Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“I don’t have a lot of time.” She crossed her arms and stood beside the door. “What did you need to tell me?”
“First of all, thanks for meeting me here.”
She didn’t respond.
“I figured this was better for you?”
“Better?”
He lifted a shoulder. “You seemed worried about being seen talking to me in Madrone. I figured this would be, you know, more low profile.”
“Listen, I’ve got things I need to do tonight, so—”
“I know, I know.” He held up a hand. “I’ll get to the point. I uncovered some info I think you’ll be very interested in.”
“Oh?”
“It’s about the Sean Moriarty case.” The eager look on his face told her he expected her to be salivating over this information.
“Let’s hear it,” she said. “And then I really need to go.”
“Don’t you want to know who it’s from first?”
She tamped down her irritation. “Who is it from?”
He smiled. “I’ve developed a major source.”
When she didn’t ask for a name, he kept going.
“It’s Frank Perrine.”
“Never heard of him.”
“You will,” he said. “He’s a lawyer out of Houston, and he’s about to file a lawsuit against your department on behalf of Sean Moriarty.”
She gave a shrug. “And?”
“And aren’t you concerned?”
“We expected that.”
Max looked annoyed. “I’m surprised you’re not more excited. I’m giving you a heads-up here. I’m doing you a favor.”
“You bring up a good point,” she said. “Why are you doing me a favor?”
“Because,” he said, “I appreciate the tip-off about this serial killer thing. This looks like potentially a major story. So, you know, I want to return the favor.”
Of the various lies he’d told her, this one was possibly the most blatant.
“So, you’re giving me info from your amazing new source out of the kindness of your heart.”
“Well, yeah. And also, I’d like to keep the lines of communication open.”
At least he was being honest now. Or closer to honest. She had no doubt he expected something substantial in return for this tip.
“Okay, let’s hear the rest, then,” she said. “What’s the big scoop from Moriarty’s lawyer?”
“First off—like I said—he’s about to file a lawsuit on behalf of Sean Moriarty, seeking millions of dollars in damages.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“And I got him to reveal to me what they’ve got. At least some of it.”
“What ‘they’ve got’?”
“Yeah, you know, their strategy. How they’re planning to go after the department.” Max stepped closer, invading her personal space, and she eased back. This guy was oblivious to boundaries.
“See, everyone thinks it’s all about the coerced confession,” he said. “And it is about that, at least according to the filings we’ve been able to see. Turns out, part of the judge’s decision was based on sealed testimony of someone who was inside the room when Moriarty confessed.”
Leanne’s shoulders tightened.
“He got it on audiotape, apparently,” Max went on.
“Got what on audiotape?”
“The coerced confession. Sounds like they literally put a gun to this kid’s head and threatened him within an inch of his life if he didn’t admit on video to murdering Hannah Rawls.”
Leanne watched his face. She felt a cold sweat coming on. Had that really happened? And had her father really been in the room?
He recorded the whole damn thing.
Her mother’s words came back to her, and she tried to keep her reaction in check.
“I don’t know what all you’ve read about Moriarty’s trial,” Max went on, “but the case basically rested on three pillars. First—and what got a lot of attention—was his confession.” He leaned against the dresser, relaxing into his story now.
“But there were two other key elements that the jury focused on. One, Hannah’s blood was in his car.
How did it get there? The defense never explained it.
And two, there was a credible eyewitness, an off-duty firefighter, who saw Sean Moriarty’s car turning off Long Canyon Road around midnight on the night Hannah went missing.
So, when her body was discovered in an abandoned well not far from that road, this witness contradicted Moriarty’s story that he wasn’t anywhere near there that night. ”
Leanne’s pulse was racing now, but she tried to look bored. “So, what’s your point?”
“My point is, this attorney plans to show that investigators withheld evidence from the prosecution about one of those three pillars of the case—the blood.”
“How’s that?”
He nodded. “Turns out, they interviewed one of Hannah’s friends who said they’d been out drinking that night right after the fireworks, and they were drinking at the Dairy Queen where people were hanging out together.
This friend saw Hannah trip and cut open her hand.
So, according to this friend, that might explain the blood in Sean Moriarty’s car, since he admitted to giving Hannah a ride after she left the Dairy Queen.
” He paused for emphasis. “So, the blood is explained, and the confession is explained, and that knocks out two of the three main pillars of the case. The only thing left is the eyewitness, but you know how those are. Eyewitness testimony is notoriously unreliable. He could have gotten the cars mixed up.”
Leanne watched the reporter, reviewing the series of events in her mind.
Nothing she’d read said anything about this interview with Hannah’s friend, or about Hannah tripping and cutting herself on the night of her disappearance.
So, had someone removed the interview from the case file?
Kept it out of sight of Moriarty’s defense lawyer?
Had her father done that?
Max smiled. “Interesting, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Knew you’d agree.”
Leanne waited for the ask. What did this reporter want, and why had he invited her out here to dump all this info on her about the lawsuit against her department?
“So, back to our quid pro quo,” he said, right on time. “I’ve been looking into this thing about the Highway Killer, and—”
“ ‘Highway Killer’?”
“It’s just a name I’ve been throwing around,” he said.
“We might come up with something better. But, you know, it’s potentially a major story, so it needs a moniker.
We’re talking about three women’s bodies discovered near Highway 67 in the past four years.
I can’t believe no one’s writing about it.
” He paused, searching her face for a reaction.
“I agree. It’s pretty unbelievable.”
“Anything else you want to tell me?” He watched her expectantly, but she didn’t respond. “Such as…are there any more I should know about?”
“More?”
“More victims. Besides the three? I’m thinking there could be others that haven’t gotten any notice in the local papers or anything.”
“Sounds like you’re asking me to do your job for you.” She took out her phone and made a show of looking at the clock. “Like I said, I have things to do tonight.”
“Wait.” He stepped closer, and this time she held up her hand.
“You mind?”
He eased back. “Sorry. I just want to make sure I’m getting everything relevant. My paper is very interested in this story. We’re planning to do a spread on it after the exposé comes out. Or maybe before. The timing’s loose, at the moment.”
“Welp. Good luck with that.”
“Yeah, and on the subject—any chance I can get a picture of you to go with the article? Not where you’re identifiable or anything. I’m thinking maybe a black silhouette in front of a window or something along those lines.”
Leanne moved for the door. “Not happening.”
“Your identity would be completely protected,” he said. “This would just be for visual interest. Something to run with the story.”
“That’s a hard no.”