Authors: Erica Spindler
Tags: #Contemporary Women, #General, #Romance, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Fiction
Justice for Sara (17 page)
Wednesday, June 12
10:00
A.M.
Luke recognized Sullivan’s lawyer from his television ads. Frank Pierre. Ambulance chaser. Sullivan was going to need a lot more firepower to wiggle out of this.
Luke shook the attorney’s hand. “Good to meet you. One of my officers, Gene Reni.”
They shook hands as well, then they all sat.
Pierre began. “Chief Tanner, I believe we have a huge misunderstanding here.”
Luke arched his eyebrows. “Really? Those gouges in your client’s cheek are a misunderstanding?”
“Mr. Sullivan can explain.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He turned his gaze on Sullivan. “You have a story you’d like to tell me?”
Pierre jumped in again. “Not a ‘story,’ Sergeant. The events of the night as they happened, the truth.”
Luke wanted to retch.
“Of course.” He turned to face Sullivan. “Danny, you’ve got my attention.”
Danny laid his hands in his lap. “What I told you earlier, about how I ended up at the cottage, was the truth.”
Luke flipped open his notebook. “Why don’t you repeat it for Mr. Pierre? I’m sure he’ll want to hear it from you.”
“I was gassing up at the E-Z by the marina. I’d heard the sirens and wondered what was happening. I asked the dude inside and he told me the McCall cottage had caught on fire. I went to see for myself.”
Luke noted a couple changes in detail. “The station attendant called the cottage by that name? The McCall cottage?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t mention that before.”
“Didn’t I?” He scratched his head. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“You didn’t find that odd? That this random ‘dude’ knew where the fire was and that it was the McCall place?”
“Not really. At the time anyway. It’s a pretty famous place around Liberty.”
“That E-Z Serve is located in Mandeville.”
Sullivan lifted his hands, palms up. “I don’t know what else to tell you. He knew.”
“Let’s move on. Why did you want to see for yourself?”
“Because of Sara. Because I’d loved her. It was her place. We spent a lot of time there together. Isn’t that enough?”
He had tears in his eyes. Luke might have been moved to sympathy if Sullivan hadn’t proved himself a scumbag just a couple hours ago. “When you arrived, who else was there?”
“Nobody.”
“But you had just heard the sirens.”
He shook his head. “Heard them. But not ‘just.’”
Sullivan looked at his hands, then back up at Luke. “Kat shows up. She’s acting weird. Combative. She makes all these wild accusations—”
“Like what?”
“That I started the fire. That I hated her cousin Jeremy. Crazy shit.”
“How’d you respond?”
“At first, I just figured she was upset. Overwrought. I tried to calm her down.”
“How’d you do that, Sullivan? By grabbing her and shoving her against your vehicle?”
“That’s not the way it went down. Not at all.” He spread his fingers. “When I wouldn’t engage, her behavior turned … sexual.”
Luke’s gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”
“She came on to me. In a big way.”
Police brutality. Perhaps there was a time and a place. Like now.
He smiled grimly. “What does that mean, ‘came on to’ you, ‘in a big way’?”
“She grabbed my crotch. Started rubbing it. Rubbing herself against me.”
“And you went from angry to willing sex partner”—he snapped his fingers—“just like that?”
“I’m only human.”
Luke was beginning to doubt that, but he kept it to himself. “Did you even question why she went from contentious to amorous?”
“I should have, I realize that now.” He shrugged. “She was a wild chick all those years ago, I figured she still was.”
“So you just went along for the ride?”
“Like I said, I’m only human.”
“Then what happened?”
“We’re really going at it, you know. Right there, against my car. But I’m like, ‘Babe, we need to go someplace. This can’t happen here.’”
Luke held up a hand. “Wait. I thought you were only human? Along for the ride?”
“Yeah, at first. But no way I was going to do it there. I’m a high school coach, I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
Luke gazed impassively at him, all the while imagining his fist smashing into that smug face. He consoled himself with the fact that Sullivan’s precious reputation was about to take a big trip south.
“So, you try to inject a bit of reason into the moment.”
He nodded. “But next thing I know, I’m getting kneed in the balls. I double over and she scratches the hell out of my face and starts screaming for help.”
Luke sat a moment, letting Sullivan’s words settle around them. He glanced at Reni, then back at Sullivan. “Wow, this story is so different from the one McCall told me. According to her, you attacked her. She drove up to the cottage, you were there. She got out of the car, she was angry, suspicious of your motive for being there. When she began to question you about Sara and the past, you lost it.”
