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Stacy had made it back to her desk at headquarters without drawing Diana or anyone else’s attention. Even Marty, the desk sergeant, had given Stacy a perfunctory nod as she entered the building and then promptly looked away also.
Charlie Harris and Chad Means called Stacy and told her they had found Maria Fernandez. She lived in one of the neighborhoods that ringed Fairview Park. They had been watching the house from different vantage points for several hours. Maria had only left her home once, and that was to get groceries. Nobody had gone in.
Looking across her desk, Stacy frowned. Austin wasn’t there, and she really needed him. They needed to question Maria Fernandez, and soon. Stacy tried him again on the way from her loft to headquarters, but the call went to voicemail again.
Stacy had also contacted Detective Peter Banks, and he ensured Stacy the Olivo murder scene had been cleared. The taxi would be towed to the police department garage to be examined in detail by the forensics team. Adam Myers had transported the torso and hand to the coroner’s office. Miguel Olivo’s family had been notified, and everything at the scene was processed correctly and thoroughly. Banks complimented Kendall Jackson for his ability to handle the situation and provide leadership as well. Banks told Stacy that Kendall claimed he learned how to do it from watching her.
Stacy blushed in hearing those words, but she had to refocus. A note had been taped to her phone by Nate Fryson. Stacy assumed it must have happened before his phone call. Stacy moved the transcripts of Jesse Williams’s murder trial to the other corner of her desk and turned on the dim desk lamp near the phone. The note read:
Checked postcard for prints. Just one set. Probably the mailman. Thoughts? Talk later.
—Nate
Stacy folded up the note and sat it by the telephone. She sat back, scanning the desk for the card. Certainly, Nate would’ve given it back, she thought to herself.
Stacy felt a presence near the space between the desks and the hallway.
“Looking for this?”
Stacy peered up to see Diana pinching the sealed evidence bag’s corner between two fingers. The bag contained the postcard. “We need to talk.”
Stacy nodded at the bag. “About that and other things.”
Chapter 33
Diana said nothing to Stacy as they marched down the corridor to her office.
When they stepped inside, Diana slammed the door shut behind them. She pointed to a faded green chair with a wooden leg bent to the chair frame’s right.
“Sit.”
The captain reached for something on her desk, which was piled with papers and folders. The phone cord near the handle and unit had been twisted into several small knots. The slate-gray walls of the office were adorned with several corkboards full of pinned pieces of paper. Apart from a small picture at the end of her metal desk, displaying Diana with her husband and young son, there was little in the office other than the standard office equipment like the telephone and a computer.
Diana took a manila folder from the top of the stack. Stacy’s eyes scanned the desk quickly. She wanted to see if she saw the red folder with her name and the word retirement written on it. Instead, all she saw were folders pressed in between stacks of papers and squared pink slips of paper with recorded information from phone messages.
The captain, dressed in a dark blue polo with the police department shield and logo over the breast tucked into dark black pants and boots, sat at the edge of the table.
Diana pushed the folder in front of Stacy. “Here.”
Stacy looked at it a second and then tugged at the folder. Diana had a tight grip on it, and Stacy pulled hard, nearly collapsing into the back of the chair.
“Austin and I interviewed the kids from the house near Grand Boulevard.”
Stacy read over the statements and then peered up at the captain. “Will Akers claims to have a permit for those assault rifles we found at the house. Did that check out?”
“It did.”
Stacy turned another page in the folder. “And the rest of them?”
Diana went around the desk and collapsed in her chair. “The girls claimed to know Will but said they knew nothing about Colton DeVito. My sense is they were there for drugs and some booze and a good time. I let them go after they called their parents.”
“And Will Akers?”
“We’ve got him on possession of an illegal substance and illegal possession of a firearm. We also have him on unlawful possession of a debit card and fraud. Austin showed me the bank records. The number of withdrawals he made on Colton DeVito’s account could push the charge from a misdemeanor to a felony charge in terms of money taken. Gavin came by, and I gave him copies of everything. It’s up to his office if they want to press charges.”
Stacy closed the folder and set it back on the edge of the desk. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Austin.” Stacy looked over her shoulder as a chill entered the room.
“Where is he?”
Diana pressed her hands onto the surface of the desk. “He says you told him to multitask better. He stormed out of here before I had a chance to ask him what that meant.”
