Chapter Ten
Emmy had to force her hands to stop strangling the steering wheel as Jude finished relaying the details of her impromptu visit to Virginia.
It was almost too much. Emmy had barely had time to catch her breath after Reggie’s revelation about Gerald, and now she was listening to her sister pile on even more evidence against their father as they drove to the hospital where hopefully Mandy Vickery could tell them who had killed her mother.
She absently watched a truck dart across three lanes to catch an exit as Jude continued her story.
The time was coming up on two in the morning.
The stretch of interstate between North Falls and the trauma center in Albany was mostly empty but for the occasional eighteen-wheeler and late-model sedan toting farm workers up from Florida for the early pecan harvest.
Jude finally went silent. Emmy struggled for a way to respond.
Setting aside the fact that Emmy hadn’t asked her sister to poke around in Allison’s life, and that Jude had no business inserting herself into the investigation, what really bothered her was Jude’s passive expression when Emmy had told her that Gerald was a bad cop.
Now, she said, “You already knew about Dad when I told you Reggie said he was dirty.”
“I knew there was an allegation. I didn’t think it was true. If it makes any difference, I still don’t.”
“Did your FBI pal tell you the Rawleys are wrapped up in this? That Woody was Dad’s informant?”
“Samuel didn’t mention them, and we don’t know what they’re wrapped up in. I’m not taking Reggie Wilder’s word on anything. Neither should you.”
Emmy cut her eyes at Jude. It was hard to believe that she was actually on the side of protecting their father’s name. She’d barely flinched at his funeral. “You sound pretty damn sure of yourself.”
“If Gerald Clifton was dirty, you would’ve figured it out a long time ago. You’re one of the best investigators I’ve ever seen.”
The unexpected compliment put a weird flutter in Emmy’s stomach. She chalked it up to hunger because the alternative would mean too much. “Dad fooled me about you. He told me straight to my face for years that you were dead. I never questioned it. I never questioned anything he told me.”
Jude shook off the detail as inconsequential. “That was a personal matter. I’m talking about his professional life.”
“Why are you taking up for him?”
“I’ve already answered that question. I’m not sure I see the value in repeating myself.”
The car went silent. Jude rarely snapped at her, which meant that Emmy had hit a nerve.
“You’re worried it will lead back to me, right?” Emmy felt the wrongness start to edge back in, but this time, it flowed from a different source. “Dad’s dead. The FBI can’t bring charges against him. They asked you to look into me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Emmy took that as a confirmation. “Why not? Everybody knows how close I was to Dad. It’s where I’d look if I was asked to investigate dirty cops.”
Jude said nothing, but she’d had plenty of time on the flight back to think this through. She knew exactly whose life she should be sifting through.
“The sheriff’s department doesn’t have a Giglio list. At least as far as I know. Maybe I should look back through Dad’s things.”
“There won’t be a list because Dad would’ve forced out any bad cops before they could get a warning.” Jude sounded confident, but she had no way of knowing. “When you’re put on a Giglio, you get a formal letter. Some call it a Brady Notice. Most cops call it—”
“A Death Letter,” Emmy finished. “Either the prosecutor or your boss informs you in writing that your word can’t be trusted, which means the prosecutor can’t call you to testify, which means no matter how airtight your investigation is, they won’t file charges.
Your career as a cop is basically over.”
“Not if the list stays private,” Jude said. “It sounds like Allison was sitting on information that could take down a lot of cops.”
“You think Reggie murdered Allison because she was going to hand him over to the feds.” Emmy wasn’t asking a question. “If you asked me to list ten dirty cops on the Clayville police force, I would tell you that Allison’s old drug squad has nine cops on it, and Reggie makes ten.”
“What’s the reputation of the Clayville PD?”
“Allison was the only cop on the entire force that I trusted. She was always incredibly straight with me, even when it made her look bad. I saw her piss off Reggie more than once when she refused to bring a case she thought was shaky. She did her best to do the right thing around the wrong people.”
“And the others?”
“They’re a bunch of lying assholes.” Emmy was too stressed for diplomacy. “Lots of use-of-force violations. Lawsuits. Most of the drug squad volunteers for the SWAT team. They’re all testosterone monkeys. Shoot first, don’t ask questions later, hope nobody else does, either.”
