Dark of the Night Page 19

  Jake grimaced. “Considering neither one of us got a good look at him, there isn’t a lot we can do. Did you see the car?”

  She shook her head. “Just the headlights. And I predict it’ll be fairly difficult to identify a car by its brights.”

  “So, that leaves us back where we started.”

  “Bryce Daniels.”

  “And the other witnesses. First thing tomorrow, I’ll see if I can find them. Maybe one of them will be able to shed light on all of this. In the meantime, we still need to have our little talk.”

  In the excitement, she’d forgotten about her sister. “Not here.”

  “Your place?” His words were tainted by sarcasm.

  “Right, we can just pull up a chair and wait for my father to get home.”

  “My idea of a perfect date,” he quipped, then sobered. “I guess it’d better be my place then.”

  Considering what had happened the last time she went to his apartment, Riley wasn’t certain going there was such a great idea. But—she glanced at the skid marks on the pavement warily—going home to an empty house was certainly out of the question.

  So it was the lesser of two evils.

  She’d just have to behave.

  Chapter 17

  MARTELL PUNCHED IN the telephone number, his anger making him edgy. He waited impatiently while the other line rang and was answered, then spat out his concerns before there was even time for a greeting: “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What do you mean we?” His boss’s voice was calm, almost bored.

  “You’re right,” Martell ground out. “What was I thinking? I should have said you have a problem.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Mahoney. He’s getting close. He knows about Daniels.”

  “What do you mean ‘he knows’?” There was a marked edge to the other man’s voice, and Martell drove it home.

  “He knows that Daniels exists. And that there’s a connection between him and Michaels.”

  “And you know this because?”

  “Because I fucking heard him say so. He and the senator’s kid were going through records at the courthouse.”

  “Riley was with him?” There was anger this time.

  “All over him would be a better way to describe it. The lady has the hots for your reporter.”

  “He isn’t my anything, Martell, but he is becoming a rather annoying problem.”

  “So I can take him out?” After their little chase scene, Martell was anxious for a rematch, and this time he wouldn’t miss.

  “I think the correct question is, can I try again to take him out? And the answer is no. It’s gotten too complicated.”

  Martell swallowed his disappointment. “But he’s getting close. What do you want me to do?”

  “You wait. I’ll call you when the time is right. And Martell . . . ?” The voice was mocking. “Don’t screw up. We’re almost home free. And I’d hate for you to become a liability.”

  Martell slammed down the phone. Liability his ass. Without his help, this thing would have turned sour months ago. He’d stopped Larsen. With a little help from the man’s girlfriend. Greedy bitch. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Everything was going to be okay.

  He flipped on the television and sat down, trying to force himself to calm down, the opening bars of Law & Order making him grin. There was no sense in getting worked up. No sense at all. Everything was fine. He was letting the pressure get to him.

  Tonight hadn’t been one of his best moments. But no real harm had been done. And there was no way Mahoney and the bitch could have recognized him. It would have been nice to take them out. But a guy couldn’t have everything. Jerry Orbach’s face flashed across the screen, the irony not escaping him.

  Nobody was going to find anything on him.

  With a smile, he leaned back, feeling better, changing stations. Larsen’s face flashed across the screen and he stopped flipping, turning up the volume, a chill running up his spine. The news anchor was claiming the ATF had discovered evidence to link the fire to arson. Son of a bitch. They’d made him.

  Or at least they’d made the bomb. Shit. He stared at the screen. They hadn’t connected him to the fire, but they were a step closer than they should have been. Which meant he needed to be doubly certain there weren’t any trails that led back to him. He’d been very careful, but it didn’t pay to leave loose ends. And no matter what the big brass wanted, he wasn’t going to lie low and let this shit bury him.

  Fact was, the only person who was going to take care of Martell was Martell. He’d learned that lesson a hell of a long time ago. So he’d do a little housecleaning, and then he’d sit back and ride the fast track to easy street.

  “About time you showed up. I was fixing to pitch a tent.” David Mackenna was an imposing figure. Well over six feet, he had a quiet manner that made one feel as if he were perpetually preparing to pounce, even when he was just standing at the door.

  “We ran into a little problem.” Jake shrugged, and Riley wondered what he’d consider a big problem. Almost being run over by a speeding car ranked right up there on her list.

  “What happened?” David’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I think maybe we’d be more comfortable inside,” Jake said, sticking the key into the lock. “How’d you get up here anyway? This building is supposed to have security.”

  David flashed his badge. “Credentials get you a long way.”

  Jake sighed and opened the door, letting Riley enter first. She settled on the sofa, waiting, not certain how much Jake would be willing to reveal to David.

  “We almost got run over.” Jake slid out of his jacket, throwing it over a chair. “Some bastard was tailing us. When I chased him, we wound up in the parking garage, and before I knew it, he was barreling across the pavement.”

  “Whoa.” David held up a hand, frowning. “Back up. Let’s go through this more slowly. Where did this happen?”

