Grace sat at one of the computer workstations, complete with three monitors. Melissa stood behind her, Ellie on Grace’s right.
Clacking on her keyboard, Ellie spoke. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
More bad news? As if she was in free fall, Grace’s stomach dropped.
“Start with the good news,” urged Melissa.
“I was able to get footage from the camera.” The center screen winked to life and an up-close image of a hand filled the screen. “This is where the video starts. It looks like you got a little over a minute and a half.”
“Ninety seconds?” Grace folded her arms over her chest. “I’d swear that the incident took longer.” Then she recalled those moments on the street when time seemed to bend. Maybe the recording was right, after all.
“All right,” said Melissa, sliding into a chair next to Grace. “Let’s see what we have.”
Grace held her breath and watched the monitor.
“Is that the body-cam footage?” a male voice asked from behind.
Grace turned, her heart racing. A tall man, nearly six feet with dark short hair and dark eyes, stood on the threshold. Grace’s heart continued to thunder—and it wasn’t entirely from the start he’d given her.
“What are you doing here?” Melissa asked, rising from her seat. Her tone was less than friendly. Grace sat up taller. It wasn’t like her cousin to be rude.
“I stopped by your office. You weren’t there. I figured the next best place to find you was here.” The man pointed to the monitor. “You never answered my question. Is that the footage from the body cam of tonight’s shooting?”
“It is, and I suppose you want to watch with us,” said Melissa.
“It’s my job to see everything that you have on this case,” said the man. “You know that.”
Melissa gestured to the chair she’d just vacated. “Have a seat.”
He slid in next to Grace. His hand brushed her wrist as he sat. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. Was it just nerves? Or had there been something else—something more?
“Camden Kingsley,” he said, holding out his hand. “Internal Affairs. You must be Grace Colton.”
Grace stared at his palm. “Internal Affairs?” Her voice sounded small in the cavernous room.
“My being here is entirely procedural,” he said, rubbing fingertips and thumb together before dropping his palm to the table. “You don’t have to worry. I’m only looking for the truth.”
Melissa gave a derisive snort.
Yet, Grace thought there was something trustworthy about Camden Kingsley. What was it? And how could she tell after only a few seconds?
He was confident and calm. Without him saying a word, his demeanor spoke of being in charge; even better, he was fair. She rubbed the back of her neck, loosening her tight shoulders. Maybe now, things would turn in Grace’s favor.
“Can we see the video now?” Camden asked.
“Sure thing,” said Ellie, typing.
The video began to play. There was footage of a man running. The image jostled, as the camera attached to Grace’s chest recorded her in the middle of the pursuit. Her labored breath along with the staccato of her footfalls on the pavement were the only sounds in the room.
Mr. Grimaldi turned toward the camera. His eyes were wide.
“You captured a perfect video of his face, Grace. Good job,” said Melissa.
“He’s going to throw his backpack.” Her wrist ached with the memory. “After that, I lost sight of him.”
In a few more seconds, they’d all see what happened. Then, there’d be no more questions. No more slights about her professionalism. Better yet, her actions wouldn’t stain the police force.
Just as she said, the suspect slipped the bag from his shoulder. Like an Olympic discus athlete, he threw the pack. It whirled through the air.
The camera’s audio recorded a curse that Grace didn’t remember uttering. The aspect of the picture changed. There was a flash of brick wall. The side of her arm. The black bag, the nylon fibers visible.
The image was nothing but static as the timer on the camera continued counting off the seconds. Then, the screen went black—with no sight of a gun.
As if he’d been sucker punched, Camden’s jaw ached. He stared at the computer screen, willing the video to start again. It didn’t.
What would follow was a simple mathematical equation. No video equaled more civil unrest. The protests would grow. The calls for reform or defunding the police would become a constant chant. Politics would become paramount.
In the end, the truth wouldn’t matter at all. And the truth was that Grace Colton had shot someone, apparently unprovoked.
