The Right Call (5 page)

“Chief Jessup.”

“Brill, I’m sorry if I woke you. It’s Lewis Roswell.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Win Davison just stormed out of my living room, threatening to go to the media and reveal your
intimidation tactics.
He’s demanding that the city council reprimand you publicly for mishandling him.”

“What? No way was Mr. Davison mishandled.”

“What happened?”

“We questioned him the same way we would any other victim’s father. We needed to establish what kind of relationship he had with his son. Where he was at the time of the shooting. And that the bullet that killed his son didn’t come from the nine-millimeter handgun that’s registered to him. That’s just standard operating procedure. For heaven’s sake, Davison isn’t even a suspect. What he
is,
Lewis, is arrogant and controlling, not to mention rude and uncooperative. I doubt the man is half as upset about losing the only male heir to the family business as he is that we treated him like John Q. Public. He resents being treated like everyone else. The questions we asked him were relevant to the case. I’m not apologizing.”

“The city council is going to side with him. Davison Technologies’ board of directors is in the process of deciding whether to keep the Sophie Trace plant open or close it and move the operation to Chattanooga. We’re talking about nine hundred workers. I don’t have to tell you the impact that kind of layoff would have in this community.”

Brill combed her hands through her hair. “Look, I’ll make some kind of statement and explain police procedure. But I refuse to say we did anything wrong.”

“We need those jobs, Brill.”

“Then let the city council smooth it over! What I say reflects on my entire force. I’m not going to leave the community with the impression their police officers are bullies.”

“I’ve known Win a long time. He’s not going to let this go.”

Brill looked over at Kurt and raised her eyebrows. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Lewis. It’s a matter of principle. It’s unfair and unreasonable that the city council should lay the fate of nine hundred workers on a lie they expect me to tell—to satisfy Davison’s precious ego.”

“Would it kill you?”

“That’s not the point. It would cast aspersions on my officers. I won’t do it. I’m perfectly willing to talk to the media and explain police procedure. I can word it so it reinforces our having followed protocol and makes Davison feel respected. That’s the best I can do.”

Lewis exhaled into the receiver. “All right. Let’s hope it’s enough. Losing Davison Technologies would be a huge economic hit.”

Brill realized the phone was dead.
And good-bye to you, too, Mr. Mayor
.

“I heard the whole conversation,” Kurt said. “It’s wrong of the mayor to put you in this position.”

“I agree. On the other hand, we know people who work at the plant. Everyone does. I’d hate to see them lose their jobs because my pride got in the way.”

“Honey, there’s no guarantee that Davison will choose to keep the plant here if you apologize. It’s about money. It always is.”

“Probably.” She lay down on the bed, the back of her hand on her forehead. “But I resent looking like the bad guy in this.”

Chapter 6

Brill
stood at her office window and looked out through the towering trees that shaded the grounds around city hall. In the distance, beyond the ridge of rolling foothills, the silhouette of the Great Smoky Mountains seemed to fade in and out of the ghostly haze.

She looked down at the cars parked at the meters. Fridays were always busy. Maybe people just wanted to get their business done before the weekend.

She heard a knock at the door and turned around. Trent Norris filled the doorway.

“Ballistics report came,” he said. “The nine-millimeter bullet that killed Tal Davison didn’t come from his father’s gun.”

“Gee, what a surprise.” Brill hated the sarcasm in her voice.

“Are you still stewing about Davison’s visit to the mayor last night?”

“Yes. I don’t like being misrepresented or put in the middle.”

“Are you going to apologize?”

“And let Davison get away with insinuating that we bully people? No way. I told the mayor what I’m willing to do. I’ll issue a statement to the press and explain police procedures. I’ll make sure Davison doesn’t come off looking bad.”

“How are you going to do that, Chief? He was totally obnoxious.”

“Yes, but he was stressed. It was hard to think clearly under the circumstances, what with his grief over losing his only son and all.” There was that sarcasm again.

Trent flashed a phony smile. “Yeah, right. I could tell how deeply troubled the guy was.”

“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he just doesn’t know how to show it. It’s not uncommon for people to misdirect their anger when someone they love dies tragically.”

“You’re being way too generous.”

“I don’t want Davison Technologies to close the Sophie Trace plant.”