  “At the courthouse.” Jake sat down next to Riley. “We were looking through Larsen’s files.”

  “Since when did Ms. O’Brien here become an investigative reporter?” David sat on the arm of the sofa, his hard-edged gaze turning to her, making Riley squirm.

  “I had something to discuss with Jake, and the courthouse seemed as good a place as any.”

  His appraising eyes moved from her to Jake, then back again. “I see.” And Riley thought he probably did. The man didn’t miss much. “So you were looking through Larsen’s files . . .”

  “And just when it was getting interesting, someone in the office next to us made a noise.”

  “Actually, noise is an understatement.” She shot an exasperated look at Jake, then turned to David. “I’d say it was more like a cannon explosion or a wrecking ball crashing into a cement block.”

  Jake smiled tolerantly. “Suffice it to say it was somewhere between a noise and a cataclysm.”

  “It was really loud.” She shot him a heated look. “And scary.”

  “It was a wastebasket, Riley.”

  “Obviously, a loud wastebasket.” David interjected, watching them with amusement. “What happened next?”

  “The guy ran,” Jake said, focusing on the story again, “and I chased him. We wound up in the parking garage, where I managed to lose him.”

  “Meanwhile, I followed Jake,” Riley added.

  “Against my orders,” Jake growled.

  “Well, someone had to watch your back,” she snapped, her own anger rising.

  “I was doing just fine on my own, Riley.” His eyes were shooting sparks. “If you hadn’t stepped into the light—”

  “You’d have been roadkill.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “All right. All right. I get the picture.” David’s voice shook with laughter.

  Riley sighed, and leaned back against the cushions. “I was only trying to help.”

  Jake reached over and covered her knee with his hand.
“I know.”

  “So did you get a look at the guy?” David asked, trying to gain control of the rapidly deteriorating conversation.

  “Not a damn thing,” Jake said. “And nothing on the car either.”

  “The light was really bright,” Riley responded, defensively.

  “So what did the police say?” David moved to sit in an overstuffed chair.

  “We didn’t call them.”

  “Why the hell not?” Even sitting in a chair, David’s size made him imposing, and when you added anger to the mix, he was positively frightening. Riley grabbed an afghan and wrapped it around her.

  Jake shrugged, apparently unaffected by his friend’s outburst. “Because there was nothing we could tell them, and because I didn’t want questions about why we were there. Riley doesn’t need that kind of publicity. She was only there because of me.”

  “You could have been hurt.” The simple statement said a lot about the man, and Riley realized that David’s anger was caused by concern.

  “But we weren’t,” Jake insisted.

  “This time.” David let the words hang ominously, then turned his intense gaze on Riley. “You should never have been there in the first place.”

  “I know.” He was right, of course. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown such recklessness. Sleeping with Jake, the little voice in her head whispered.

  “Look,” Jake reached for her hand, “enough with the lecture.”

  David ran a hand through his hair, its dark length rippling with the motion. “Fine. So tell me what you found.”

  “Well, it’s not conclusive. But one of the files in Larsen’s possession involved a robbery/murder. And our friend Michaels just happened to be the officer who interviewed the witnesses.”

  “So how is that relevant?” David waited, puzzled.

  “It may not be,” Riley chimed in. “But there were three witnesses, according to the ADA’s notes, and only one of them actually testified.”

  “Which, in and of itself, isn’t that unusual,” Jake continued, “but the police notes from the original interviews were conveniently missing from the file.”

  “They could have been lost.” David was playing devil’s advocate.

  “True, and I’d buy it if all the notes were missing. But the notes about the witness who testified were there.”

  “And there was no mention of the other witnesses at all in the trial,” Riley added.

  “So who was the perp?” David asked, obviously trying to assimilate all the facts.

  “A guy named Bryce Daniels.”

  “Not a nice man, according to the records.” Riley shivered.

  “Was he convicted?”

  “Oh yeah, the witness did a bang-up job. Daniels was sentenced to life.”

  “And without the witness?”

  “From what we were able to see, the prosecution would have had a hell of a time placing Daniels at the scene.” Jake leaned back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. “So, at the very least, we have more people to talk to.”

  “It’s forward movement. And at least Daniels will be easy to locate.” David turned his attention to Riley. “I’m still not certain I understand your part in all of this.”

  Riley looked at Jake, and he nodded. Obviously he thought David Mackenna was a man to be trusted. And just at the moment, she was inclined to believe it. “Jake got a little surprise under his door this morning.”

  David’s smile disappeared and he looked at his friend. “Surprise?”

  Jake reached across Riley to grab the autopsy report from the table, handing it to David. “This was delivered in a plain white envelope, no postmark.”

  David read through the document, frowning, then looked up at Riley. “Caroline O’Brien is related to you?”

  “She’s my sister.”

  He nodded and turned to Jake. “So why would someone send you a twenty-year-old autopsy report?”

  “We think to stir up trouble. I tried to track down the original, or at least another copy from the M.E.’s office, but Megan says it’s not there.”