“Forces that small shouldn’t have SWAT teams in the first place. They turn into militarized soldiers looking for reasons to go to war on civilians.”
Emmy looked over at her sister. It was the most non-cop thing she had ever heard another cop say.
“What about the prosecutor’s office? They would know who the dirty cops are.”
“Dexter Gilchrist is the district attorney. He’s a tight-ass, but he’s always done right by me. Dad hated him. Said he played politics too much.”
“It’s an elected position. That’s what prosecutors do.” Jude drummed her fingers on the console. “He would know who the Giglio cops are.”
“My own deputy chief’s been ratting me out to Reggie. There’s no telling what Dexter would do.”
“You think he’s in on it?”
“I think it’s exactly what Dad said. He plays politics. I’m running for election. Dexter will want to keep Brett onside in case he wins.”
“You could always talk to Jonah, see if the arrest even happened.”
“He’s not stupid enough to talk to me as a cop, and he’s smart enough to not tell his ex-wife he did something illegal.” Emmy couldn’t think about Jonah right now. “I literally don’t have enough people I trust to look into all of this.”
“Sweetheart.” The softness in Jude’s voice wasn’t as grating this time. “Stop spinning. Remember what Dad always said. Lean horse, long ride.”
“Dad never said that to me.” She looked at Jude. “What does it mean?”
“Lighten the load or the weight will drag you down before you can get out of the gate.”
Emmy stared back at the interstate. Go smaller, was what Gerald had told her. Stop trying to make everything complicated. Most crimes were poorly executed because they were committed by stupid people. Find the mistakes, find the bad guy.
Jude asked, “What was your plan before Reggie threw a hand grenade into the middle of your case?”
Emmy had to think back. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d been standing in the bathroom at the station, head down, forcing herself to plan out next steps.
“Woody was at the top of my list. Two different witnesses put him at Allison’s house alone with Mandy over the last two weeks. Talia Wilkinson said that Mandy was seeing an older man recently. She didn’t know any details beyond that. She told me the older guy wasn’t Woody, but I’m not sure.”
“Keep going.”
“The most recent Woody and Mandy sighting was two days ago. Coach Bell told Allison she saw them both at the house. Allison confronted Woody at the Dew Drop Inn. Rumor is that Woody laughed in her face. She was lucky that’s all he did.
You don’t do that kind of crazy shit with somebody from the Rawleys.
That could be why Allison missed the check-in with Reid Foley in Atlanta.
No way I’d leave town if I thought Woody was hanging around my kid. ”
“Allison didn’t trust Foley. She followed him downtown and photographed him. She wanted proof that she had established a whistleblower relationship with someone from the FBI.”
Emmy hadn’t considered the purpose behind the photo. “Did she think the FBI was going to turn on her?”
“Samuel knows that Reggie’s uncle is a US senator. Victor Wilder sits on the Senate Judiciary Committee. They oversee the DOJ, which oversees the FBI, which means they set budgets, which means the FBI doesn’t want to rock the boat.”
“Jesus,” Emmy mumbled. “That’s way above my paygrade.”
“Let me worry about that,” Jude said. “Don’t let it shift your focus. Think about the crime scene. What did it tell you?”
“Nothing that made sense,” Emmy admitted. “The easy explanation is that Allison was an abused woman trying to leave her husband. She had an ex-lover with a bad temper. Either of those facts points to domestic violence ending in homicide.”
“But?”
“The house was immaculate. There wasn’t a struggle. So maybe it wasn’t a DV.”
“Run it down.”
Emmy had to swallow first, because run it down was classic Gerald.
“Allison was standing in the foyer. A stranger entered by the back door and shot off her thumb and forefinger, which probably means she was reaching for the gun. The killer chased her into the kitchen and shot her in the chest, which points to an execution. He didn’t bring his own murder weapon. But he brought gloves.”
“And?”
“And he was searching for something on Allison’s body or in paperwork on the table, so why not tie her up, beat it out of her? Take Mandy hostage until Allison gives him whatever it is he’s looking for.”
“The three hundred grand in the attic?”
“It didn’t feel like he was looking for money.
Whatever he was searching for was on Allison or on the dining-room table.
A folded piece of paper, a photograph, something small.
He left the laptop on the floor, so maybe we could rule out anything stored digitally.
Or maybe not. Could be there was a thumb drive. ”
“Did Sherry locate Allison’s camera?”