“So what are you going to tell the media?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I refuse to apologize for good police work. Now that we’ve eliminated Win Davison’s gun in the shooting, maybe he’ll realize we’re not out to get him.”

“I don’t know, Chief. He strikes me as the type of guy that enjoys a good fight.”

Ethan sat at the kitchen table at Drew’s house, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He heard the shuffling of bare feet on the wood floor and looked up just as Drew walked in, unkempt and unshaven, dressed in the same denim cutoffs and white T-shirt he wore the night before.

“Hey, Cuz.” Drew stumbled over to the coffeepot. “I smelled coffee all the way upstairs.”

“Help yourself. How’d you sleep?”

“So-so. I couldn’t get the image of Tal out of my mind.”

“The shooting made the headlines,” Ethan said. “I’m surprised, since it happened so late. They must’ve bumped another story and printed this one. According to the article, shots were reported a few blocks away right after Tal was shot.”

Drew carried his cup of coffee over to the table and sat across from Ethan. “Did they mention my name?”

“Several times. Here, you want to read it?”

“So I can relive it? No thanks.”

“The article told how you tried to resuscitate him.”

“And yet … he’s dead, isn’t he?”

Ethan folded the newspaper and drank the last of his coffee. “It took a lot of courage to attempt mouth-to-mouth on someone in that condition.”

“Not really. I had to do something, and I couldn’t do CPR with his chest oozing blood.”

Ethan reached across the table and gently gripped his cousin’s wrist. “No one could’ve saved him. You have to know that.”

Drew stared at his cup. “Have you ever watched someone die?”

“Not like that. I was there when my grandma Tremont died, but she was sleeping peacefully.”

“Tal choked on his own blood. It was hard to watch.” Drew seemed withdrawn for a minute and then began tracing the rim of his cup with his finger. “He didn’t believe in God or a life after this one.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Yeah. I invited him to a MercyMe concert shortly after he moved in. He left at intermission. We talked later, and he said that belief in a higher power was a crutch. Some people needed it but not him. I just let it go. I should’ve tried harder.”

“Drew, this kind of thinking is just going to make you depressed. Tal had the same choices you and I did. He chose differently. Just like you couldn’t save his life, you couldn’t save his eternal life either. Some things aren’t in our power.”

“Seems like
nothing
was in my power.”

“It’s no fun feeling powerless, but you did everything you could.”

“Then why do I feel so bad?”

“Good grief, man. You saw your friend shot and killed. I’d be worried if you
didn’t
feel bad.”

Drew’s eyes turned to dark pools. He buried his face in his hands and started to sob quietly, almost as if Ethan’s comment had given him permission to acknowledge his emotions.

Ethan got up, walked around the table, and sat next to the cousin who seemed more like a brother, placing his hand on his back. “Let it out, Drew. All the sadness and fear and anger and guilt. Let it go.”

Ethan stayed where he was, hoping his presence was comforting to Drew. What a horrible trauma his cousin had been through. He tried to imagine it and then erased the scene from his mind. Minutes passed with neither of them saying a word.

Finally Drew wiped his eyes on his T-shirt. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Every man needs to cry once in a while. It’s like taking the cap off the pressure valve.”

“I guess.” Drew took a sip of coffee that had to be cold by now. “When’s the funeral?”

“Don’t know yet. The article indicated there would be an autopsy. I doubt the family can make arrangements until Tal’s body is released.”

“Why would they do an autopsy when it’s obvious he died of a gunshot wound?”

“Probably to determine whether there was foul play
prior
to his being shot, or whether he was under the influence of drugs or alcohol or something else that might’ve caused him to provoke the attack.”

“Drunk or sober, impaired or not, he was shot in cold blood in the middle of the sidewalk. There’s no escaping it.”

“No one saw what happened, Drew. There might be more to it.”

Tessa Masino shuffled into Nick’s Grill, Antonio holding the door, and savored the aroma of something spicy wafting under her nose.

Nick Phillips waved from the counter and hurried over to them, his thick, sandy blond hair salted with gray, a roll of excess pounds hanging over his belt. He shook Antonio’s hand and put his other hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “Welcome, friends. I’ve got a zesty tortellini salad loaded with grilled chicken and veggies that’ll knock your socks off. Low in fat. High in flavor. Comes with sourdough rolls fresh from the oven.”