  “Did you check to see if there was a copy with the police report?”

  “I did, actually. Or Megan did. And it seems that the file is also conveniently missing.”

  “So this is the only remaining copy?” David looked down at the papers in his hand.

  Riley shook her head. “No. I found another copy in my father’s study, but the problem is, they’re not the same.” She pulled her copy from her jacket pocket and handed it to David. “In Jake’s version, my sister is listed as pregnant. That information is missing from my family’s copy. And on our copy there’s an additional signature.”

  David read through the second version of the report, stopping when he came to the last page. “You realize this last page is the police report.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah. And Douglas Michaels was the reporting officer. The point is that if he was involved, maybe there’s some sort of connection to everything that’s been happening.”

  “Kind of a big leap, don’t you think? I mean, following that train of thought, you’d have to suspect every case the man ever worked on.” David sat back, his brows drawn together in a frown.

  “I realize I’m jumping the gun a bit,” Jake said. “But you can’t ignore the fact that something is going on. And that Douglas Michaels seems to be in the big fat center of it. And then when you consider the fact that this little gem just happens to drop in my lap, I can’t help but wonder if there’s not a link somewhere.”

  “Before we go trying to establish connections,” Riley said, “I think maybe we need to face the fact that we don’t even know which of these documents is real.” She frowned at the papers in David’s hand.

  David nodded, holding the two reports so he could compare them. “They both look authentic. I’ll be damned if I’d know which one to pick. Although instinct says the pregnancy one is the original.”

  “But—” Riley shot a heated look in David’s direction.

  “Hang on a minute. I’m not trying to malign your sister. But look at the situation. If we’re to assume one of these is the real document, then that leaves two scenarios. One, that someone doctored the autopsy report to make it look like your sister was pregnant.”

  “Someone who wanted to stir up trouble.” Riley gave a self-satisfied nod.

  “But the problem with that,” David continued, “is that it would be easy to disprove. You have a copy of the autopsy report, and the police report.”

  “But the originals have disappeared.” Jake’s eyes narrowed as he considered David’s words.

  “True. But they may still surface. And the point is, it’s a defendable situation, assuming Caroline wasn’t pregnant.”

  “She wasn’t.” Riley almost hissed the words.

  “Okay, so assume that someone is doing this to stir up trouble where there is none. Why send it to Jake?”

  “Because he’s a damn good reporter.”

  Jake smiled, and she caught her breath at the look in his eyes.

  “Not to interrupt the moment,” David said, “but there’s a problem with that. Jake is a good reporter, and he’d never go to press with something unsubstantiated. So if I were going to try and go public with a story I’d fabricated, the last place I’d go is the legitimate press.”

  “You’re saying you’d go to the tabloids.”

  “Exactly. This is playing out all wrong if this version,” he waved the first autopsy report, “is the fake. Which brings us to option two—that someone doctored the original document to make certain that news of Caroline’s pregnancy never reached the public twenty years ago.”

  “That would make my copy the fake.” Riley’s gaze met David’s.

  “Right. Given your father’s high-profile profession, I think that would be an understandable reaction.”

  “My father doesn’t know about this.”

  “No one is saying it’s your father, Riley,” Jake said. “David’s just
presenting a plausible option. One that would assume that someone doctored your copy of the document at the time of your sister’s death.”

  “So you both believe that my sister was pregnant.” She forced all emotion out of her voice. This wasn’t the time. She’d analyze her feelings about it all later.

  “Based on what we have, I’d have to say that yes, I think Caroline was pregnant.” David handed her the two reports.

  Jake’s eyes met hers, his look somber. “I think you at least have to accept the possibility that it’s true.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. Everything is so tangled up.” She leaned back against the sofa, trying to sort through her thoughts. “You said something about a connection earlier. Are you thinking that Caroline’s—” She paused, searching for the right word. “—situation is linked to everything else that’s been happening?”

  “I don’t know.” Jake stood up, nervous energy making him restless. Riley understood the feeling. “On the surface, it doesn’t seem likely, but everywhere we turn we keep running into Michaels. And it seems a bit beyond coincidence that I’d be investigating the man and lo and behold someone delivers a document that connects to him too.”

  “But whoever delivered the autopsy report can’t have known that you’d be able to get your hands on my family’s copy.”

  David frowned, his eyes narrowed in thought. “It is within the realm of possibility. I mean, the two of you have had your pictures splashed all over the papers. Together. It’s not that big a leap to think that Jake might share the information with you.”

  “But for what purpose?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” David shrugged. “Anything we come up with is going to be purely speculation.”

  “Well, at least for the sake of argument, let’s go over what we know.” Jake resumed his pacing. “Hank Larsen finds information about Michaels and tells me, but before he can elaborate, he winds up dead. So I approach Michaels, who denies the whole thing. And the next thing I know, my car is history.”

  “But you don’t think that’s related.” Riley frowned, trying to keep up with his train of thought.