Chapter 17
chapter
seventeen
"Parks, thanks for getting back to me so quick."
She bolted upright, sheets tangling around her legs as the fog of exhaustion shattered. "What the hell? How?"
"Gunshot wound. Single bullet to the temple. Service weapon found in his hand."
"Suicide?"
"That's the official narrative." Something in Parks' tone suggested doubt. "Note left on the kitchen counter. Confession to Monica Landry's murder."
Lawson swung her feet to the floor, the phone pressed against her ear. "I'll be there in twenty."
"Make it fifteen. ME removes the body at seven."
The line went dead. Lawson dressed in yesterday's clothes, splashed water on her face, and grabbed her keys.
The drive to Ridgewood Apartments took twelve minutes through empty early morning streets.
The upscale complex near Forsyth Park housed several officers and city officials.
Ray Hutchinson had lived well on a detective's salary.
Police vehicles lined the entrance. Curious neighbors clustered behind yellow tape, cell phones raised to capture the activity. Lawson badged the uniform at the perimeter, who checked her ID against the clearance list before lifting the tape.
The elevator smelled of artificial pine. The third floor hallway buzzed with activity. Crime scene techs moved between the apartment and their equipment cases. Uniformed officers kept curious residents back. Parks stood outside Unit 307, leather notebook open in his hands.
"His captain found him after he missed morning briefing and didn't respond to calls." Parks led her inside without preamble. "Hutchinson never failed to show up or call in before. Time of death between midnight and three a.m."
The apartment revealed expensive taste. Leather furniture. Original artwork. Hardwood floors with Persian rugs. A detective's salary stretched through outside income or family money.
The kitchen counter held an evidence marker beside a handwritten note secured in a plastic sleeve. Lawson read it without touching it.
I killed Monica Landry. The guilt has become unbearable. She threatened to expose our relationship and my connection to Rafferty. I arranged the meeting, set up the floodlight, and waited. I never meant for it to happen this way. I'm sorry.
"Ballistics processing the weapon?" Lawson asked.
"Standard protocol. Initial assessment matches his service weapon."
"Where's the body?"
"Bedroom. ME finishing the examination."
Lawson followed Parks through the apartment. Immaculate organization everywhere. Books alphabetized. Clothing arranged by color. Shoes in perfect pairs beneath hanging garments. It all felt at odds with how he'd chosen to die.
The medical examiner knelt beside the body sprawled across an unmade bed. Hutchinson wore boxers and a T-shirt. Blood soaked the pillow beneath his head. The entry wound created a small, neat hole at his right temple. The exit wound left a larger cavity on the opposite side.
"Detective Lawson." The ME nodded without looking up. "Interesting case."
"Suicide looks straightforward." Parks crossed his arms. "Except for inconsistencies."
"Such as?" Lawson asked.
The ME gestured toward Hutchinsons' arms. "Defensive wounds on forearms and hands. Bruising pattern indicates he shielded himself from attack. Occurred prior to death."
Lawson leaned closer. Purple bruises marked Hutchinson's forearms. Knuckles showed abrasions consistent with throwing punches.
"He fought someone before dying."
"Four to six hours before, based on bruise development." The ME stood. "Tox screen pending, but pupil dilation suggests potential sedative in his system."
"Someone subdued him." Lawson glanced at Parks. "Staged the suicide."
"Initial assessment supports that theory." The ME packed instruments into a black bag. "Gunshot residue pattern inconsistent with self-infliction. Angle suggests the shooter stood beside rather than in front of the victim."
"Murder disguised as suicide." Parks closed his notebook. "Complete with confession note."
"Handwriting analysis?" Lawson asked.
"Lab comparing it to known samples. Preliminary assessment suggests forgery." Parks checked his watch. "Body moves downstairs in ten minutes. Anything else you need to see?"
Lawson surveyed the bedroom again. Wallet and keys on the nightstand. Clothing draped over a chair. Nothing obviously disturbed or missing. "Security cameras in the building?"
"Lobby. Elevators. Parking garage." Parks nodded. "Footage already pulled. Tech is reviewing it now."
They returned to the living room, where crime scene technicians photographed blood spatter patterns. Hutchinson had died in the bedroom, but evidence suggested violence throughout the apartment. Overturned lamp. Scuff marks on hardwood.
"Timeline?" Lawson asked.
"Last seen leaving the precinct at eight last night." Parks consulted his notes. "No activity on his phone or credit cards after nine. Neighbor reported hearing a thump around midnight but attributed it to the upstairs tenant."
"The confession conveniently wraps up Monica's case." Lawson studied the note again through its plastic covering. "Too convenient."
"My assessment exactly." Parks tucked his notebook into his jacket pocket. "Especially twenty-four hours after Blackwell's podcast connected him to Monica."
Lawson turned toward him. "You listened to it?"
"Required monitoring as IA liaison." Parks maintained a neutral expression. "Recordings sent directly to my office for review."
The door opened as four morgue attendants entered with a gurney. The ME directed them toward the bedroom. Crime scene photographers completed final documentation before the body removal process began.
Parks led Lawson into the hallway. Fewer officers remained, the initial surge of activity tapering to methodical processing. The neighbors had retreated to their apartments, leaving the corridor empty except for a uniformed officer guarding the doorway.
"Someone wanted Hutchinson silenced." Lawson kept her voice low. "The suicide narrative provides closure to Monica's case without further investigation."
"Convenient for several parties." Parks maintained a professional distance. "Including Thomas Hutchinson. Family embarrassment contained. Firm reputation preserved."
"Blackwell loses her star interview subject."
"But gains a dramatic conclusion." Parks checked the hallway before continuing. "Nothing sells podcasts like unexpected death."
