Chapter 26 Monroe
MONROE
Bradley’s trip to the police station proved to be fruitless.
Everyone there was tight-lipped and not saying a thing.
He came back with lunch and we continued to pour through documents while my highlighter sat unused.
California law was a beast, and every loophole I thought I’d found was then covered in the next paragraph.
At this rate, it would take me two weeks to get through this damn book, and I wasn’t sure I would come out with a solution.
Our best bet was to actually figure out who killed Blaze. Because if it was one it was one of the Black Saddles, it would throw the entire RICO case off The Dead Souls.
I still had doubts about Knox. I loved him.
I really did. I was worried for him in ways I couldn’t explain.
But I still had my doubts. Looking for a loophole in all this still painted guilt across his forehead.
What the loophole meant was that he wouldn’t be prosecuted for his perceived guilt.
He ran with a club that was known in this area to work with some of the most notorious crime families when it came to running and laundering their money.
That wasn’t something to easily come back from.
One good altercation over a decent sum of money could lead to a murder, and with Knox head-deep in that world I couldn’t put it past him.
I was in love with someone I thought was capable of murder, and it made me sick.
There was something we were missing. I could feel it.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I need more coffee,” I said.
“Good idea. I’m expecting another call from the assistant U.S. attorney in an hour, so I could use the caffeine to fuel the argument that’s coming,” Rose said.
“You get the feeling there’s more to this than we know?” Bradley asked.
“There always is,” Rose said. “We just have to find it. Monroe, get us two large black coffees from wherever you go. Bradley keeps his own cream and sugar.”
“And Rose takes it black. Like her soul,” Bradley said with a grin.
“The two of you are too much. I’ll be right back,” I said.
I left the office space and headed in the exact opposite direction of the coffeehouse.
Blaze’s evidence load was at the police station, and I was going to access it.
I got into my car and drove up the block, then parked myself right in front of the station.
I knew I didn’t need to be there and I knew I could potentially sink this entire case, but I had to prove Knox innocent.
I had to get this RICO case dropped.
I slipped into the building and made my way down to evidence.
I avoided signing in at the front desk, just in case I got into trouble.
I had no idea what the hell had overcome me, but I was out on a mission.
If Bradley couldn’t get what he needed through legal means, then I had ways of getting what I wanted with means that were a little grayer than the ones he used.
I walked down the staircase to the basement of the police station. The man sitting at the desk was typing away on his computer. Beer gut. Scruff on his face. Crumbs on his uniform. The man didn’t look fit to be guarding someone’s cat, much less an evidence locker.
But a man who looked like him was more susceptible to the tactics I was about to use.
“Afternoon, officer,” I said with a kind smile.
“Hello there,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Monroe Williams. I’m the new hire over at Lowen And Scott. I was wondering if I could take a look at Andrew Shepard’s evidence box?” I asked.
“You guys must not communicate very well. Bradley was just by here a couple of hours ago. I can’t let you see that file because the case is closed for now. You’ll have to get a judge to sign off on a new warrant to reopen the box.”
“It’s already taped up?” I asked. “Wow, you must be an efficient man.”
“Well, it’s not taped up yet. But I’m getting around to it today,” he said.
“An efficient man on a schedule. I wish more men operated like that.”
“Eh, a lot of guys around here aren’t raised the way I was. Parents around here are sloppy, at best. My father kept me on a strict schedule and if I deviated from it in any way, there was hell to pay.”
“Military man?” I asked.
“Oh yes. Traveled a lot. Lived overseas a couple of times. And the schedule he kept our house on was for the sanity of everyone.”
“You come from a big family?” I asked.
“Five sisters. I’m the oldest.”
“Wow. You just keep getting better,” I said with a smile.
“How so?”
“You enjoy schedules. Routine. You’re the oldest, which means you probably have an innate sense of looking out for your family. Your father would be proud of you.”
“I’d like to think he would be, yes.”
