things aren’t always what they seem, my friend. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I won’t.”

  Just like last time, the guard signaled that their conversation was at an end.

  “Next time I see you, you’ll be back in general population.” Haywood smiled down at his friend. “It’ll be good to have you back.”

  “There’s no place like home. I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.”

  “Count on it.” Haywood walked down the corridor, trying to shake the feeling that he’d just said good-bye.

  “Mahoney.” Jake slowed for a red light as he answered his cell phone, the rental car backfiring in protest.

  “Jake, it’s Riley.” She sounded breathless. And his heart sped up just hearing her voice.

  “Did you find it?” Best to concentrate on business. There’d be time to deal with his raging hormones later.

  “Yes.”

  “And . . .” He waited, listening to the soft sound of her breathing.

  “Can you come over here? I want to talk about it.”

  “Not until later. I’m on my way to the D.A.’s office.”

  “Something to do with Caroline?”

  “No. The Larsen case.”

  “I see. How long will you be?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But if you want, I’ll swing over when I’m finished.”

  There was silence for a moment as she digested his words. “No. Daddy’s at a benefit. It’ll run late and I think he has other plans, but I don’t want to take a chance.”

  “So you want to tell me what you found?”

  “I’d rather talk about it in person.”

  “Caroline was pregnant.” He waite
d for her agreement.

  “As a matter of fact, according to this, she wasn’t. The document you have was obviously altered.”

  “Or yours was.”

  “Why would my father have doctored his own version of his daughter’s autopsy report?”

  “If she was pregnant out of wedlock, I’d think that might have something to do with it.”

  “Oh, grow up, Jake. Teenage pregnancy is not something that ruins a campaign. And even if it was big news, he was only running for state rep at the time, not exactly the big stakes of a national election.”

  “Then maybe there’s more to the story.”

  “Or maybe the whole thing is the product of someone’s twisted imagination. Did you find out anything from your friend at the M.E.’s office?”

  “Yeah, the other copies of the report are missing.”

  “And you don’t think it’s by accident? Jake, we’re talking about something that happened twenty years ago.”

  “I just find it a little odd that we have two differing reports, and the only other ones in existence have gone conveniently missing.”

  “I see.”

  “Riley, you have to at least accept the possibility that something is really wrong here.”

  “Oh, I accept that all right. Someone is messing with my family and I don’t like it, and believe me I am going to get to the bottom of it. Starting with this report.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “No,” she said. “We’ll see what we can find. I’m coming to you. I’ll meet you at the courthouse.” It wasn’t a question. The woman knew what she wanted.

  And he couldn’t say the idea of seeing her was unappealing. “Fine. We’ll talk when you get there. Who knows, maybe you can help me find proof that Douglas Michaels was up to no good.”

  “Oh Lord, I’d forgotten you were investigating Michaels.” There was silence on the line.

  “Riley? You there?”

  “Yes.” There was another pause. He heard her exhale. “Jake, there’s one other difference between my autopsy report and the one you have.”

  The hair on his neck prickled to attention. “And that would be?”

  “There’s another signature. Douglas Michaels was the investigating officer the night my sister died.”