Luke flipped back in the notebook. “‘He went sort of crazy,’” he read. “‘He grabbed me and shook me. He was yelling.’” Luke flipped forward a page. “‘I tried to get away. He shoved me up against the car.’” Luke lifted his gaze. “Why do you think she said all that?”
“At first, I didn’t know what was happening. I was … stunned. But now I realize she was setting me up.”
“Setting you up? Why?”
“To hurt me. To hurt my reputation. Because she hates me. Because of the past. Because of Sara. Because I testified against her.”
“Revenge, Sergeant,” Pierre said. “One of the oldest motives in the book.”
Using the past against her. A brilliant choice.
“Revenge because you testified against her?”
“Seems right to me.”
Sullivan leaned back in his chair, looking way too comfortable. Luke decided to turn up the heat. “Pretty much everyone in Liberty got on the stand for the prosecution. You think she wants revenge on them all?”
He shrugged again. “Maybe so. I hear she’s been making the rounds. Getting up in folks’ faces.”
“What folks?”
“Folks. But she especially wanted to punish me. Because Sara turned to me for counsel about her. Because I tried to step in, be a father figure to her. She resented it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
“I don’t believe you, Danny.”
The lawyer stepped in. “I’m not surprised. You do have a personal interest in this case.”
Luke turned to the lawyer. “What did you say?”
“I understand from my client that you two are dating.”
“We attended her cousin’s party together. Does that constitute dating?”
“You tell me, Sergeant.”
Instead, Luke turned back to Sullivan. “So, you’re telling me that the sobbing, hysterical woman I talked to was faking it.”
“Yes. Everybody knows she’s a liar.”
“Was she also faking the bruises on her arms, neck and chest?”
“Pardon?”
You had to love digital cameras.
Luke nodded at Reni, who slid him a manila envelope. Luke extracted two photos. Laid them in front of Sullivan.
“Bruises,” he said. “They look like fingerprints, don’t they, Sullivan?”
“I didn’t touch her.”
“So she bruised herself. As part of her plan to frame you. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Pierre looked at him. Sullivan flushed. “If it happened, it must have been when I was trying to get her off me.”
“I thought you were only human? That you two were…” He flipped back a couple pages and read. “‘Really going at it … Right there, against my car.’”
“Not then. After she clawed my face.”
Luke cocked an eyebrow. “Let me get this straight.” He glanced at the notes. “She knees you, you double over, she claws you and screams for help and, at the same time, you have to fight her off.”
“Not exactly like that, but yes.”
“I’m having a hard time picturing this.”
“Wacky, right? Like I said, she’s a wild chick.”
“I have another scenario. If I may?”
He glanced at the lawyer, who nodded. “You were drunk. And angry. You asked her to accompany you to Webber’s party and she chose to go with me instead.”
“I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly? Like when you grabbed her and shook her? So hard you left the imprint of your fingers on her skin?”
The lawyer cleared his throat and Luke refocused. “You left the party early, you got a can of gas, maybe even at the E-Z Serve, and you used that gas to set her house on fire.”
“Because she didn’t go to a party with me? That’s pretty lame, Tanner.”
“I think you were counting on getting friendly with Kat McCall. To cover your ass.” He leaned forward. “You wanted to get a peek at Sara’s journals, didn’t you? The ones Kat told you she was looking for. The ones Sara wrote in every day, without fail. The ones where her true feelings have been etched forever. Maybe the reason she wouldn’t marry you was in there.”
“Shut up, Tanner.”
“What about the loan?”
“What loan?”
“The one you asked Sara for. The one she refused to give you. The one that caused the big fight the two of you had only days before her murder.”
“What are we talking about here?” Pierre asked. “Tonight? Or ten years ago?”
“Both.”
“Unacceptable. This line of questioning has nothing to do with the reason my client is here tonight.”
Luke ignored him. “Did you or did you not tell Kat McCall tonight, as you were shaking her, that you couldn’t get the image of her dead sister out of your head?” He referred to his notes. “You mentioned the blood on the foyer floor and her crushed face.”
The lawyer sputtered; Sullivan paled. Luke went on. “My question to you, Danny, is how did that image get into your head in the first place?”
Sullivan stared. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. Luke smiled grimly. “Wasn’t in the newspaper, not on TV. Witnesses aren’t allowed in the courtroom. So, when
did
you see her like that, Sullivan? After you beat her to death?”
“No! Kat set me up! To clear her name.” He turned to his lawyer. “None of it’s true!”
“What was the loan for, Mr. Sullivan?”
“I was going to open a basketball training facility. With Dale Graham.”
“The former LSU point guard?” He nodded. Luke continued. “What were you doing the night of the murder?”
