Chapter 24
chapter
twenty-four
Morning news broadcasts blared from the television in Claire's beach house living room.
Each channel displayed the same footage: Lawson exiting the parking garage, surrounded by cameras and shouted questions.
The ticker at the bottom of the screen spelled out her new status with brutal simplicity: "Detective Erin Lawson Named Person of Interest in Leah Blackwell Disappearance. "
"Turn it off." Lawson stood in the kitchen doorway, coffee mug gripped tightly in her hand. Three hours of restless sleep had done nothing to diminish yesterday's exhaustion.
Fiona ignored the request, increasing the volume instead. "We need to know what they're saying."
The anchor's professionally concerned voice filled the room.
"The Savannah Police Department has confirmed that Detective Erin Lawson has been suspended pending investigation into her possible connection to podcast host Leah Blackwell's disappearance.
Sources within the department suggest Detective Lawson had motive to silence Blackwell before damaging revelations about her partner's death could be made public. "
"Sources within the department." Claire emerged from the guest bedroom, already dressed for court despite the early hour. "Wallace is controlling the narrative."
Social media updates scrolled across the bottom of the screen. #FindLeah had been trending nationwide since last night's interrupted broadcast. Celebrity tweets demanding justice. Podcast fans organizing virtual vigils. Armchair detectives, dissecting every frame of the abduction audio.
"They're painting me as the villain." Lawson watched her own image flash across the screen—her official department photo juxtaposed with security footage of her entering the parking garage. The visual framing suggested guilt before any evidence had been presented.
"Public opinion trial before actual investigation." Fiona typed furiously on her laptop. "Classic misdirection tactic."
The television switched to a press conference outside police headquarters. Chief Wallace stood at a podium surrounded by uniformed officers, his expression grave with manufactured concern.
"We are pursuing all leads in Ms. Blackwell's disappearance.
Detective Lawson's suspension is standard procedure when an officer becomes central to an ongoing investigation.
I want to assure the public that this department is committed to finding Ms. Blackwell and bringing those responsible to justice, regardless of who they may be. "
Carefully crafted statements. Plausible deniability wrapped in procedural justification. Wallace's performance hit every necessary note to appear thorough while actually obstructing real investigation.
"He's good." Claire's grudging professional assessment cut through the tension. "Building reasonable doubt about department motives while simultaneously directing attention toward you."
Lawson set her coffee down before she could throw it at the screen. "Where's Dylan? He has the evidence that could counter this narrative."
"Not answering calls since last night." Fiona closed her laptop with a decisive snap. "Texts go unread. Voicemail full."
"Could he have been taken too?" The possibility sent a chill through the room.
"Or spooked into hiding." Claire retrieved her briefcase from beside the couch. "Young man suddenly holding evidence in a high-profile abduction with police corruption overtones. Fight or flight would naturally trigger."
Fiona's phone pinged with an incoming message. She checked it, expression shifting from concern to satisfaction. "The Chronicle's editor just approved my article. Publishing in fifteen minutes online, tomorrow's front page print edition."
"What article?"
"The one detailing your alibi during Blackwell's abduction, the Chief's suspicious rush to name you a person of interest, and serious questions about the department's handling of both Blackwell and Landry investigations.
" Fiona displayed her phone screen showing the headline: "Detective Scapegoated in Podcast Host Disappearance: Corruption Questions Mount. "
"They approved that?" Claire appeared genuinely surprised.
"I have documentation." Fiona's smile carried professional pride. "Witness statements confirming your whereabouts. Parks' preliminary assessment contradicting the Chief's public statements. Records of Wallace's questionable promotions after the Landry case went cold."
"You're putting yourself at risk." Lawson understood the professional consequences Fiona faced by challenging powerful institutions. "Wallace will retaliate."
"Let him try." Fiona returned to her laptop. "Tribune's legal department welcomes the opportunity. First Amendment battles make careers in journalism."
Claire checked her watch. "I need to file motions challenging your suspension before the courthouse closes. The administrative hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning."
"I need to see Richardson first." The decision had formed during the sleepless hours before dawn. "He's at the center of this somehow."
"Absolutely not." Claire's lawyer voice emerged, the tone she likely used with difficult clients. "Approaching a potential suspect compromises your position and risks additional administrative charges."
"He knows what happened to Monica." Lawson moved toward the door. "Maybe what happened to Blackwell too."
"You have no badge, no authority, and a target on your back." Fiona joined Claire's opposition. "Wallace would love nothing more than to charge you with harassment or interference."
"I'll be careful." Lawson grabbed her jacket from the hook beside the door. "Just a conversation."
"At least wait until my article publishes." Fiona gestured toward her laptop screen. "Give the department something else to worry about before you make yourself more visible."