Moreover, Grace Colton’s career with the Grave Gulch police force would be over.
The dull ache became a stabbing pain.
Despite what he’d just seen on the camera, though, there was something about Grace. What was it?
Honestly, he didn’t know.
All the same, he knew that this case was worth his time.
In the blackened screen of the monitor, Camden refocused his gaze to the reflection of Grace’s face. Her complexion was pale. Her eyes were wide. What was she thinking? How did she feel?
Stricken was the word that came to mind.
Clearing his throat, he turned in his seat and looked at Ellie. “Is there any way you can recover more of the footage?”
She ran a thumbnail between the keys of her keyboard. “I’ll see what I can do.” Her tone had said much more than her words. Camden knew there was no way in hell she’d find any more of the video.
But he was far from being done for the night.
He really only needed to spend a little time with anyone before he knew if they were telling the truth—or not. Everyone had a tell when lying. A shifting of the eyes. A tapping of the foot.
Grace Colton would be no different.
He said, “Officer Colton, we need to talk about what happened. Obviously, the video isn’t going to help us right now.”
Grace stared at her folded hands. There were two red dots—hot coals of color—on her cheeks. “I’m not sure what else to say.”
Melissa interrupted. “You don’t have to say anything, Grace. You’re entitled to counsel. Ask your union legal rep to come in.”
Camden spoke slowly. “I’d like to talk to you now, while your memories are still fresh.” She turned her gaze to him. Camden could look at nothing other than Grace’s eyes. They were a soft blue, like the sky on the first warm day of spring.
“There was a couple at the end of the block,” said Grace.
Melissa placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “You don’t have to talk to IA right now, without your rep.”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t have anything to hide. Besides, Mr. Kingsley’s right. Now, my memories are fresh.”
“Are you sure?” Melissa asked, stretching out the last word. “You haven’t even had time to file a report.”
Grace nodded. “I’m positive.”
“Then, we should make this an official interview,” said Camden. “I’d like to use a conference room.”
Melissa glared. He sensed an argument. She wanted to protect the rookie cop. But was it as the chief of police or as a cousin? Moving toward the door, she said, “This way.”
Camden was used to terse treatment from officers being investigated. Nobody liked oversight or having their professionalism questioned. But without oversight, there was no professionalism to be had. He stood and waited for Grace Colton to get to her feet. Then, they both followed Melissa Colton down a narrow hallway.
The chief a few steps ahead, Camden walked shoulder to shoulder with Grace. His wrist brushed the back of her hand. He searched for something reassuring to say.
What was he thinking? It isn’t my job to be reassuring.
He had to admit that Grace was affecting him in ways he dared not examine. It was more than her looks, though she was beyond attractive. It was her reaction to the video. Her shock that the entire incident hadn’t been recorded was sincere. In short, Grace needed his protection.
First, reassurance. Now, protection? It wasn’t like Camden to get personally involved. All he could hope is that the case was resolved quickly. He needed to get away from Grace before he did something really stupid.
Melissa pulled a door open. “You can use this room.”
Stepping across the threshold, an automatic light buzzed to life. A conference table stood in the middle of the floor. Two sets of chairs sat on each side of the table, leaving only enough room to slide into a seat.
“Let me know if you need anything,” said Melissa, her hand resting on the handle. “And Grace?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be right outside.”
Grace gave a small nod. “Thanks.”
Staying on his feet, Camden waited until Chief Colton pulled the door shut. “Please,” he said, gesturing to a chair. “Sit.” Grace pulled the seat out from under the table and dropped down with a sigh.
“Long night,” he said, lowering into his own chair.
“You wouldn’t believe, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Call me Camden.”
“Okay,” she said. “Camden.”
“I know you’re nervous. Tired. Overwhelmed. I also know that I’m the last person in the world you want to be talking to right now. I want to assure you that I’m only interested in the facts.” It was how he began each interview—and every word spoken was true.
