Chapter 20
TWENTY
Dean Finley. That was the name that had stared up at Eric from the requisition to destroy Susan Crawford’s car. Now there was no more putting off a conversation with him. It had him standing outside Finley’s door.
Before coming here, Eric took a closer look at Finley’s background.
Finley was divorced and a father of two, both of whom would have been legal adults even thirty-three years ago.
So it wasn’t the pressure of providing for a young family that had Finley vulnerable to a payoff.
What was so wrong with his life he was willing to violate his oath as a police officer? Was he a gambler, in debt?
Eric knocked when he noticed the absence of a doorbell.
As he waited, it wasn’t far from mind that Todd Levine had kids and a wife back then too.
Though, his were younger, giving Todd a potential weak spot to bribery.
Though whatever the reasons were, Eric couldn’t excuse Todd if he’d covered up a murder.
The door swung open, and a gray-haired man filled the opening. He did a quick sweep of Eric from head to toe. “MPD?”
Once cop entered the blood, it never left. The job heightened one’s instincts to a supernatural degree. Eric tapped on his badge, which was clipped to his waistband. “Detective Eric Birch, and you’re Dean Finley.”
“Should I be concerned you know my name?” Finley smiled and waved a hand. “Never mind me. I’ve never had a good sense of humor. Detective Eric Birch, you said? The name sounds familiar… Ah, yes, Todd Levine might have mentioned you were one of his rookies over beers and barbecue.”
“I was.”
“Well, what brings you to my door?”
Eric gestured forward, an unspoken request to be permitted entry. Finley backed up to let Eric inside.
“I’m going to guess from your somber face this conversation is one best suited to sitting down?”
“You haven’t lost your touch, Sergeant.” While Eric addressed him by rank, it roiled sour in his gut. Based on what he’d found already, the man before him didn’t deserve any respect.
Finley took Eric to the living room and told him to sit wherever he liked as he sat down on a well-worn chair in the corner of the room.
It had a direct sightline to the doorway.
The television was mounted on the wall next to it, providing a flipped layout to most people’s living rooms. Finley clearly liked to see whatever was coming at him.
Another trait that came from being a cop and the need to be vigilant.
In Finley’s case, Eric wondered if there wasn’t even more to it.
If he helped cover up a murder, what other things, other people, had he gotten himself mixed up with?
Eric settled onto the couch and turned to face Finley.
“There’s an active hostage incident taking place inside a residential home. Five lives are at stake.”
“Is this your way of telling me one of my kids is caught up in this?”
Eric had just been so focused on how he was going to approach this, it hadn’t occurred to him Finley might have thought this was a notification.
“No, I apologize. As far as I know your family is fine. But this hostage taker has asked that an old investigation be reopened. When I looked up the file, your name and Todd Levine’s were attached.
I was hoping you might answer some questions I have. ”
“I can try, but I’ve been retired for over twenty-five years. Haven’t worked with Toddy for longer than that. What’s the investigation?”
“A fatal crash. A woman died on scene, and her five-year-old son landed in critical condition. He ended up pulling through and surviving.”
“It’s not coming to me. When did this happen? You happen to have a name? I mean, I worked and oversaw a lot of crashes during my time in uniform and later as a sergeant.”
“This happened thirty-three years ago. Susan Crawford veered straight into a pole. The crash report said that the road conditions were poor. Any of this ring any bells for you, by chance?”
“I suppose it’s vaguely familiar. Actually, if I’m remembering right, the accident was straightforward. Just unfortunate.”
Eric stiffened at how he went from providing the defense of a cluttered mind and the passage of time to restored memory.
Even more noteworthy was the reoccurrence of that word.
Vaguely. Todd had used the same one. There was also something in Dean’s eyes and energy that had Eric suspecting he remembered the accident clearly.
Though if he’d covered up a murder for a payday, that would have made an impression.
It certainly made more sense than recalling one crash after serving a full career with the MPD.
His responses were also so well rehearsed, though, it was as if he assumed he’d be called upon to defend his actions one day.
“What does this person expect you to find? Ask me, it seems kind of crazy for this to be coming up so long after the fact.” Finley sat up straighter in his chair, shifting his body from leaning left to right.
“It’s impressive you can even remember the accident.” Eric left the rest unsaid. Being as straightforward as you make it sound…
“Well, I have an exceptional memory. It helped on the job.”
“I bet it did.” Eric resisted the urge to adjust his posture as he prepared to approach the more delicate details, but there would be no putting it off forever.
If Finley felt attacked or disrespected, Eric had no doubt he’d shut the conversation down immediately.
He needed to gauge every response, every flicker of his eye, every movement.
“When I went to the digital file, there wasn’t much there. ”
“You know how things go sometimes. Things get lost, people make mistakes. Procedures back then weren’t as stringent as they are these days. Probably even more so since I left.” Finley gave him a loose smile.
