Dead Man's Hand (43 page)

He felt a charge go up the back of his neck.

When the Toyota pulled over and stopped
in a hidden rest area
, so did Jimmy.
“
So what
’
s our next move? We can
’
t see or hear inside that car.
”

“
I
’
m not sure. Fuck! I was hoping Sanders would take her to a motel, where we could set up some sort of surveillance. We
’
re blind and deaf out here
.
Does this place look familiar
?
”
Dale asked.

Jimmy
’
s eyes grew wide.
“
Holy shit!
”

“
Exactly.
He
’
s going to do Linda where he offed Grant.
”

“
We need to stop this.
”

Dale picked up the radio.
“
Everyone stand down.
”
Each unit was parked a good distance from the suspect
’
s car and couldn
’
t be seen.

A
dark cloud float
ed
away, clearing the sky for a
full moon
.
He
started to tense.

“
Should we move in?
”

“
And do what
, Jimmy
?
How do we explain it?
We
’
re not supposed to be anywhere near Sanders.
We don
’
t have anything yet.
”

The passenger door
of the Toyota
opened and Linda stepped ou
t.
Then the driver
’
s door inched its way
open
and
a man followed.

Even t
he full moon
wasn
’
t enough to identify him.
The man walked around the front of the car
to the
passenger
’
s side of the vehicle
and
positioned himself
behind Linda
, always staying hidden
.

All they could do was
wait.

The unidentified man slipped his left arm around Linda
’
s waist,
little by little working its
way under her breasts
as
he
buried his face in her hair. They remai
ned in that position for seconds
, swaying their hips together in gentle, sexual rhythm
—small circular motion
. Linda
’
s facial expression was one of orgasmic pleasure.

“
Guess
we
’
re in for a show,
”
Jimmy announced, leaning back in his seat.

But something wasn
’
t right.
At first glance, Linda seemed to enjoy it, but t
o Dale, it looked like
she
then
clawed at the arm
in panic
, try
ing to tear from its grip
.
She was fighting to breathe.
“
That
’
s not consensual
.
Everyone move in!
”

Dale thought of Grant and Pitt and was the first one out of the
car, gun pointed
, sprinting
toward
Linda. But
even Dale
’
s quickness and the blinding headlight rays
could not stop the killer, who was already in
full motion
.

Dale saw the glint
of the blade before it
sliced Linda
’
s throat
with the viciousness
seen in
a snuff film
. Blood gushed from the wound as Linda
’
s hands
grasped for it
,
the blood spewing between her fingers. Her
listless
bo
dy flopped
to the ground
.

Sanders stood over Linda, blood dripping from the knife,
a sly grin on
his face.

Everyone had their weapons drawn.
It all happened so fast tha
t it took a few moments for Dale and his team
to fully realize what they
’
d
just seen.

Sanders shield
ed
his eyes
from the lights
with one hand
. The o
ther
one
hung at his side
,
clutchin
g the bloody murder weapon.
Linda
’
s
blood spatter
had
splashed on his clothes and skin. He turned to run
,
but
the squad cars boxed him in.

T
he bloody knife
flew
from Sanders
’
hand and soar
ed
deep into the woods. But it didn
’
t matter.

Chapter 4
2

Almost midnight, the
precinct was full of cops who came in just to watch Sanders get processed.
When word had gotten out, many off-duty officers had left their homes, bars, or wherever they happened to be and returned to the station to watch Sanders, issuing dire threats all the way,
as he was
guided into the police station.

Earlier, a
s soon as Sanders had released the knife, four cops, flashlights drawn, had raced into the woods after it. Now Jimmy carried it into the station, sealed in a plastic evidence bag.

The sergeant came out of the office, a large smile, apparent relief, on his face.
“
Great job, you guys. The lieutenant
’
s on his way.
”

Dale
d
idn
’
t smile. He was glad he caught Sanders—that
’
s all.
Jimmy and Calvin
seemed
happy too, but
not
as if they were happy for
the Vegas police.

After the long and exhausting frustration of leading double murder investigations that were the most important in the homicide history of Las Vegas and with pressure from the mayor on down and absolutely no hard evidence until tonight, Dale felt it all come to a climax.

But that was short lived.

Linda had gotten
killed because his bosses protected
Sanders
—no
other reason.
Dale
’
s one regret was that they couldn
’
t
have
arrest
ed
Sanders sooner
, w
hich could have prevented her death.

What stopped him? Not only the perfect murders, which were part of the nature of his work, but in this context, most importantly—the interference by the mayor and sergeant, for political
reasons. That was the real tragedy. Politics had kept the real murderer free until he could kill his fourth victim.

Politics should never have been part of Dale
’
s investigations, but they were
,
and that was what he really lamented.

