Benefit of the Doubt: A Novel (27 page)

“Yes, we do,” Tia said, gasping after each word. “You need to get to Danville. Seale and I were going over the case against Alex when that guy opened up on us.” Ben could see Tia’s expression grow distant as her mind shifted gears, remembering the diner. “He just came walking up. I just figured him for some civilian. I never had a chance to…”

“Listen to me,” Ben said. “I don’t want you stressing about this right now. You need to stop talking.”

“Goddamn it, Sawyer. You listen to me.” Ben looked over his shoulder. She had almost been loud enough to be heard in the hall, and he didn’t want the Chicago cops to come running in.

“There was a murder in Danville. Whoever pulled it also killed Louis Carson.” Tia took a deep breath and went on. “There’s no doubt about it. He’d duped nine one one calls on both cases. I confirmed it, and no, I’m not telling you how.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Tia? How can I use the info if we can’t talk about it? I don’t care if you violated some search protocol. We’ll get around it.”

Tia grinned. “There you go again, thinking it’s like the eye chart.”

“Just fill me in, Tia. I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t and believe me, the U.S. government won’t be too happy if they start getting more press for a database that doesn’t even exist.”

“Jesus, Tia. What the hell did you do?” Ben could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You reached out to your old crew didn’t you? Your intelligence contacts?”

Tia was weak and the stress of the moment was heavy, but her head seemed clear.

“Don’t worry about that. Just get to Danville and find another angle.”

“All right. But at least tell me what I’m looking for.”

Tia swallowed hard and spoke in a near whisper. “Get down there. Work around the nine one one. That connection will have to get made later and by somebody else. But I’m telling you, the caller is the same guy in both cases.”

Tia took a couple of deep breaths. “Danville PD has a guy under arrest for the murder of a transvestite prostitute. I can tell you he is as innocent as Alex. Start there. The guy I was working with, Tony Seale, he was great…”

Ben squeezed her hand.

“I got a good feeling from him, Ben. I think he was probably a hell of a cop. I wish I could have—”

Ben knew she was getting worked up and cut her off. “Not now. Don’t do that. There will come a time for that, but not now.”

“All right,” she said, nodding and closing her eyes for a moment. “But get down there. Find someone you can work with. That case is a copycat of the Carson murder.”

Ben thought back to his badgeless condition. That would have to be fixed.

“Okay, I’m on it. Now get some rest. And no more getting worked up. I’m glad to know you got the uniforms at your door. I want your word you won’t have any more to do with this.”

Tia looked down at herself. “Yeah. I promise.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. You scared the hell out of all of us. We thought we lost you.”

Ben watched a look of peace came over Tia.

“I was in good hands, Sarge. There was never a doubt I’d make it back. I still got a lot of life to live.”

“What do you mean good hands? Back from where?” He was clearly clueless about such things.

“Just get to Danville,” she said. “Start there.”

Ben turned to leave, but Tia called his name. When he looked back, he saw that her face was contorted in pain, so he waited. When it passed, Tia said firmly, “You gotta hear me on this, Ben. The guy who shot me. Who shot Seale. He’s your man. I know that’s a leap, but he killed Carson. You find him and Alex comes home.”

Ben practically ran from the hospital, filled with a new purpose. He got to the minivan, pulling out his car keys and cell phone from his pocket. He dialed the number from memory. He started the engine, waiting for someone to pick up.

“Bernie? It’s me—”

That’s as far as he got before she cut him off. He listened but jumped back in as soon as she took a breath. “Tia is fine. Well, not fine, but she’s going to be. I saw her, Bernie. She’s going to be okay.”

Ben allowed Bernie to express her relief. He needed her undivided attention. When he felt she was ready, he changed the subject.

“Bernie, listen to me for a minute.” His voice was serious. “I need you to do something for me. I hate to ask you, but I’ve go nobody else I can trust who could pull this off.”

Ben paused and listened to the woman on the other end. “I know, Bernie. I know you would and I appreciate that. But this is different. You need to be careful. Here’s what I need you to do.”

Ben dropped the minivan into gear and pulled into traffic as he explained his plan to Bernice. After the conversation ended, he headed north. His mind was focused and his body energized. He couldn’t help but think it felt damn good to have a plan.

