Chapter Fifty-One
Huntsville’s almighty were all present: the chief, the mayor, the district attorney, and select members of the city council.
All wanted the same thing.
“I don’t care what it takes,” Mayor Newman reiterated, “you find Tyrone Nash and you arrest him. No one sleeps until he’s in custody. I want him charged with five counts of murder.”
The chief said nothing; the DA did the same.
Great. “Sir,” Braddock broached, “with all due respect, we have no evidence connecting Nash with a single one of these murders.”
Beside him, Cooper shifted. Braddock didn’t look at her. He knew she would have kicked him had they not been standing at attention before the conference table lined with the city’s gods.
The chief cleared his throat, which meant he would be talking to Braddock later. “I feel confident Detectives Braddock and Cooper can find the necessary evidence to obtain a warrant for his arrest.”
“It won’t take that much,” the district attorney suggested.
“All we need is enough to charge him; the jury will take care of the rest. Folks are sick to death of men like Tyrone Nash. Dr. Cost’s father and grandfather have learned of the fiasco involving the questioning of Carter Cost. They’re out for blood. ”
Translation: They’d heard about Braddock’s coercion. If Cost wanted to avoid charges, he would help reel Nash in. Braddock had badgered him into going for the deal.
Braddock looked from one to the next. “So finding the real killer isn’t the goal here.”
Cooper inched her sneakered foot onto the toes of Braddock’s loafers and pushed hard.
The fury that blazed across the faces lining that conference table would have melted steel.
“Do your job, Braddock,” the chief warned, “or find another one. This case will be closed with the arrest and prosecution of Tyrone Nash. Local media raked this department over the coals this morning. Tomorrow’s leading stories will look entirely differently. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” That edict didn’t give them a lot of time.
“Detectives,” the chief said, looking from Braddock to Cooper and back, “you are dismissed. I don’t want to see your faces again until Nash is in a holding cell.”
Braddock executed an about-face and walked out of the room. Cooper followed. Neither spoke until they were outside the building and headed across the parking lot.
He stopped at his SUV, glared at Cooper across the hood. “Thanks for the support, partner.”
She scoffed. “Like there was any point arguing with those assholes.”
Braddock shook his head. This investigation could not turn into a political circus.
And yet that was exactly where it was headed.
The mayor would not allow the city’s reputation to be tarnished with these murders.
It might affect tourism or the government’s consideration of Huntsville as a prime location for more military and space research facilities.
“You heard the order the same as I did,” Cooper reminded. “So, what do you say?”
“I say screw ’em. Nash needs to be found and questioned.” He sent a look at Cooper that warned there would be no negotiations. “But he isn’t our killer.”
“When did you decide that?”
“When I got a long, hard look at Cost’s puny penis,” he tossed back.
“Nash doesn’t think that way. All this staging is far too sophisticated and time-consuming for his methods.
Look at the vics we know belong to him. Like Celeste Martin.
Simple, straightforward. Make the mark, do the kill. No games, no this-is-your-life venue.”
She shrugged. “I guess we look for a different killer. God knows we have loads of suspects and evidence.”
Braddock slid behind the wheel of his SUV. “That’s why we need Nash.”
Cooper fastened her seat belt and sent him a sidelong look. “You just said Nash isn’t our guy.”
“Nash makes it his business to know what’s going on in his village. He knows something. That’s most likely why he’s gone into hiding. We have nothing on him. He’s not afraid of us. But he is afraid of whoever is behind these murders.”
“You have a very good point, partner.”
“All we have to do is find him and that video.”
“Easier said than done.”
No shit.
But first Braddock needed to talk to CJ. She needed to stay off the streets.
This—whatever this was—was about her. She was either the next victim or the trophy the winner expected to take home.