“I appreciate it.”
Camden kept a small tape recorder tucked into a side pocket of his messenger bag. It was with him at all times for moments just like this. He laid it on the table. The recorder was followed by a pad of paper and pen. “I’d like to record this interview—if that’s okay with you?”
“A tape recorder. You don’t see those often.”
“It was my father’s. Since it worked for my pop, I figure it’ll work for me.” He paused, not bothering to add that each time Camden used the recorder he felt as if he honored his father. Or that it was almost like the old man was in the room with him. “Do I have your permission to record this interview?” He pressed a button, and the Record light glowed red.
Grace nodded.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she said. “You have my permission to record the interview.”
“This is Camden Kingsley, Internal Affairs investigator with the Grave Gulch District Attorney’s office.” He also gave the date and time. “For the record,” he said, continuing his well-practiced lines, “can you state your name?”
Leaning forward, she projected her voice toward the tiny tape recorder. “Grace Colton. Officer with the Grave Gulch Police Department.”
“There was an officer-involved shooting this evening,” he said. “Were you present?”
She nodded. “I was.”
“Can you tell me, in your own words, what happened?” What she had to say was important, but Camden was also interested in how she told her story. Was it robotic, like she’d memorized details? Or was it disjointed, with details changing from one version to the next? Moreover, what were her mannerisms? Could she maintain eye contact? Did her breathing pattern change when answering specific questions? Were the facts of her story consistent? In short, Camden was looking for a lie.
She spent a few minutes recounting what he already knew. Camden took notes on it all. She’d witnessed a person trying to open a window. After she identified herself as a police officer, the person ran and she gave chase. Detective Brett Shea, still in the patrol vehicle, had circled the block in order to stop the suspect at the end of the alleyway. According to Grace, Robert Grimaldi had a gun. He’d aimed at her. She ordered him to drop his weapon, and when he didn’t, she fired her own. The bullet had struck Grimaldi in the shoulder. Two individuals had been at the end of the block. They’d approached Mr. Grimaldi as he lay on the sidewalk.
Camden’s pen quit moving. “I want to come back to the witnesses. What’d they look like?” he asked, interrupting.
Grace inhaled. “It was a man and woman. Caucasian. Late teens maybe or early twenties. The guy had longish hair and a thin beard. The woman was wearing a T-shirt with a concert schedule, cut-off jeans and sneakers.”
“Are you sure they witnessed the shooting?”
Grace nodded again. “After Mr. Grimaldi was shot, they approached him. I told them to back up.” She paused. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She blinked hard. Inhaled. Exhaled. “They did, but not at first. I got closer, and they ran off.”
Camden looked at Grace. “Can Detective Shea verify the part about the couple?”
“He saw them running away,” she said.
That brought up another important point. “Why’d they run?”
“I don’t think they liked the police. The guy said something about cops being bad.”
“Did Shea hear the remark?”
Grace shrugged. Then she seemed to remember the recorder. Leaning toward the small microphone, she said, “I don’t know what he witnessed. You can talk to him, too. He also confiscated my gun for a ballistics review at the scene.”
“I’ll get to him soon.” Camden leaned back in the chair. So far he thought she was telling the truth. “Could you identify again the people you saw?” Without body-cam footage, the witnesses would be the key to finding out what happened. “I need to talk to them, as well.”
“Honestly, I’ve never seen those two before in my life.”
“Would you recognize a picture?”
“Maybe.” She touched her bottom lip with her tongue. “Probably.”
Camden rose from his seat and opened the door. Melissa stood across the hall. She looked up as he stepped into the corridor.
“You need something?” she asked.
“Can I get a set of mug shots?” he asked. “Male, late teens or early twenties. Caucasian. Long hair. Thin beard.”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “That guy sounds like a good bit of Grave Gulch,” she said. “You have anything more specific?”