FORTY-THREE

Doyle McKenzie walked past the desk of Bernice Erickson as if she wasn’t even there. He knocked softly and walked into the chief’s office, closing the door behind him. He began to speak without waiting for any acknowledgment.

“Chief, we need to talk about Plate Boyd. He’s all over my ass on the Suarez shooting. Sawyer’s got him all spun up, filled his head with all kinds of bullshit. He wants me to reopen the Carson murder. Compare it to Danville. Hell, he wants me to drive down there and follow up with the detectives.”

Jorgensen looked up from behind his desk, and McKenzie picked up on the look of annoyance. The chief didn’t hide his irritation.

“You know, Doyle, I’m starting to think you’re in over your head. How is it I go out of my way to be sure you are the lead investigator on this case, and Sawyer, a guy who doesn’t even have a badge, not to mention he is cut off from any official access, somehow does an end run around your ass? How does that happen?”

“I don’t know, boss, I just know that there’s no way Plate is coming up with this shit on his own.”

“Who’s feeding Sawyer information? He’s got to have a source. Did you clean up all the historical bullshit like I told you?”

“Yeah, Chief. It’s dealt with. Harlan Lee never existed in Newberg.”

“Suarez?” Jorgensen asked.

“That’s a problem. I know they’re tight.” McKenzie lowered his voice and proceeded more cautiously. “So, this guy they got hooked up for killing the he-she. He’s hooked into Lee, right?”

“No shit. Is that just coming to you?” Jorgensen closed his eyes and turned away. “Jesus, we do have problems.”

The insult stung, but McKenzie kept going. “What now?”

“Relax. Don’t react. Sawyer is just throwing shit at the wall. Don’t worry about Plate. He’ll lose interest, and Sawyer can’t put it all together on his own.”

“Suarez?” McKenzie asked.

Jorgensen vented his anger.

“I’m tempted to reel that little bitch in. She’s down there palling around with another agency, asking questions tied to an official department investigation. Feeding info to Sawyer. When she gets out of the hospital she’ll be answering to me.” The chief paused. “But the damage is done. Leave her out of it. Keep an eye on Sawyer. Pay a visit or two to his wife. She’ll tip her hand if she knows anything.”

“What about this attorney? This Petite character?”

“Handled,” Jorgensen said. “Let’s just say he saw the wisdom of going with the program. He’s out of play now, and you make damn sure he stays that way. Under no circumstances does Sawyer get a chance to make that connection.”

“All right, Chief.” McKenzie headed for the door. “But you gotta know, this shit is a distraction. We’re losing out on other opportunities, if you know what I mean. I don’t care what happens to that broke-dick Norgaard or his bitch of a daughter. Seems like we could have just let this shit run its course and we’d have been better off.”

“Let’s be clear, Doyle.” McKenzie knew the chief wanted his full attention.

“What’s that, Chief?”

“You serve at my pleasure. All you do, all you
get
to do, flows from this office. If I say this case is a priority, that’s all you need to hear.”

McKenzie held the man’s eye and wondered if the time had come for some push back. He answered his own question as he turned to leave.

“Whatever you say, Chief. You’re the boss, but there’s money on the street. Until we get clear of this shit, that’s where it’ll stay.”

McKenzie closed the office door as he left. Walking by the desk of Bernice Erickson, he thought he caught the hint of a smile.

“Having a good day, Detective?”

McKenzie grunted in response but gave a last look over his shoulder on his way out the door.

FORTY-FOUR

“Sergeant Sawyer?”

The man approached as if in a rush, his long arm already out in front of him. Ben took the man’s offered hand and did his best to come off casual, ignoring the jackhammer pulse that tripped in his neck. Since his visit with Tia two days before, Ben had known what he needed to do, but now that he was here it felt all wrong. From the moment he arrived at the small PD building with the flag at half-mast and quiet subdued hallways, he felt like he was committing some sort of terrible sin.

“Yeah,” Ben stood as he answered. “Call me Ben.”