“I don’t know … it was ten years ago!”
“Really?” Luke arched his eyebrows. “The woman you loved, who you planned to marry, was murdered, and you don’t remember where you were or what you were doing?”
“I was home, like I told your dad. What I was doing, I don’t remember. Watching TV, doing laundry, the usual shit I do on a school night.”
“No alibi?”
“I didn’t need one. Your old man never asked me.”
Luke curled his hands into fists, angry.
Because his dad figured he had his perp in hand. Kat had been judged and found guilty before she’d even been arrested.
“Well, I’m not my old man and I want one now.”
“You must be joking,” Pierre said. “It’s been ten years.”
“Some things you don’t forget, right, Danny?” Luke looked him dead in his eyes, holding his gaze. “And there are some things so horrific you just can’t get them out of your head.”
Luke looked at Reni and nodded. Reni stood. “Back in the cage, Sullivan.”
“But—” He looked at his attorney. “I have to stay?”
Luke answered for him. “Oh yeah, you have to stay. We’re done for now.”
Wednesday, June 12
10:45
A.M.
When Luke emerged from the interrogation room, he found his dad waiting for him.
“Is that Danny Sullivan in there?”
“It is.” He changed the subject. “What can I do for you, Pops?”
“I heard what happened. About the fire.”
“Figured. How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”
His dad agreed and Luke led him to the break room and the coffee. It looked like Trixie had just made a fresh pot. “Perfect timing.”
Luke poured his dad a cup, using the Fraternal Order of Police mug he had been using for years, then poured himself one. “Let’s sit in here.”
They did. His dad sipped, then grunted in appreciation. “Your mother only lets me have decaf. Without caffeine, what’s the point?”
Luke nodded, took a sip. And waited for the questions to come.
They didn’t take long. “What do you think about the fire? Is it looking like arson?”
“Yeah, it is. I’m meeting with Caleb Green in a little bit.”
“Too bad she wasn’t home.”
Luke stiffened. “I hope you don’t mean that.”
At Luke’s expression, he had the decency to look embarrassed. “You didn’t see what I did. I puked my guts out, it was so bad.”
“I saw the photos, Pops.”
“They’re nothing in comparison.” He brought a trembling hand to his head. “It haunts me. I wish I could get it out of my head. But no matter how I try, no matter how many years pass, it’s still there.”
Basically the same thing Sullivan had said to Kat. But his dad had been there. He’d had a reason to be there.
“Got a question for you, Pops. Back then, when you were investigating McCall’s murder, you look closely at Danny Sullivan?”
“Danny?” He frowned. “Interviewed him, of course. Is that why he was in today?”
When Luke didn’t answer, he went on. “Sullivan was in love with her. He was devastated by her death.”
“But her sister wasn’t?”
“Frankly? No.”
“But you did check his alibi, right?”
“Of course. I wasn’t a rookie, son. Love, hate, greed, the unholy trinity of murder.”
“What was it? His alibi, I mean?”
“It’s in the case notes.”
“No, it’s not. I checked. In fact, I didn’t see much about Sullivan. Or anyone else.”
Color flew to his dad’s face, making him look healthier than he had in months. “I should have expected that from you.”
“What’s that?”
“Criticism.”
“Look, it just seems like—” He bit the words back. Nothing would be gained by picking apart his dad’s conduct on the case. Nothing would be changed. “Never mind.”
He scowled. “No. I want to know. It just seems like what, son?”
“You really want to go there?”
“Hell yes, I do.”
“Okay then, you stubborn old jackass. It seems like you never looked at another suspect. Never pursued anyone besides Katherine McCall.”
“That’s bullshit! I interviewed everyone with a connection to Sara McCall. Anyone who might have had a beef with her.”
“But what did you ask them? The case notes, where’s Sullivan’s alibi? What about the loan he asked Sara for? Did you follow up on that?”
“Didn’t need to. Everyone confirmed what I already knew.”
“That she was guilty.”
“If it walks, quacks and shits like duck, it’s a goddamned duck!”
His dad almost never took the Lord’s name in vain; that he did so now indicated just how close to the edge he was. Luke pressed him anyway. “What about the journals—”
“There were no journals. We looked.”
“How hard?”
“Hard enough!” He brought his fist down on the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattled. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, including you!” He struggled to his feet. “I came down here to offer my help, not be interrogated by my own son.”
Luke stood. He held out a hand. “Let’s get this solved, Pops. Once and for all. We’ll do it together. Then you can let it go. Don’t you want some peace?”
“I want respect!” he shot back. “I’ve earned it.”