Stacy closed her eyes and drew in a breath. When she opened them, a change had overtaken the captain. Her brow pinched, and her face tightened with anger. Diana tossed her hair aggressively over her shoulder.
Before Stacy could say anything, Diana picked up the sealed evidence bag with Chance’s postcard and threw it at her.
“Here,” she said, her voice sharp. “I know this is the only thing that matters to you.”
“Captain—”
“Save it, Lieutenant. I found out that Peter Banks is supervising a crime scene for my lead detective because she decided to take off. And her partner is not around because that lead detective bitched at him until he left.”
Stacy swallowed hard. “It’s not like that.”
“And this isn’t just an ordinary case. A cab driver has been butchered and dismembered like a cow at the slaughterhouse. Hell, we don’t even know where the other pieces of him are. I would think my lead detective would make that a priority.”
Stacy could sense the anger building in the captain’s face as her voice grew louder and sterner.
“And then I find out Nate Fryson puts aside examining some evidence that I need to help solve a shooting over in Little Italy from a few weeks ago to examine a personal matter involving you and your brother.”
“Captain, I can explain—”
Diana slammed her hand on the desk. The motion took the air right out of the room.
“We might have a serial killer at work here, Stacy. A young mother was butchered. A boy is missing, and he just so happens to be a suspect. A fire burned up his parents. And our missing boy might be tied to our lead witness’s body pieces, which are probably at the bottom of Lake Erie. Of all things, my lead detective is distracted with a personal matter and intimidating a jailed cop, who is now dead.”
Stacy slid down in the chair. What Diana had said was accurate, but Stacy felt justified in her decisions.
Diana paused and regrouped. “The coroner’s report is back on Brandon Deerfield. It turns out he died from a diabetic stroke.”
Stacy sat up in her chair a bit and leaned forward. “A stroke?”
Diana pushed herself back from the desk and bolted up from the seat. “Deerfield was a Type II diabetic. Adam Myers found traces of an undiagnosed sugar pill in his stomach.”
“Someone put it in his food?”
“Probably,” the captain said, moving around the side of the desk and perching herself on the corner. “He had to have a special diet to keep his blood sugar regulated, but somehow, the pill got into his food. The Department of Rehabilitation and Correction is launching an investigation, and the jail administrator has resigned.”
Stacy leaned her head into her hand. “Jesus. Someone tried to kill him. Someone with access to the inside of the jail.”
Diana clapped her hands together. Stacy’s head snapped back up. “That doesn’t exonerate you.”
“Diana, look,” Stacy said, leaning forward with her hands folded in her lap. “I was just trying to get more information from him about why he and his crew targeted us at that safe house and what the bigger plans are.”
The captain’s face hardened. “Stop it, Stacy. You’re lying to yourself, and now you’re lying to me! That trip to the jail was to help with this fishing expedition to find Chance. Nothing more.”
Stacy felt her face flush as sweat reams formed around her neck.
“Brandon Deerfield’s family is planning to sue the department and the prosecutor’s office for harassment leading to death. They claim that your unlawful, unauthorized interrogation led him to emotional distress that contributed to his death.”
Stacy looked up. “That’s ridiculous. That prick was arrogant and smug when I talked to him. He didn’t seem distressed to me. I’ve interrogated hundreds of witnesses. I know what distressed looks like.”
Diana leaned forward. “It doesn’t matter.” She snarled. “As an officer of the law, you approached an attempted murder suspect promising a deal that neither this department nor the Cuyahoga County Prosecutor’s Office authorized. They’ve already asked to speak to the guards in the room during the questioning, Stacy. They’re going to tell everything they know. Everything.”
Stacy folded her arms and looked down. “I could tell those guards hated him as much as I did.”
Diana leaned closer, her eyes sharp and focused. “It doesn’t matter, Stacy. We’re all civil servants. Nobody is going to fall on their sword for you.”
Diana leaned off the corner of the desk and went back to sit down. Stacy searched her face as the silence hung in the air. She expected Diana to gripe or lecture her with stabbing words about accountability and responsibility. Instead, the captain folded her hands on the desk and leaned over them.
“I need to know why, Stacy.”
She studied Diana for a moment to collect her thoughts. There were plenty of reasons why, but the answers she uncovered, if Deerfield was right, led to corruption within the police department that could have consequences beyond anything either of them could imagine.
Stacy bit down on her lip. “I did it for myself, and Austin, and those cops he tried to kill in that safehouse. For the others he hurt and the others he would hurt.”