The logic made sense, but patience had never been Lawson's strength. Five years waiting for justice had depleted her capacity for further delay. "Richardson needs to know we're onto him."
"And if he's involved in Blackwell's disappearance?" Claire blocked the doorway. "You'd be walking into the lion's den alone."
"Then I'll bring a chair and whip." Lawson gently moved past her. "I've faced worse."
Further arguments followed her to the door. Professional concerns from Claire. Practical cautions from Fiona. Lawson absorbed their warnings without altering her course. Some confrontations couldn't be delegated or delayed.
The drive to Richardson's house consumed forty minutes. Magnolia Way looked different in daylight—manicured lawns and carefully pruned trees creating a facade of ordered tranquility. Richardson's colonial revival still projected authority with its imposing columns and symmetrical windows.
Lawson parked across the street, studying the property for signs of activity. Richardson's car was missing from the driveway. Newspapers collected on the porch. Window blinds partially closed against morning sunlight.
She approached cautiously, professional instincts cataloging potential threats despite her suspended status. The doorbell chimed inside the house, its sound muffled through thick wooden doors. Footsteps approached from within.
Amy Richardson opened the door halfway, security chain still in place. The former captain's wife looked older than Lawson remembered—new lines etched around eyes that remained sharp with intelligence.
"Detective Lawson." No surprise colored her voice. "I wondered when you might appear."
"Mrs. Richardson. Is your husband home?"
"Tom's on his annual fishing trip." Amy's expression revealed nothing. "Chattooga River. Same week every year."
"Convenient timing."
"Scheduled months in advance." Amy's gaze remained steady. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"When did he leave?"
"Three days ago. Returns Friday." Amy's hand rested on the door edge, ready to close it if necessary. "I can give you the name of the lodge if it's important."
"It's important." Lawson studied the woman's face for signs of deception. "A podcast host investigating your husband's connection to Monica Landry's murder has disappeared."
Not even a flicker of reaction crossed Amy's features. Either she knew nothing or possessed remarkable control. "That sounds like a matter for the police."
"I am the police."
"Not according to this morning's news." Amy's matter-of-fact delivery carried no malice, just acknowledgment of widely broadcast information. "Your suspension was mentioned specifically."
"Administrative leave pending investigation." The correction sounded hollow even to Lawson's ears.
"Then I suggest you allow active officers to handle their duties." Amy began closing the door. "I'll tell Tom you stopped by."
"Did he ever mention Monica?" Lawson asked quickly, before the door could close completely. "Or Ray Hutchinson?"
Amy paused, door half-closed between them. "My husband mentored dozens of officers during his career, Detective. He rarely discussed individual cases or personnel matters at home."
"Even after Hutchinson's suicide?"
"Especially then." Amy's expression softened slightly. "Tom believed in maintaining professional boundaries. Something you might consider during your administrative leave."
The door closed with quiet finality. Lawson stood on the porch, frustrated by the encounter's lack of productive information. Amy Richardson either genuinely knew nothing or had mastered the art of polite stonewalling through decades of marriage to a police captain.
Three days ago. Before Blackwell's abduction. Before Hutchinson's murder, staged as suicide. The timeline potentially provided Richardson with an alibi.
Unless the fishing trip was a fabrication. A cover story maintained by a loyal wife while Richardson operated from the shadows.
Lawson returned to her car, mulling possibilities. Richardson could have orchestrated everything from a distance. Digital communications. Trusted subordinates carrying out orders. Physical absence providing plausible deniability while events unfolded according to plan.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Fiona's number.
"The article just published." Fiona's voice carried the excited tension of a journalist who had just fired a significant shot across powerful bows. "Chronicle's server traffic quadrupled in five minutes."
"Any official response?"
"Department spokesperson says they 'don't comment on speculative reporting' but 'stand by their investigation procedures.'" Fiona's satisfaction came through. "Social media's exploding. #CorruptSavannahPD trending alongside #FindLeah."
"Any sign of Dylan?"
"Still nothing." Fiona's tone shifted to concern. "Claire's filing a missing person report, but without evidence of foul play, it won't get priority."
"Evidence keeps disappearing." Lawson started her car, watching Richardson's house in the rearview mirror. "First Blackwell, now potentially her assistant."
"What about Richardson?"
"Allegedly fishing. Chattooga River. Left three days ago according to his wife."
"Convenient." Fiona's skepticism matched Lawson's own. "I'll have a contact check lodges in that area, confirm the reservation."
"Good. I'm heading back now."
"Be careful. Wallace called a press conference for noon. Likely responding to my article."
"Looking forward to his creative interpretation of facts." Lawson pulled away from the curb, keeping Richardson's house in view until distance obscured it. "See you soon."