The elevator doors opened. The morgue attendants wheeled Hutchinson's sheet-covered body toward them. Lawson and Parks pressed against the wall to allow passage. The gurney wheels squeaked against the flooring. The officer held the elevator door as they loaded Hutchinson's final journey.
"Tech room downstairs has the security footage." Parks gestured toward the stairwell. "Worth reviewing before department politics intervene."
The basement tech room occupied former storage space. A young officer with thick glasses monitored multiple screens displaying security camera feeds. Two additional monitors showed footage from the previous night.
"Time index 23:40 through 01:15." Parks directed the technician. "External entrances and third floor corridors."
The screens displayed multiple angles. The lobby camera showed minimal activity after eleven. Delivery person. Late-night dog walker. Resident returning from evening shift work. The elevator camera captured similar routine movements.
"There." Lawson pointed at 00:17 timestamp. "Hoodie. Baseball cap. Face obscured."
The figure entered through a side door accessible only with a resident key fob. Medium height. Athletic build beneath loose clothing. Deliberate movements toward the elevator suggested familiarity with the building layout.
"Camera three shows them exiting on the third floor." The technician switched views. "Walking directly to Hutchinson's apartment."
The hallway camera captured the hooded figure knocking on Unit 307. Hutchinson answered, wearing the same T-shirt found on his body. No audio accompanied the footage, but body language suggested recognition. Hutchinson stepped back, allowing the visitor entry.
"Time stamp 00:21." Parks noted the information. "Next hallway activity?"
The technician fast-forwarded. "01:03. Same individual exits apartment. Note the different gait."
The hooded figure emerged from Hutchinson's unit. Head down. Shoulders hunched. The walking pattern changed from confident stride to cautious movement. Right hand remained inside the hoodie pocket. Left hand pulled the door closed.
"Forty-two minutes inside." Parks studied the retreating figure. "Enough time for confrontation, sedation, staging."
"Familiar." Lawson narrowed her eyes at the screen. "Something about that walk."
The footage continued. The elevator camera showed the hooded figure descending to the lobby. The lobby camera captured their exit through the same side door used for entry. No clear facial image appeared in any frame.
"Access requires a resident key fob." Parks turned to the technician. "Pull usage logs for that entrance between midnight and one AM."
The technician typed commands into his terminal. "System shows access at 00:14 and 01:05. Fob registered to Unit 307. Ray Hutchinson."
"They used his own key." Lawson processed the implication. "Had access to his fob before arriving."
"Seems like someone familiar with building security. Someone Hutchinson recognized and admitted into his apartment at midnight."
The elevator doors opened behind them. Chief Wallace entered with two suited men Lawson recognized from the district attorney's office. Their expressions suggested administrative intervention rather than investigative support.
"Lieutenant Parks." The Chief nodded curtly. "The DA's office assumes jurisdiction over Detective Hutchinson's death investigation. You'll transfer all materials to their team immediately."
Parks maintained a neutral expression. "Standard protocol places Internal Affairs as lead when officer deaths involve potential misconduct."
"Protocol adjusted given the circumstances." Chief Wallace's tone left no room for discussion. "The confession note provides clear resolution to the Landry case. Public interest requires expedited processing."
The suits flanked the tech officer, already collecting data drives. The Chief turned toward Lawson with barely concealed irritation.
"Detective Lawson. Your presence at this scene isn't necessary."
Lawson caught Parks' subtle head shake. Not the moment for confrontation. She nodded professionally. "Sir."
Outside, morning sunlight struck the parking lot with blinding intensity. News vans had arrived, reporters setting up for live segments. Lawson kept her head down, avoiding cameras as she reached her car.
Her phone chimed with a notification. Blackwell had posted on social media: In light of Detective Hutchinson's tragic death, Episode 5 release postponed 24 hours. The investigation continues.
The post had already accumulated thousands of shares and comments. Blackwell, already pivoting tragedy into promotion with practiced efficiency.
Parks appeared beside her car window. "Department channels compromised. Meet me at Riverfront Coffee. One hour."
He walked away without waiting for a response. Professional distance maintained for any watching eyes. Lawson started her engine and pulled away from the growing media circus.
Hutchinson's death changed everything. Apparent suicide with a convenient confession. The evidence left suggested a murder staged to close Monica's case permanently. The hooded figure, whose walking pattern nagged at Lawson's memory.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Claire's number.
"Fiona canceled her story." Claire skipped greeting pleasantries. "Hutchinson's death created bigger headlines than podcast funding."
"Convenient timing."
"Too convenient." Claire's voice lowered. "Someone's coordinating this narrative, Erin. First Blackwell's podcast. Now, Hutchinson's confession. The story's being managed."
"By Thomas Hutchinson?"
"Possibly. Or someone with equal resources." Papers shuffled in the background. "Fiona's investigating the connection between Hutchinson Parks' paranoia spreading to her actions. "I'm meeting Parks in an hour."
"Be careful. Hutchinson dying hours after Blackwell exposed him isn't coincidence."
The call ended. Lawson drove toward the riverfront, mind processing implications. Ray Hutchinson's death created perfect narrative closure. Confession without investigation. Case closed without exposing wider corruption.
Exactly what Monica's killers would want.
Her social media notification chimed again. Blackwell had posted another update with the security camera still image of the hooded figure leaving Hutchinsons' building. The caption read: The real killer walks free. Justice demands truth. New episode reveals shocking connections.
The media machine continued its inexorable operation. Tragedy transformed into content. Death repackaged as entertainment. All while the hooded figure disappeared into Savannah's morning crowds, mission accomplished.
For now.