“Oh my”—Tessa put her hand on her heart—“that’s what I’m having. I’ve had a craving for something Italian. You’re the only one we know who makes pasta that tastes as good as Antonio’s grandmother’s.”

“That’s why I love serving you two.” Nick winked. “Gus and Maggie saved your places at the counter. I’ll be right there.”

Tessa walked over to the counter and hugged Maggie Williams. “Does it feel strange being a customer?”

“I think it’ll hit when Jo Beth takes my order.”

“We’ll all just move down one seat, dear. You fit right in.”

Antonio slid onto the stool between Tessa and Gus and slapped Gus on the back. “How’s it going, friend?”

“Really can’t complain, but I always do.” Gus chuckled, linking arms with Maggie. “Not so much anymore.”

“Well, to celebrate Maggie’s first lunch with us on
this
side of the counter,” Antonio said, “Tessa and I are treating today.”

“That’s mighty nice of you.”

“So what do you know?”

Gus waved his hand. “Aw, it’s a cryin’ shame about Win Davison’s kid bein’ shot in front of his apartment.”

“I just can’t imagine why no one saw what happened,” Tessa said. “And, Gus, I do not believe the spirits of the departed Cherokee are responsible for it, so don’t even go there.”

Gus arched his eyebrows. “Did I say anything about the legend?”

“No, but you were thinking it,” Tessa said. “Ever since Billy Dan went on
Larry King Live,
you’ve been more superstitious than ever.”

“Well, I believe him.” Gus’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t the one that got caught up by red shadows and was left for dead on an Indian burial ground. Billy Dan saw what he saw. You can’t take that from him.”

“Fine,” Tessa said. “Just don’t try to turn this boy’s killing into a paranormal experience. It was more than likely a random shooting.”

“That’s the spin the cops will put on it.”

“Guess we’ll see.”

“Guess we will.”

“I’m ready to order,” Maggie said, louder than she needed to.

Antonio smiled knowingly. “Good idea.”

Jo Beth McCauley seemed to come out of nowhere, green pad in hand. She reached back and moved her long braid so it fell neatly down the center of her back. “I’ll take your orders when y’all are ready.”

“Specials for Maggie and me,” Gus said.

Antonio nodded. “Ditto.”

“Coffee all around and a Coke for Gus?” she said.

Four heads bobbed in affirmation.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Nick came over to the counter. “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, we’re just talkin’ about the Davison kid,” Gus said.

“Who isn’t? That’s all my customers have been talking about all day.”

“Well, the shooting became personal for Antonio and me,” Tessa said. “We just found out this morning that the victim was Vanessa Jessup’s boyfriend’s cousin’s roommate.”

Gus chuckled. “You call that
personal?”

Maggie nudged him with her elbow. “Gus, she’s saying that Ethan’s cousin shared an apartment with the boy that was killed.”

“Oh.”

“The cousin’s name is Drew Langley,” Tessa said. “He and Ethan are very close.”

Maggie looked down the counter at her. “According to the news, Drew tried to resuscitate the victim.”

“Yes, and was really shaken by his death. Vanessa and Ethan spent the evening with him.”

Gus rubbed his white mustache. “I also heard that Chief Jessup and her officers questioned Win Davison like he’s the one who did the shootin’. He’s demanded an apology.”

“I’m sure there’s more to the story,” Tessa said.

Clint Ames slid onto the stool next to her and set his sunglasses on the counter. “Hi, all. Hope you didn’t wait on me to order.”

“No, we went ahead.” Gus turned and seemed to study Clint. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Yeah.” Clint let out a long sigh and slowly shook his head. “The body of a young woman was just found on a balcony at the Essex Apartments. Shot in the head.”

Brill pulled the sheet over the face of the female victim sprawled on the balcony floor of apartment 206, then slowly rose to her feet, hoping she could keep down her lunch.

“The victim’s name is Skyler Roberts,” Trent said. “She was a sophomore at Stanton. Parents have been notified. They’re flying in from Atlanta. Dad’s a CPA. Mom’s a schoolteacher.”

“Who found her?”

“Her roommate, Olivia Jones. She returned to the apartment around eleven this morning after spending the night with her sister in Knoxville. Her story is airtight. She placed the 9-1-1 call.”