As they unhooked Casey Heinz’s handcuffs to place him in the holding cell, Ellie heard a voice call out to them. “Detectives? Hello? Rogan? Hatcher?”
Ellie recognized the PAA who worked part-time at the reception desk. He had strawberry-blond hair and a gap in his teeth. The guys in the squad called him Doogie, and she had forgotten the kid’s real name too many months ago to ask now. For tonight, he was the lucky guy who got to deliver the news: “Your lieutenant said to see her ASAP.”
As if they needed another reminder of the mounting political and media pressure, they arrived at Tucker’s office to find that she’d already called in the riding ADA. Max rose when they entered, choosing to lean against Tucker’s office window as they took the two guest chairs. Max at least made eye contact with her, but the usual crooked smile was still absent.
Rogan brought them up to speed on the last few hours. As it turned out, Promises had a signed agreement with each client making clear that individual residents had no expectations of privacy. After convincing Ms. Ri to allow them to “double-check” what the private investigators had already done, Ellie got her to agree to a search. CSU was looking for physical evidence, but they had left with nothing other than the items Gundley’s team had inventoried. Casey had invoked, so an interrogation was a no-go. He was in a holding cell downstairs. Of most obvious relevance were the missing key to the Whitmire townhouse and a pair of Julia’s underwear.
“Casey could always say Gundley planted it,” Ellie said. “One look at that guy and I can tell he makes Mark Fuhrman look like the ACLU’s dream cop.”
“We’ve got no proof of that,” Tucker said. “I made a few calls. Gundley had a good reputation.”
“Are you seriously telling me that every detective who retires with a good reputation is beyond placing a thumb on the scale, especially if his access to Bill Whitmire’s wallet is at stake?”
“Except you saw that look on Casey’s face,” Rogan said. “He knew exactly what you were holding.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve got to make a decision, campers.” Ellie felt a moment of melancholy, knowing that Max had picked up the term from her. “If we cut Casey loose, he’ll disappear. If we charge him, we can’t mess around.”
They all knew this wasn’t how things were supposed to unfold. Sometimes they hit that sweet spot in an investigation—that moment when they knew it would happen. A piece of evidence falls into place that makes you sure there will be a prosecution and that you’ll be able to give the district attorney what he needs to make the case.
There was still so much they didn’t know about Julia Whitmire. Why had the wild child recently calmed down? Had she started seeing someone? If so, who, and why hadn’t she told Ramona? Because it was Casey? And why had she been threatening her best friend’s mother?
Gathering the answers to all those questions would take time. And time was something they no longer had. They could only hold Casey for twenty-four hours without a probable-cause hearing.
“There’s no way we can build this thing up to PC for murder in a day,” Rogan said.
Max drummed his fingertips on the wall behind him. “Here’s what we do. We’ve got the key to the Whitmire house, the panties, and the previous statement from Casey, making it sound like he barely knew Julia. We put all that together, and I can get a burglary charge past a judge: unauthorized use of the key, the taking of the underwear—we’ll be fine.”
Rogan was nodding in agreement. “That might at least keep the press off our backs.” Unlike murder, a burglary charge wouldn’t trigger a closer read of the blotter by reporters.
“But the kid’s got no ties,” Tucker said. “He makes bail in a couple of hours, and then he’s on the next bus to God-knows-where.”
Max was already prepared with a response. “In a closed courtroom, I’ll make sure the arraignment judge knows about the connection between the burglary charge and the Julia Whitmire investigation. If we’re lucky, we’ll get our no-bail hold and also keep news of the arrest quiet.”
“Not sure that’s so lucky,” Ellie said. “You get a no-bail hold, and we only have a few days to convene a grand jury for an indictment, right?”
“Six days or the defendant gets released.”
They would have six days to return a murder indictment. Once the case was indicted—if it was indicted—it would be scheduled for trial. They wouldn’t be able to backpedal. The DA’s office wasn’t in the habit of dismissing murder indictments.
They’d lost all control over the timing of the investigation.