“Someone matching that description witnessed the shooting.” Camden couldn’t help it. He was sincerely relieved that there’d been witnesses. “Grace thinks she can identify him.”
Melissa pushed off the wall. “I’ll pull some files and be right back.”
Camden returned to the room and closed the door. “Your cousin is going to get some photos for you to look through.” He slid into the chair and rested his hands on the table. Grace traced a whorl in the faux wood. “If you can identify the witnesses, then we’ll track them down and get their statements.”
Grace pressed her palms together, as if in prayer, and rested her forehead on her hands. “That’d be great,” she said. “If we can find them.”
“While we wait,” he said, “tell me about the gun.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What kind of firearm did Grimaldi have?”
“A handgun.”
“Was it an automatic or a revolver?”
She shook her head. “I think it was a revolver.”
“Anything else?”
Grace closed her eyes. “It was silver. I remember the metallic glint on the barrel.”
“What do you think happened to the gun?”
Opening her eyes, Grace folded her arms over her chest—a definite defensive move. She shook her head. “I don’t know. Grimaldi must’ve dropped it when he went down. Maybe it skittered under a car or something.”
Camden’s phone pinged. He glanced at the screen. It was a message from Arielle.
Report on missing gun. Document attached.
He hit the link with his thumb. An official Grave Gulch police report filled the screen. The text was small, but its content was unmistakable. More than a dozen officers had searched for a weapon. Several canine units had been employed. They’d all come up empty.
It meant only one thing. There had never been a gun.
It brought up a new set of questions. Had Grace Colton been mistaken? Or was she lying?
As far as he could tell, she’d been truthful until now. Was she the kind of person who’d get angry and lash out? True, he didn’t know her well but still, he couldn’t see being anything other than careful and forthright.
His mouth felt as if it’d been filled with ash.
“The street was dark,” he said, trying a new tactic. “How do you know that the suspect had a gun?”
“There was a streetlamp near the corner,” she said. “Mr. Grimaldi was standing in a pool of light. I know what I saw.” She paused. “What’s on your phone?”
The room was suddenly hot, and he began to sweat. Shoving the cell into his bag, he mumbled, “A report.”
“About me? About the gun?”
Camden twirled the pen between his fingers and back again. He tried to collect his thoughts and decide what needed to be said. “Thing is,” he said, deciding on the unvarnished truth, “the police officers searched. Canine units were used. Nothing was found. There is no gun.”
Sitting back hard, she sucked in a breath. “That’s wrong. I know what I saw...” Her words trailed off as the door opened. Melissa stepped into the room. She held a digital tablet, and a sheen of perspiration covered her brow.
“I created a file on everyone in the system with a description that matches the male witness.” Chief Colton set the computer on the table before sliding into the seat next to Grace.
“You saw the report,” said Grace. “The one about the gun.”
It wasn’t quite a question. Not really a statement, either.
Melissa swallowed. Nodded. She tapped on the computer, filling the screen with several pictures. Sliding the device over to Grace, she said, “Let’s get a look at these mug shots.”
“I know what you both are thinking.” Grace leaned forward in her seat. “I’m young. Inexperienced. It’s hard to see in the dark. Maybe you even think that I was mad at Mr. Grimaldi. After all, he threw a backpack at me. He damn near broke my wrist.” She wrapped a hand around her injured arm. Her skin was mottled by a purple bruise. “The thing is, I saw what I saw. I might be young. I might not have worked many cases. But I’m not wrong.”
“I know,” said Melissa. Her voice was small. For the first time, Camden noticed worry lines creasing her forehead. “But without that gun, or any video from your body cam, it’s your word against Grimaldi’s. I don’t have to tell you this, but public opinion isn’t going to be in your favor.”
Camden reached across the table and pushed the tablet closer to Grace. “Look at the mug shots. See if you can find the witness.”