He
would never know really if Linda
had
helped Sanders kill Grant because the only person alive connected to it all was Sanders himself. Even if he admitted that Linda was behind it, would it be the truth or just some last
-
ditch effort to save himself from the chair?
Did she deserve to die?

With Watters
following them, Dale and Jimmy took Sanders to the booking counter
and
transferred custody to two officers. They watched until Sanders disappeared from view down the hallway
toward
the holding cells.

“
He better get used to those living arrangements.
”

Dale turned to find the mayor and D
istrict
A
ttorney
Robert Flannery standing behind them, wide smile
s
on their faces.

“
We came as soon as we heard
,
”
t
he mayor said.
“
Good work.
”

Flannery spoke.
“
We
have enough on Sanders.
His band of lawyers and every legal technique in the book can
’
t save him no
w. Assuming he
pleads down
,
we
’
ll put him away for two consecutive life sentences, without parole. Sanders will never see the outside of a prison again.
”

“
Not in this lifetime.
”
The mayor smiled again.
“
Let
’
s go, Robert.
We have a press conference tomorrow to plan for.
”

Dale, Jimmy
and
Watters
looked at each other.

Unable to find words, Dale
gestured toward his desk
and
led the way.
He grabbed an empty chair for Watters
and
sat down
.
“
I
’
m exhausted.
”

“
I feel the same way,
”
Jimmy said.

“
I
’
m sure it
’
ll hit me soon too, but right now I
’
m still feeling the rush of seeing you capture and arrest Sanders,
”
Watters
added.

“
Want a drink?
”

“
In a second,
”
Dale replied
.
He removed the chunk of Skoal from his mouth and dropped it into an empty co
ffee cup next to his
computer.
He rinsed
using old water from a cup that had been on his desk for days.

Watters
and Jimmy,
still exhilarated by the arrest, joined a
group of officers who were
enjoying the victory. The precinct was filled with laughter, storytelling and cheering.

Dale opened up his desk drawer, pulled out the overstuffed file marked
“
Casino Case
”
and opened it up.
He
spread everything across his bare desk—photos, reports
and
even handwritten notes.

Piece by piece, he
went over what he had
. With a single exception, it was still all circumstantial.

For Linda Grant
’
s murder, they already had all the proof
they needed.

Had they sacrificed Linda so th
at they could arrest Sanders? Dale
knew that there was no real answer to that question and that the either/or aspects would haunt him the rest of his life, as he kept second-guessing the decision he had made. And he would never know if Linda had been an accomplice with Sanders in Grant
’
s murder, or just his lover who hadn
’
t known of Sander
s
’
plan to kill her husband.
Not knowing if she was innocent or guilty would make the question that would always haunt him even more painful.

He
’
d seen the bandages on Sanders
’
wrist.
T
here was no doubt in Dale
’
s mind that when the test came back from the lab in a few days, the skin found underneath the
nails of the
call girl
in Pitt
’
s office
would match a DNA sample taken from Sanders.

The other three murders?

H
ow did Sanders murder
Grant and Pitt?
Baxter saying that Sanders had hired him to kill
Watters
was hearsay
. And they hadn
’
t had the time to try to get Baxter to confess to the cop killing.

Convicting one killer for only two of the five murders and being forced to release the other killer to the military made Dale
’
s brief sense of victory seem hollow. Despite the most massive manhunts in the city
’
s history, both led by Dale, this was what it had come down to.

Two out of five was an incredible batting average, but for a homicide detective who
’
d dedicated his professional life to protecting all of the city
’
s residents, it was a major defeat, or at least it felt like one.

But this was Nevada. One of
thirty-four
states that still practice
d
the death penalty—lethal injection determined by a jury. There was always the chance
that
Sanders
,
being as arrogant as he was,
would
think his fame and fortune could buy a verdict
.
He
might decide
to
plead not guilty. Even murder by hire in the state of Nevada was punishable by death. But Dale doubted it would come to that. Not with the evidence they had.

Baxter,
a
hired gun, had suffered his own punishment. The ex-
M
arine had indeed a
voided the legal system, but Watters
had made sure that the family members of the deceased attained a certain amount of revenge for their loved ones.

Only indirect punishment.

Dale f
elt like a failure
.
He might get promoted for bringing Sanders down, but he hadn
’
t solved the crime, not really.
He could only accept the praise if he personally felt he
’
d earned it
.
B
y his own standards, he had not.

He thought about the victims—slimy like
Pitt and promising like
Craig.
He had failed them.
What could he say to their family and friends? That
’
s he
’
d tried, failed and was sorry?

Was that worth neglecting his own family?

If he hung around any longer he
’
d bring everyone down—so Dale went home.