“I’m Detective Dave Jensen.” His large hand swallowed Ben’s as he towered over Ben by six inches. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Detective Jensen was dressed in a dark suit that hung on a lanky frame. His white shirt was pinched around his neck by a black necktie, and he wore his police shield clipped on the lapel of his jacket, a black band covering the badge. Detective Jensen explained the reason for the wait. His voice and mood were somber. “We’re planning the funeral services for Tony Seale tomorrow. We never buried one of our own before. At least not like this. Getting killed on duty. Anyway … like I said. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Ben was sincere in his response. “It is the hardest thing to do in police work. I’ve been there. My heart goes out to all of you.”

The detective remained grim faced. He looked at the thick file in Ben’s hands. “I hope you had time to read over the file.”

Ben tried not to sound sheepish. He thought about backing out, but he needed to do this. “Yeah, I did. I read it over pretty thoroughly.”

“Good. Follow me, Ben.”

As the two men walked down the quiet hallway, Ben sensed no distrust and again felt pangs of guilt. He reminded himself that the detective had no reason to doubt him. Thanks to the expert reconnaissance mission of Bernice, Ben had badge and credentials in hand. He had presented himself as Sergeant Ben Sawyer, Newberg PD, in Danville to follow up on the shooting of Tia Suarez. All perfectly true. Of course, Ben failed to mention his status as a rogue cop currently on suspension or that the badge had been recovered from his chief’s locked desk.

“I understand you’re here to interview Gerald Donaldson.” The detective led Ben through a doorway marked
POLICE ONLY
. “We brought him over from the county lockup. I’m curious, though. What are you guys working on?”

“Not much, really.” Ben tried to sound nonchalant. “My boss just wants me to hit the guy up about a case in Newberg. Officer Suarez may have been down here doing some off-the-clock follow-up. Looks like this guy Donaldson might be a witness in a case we’re working.”

“Really?” Jensen asked. “What kind of case?”

Ben tried to sound casual. “A homicide, actually.”

The detective walked more slowly as he thought this over. “Wow, no shit? You’re thinking Donaldson could be connected? I don’t know much about his case, but he didn’t strike me as the serial type. Seems more like a guy who overreacted to gettin’ his junk sucked by a he-she. Almost falls into the category of ‘can’t blame the man,’ if you know what I mean?”

“I’m just going at him as a witness. That’s all. Like I said, boss’s orders. Seems like Suarez had some reason to be down here talking to your detective about the case. We figured it might be worth following up on it.”

“Yeah, weird coincidence, I guess.” They stopped in front of a closed door. “Here’s the interview room. Donaldson copped for a lawyer on our case, but if he’s just a witness to you guys, you should be good to take a run at him for anything unrelated. These days, though, even the witnesses are lawyering up. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Ben walked in and found a lone man seated at the table. Dressed in a jail-orange jumpsuit, Donaldson sucked hard on a cigarette, his hands trembling. Smoke billowed in front of his face.

“Hello, Mr. Donaldson. My name is Ben Sawyer. I’m a police sergeant in Newberg, Wisconsin.”

“What’s this all about? What do you want? I told those other cops I’m not saying anything until I get a lawyer.”

Ben took a seat at the interview desk and tried to sound disarming. “Relax, Gerald. I’m not here to jam you up on anything.” From this point on, Ben knew, he would have to be careful with everything he said. If there was a case against Donaldson for murder, he didn’t want to jeopardize it. “Gerald, I’m not here to talk to you about your problems in Danville. Do you understand me? I want to be clear on that.”

“I don’t care what you want. You’re a cop, right? I’m not talking to any more cops. Just get a lawyer in here right now.”

Shit,
Ben thought.
I didn’t want to have to play it this way, but he’s shutting me down already.

“Gerald, what if I told you I might be able to help you with your case?”

“I’d say bullshit. I don’t talk to cops.” The man sat up straight in his seat and looked over the top of Ben’s head toward the door. Ben got the impression Donaldson was ready to shut things down and call for a guard. Ben knew he was going to have to give up more to gain the man’s trust.

“Relax, Gerald. Just listen for a minute.” Ben leaned in closer. A sense of guilty malfeasance drove his voice down to a low whisper. “My wife is up on a murder charge, but I know she’s innocent. A friend of mine, another cop, was down here the day you got arrested. I’m sure it had something to do with my wife’s case. My friend and the detective who arrested you got shot. That’s what I’m looking into. I swear, I’m not here about your murder case.”

The man looked at Ben, clearly puzzled. “What are you telling me all this for?”