Chapter Three #2
“Carpet squares.” McBride grabbed the cell phone off his desk and held it up. “Akers sent me pictures. He said you found two at the scene?”
“That’s correct.”
Shoes taped with carpet squares were sometimes used by coyotes to hide their tracks from border agents as they took people across the desert.
“So, sounds like she was a migrant, likely killed by her trafficker,” the chief said.
“I don’t know that we can jump to that yet, sir.”
“No? The water bottles, the food trash, the carpet squares. Seems pretty evident what happened.”
“Well, the carpet pieces were recovered a good ways from the body. About forty yards, I’d say?” She glanced at Novak. “It’s not clear they’re connected to whatever happened to this woman. And they could have been out there a while. I’d want to hear from the ME about time of death.”
McBride nodded. “Right. We will. Anyway, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
The knot in Leanne’s stomach tightened. Something besides the hours-old homicide case that he’d just put her in charge of? What could possibly take priority over that?
She glanced at Novak, but his handsome face gave nothing away.
“I got a call from Judge Hausmann early this morning,” the chief said.
Hausmann. Hausmann. Leanne scrambled to place the name but drew a blank.
“Sean Moriarty is out of prison.”
That name she knew, and it hit her like a slap.
“Sean Moriarty is…” She leaned forward as her brain raced to catch up. Had he escaped?
“Got out yesterday after a special hearing,” the chief continued. “He’s a free man.”
Sean Moriarty was in a maximum-security prison in Huntsville serving life without parole. Or he had been.
“But…how?” was all she could say.
“New evidence emerged.” This from Novak. “His conviction was set aside.”
Leanne blinked at the DA. She’d heard something about Sean Moriarty’s case a few months ago. But she’d dismissed it. He had made appeals before, and everything had failed. She’d never thought anything would go anywhere.
“What new evidence?” Leanne’s palms felt sweaty, and her voice sounded strange. “Like, you mean DNA?”
McBride shook his head. She looked at Novak, the lawyer, who seemed to have a command of the details.
“His new attorney claims it was a coerced confession. Among other issues.”
She stared at the DA. A coerced confession would implicate the entire Madrone Police Department. Every badge in Chisos County had worked that case, including her father.
“That’s impossible,” she blurted.
“That’s reality,” Novak said. “It’s a done deal. And the blowback’s already started, so we need to make a plan to handle it.”
She looked at her boss. Jim McBride had been a senior detective when eighteen-year-old Hannah Rawls was killed. The local teen’s murder had hit like an earthquake, and their town had been dealing with the aftershocks ever since.
Leanne’s mind reeled. She itched to get out her phone and call…who? Her mother? Her brother? Given her mom’s connections, she probably already knew by now. Any news about Sean Moriarty would spread like a brushfire.
“This is a shock to all of us,” the chief said. “Especially the Rawls family. We need you to go talk to them.”
She gaped at him. “Me?”
“You’re good with people. It’s one reason we hired you.”
You’re female, he meant.
Ever since she’d transferred here from Dallas PD, Leanne had been given way more than her share of touchy-feely assignments. Counseling victims. Interviewing female witnesses. Talking to grieving families. It had been that way in Dallas, too.
Typically, Leanne took the assignments in stride, or at least without complaint. Jim McBride wasn’t known for his tact. Leanne wasn’t any kind of expert at handling families in crisis, but she was better than the chief. Still, the thought of talking to Hannah’s parents made her queasy.
“I really don’t think they want to talk to any of us,” she told the chief. “Least of all me.”
“We need to get ahead of this,” Novak said. “That’s just basic PR.”
PR. Right. Leave it to the elected official to be focused on damage control.
“I’ve got enough shit right now with all these reporters flapping around like vultures,” the chief said.
“They’re ringing my phone off the hook. Some of the nearby ones are already in town.
By tomorrow we’ll have them in from Dallas and Houston.
They’re hunting for quotes and interviews, getting everyone stirred up.
And not to mention the fucking lawsuit we’ll probably be hit with the minute some slimy lawyer gets hold of this.
Forget that this department’s damn near broke—we’ll never hear the end of it. ”
“It would be good if you’d go talk to the family,” Novak told her. “Calm everyone down. This is a public relations nightmare, and it’s best we get out in front of it.”
Sure. Like getting out in front of a freight train.
If Sean Moriarty had any kind of case that his confession had been coerced—and presumably he did, or how could he have gotten his conviction overturned?
—then there would no doubt be lawyers lining up to sue.
Didn’t matter that they were a pint-size police department and had practically no budget.
The Hannah Rawls murder trial had been big news back in the day.
Some lawyer would probably take the case purely for publicity.
Sean Moriarty is a free man.
Leanne stood up. She had to get some air.
“We need you to step up for us,” the chief said. “Go talk to the Rawls family.”
“And tell them what, exactly?”
“Tell them we have their back. Whatever this is, we’ll get to the bottom of it. The case against Moriarty was airtight. We put thousands of man-hours into it. The son of a bitch can sue us, but he won’t have a leg to stand on.”
Leanne glanced at the DA, who didn’t look nearly as convinced.
Novak was early forties, if Leanne remembered right.
He would have been at the start of his law career when Moriarty’s case went to trial.
He might not even have been living in the county back then, and he probably had no idea how the murder had rocked their entire town.
Sean Moriarty is a free man.
“Go talk to Trish and Rocky for us,” McBride said. “I’m sure all this comes as a blow. Let them know this community is behind them.”
Leanne nodded. As if she had a choice.
“And the ME?” she asked.
McBride just looked at her.
“Our homicide case?”
“I’ll call over there, see about when the autopsy’s scheduled for,” the chief said. “Of all the shitty times to have a body turn up. We’re crawling with reporters.”
“They’re distracted with the Moriarty thing,” Novak said.
McBride walked over and opened the door, effectively dismissing her.
“Sean Moriarty out of prison.” The chief shook his head. “I’m sure as hell glad your dad’s not alive to see this.”
Leanne halted in the doorway. It was a callous comment, even for him.
The chief ushered her out. “Thanks for stepping up.”
· · ·
Izzy splashed water on her face and looked in the mirror. She just needed to get through the next hour. The next thirty minutes, even. Then she could go home and unravel.
She cupped her hand under the faucet and slurped some water. It was warm and metallic tasting, but she gulped it down to soothe her dry throat. She braced her hands on the sink and closed her eyes. Images of that face came back, and her lunch wanted to come up again.
The bathroom door opened, and she straightened.
“Hey, you all right?” Leanne looked at her in the mirror.
“I’m fine, just…a little dehydrated, I think.”
Leanne stepped closer, studying Izzy’s face with those sharp green eyes that caught every detail. “Want me to get you a Gatorade?”
“I’m good. I’ve got one at my desk.” Izzy grabbed her baseball cap off the sink and settled it on her head.
“Thanks for your work today,” Leanne said. “I know it was tough out there.”
“I’m fine.”
Leanne watched her eyes, probably well aware that she was lying.
The woman was a detective. She’d probably picked up on the fact that Izzy wasn’t fine at all.
She was barely holding it together, and it wasn’t just because of the maimed woman she’d just photographed.
She looked at Leanne and felt the urge to open up.
But letting Leanne Everhart into her problems would only make things worse.
“Death scenes take some getting used to,” Leanne said.
“I’m okay.” Izzy scooted past her. “Anyway, I need to go finish up.”
“Wait.”
She stopped, and Leanne looked worried again.
“You sure you’re all right?”
“Absolutely.”
“You need any help, let me know, okay?”
Izzy nodded. “Of course.”