Chapter Twenty #2
Breaking and entering was a felony. “Wow. Forrester isn’t fooling around.”
“The chief asked the USA to throw the book at Ramsey. He wants to be sure something sticks so we aren’t forced to take him back when he gets off on some random technicality.”
“That’d be good.”
“We all agree that you need to be careful, Sam. He, too, is going to blame you for everything that’s gone wrong in his life.”
“I know,” Sam said with a sigh. “It sure gets tiring taking the blame for men who can’t keep their own shit together.”
“I’m sure it does, but the threat is real nonetheless. On another note, how does Gonzales seem to be doing ahead of the trial?”
“As well as can be expected. He says he’s ready and looking forward to getting it over with.
Justice for Arnold is his only concern. He assures me his recovery is solid, and he’s not going to allow a backwards spiral.
I’m keeping an eye on him, and having him in charge of the Thorn investigation will be good for him. ”
“Agreed. Please let me know if you feel he needs anything at all. If we’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that we need to do more to support our people when they suffer trauma on the job.”
“Yes, we do.” She hated how much Gonzo had suffered after his partner’s senseless murder and how he’d kept the worst of it hidden from the people closest to him. “I’m going to head home and get some sleep while I can. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
Twenty minutes later, she crawled into bed with Nick, who put an arm around her and drew her in close to him.
She released a deep breath and tried to calm her racing mind so she could get some rest, but all she could think about was Bryson Thorn’s murder and what kind of shit storm might erupt in their lives as a result.
Gonzo’s first order of business was to speak with Thorn’s distraught wife. “Did you get her name?” he asked the Patrol officer who’d been first on the scene.
“It’s Tiffany. She said she came home from dinner with friends to find Bryson dead in the yard.”
“Did you ask about security cameras?”
“She said the security system was off because Bryson was home.”
“Of course it was. Please do a canvass of the property. See if you can find me a murder weapon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gonzo walked over to speak to the woman who was being comforted by a female Patrol officer.
Thorn’s wife reminded Gonzo of a Barbie doll, right down to the blonde hair that fell in perfect waves around her shoulders.
“Mrs. Thorn, I’m Detective Sergeant Gonzales with the Metro PD. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Wh-who could’ve done this to him?” she asked between sobs, looking up at him with red, swollen eyes. “Everyone loved Bryson.”
Not everyone, Gonzo thought. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Before I left for dinner with my girlfriends. He said he was going to make dinner for our son, and they were planning to watch a movie before bed.”
“And your son? Where is he?”
“Asleep in his bed.”
“What time does he usually go to bed?”
“Around eight thirty on school nights.”
“And you got home at what time?”
“At ten twenty. I noticed the time on my dash when I pulled into the driveway.”
That information gave Gonzo a timeline to work with. Thorn had been killed sometime between eight thirty and ten twenty. “Can you think of anyone who was at odds with him?”
“Other than your boss and her husband?” Tiffany asked with a hard edge to her voice. “They were suing him for a million dollars for violating the NDA at the party.”
Gonzo didn’t blame Sam and Nick one bit for enforcing the NDA and for trying to make it hurt after the trouble Thorn’s photos had caused for Nick in the first days of his presidency. “Anyone else?”
“You’re going to investigate them, right?”
“No, I’m not.”
She didn’t care for that response. “Powerful people always get a pass with things like this.”
“My boss and her husband are under twenty-four-hour-a-day protection from the Secret Service, which would make committing murder rather difficult.”
“That doesn’t mean they couldn’t hire it done,” she said forcefully, as if she honestly believed Sam and Nick would hire someone to kill her husband.
“I believe the lawsuit spoke for itself. They were far more interested in causing him financial pain than physical pain.”
“Believe what you want. You’ll never convince me they didn’t have something to do with this, and I’ll bet the media will be interested in that angle, too.”
“Is that your plan? To take your case to the media with zero proof of their involvement in the hope that the president and first lady will be convicted in the court of public opinion?”
She squirmed a bit under his intense stare. “How could it not be related to the lawsuit?”
“I can think of a million ways this could be unrelated to the lawsuit. We’ll do a full investigation, and at the conclusion of that, we’ll hopefully find the person who did this to your husband.