“Your wife’s one lucky woman,” I said.
“Oh, I never married. When my father died in combat, I took up the requirement of taking care of my family.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. When did he pass?”
“Years ago. But taking care of my mother and five sisters didn’t leave much time for a love life,” he said.
“What about now?” I asked.
I leaned forward onto the desk and shoved my boobs together. The man’s eyes descended to them and I watched him try to not lick his lips. His cheeks flushed and his neck began to redden. His eyes danced along the part of my body he could see before his eyes met mine again.
Then a grin slid across his face.
“You must really wanna see that evidence box,” he said.
“What evidence box?” I asked.
“I know what you’re doing. Women have done less for a peek in evidence boxes.”
I put on my best shocked face and kept my eyes open to the harsh air in the basement.
They began to dry out then water, making it look as if I was about to cry.
There were two sides to this man. The side that never got laid and the side that felt an innate sense to take care of a female.
The flirting didn’t work, so the wounded woman would have to do.
“Miss Williams, are you okay?” he asked.
“I can’t stand that about you men,” I said breathlessly.
“What? That’s what you were doing, right?”
“No. I know what ‘no’ means. It’s not my fault you have beautiful eyes and a kind demeanor. Just because I come down here and want to talk with a guy doesn’t mean I’m trying to get something. You told me I couldn't have it so I got the picture.”
“Miss Williams, I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t mean to what? Insinuate that I was using my body to get something for myself?” I asked. “Is that what you do to all women you encounter? Accuse them of some underlying notion?”
“No. Not at all,” he said.
“Because that’s probably why you don’t have a love life, if that’s what you do.”
Tears continued to rise in my eyes and the man wiggled around in his seat. I could tell watching me become so emotional was rough on him. Part of me felt bad, but part of me knew something in that evidence box hadn’t been communicated to us.
And if it wasn’t taped up yet, then that meant anything could’ve been slid into it.
“What do you want?” the man asked. “I don’t want you to cry. I can't handle women crying. It’s not right.”
“Great. Now when I tell you I’d really enjoy seeing that evidence box, you’re going to think I threw myself at you to get it. When all I wanted was to ask you for your number so I could call you sometime,” I said.
“No, no, no. It’s fine. Look, the box isn’t taped up. I’m sure it won’t hurt if you take a look at it. And I’d love to hear from you sometime. You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Williams.”
“You mean it?” I asked.
The man got up and came around his desk and stood toe-to-toe with me. We were eye level with one another and I tried to blink away my tears. He studied my face intently, like he was trying to figure out if I was still lying to him.
Then he sighed and pulled out his keys.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” the man said.
“Thank you,” I said as I put my hand on his arm. “I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Never been able to resist a beautiful woman.”
“I won’t be a woman you regret,” I said.
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
The two of us shared a grin before I made my way into the evidence locker.
I walked down rows of cardboard boxes, taped with that red tape that said ‘evidence’ on it.
I ran my fingers along the names and numbers.
Evidence of murders and thefts that had put people in jail in this area.
My eyes scanned the shelves, looking for the few boxes that hadn’t been taped up yet.
And back in the far left corner was what I was looking for.
I pulled the box off the shelf and sat down on the floor with it.
I slid the top off and began digging through everything.
Pictures of Blaze’s body on the autopsy table and an official record of his autopsy report.
Knox’s boot they collected off him when he was carted off to jail and some blood-covered sand in vials.
DNA lab results that connected back to the vials of sand and all sorts of shit they’d recovered from the crime scene.
But there was something at the very bottom.
Something none of us had seen before.
I pulled out the evidence bag and found a knife.
A blood-soaked knife. My eyes widened as I looked at the inscription on the metal, then I began to dig around for the autopsy report.
It was a perfect match. The width and depth of the wound in Blaze’s back was an exact match to the bloodied knife in the evidence box.
And it was a knife we’d never seen before.