Eric tensed. He hadn’t said anything was missing. “Yeah, well, I thought it might help if I could talk to the police photographer from that time, but I found out he’s dead. Guess he died in a hiking accident not long after Susan’s crash.”
“That’s unfortunate, but I’d say those pictures are long gone by now. Guessing he never had time to upload the photos to the system.”
Or someone prevented that from happening…
It wasn’t missed that Finley expressed no sorrow about the photographer.
“That could explain things.” Eric played along for the sake of keeping Finley talking.
“I found another anomaly that stood out…” Several, but Eric was ready to get to the main one.
“There was no record at the MPD impound lot of Crawford’s Chevrolet Cavalier sedan ever going there. ”
“How strange.”
This guy has an answer for everything… even if they’re not very good… “That’s what I thought, so I kept digging. I found out that crash vehicles back then were sent to Ralph’s Auto Wreckers and paid them a visit. You never know, right?”
“You never do.”
“As it turned out, the owner still had records dating that far back.”
Finley settled back in his chair. While his body was doing all the right things, stretching out, his movements were stiff. The retired sergeant was far from comfortable. “Wow, that’s crazy.”
“I thought the same. But he had a copy of the requisition ordering the destruction of Susan’s car.
” He brought up the photograph he took of it on his phone and walked it over to Finley.
Holding the screen for him to see, he said, “That’s it right there.
You don’t happen to recognize the signature, do you? ”
Finley’s eyes narrowed, as if he were concentrating hard to resurrect some deeply buried memory. Eric saw it as the man scheming, trying to find a way out of this. Surely, he would recognize his own signature.
A few seconds later, he said, “How could I possibly know who signed that? It’s nothing but chicken scratch.” Finley sat back, his face plastered with another easy smile.
“That’s what I thought, and the strange part is the name field wasn’t filled in.
See that?” Eric pointed at the blank line.
“Hence, why I can’t tell who signed off.
That is until the owner proved himself useful yet again.
I had him look up other requisitions from that time to see if this signature was on any other ones that had a name. ”
“And…?”
Finley deserved chops for his cool reserve. “And the owner pulled through again.” Eric swapped out the photograph for another requisition that showed Finley’s name along with the scrawled signature. He put this in front of Finley. “Isn’t that your name?”
“It is, but someone must have copied my signature. It’s not exactly unique.”
Eric could argue the point, but why bother? Finley had to see he was on the losing end.
Finley continued. “Why would the wreckers comply without a name?”
Now he’s trying to blame the wreckers. Finley was disappointing.
He wasn’t even willing to take responsibility for his actions.
The markers of a weak and pathetic man. “I think they were more concerned with a signature. But the point remains, only you and Todd worked this investigation.” At least the two of you who are still alive…
Possibly the medical examiner was, too, but by all accounts they performed their job and that was all.
As for whoever else but Simms touched the investigation from the Major Crash Investigation Unit, it was unknown. That’s if someone even had.
“Maybe Todd did this then, but even if he did, what’s really the big deal here?”
First it was the fault of the auto wreckers. Now it was all on Todd. Eric was getting tired of being diplomatic. He only had so much reserve. “It’s just that inconsistencies are stacking up.” Eric returned to the initial photograph and pointed out the date. “That was the day of the fatal crash.”
“Again, I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”
Eric pocketed his phone, disgusted by this man’s lack of loyalty and disregard for his badge. “You signed the acquisition.”
“I told you. Someone must have forged it.” Finley locked eye contact when he asked, “What are you insinuating?”
Eric remained silent. He hoped it would stir Finley to come forward, cleanse his conscience, because he sure as hell thought there was something he needed to purge.
Finley’s jaw clenched. “Forget what you think you know. You weren’t there, it was a long time ago, things were done, but it’s in the past.”
The skin tightened on the back of Eric’s neck. “What do you mean things were done?”
“Just that. Leave it alone. It doesn’t matter.”
“Except that it very much does.”
“Right, because of some hostage taker. Who is this person anyway? What is their connection to the dead woman?”
Finley must have dehumanized her to live with what he did. “The HT is Susan Crawford’s son, the one that almost died that day along with her. He’s holding the Hanson family hostage in their home along with one of their security guards.”
Finley blanched. “The Hansons?”
“Yes.” Eric paused for a few seconds. “If there’s anything you could tell me that might help, please do.”
Finley shook his head. “It’s time for you to go, Detective.”
“I’ll see myself out.” Eric left feeling much the same as he did after every step he took in this investigation. Beaten up and broken down.
Finley’s words continued ricocheting in his head. Things were done…
Eric was determined to figure out exactly what, even if it meant overcoming near-impossible odds to do so.