Chapter 91
Dom looked at Melvin Stillman for the longest time. As what the man was saying sank in. “You know who has been doing what exactly? I am seriously confused here.”
“I am turning over everything I know about what Ernie Newcomb and Joe Winkler and their associates have done here at the TSP over the past forty years. I have notes and files and even a list of witnesses. I have kept those records long enough.”
“Just what is that?” Miguel asked. He had that quiet alert expression on his face again. Stillman would glance at Miguel and then look away. He was afraid of the other man—Dom would bet a hundred on that. No surprise, just about everyone was.
“Money. Power and greed. Ernie will sell out anyone if there is his forty pieces of silver. He started…over forty years ago.”
“Where?” Dom asked.
“In Garrity. There was a dispute over a woman there. A friend of Ernie’s was involved. He…needed…someone removed. And Ernie made it happen.”
“Why should I believe you? You and Newcomb have been friends for years.” And he wasn’t getting the impression this was a case Stillman had been building. No. He suspected it was more than that. Stillman had been involved up to his eyeballs. Was the man trying to hide that?
“It is all here. With…case numbers. I am sure you can verify. I have nothing left to hide, Acardi. I just cannot do it anymore. Judgment finds us all.”
Dom looked at the Bible Stillman was holding like a lifeline. “What is with the Bible there?”
“A reminder. Of why I am doing this. I have…repented, you know. After…I lost my Anita. She guided me to the way, I guess you can say.” Stillman looked at him for a long moment.
He had such an odd look in his eyes, like resolution.
Remorse? Or just lying? “When you love a woman like that, you will change to be with her, gentlemen. They…change you. Lead you to salvation. It’s not always an easy journey along the way.
Isaiah 44…22, I believe: I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.
” God is the only true justice. I understand that now.
But a woman—she becomes your heart and soul.
We had thirty wonderful years together. Until…
cancer. I do not regret her, Acardi. I never will. But if she knew what I have done—“
“Tell me what you have done.” A part of Dom felt skeptical.
Stillman had just walked into him and said here you go, here is all you need to solve the biggest case in TSP history?
Somehow, Dom didn’t believe that. It just didn’t happen that way.
What was in it for this man? Because there had to be something in it for Stillman. “Why are you spilling now?”
“I want to talk to the DA personally. I want…state’s evidence. And I will tell you everything I know.”
That was it—they’d suspected Stillman was involved up to his eyeballs.
Stillman had found out somehow. They had talked to the DA’s office already.
Someone there—probably as dirty as the man in front of him.
They would have to deal with that later.
It was another lead, in a long list of things that were starting to fall in place.
Stillman was trying to protect himself. From whatever he had heard out there already.
Time to do some…probing. See if something triggered good old Melvin Stillman. A man who had worked the TSP since before Dom had been born.
No. There was something more to this. And there was something in it for this asshole. Stillman had never done anything out of the goodness of his heart.
“That’s not up to us to decide. I’ll have to talk to the chief. You know how this works. Why should I believe you?”
“You have no reason to trust me.”
No shit.
“Who was the last shooter in the choir hall shooting?” If Stillman was willing to talk, as he said, why not see how much he had to say? Dom grabbed his phone. Texted Jarrod to get his ass in there now.
Now.
“You would ask about that, wouldn’t you? Because of Dr. McAlister and how you feel about her.” Stillman had been doing interviews with suspects for decades. And with fellow cops.
He wasn’t going to let Dom forget that, either. “Don’t even mention her. Tell me, do you know anything about that?”
“I know that there has always been someone in Hughes Heights acting as a….coordinator. Of everything. For a small price. Ernie pays that fee monthly. The one in charge allows him to operate. That is just how it has worked for a long time. Those like…Dennis Lee Arnold, Gregory Eastman—they have all paid the fee for a long, long time. See, Ernie has five or six men working for him at one time. They…make certain witnesses disappear. When paid to.”
“We both know what that means, Stillman. Why the hell are you spilling your guts now?”
“I never hurt anyone directly. I just turned away, to my shame. Closed my eyes, looked the other way. I need you to understand that all I did was not report what certain people were doing. Yes, for a fee, I would say nothing. And that was ten times as bad. I allowed people to be hurt. For money. I will always regret that. My daughter…will know that. I understand the ramifications of what I have done.”
“You have blood on your hands. Who was the shooter?” He didn’t believe this crock of bullshit one bit. Stillman was up to something. Dom just didn’t know what. “Give me something in good faith.”
“You don’t believe me, and you won’t until you verify.
I know how you operate, Acardi. I just do.
And…I got into this job to help people. I lost sight of that.
For…money. My own pieces of silver. I never intended that, it did just happen, just evolve.
Like I said, I am a man who has regrets. Don’t be like me. It is not worth it.”
“Don’t worry. Never going to happen.”
“I do not know definitively. But the man I think you are looking for on this vengeance quest for your girlfriend, for the choir shooting—I do not know for sure. Not even enough to speculate. You’ll have to keep digging.
I am not saying anything else—until I have an attorney present, and an offer of protection.
There will be men out there that will kill me for this.
I need protection for myself, and for my daughter. She is all I have left.”
That was what it was really about. Stillman had pissed one of his cronies off, and he was worried about his kid. A man like this—it was always something that served them. No one like this really did anything out of the goodness of his heart.
Even so-called redemption for men like this—it wasn’t real. It was to make them feel better about themselves. Faith was just a way for justification. Forgive me, I have sinned, I have found Jesus—so no, I shouldn’t pay for my earthly crimes now. Praise be! I am redeemed!
Well, Dom had never fallen for that kind of bullshit. Faith or not—if what he was saying was the truth, Stillman had known people were being killed. And he deserved exactly what he had coming to him.
“I’ll talk to the chief. See where we go from here. But…you have to give me one more thing.”
Stillman just waited.
“Where can I find Ernie Newcomb’s son?”
Stillman smirked at him. “Haven’t figured that out?”
“Can’t say that we have. Yet. Still looking. Just learned he had one yesterday.”
“His name is Steven Ernest Newcomb. But in his teens…he changed it. To Wilson. Interesting coincidence, that. Right? How many Steve Wilsons do you really think there are?”
Son of a bitch.
But…that would have been known by now. He knew enough about how the science worked. Unless…not biological son, maybe? It was likely. Newcomb and Wilson didn’t look a damned thing alike. “That would have shown up in our database of reference samples. Try again.”
“Not if someone went in and switched the samples before they could be tested. Ernie doesn’t have a legit reference sample on record and never has. Something for you to consider. Even DNA can lie. With a little human intervention. From a man named Pete. He’ll give you a good place to start.”
Pete. The tech that Madison was always complaining about? Pete had been in the forensics lab for…decades. He was almost mid-sixties now. Imagine that. If it was true.
And this man had made his career searching out lies. “So how much did you sell your soul for, Stillman? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Not enough, Acardi. Money is never worth a soul. Something to keep in mind, as you dig into Satan’s den. Everything you want to find—it’s in Hughes Heights, you know.”
Well, now. Wasn’t that just convenient.