Diana looked up, fury in her eyes. “Not for others. For one person. You did it for one person.”
Instead of feigning indignation, Stacy gave in. “Yes, for Chance.”
The captain cocked his head to the side. "Did it help?"
Stacy blinked. “Help what?”
“Ease the guilt.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ease the guilt that Chance couldn’t be saved. He was in that patrol car with Deerfield when it got smashed to hell. Nobody, especially you, could save him or protect him. Now he’s sent a little bell ringer in the mail to get your attention, but you still don’t know where he is. What you did with Deerfield and what you are doing now... I promise, the guilt never goes away.”
Stacy had felt the guilt, but not at first. It crept up on her quietly and then grabbed her by the throat. She’d been in denial about what happened between them: the fight that made Chance homeless, his kidnapping by Jamal Harris, which nearly got them both killed, and her inability to keep him safe when the danger had subsided. Sometimes the anger would well up inside her and creep up slowly. But she’d been able to sustain it. She had learned not to think about it. When she saw Brandon Deerfield in handcuffs and chains inside that jail cell, something clicked in her mind. Stacy no longer cared about protocols or laws or ethics. Anger pulsed within her that she finally couldn’t suppress. It was the price for loving Chance.
She wiped away the tear that came down her cheek.
“How much trouble am I in, Captain?”
Diana’s voice grew quiet, and her demeanor softened. “I don’t know. Internal Affairs will get involved and investigate. They will scrutinize everything that has ever happened to you inside and outside of this office. Everyone in this department that has ever met you will be questioned.” She paused and took in a breath. “The prosecutor’s office will investigate Gavin Knox, as well. They’ll need to find out his role in all of this.”
Hearing that statement sent a stab of pain into Stacy. “Gavin had nothing to do with it. I did this on my own. Alone.”
Diana shrugged. “He’ll have to prove it.”
The silence between them returned. This time, it hung over the room like a thick fog.
Diana pushed her seat closer to the desk and leaned forward, her chin resting a few inches from the surface.
“Stacy, look at me.”
Stacy brushed away another tear and looked up.
Diana’s lips collapsed into a stressed, hard line. “I can’t protect you this time.”
At hearing those words, Stacy recoiled. At that moment, Stacy wanted Diana to reach into her and tell her that what happened couldn’t be the end of her career. Everything could be explained and justified. Stacy dismissed the thought. It was a selfish one and went against the evidence. Too much had already happened, and there would be more to come.
Stacy looked at Diana, who had leaned back in the chair and begun shuffling papers on her desk—a sign the meeting was over. Stacy sat at the edge of the seat and bent down to take the postcard from the floor. The bag crinkled, but Diana didn’t look up.
Despair overwhelmed her. Stacy wanted to tell Diana about what Brandon had said about the protection-for-hire drug racket, how cops from CPD were engaged in it, and how Chance had been blackmailed into taking the photos. And there was possible evidence of it all.
Telling the captain was a way forward that could put some space between Stacy and what was to come, but these thoughts slipped to black in her mind. With the pictures from Chance’s camera missing, Stacy’s words would be taken as hearsay or conjecture. Diana or anyone else could quickly charge Stacy with deflecting blame from her brother and herself by turning on a dead dirty cop. If Diana were right, everything would come out during depositions and hearings in front of an Internal Affairs panel.
Her despair now became a heady blackness. Stacy stumbled up from the chair. Her phone chirped in her pocket. “I need to go,” she told Diana, her voice pinched.
By the time Stacy made it back to her desk, Austin was standing in the corridor talking to someone.
Stacy looked over at Austin, but her partner looked away.
“Lieutenant, thank goodness.”
Stacy jumped, startled by the sudden presence of Chad Means, clearly agitated and in need of her focus.
Chad took a breath and gained his composure. The intensity of his gaze and taut tone of his voice meant something had happened.
“Charlie and I just got back from watching the Maria Fernandez house. We saw her come out, pick up something from the front porch, then shut the door and turn on the porch light.”
Stacy set her jaw. “What did she pick up?”
“We couldn’t tell, but it looked like an envelope of money. She flipped through it, and it looked like she took some green pieces of paper out of the folder. Someone came by earlier in the day to drop it off, but we didn’t get a good look at the person.”
Austin dropped his head and finally tossed a look at Stacy. “It’s time to go pay a visit to Ms. Fernandez.”