She let go of her wrist and picked up the tablet. She said nothing while flipping through screen after screen. After several minutes, Grace shook her head. “He’s not here.”
“Are you sure?” Melissa took the computer from her younger cousin and flipped back through the photographs. “What about him? He lives near the park. Matches the description perfectly. Or—” she tapped on the screen “—we can look for his girlfriend. She might be in the system.”
Grace took the tablet from the other woman’s hand. Placing it on the table, screen down, she shook her head. “The guy I saw isn’t in any of the photographs.”
“You have to keep looking, Grace.” Melissa’s voice was getting close to shrill. “What if this couple did more than witness the shooting, but they’re actually the ones who took the gun? They had opportunity.”
Camden connected the dots. “Not too long ago, a co-worker of mine was placed as a witness to a crime. The evidence had been fabricated. You think this is happening again? Is someone setting you up?”
Melissa and Grace exchanged a look. What had he missed?
“You’re asking the same question I did,” said Grace. “I know Evangeline. She and my brother, Troy, are an item.” She continued. “I did wonder if this whole incident was a setup.” She shook her head. “Like Melissa pointed out, the only way for this to work is for the police officer—that’s me—to shoot Grimaldi. Even if he’s desperate enough to take a bullet, he could’ve been killed.”
Camden nodded. The theory made sense.
Melissa said, “I think that the witnesses may have taken the gun.”
It was an interesting theory. “If the couple picked up the gun, it’s doubtful they have it still. In fact, we have to assume they might’ve already dropped it into Lake Michigan.”
“Until we find those witnesses, we won’t know.” Melissa pinched the bridge of her nose. “But if they don’t have arrest records, how’re we supposed to find them?”
Camden already had an answer to that question. “We use a sketch artist. See if we can get a likeness. Then ask the public for help.”
“Help from the public,” Melissa scoffed. “Not damn likely. Right now, the whole town hates the police department.”
“Do you have any other ideas?” Grace asked.
“No,” said Melissa. “None.”
“Then, I say we try and get a sketch,” said Grace.
Melissa asked, “Did you get a good-enough look for a drawing?”
“I can give a description, sure.”
Melissa let out a long exhale. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Kingsley. There’s a lot riding on finding these witnesses and figuring out what happened to the gun.”
Unbidden, the image of his father sitting at the kitchen table came to mind. It filled Camden with a steely resolve to find the truth.
Chief Colton drew in a deep breath yet kept her gaze on the table.
Camden knew what she was going to say. What she had to do. His chest tightened.
“I hate to do this, Grace,” she said. “Really, I do. I need to put you on administrative leave for possible use of unlawful force.”
“You what?” Grace asked, her voice tight.
“Until we find those witnesses, you can’t come back to work. I’ll need your badge.”
Camden had witnessed this awkward moment too many times to count. He hated each and every episode. Each cop reacted differently. Some cursed. Others cried. A few even threatened lawsuits or violence. All the same, Camden couldn’t help but wonder—how had his dad reacted? How would Grace react?
Without a word, Grace stood. She unclipped the badge that was hooked to her belt and set it on the table. Melissa scooped it up, holding it in the palm of her hand as if trying to gauge its weight. Or maybe she was weighing her own words.
“Well, then,” the chief said. She cleared her throat. “Before you come back, you’ll need to talk to one of the counselors. It’s department policy after an officer is involved in a shooting.” She pulled a business card from the pocket of her pants and slid it toward Grace. Had she been holding it the whole time? “Give them a call.” She paused. “I’ll contact Desiree and let you get back to the interview.”
Grace stared forward, said nothing. Without a word, Melissa Colton left the interview room.
Camden’s throat was tight. Sure, he was affected by the heartbreaking moment between family members. Still, he knew there was more.
If the truth was what he valued most, then Camden needed to be honest with himself. The facts were not in Grace’s favor.
He also knew something else. If he felt drawn to help Grace, then this case was the most dangerous of Camden’s career.