Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
Eric had brought Sergeant Medina up to date on the situation with the Crawford investigation before clocking out last night.
Taking care of that briefing freed up Eric’s morning.
He should just head right over to the car rental, but his legs were taking him down the hall toward Todd’s office.
Sandra had made a good point about just talking with the man again, laying out what he’d found so far and listening to what he had to say.
Not accusing him in any way. Just a face to face.
Surely, Medina wouldn’t take issue with that.
Eric found his office empty and stopped a uniformed officer who was walking past. “Do you know where I could find Sergeant Levine?”
“I heard he called in. Guess he’s not feeling well.”
“Thanks.” Eric was on the move. The Todd Levine he knew never called in sick.
When Eric had been a rookie, Todd insisted he come in hungover, puking, and sick with a cold.
Unless he had the bubonic plague, there was no excuse for ducking a day’s work.
He’d say, “Just because we have sick days, it doesn’t mean we need to use them. ”
Eric tried his cell phone, and it rang to voicemail. “Shit, don’t do this to me,” Eric muttered. Had Todd felt he was close to being exposed and made a run for it?
He grabbed the keys for an unmarked sedan assigned to the Homicide Branch Unit and headed out.
He pressed the gas as hard as he dared, racing through the city as fast as traffic would allow.
Within fifteen minutes, he was parking in front of Todd’s rowhouse.
He didn’t have a vehicle, so there was no point looking up and down the street for one.
Eric stormed up to the front door and banged hard enough that it rattled the screen.
His rapid progression of knocks rang out like artillery fire.
“MPD! Open up!” he called out, treating Todd like a perp.
To hell with a friendly, informal approach.
As far as Eric was concerned, those days with Todd were behind him.
After receiving no answer, Eric tried Todd’s cell phone again. Like before, it rang several times before dropping him into voicemail. That wasn’t like the Todd he knew either. That man always answered his phone, be it day or night.
Eric kicked the welcome mat with his toe, and it reminded him about something else. It stood in contradiction to Todd’s stringent adherence to safety first, but there was always a spare key hidden near the door.
Eric lifted the mat, looked under the planter. Nothing. He extended his gaze, branching out over the garden. About three feet away from the front step, but within a foot of the edging, was a ceramic snail. It stood out that a police sergeant would have such a whimsical thing in his garden.
That’s got to be it!
Eric picked it up, careful not to get the moist dirt on his outfit or his hands.
Bingo!
Eric plucked the key out of a small plastic sleeve and stuck it in the hole for the deadbolt.
One twist and a thunk later, he was going inside. An exigent entry. Completely lawful. Todd was either hurt inside, unconscious, or fleeing.
He wiped his shoes on the front mat and set out into the home. Todd had lived here for all the time Eric knew him. The only difference was his wife, Molly, had moved out long ago. He’d blame her for the snail, but it looked too new.
Heading down the hallway, his target was the office.
Todd was never good at striking a work/life balance, and he often took work home.
He especially had a thing for domestic cases, never fully understanding the victim mentality.
He used to make Eric cringe from how hard he’d pressure women to lay charges.
The office looked like Eric remembered. A simple, small desk overflowing with stacks of folders. The bulletin board on the wall had active BOLOs pinned to it.
Seeing this stabbed Eric in the chest. What made a man with such dedication to the badge look the other way? Or was it as Sandra suggested, and Todd had strived to make up for one immoral act by doing right the rest of his career? As if the good could outweigh the bad and redeem himself from this.
Eric rounded the desk and found an envelope sitting on the keyboard with his name handwritten on the front.
What the… Eric grabbed it and slipped his finger under the lip. Todd must have expected that Eric would end up here at some point. Inside were a key and a tri-folded piece of paper. Eric smoothed the latter out and realized it was a handwritten letter. He sat in the desk chair to read it.
Eric,
If you’re reading this, then you must know or are getting closer to knowing that it’s over for me. What I was involved in thirty-three years ago has haunted me every day of my life. I can no longer live with it on my conscience.
Eric stopped reading as anger fused through him. He didn’t know what he expected to read next, but it wasn’t the words on the page.
And if only it were enough, I’d confess and pay the price. I’m already living in a prison. But I’m not the only one involved, who carries the weight of a woman’s death.
We took money to look the other way, to modify eyewitness statements, to destroy Susan Crawford’s vehicle immediately, to conclude the accident resulted from poor road conditions.
But there was another vehicle involved. Something you probably found out by now.
You never did a half-ass job, Eric. You might even suspect some other things, but the evidence is just blurred enough you’re unsure.
I always told you to trust your gut. Trust it now.
You might not know what else we have done, what further unspeakable thing. I still find it difficult to lay this bare on the page.
I’ve tried to justify my actions over the years to myself by saying I wasn’t in this alone, that I wasn’t the only corrupt cop that day.
Dean Finley was in on this with me. He was someone who I had looked up to, who I answered to.
He was my sergeant. But I had a young family and needed money.
Doing what I did put Jessie through college.
But carrying around this secret took a toll on my marriage.
It made me bitter and distant. I pushed Molly away because I didn’t want to live with myself.
If Todd were in front of him right now, Eric would shake him out of frustration. All of this so he could pay for his daughter, Jessie, to go to college? Eric put his eye back on the page.
The key is for a safe deposit box. Number 3235.
As Eric read where it was located, his mind spun out of control. All of this felt surreal.
You’ll find everything you need in there to make the case stick against me and Finley. Please trust me, that despite how it must seem, I have not run away, but I am prepared to face the consequences. I left you this in case I don’t make it that far.
And just like that the letter ended. No signature or signoff.
A cold sensation poured over his neck and shoulders as the last sentence played on his mind.
It sounded as if Todd feared retribution.
Was it from Dale Kramer? The man they suspected had killed before?
Even if Todd didn’t know Kramer’s identity, he had to surmise the Hansons employed someone to do their bidding. Was that behind his warning to me?
Eric called Medina. When he answered, Eric blurted out, “We have a problem.”