“You’ve always had my respect,” Luke countered, suddenly angry. “How about you show me some for once?
I’ve
earned it.”
When his dad didn’t respond, Luke sucked in an angry breath. It was a bitter pill. One Luke had swallowed too many times to count.
He wasn’t going to swallow it this time. “Stevie’s gone. I’m it, Dad. The only one you have left.”
“This isn’t about your brother.”
“Bullshit. Everything between us, since the day he drowned, has been about Stevie.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Just admit it. You blame me. Tell me you don’t.”
“That’s crazy talk.”
He couldn’t say it. The truth of it cut like a knife. “I tried to save him. I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
“This woman has you mesmerized.”
“It’s not about her! What about justice? What about the truth?”
His dad made a slicing motion with his hand. “I know the truth! Come to your senses, boy. Until you do, I’m done with you.”
Truth was, he’d been done with him since the summer of ’92.
Luke bit back the things he wanted to say and watched his dad hobble out. A broken old man struggling to keep his head held high.
Luke muttered an oath. But before he could chase after him, Trixie buzzed him. “Caleb Green, line two.”
He took one last look at his dad, then answered. “Caleb, how you doing, man?”
“Okay, dude. It’s been awhile.”
Luke had worked with the Saint Tammany Parish arson investigator a few years back, when he was still with the sheriff’s department. Someone had been torching small rural churches with mainly African-American congregations.
Luke still marveled at what Green had deduced about the perpetrators and their actions from charred remains. Green had explained that he read a fire, its origin and path, what it left behind, the same way Luke read any other crime scene. They all had stories to tell, you just had to understand the language.
They’d caught the perps—a couple country boys, fueled by hatred, weed and Jack Daniel’s.
“That it has,” Luke agreed.
“I was surprised to learn you moved to the Liberty force.”
Luke heard the “why?” in the question. He didn’t address it. Instead, he asked, “You at the scene?”
“I am. Looked it over, ready to process. Thought you might want to walk through it with me.”
“Absolutely. On my way.”
*
Luke pulled to a stop behind the man’s SUV. Green hopped out and came to meet him. They shook hands.
“What have we got?” Luke asked.
“No doubt arson. But you already knew that.”
“True. I was hoping you could tell me something I didn’t know.”
Green nodded, narrowing his eyes. “This screams first-timer. Total amateur.”
They started toward the cottage, to the right front corner. “Fire originated here, as you probably figured by the damage. Our perp used gasoline. Take a look.”
They both crouched down to peer under the raised home. Green aimed his flashlight beam. It landed on a red gasoline can.
“The offender saturated this area with the fuel, then tossed the can under the house. He might have assumed it would be consumed in the fire, or maybe he didn’t care.”
Green tipped the flashlight beam up. The fire had destroyed the subflooring nearest the point of origin, the damage radiated out from there, like the legs of a spider.
“This is interesting.” Green straightened. He indicated the window directly above. “Our perp knew enough to break the window. The draperies caught and the oxygen fueled the fire.”
Luke gazed up at the window, picturing the room beyond. The living room. The stacks of boxes.
Not so amateurish after all.
“You’ve talked to the firefighters?” he asked.
Luke knew the drill. Unlike a typical crime scene, where processing physical evidence came before witness interviews, the arson investigator flipped that. Since fire destroyed evidence, firsthand accounts could mean the difference between solving the crime and not. That meant interviewing anyone who had been at the scene early. Firefighters. Witnesses. Even the press.
“On my way in. Everything they told me supports what I see here. The color of the flames, the smoke. The way the fire spread.”
“And the gas can,” Luke said, then looked at Green. “What about motivation?”
“Without my crystal ball, I’d say this was personal, not random. If you’ve got a perp who just likes to watch things burn, he’s going to use a lot more accelerant. For those guys, the bigger and hotter, the better.”
“So, what’s our perp doing here?”
“Making a statement. Getting the owner’s attention.” Green lifted a shoulder. “In my opinion.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Whose house?”
“The most hated woman in Liberty, Louisiana.” At the man’s expression, he asked, “You remember the McCall murder? Happened about ten years ago. Young teacher bludgeoned to death. The victim’s sister was charged but acquitted at trial. Most folks believed she got away with murder.”
“No recall, man.”
Luke nodded. “We have one other theory, that somebody wanted to destroy evidence in the house. Evidence located in boxes in that room. We have a suspect in custody. Prints off the gas can would be helpful.”
“If there’re any to be had, it’ll be this afternoon. Pretty slick if they matched up to your suspect.”
“That it would be,” Luke responded. “Nice and easy. Just the way I like it.”