In the meantime, I’d suggest you refrain from spouting bullshit to the press that might affect our ability to get justice for your husband.
That’s what you want, right? Justice for him? ”
“Of course that’s what I want,” she snapped.
“Then let us do our jobs, and keep your baseless theories to yourself.”
“Can you be objective when your prime suspects are your friends?”
“They’re not the prime suspects.”
“I guess that answers my question,” she said bitterly.
“I’d suggest you refrain from venting about them unless you want another lawsuit to deal with.”
“They might have me killed, too.”
Gonzo realized he wasn’t going to get any more useful info from her and decided to cut his losses. “Write down your full name and phone number in case I have follow-up questions. Also write down the names and numbers of the women you were with tonight.”
She took the notebook from him, wrote the information for herself, used her phone to get the numbers for her friends and then thrust the notebook back at him.
“If you know anything about what happened to your husband, Mrs. Thorn, I suggest you tell me now.”
“I told you! I was at dinner with my friends. I don’t know anything.” She began to cry again, her body shaking from the effort expended to project intense grief.
He no sooner had that thought than he realized she was faking it. How he knew that and why he knew it, he couldn’t say. But he was one hundred percent sure she was putting on a show for him.
As he started to walk away, the medical examiner’s van pulled into the driveway. Gonzo went over to speak with Dr. Byron Tomlinson, the deputy ME.
“What’ve we got?”
“One vic in the backyard, possibly bludgeoned.”
“Lead the way.”
Gonzo took him to the body, glancing again at his face and head, which had borne the brunt of the attack. The grass around him was soaked with blood.
“Yikes.” Byron crouched for a closer look, using a flashlight to scan the body from top to bottom. “You took photos?”
“Yes,” Gonzo said. “Do you agree that it seems as if the attack happened out here?”
“I think that’s a safe assumption.”
Byron signaled for his colleagues to bring the body bag and gurney for transport.
The Patrol officer Gonzo had asked to look for the murder weapon returned empty-handed. “There’s a lot of landscaping on this property,” he said. “I looked as best I could, but it was hard to see even with the flashlight.”
“I’ll have Crime Scene take a closer look in the daylight. In the meantime, I want Patrol officers here to preserve the crime scene and provide security. I’m going to ask Mrs. Thorn to relocate with her son.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gonzo returned to Tiffany, whose tears had miraculously dried up. “I’m going to need you and your son to move to a hotel tonight.”
“Why?” The single word was full of privilege and outrage that someone like him would tell someone like her what to do.
This woman was pissing him off. “Because someone killed your husband, and if they come back for you and your son, I’d assume you’d rather not be here.”
They engaged in a visual standoff that he won when she blinked.
“Fine.”
“Patrolman Watts will help you get settled in a hotel.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can go to my sister’s. She lives locally.”
“He’ll accompany you to make sure you arrive safely.”
“I’ll need a minute to pack for myself and my son and to get him up.”
“We’ll wait.”
As she stormed off, Patrolman Watts said, “She’s a pleasant sort.”
“I’ll be taking a hard look at her.” Gonzo wished he had more to go on than a hunch that she was involved so he could transport her to HQ.
Since she had an alibi, he needed evidence he didn’t have yet before he could do that.
He’d confirm her alibi the first chance he got.
“Are you okay to wait for her and make sure she gets to her sister’s? ”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know if you see or hear anything I should know about.”
“Will do.”
As he walked toward his car, he put through a call to Sam.
“Mmm, what?”
“Sorry to wake you, but Tiffany Thorn is making noise about accusing you and Nick of arranging her husband’s murder. I think I talked her out of going to the press with that, but I’m not entirely sure, so I figured I’d give you a heads-up.”
“’Kay.”
“Sam? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“What did I say?”
“Thorn’s wife thinks we did it and is going to the press.”
“Yes. You should probably tell Nick’s people to be on alert.”
“I will. In the morning. Thanks for calling.”
The line went dead.
“Welp, I did what I could,” he said as he started his car and headed for HQ to do some digging on Mrs. Tiffany Thorn—and her husband.