Chapter 38
Two hours later, I sat in Sam’s office. Numb.
Spent. But Jamie Simmons was probably going to prison for the rest of his life.
The not guilty verdict on aggravated murder only meant that he would not face the death penalty.
He would technically be eligible for parole depending on how Judge Saul sentenced him.
But he would likely never get past a parole board.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked. “You haven’t said much.”
“I don’t know how to feel. Happy? That doesn’t seem right.”
Sam came around his desk. He perched himself on the edge of it so he was right in front of me, our knees touching.
“Nobody else could have done what you did,” he said. “Not even Kenya in her prime as a litigator. This case was tough. It could have gone the other way.”
“Now you tell me that?” I said.
“Yep.” Sam leaned forward and kissed me. “I’m proud of you. I hope it’s okay for me to say that.”
“Of course. And I get it. You saw me at my worst during this thing.”
Sam smiled. “You think that was your worst? Woman, you’re nuts. Come here.”
He pulled me forward, so I stood between his knees. He was warm and strong, his arms completely enveloping me.
“It’s been a long few months,” I said. “I’m looking forward to things getting back to normal.”
My phone buzzed. I’d set it on Sam’s desk. I caught it before the thing vibrated itself off the edge.
“It’s Kenya,” I said, smiling. I showed Sam the screen.
“Great job,” she texted. “Remind me to take credit for your success when I get my old office back in January.”
“She’s really running!” Sam said. “Thank God!” Then he grew quiet.
“Mara,” he said. “You’re absolutely sure you don’t want the job?”
“Yes,” I said. There was something else between us. A question he’d almost asked me before everything blew up. I could see it in his eyes now.
“Not here,” he whispered.
I was about to tell him I wouldn’t mind. But Sam looked up. Gus stood in the doorway, looking even more grave than usual.
“Gus!” I gushed. This case had driven a wedge between us. Taken us both to the edge. I didn’t care about any of that now. I walked out of Sam’s embrace and threw my arms around Gus.
He went rigid, but didn’t pull away. “We did it,” I whispered, then kissed him on the cheek.
“Have a seat,” Sam said. “Close the door.”
Gus was like a zombie. He took a seat on the couch along the wall. Sam reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of bourbon he secretly kept there. He was off duty now. So was Gus. So were we all.
He poured three glasses and handed one to Gus. Gus took it, but didn’t meet his eyes.
“Come on,” Sam said. “You can be satisfied now. It’s over, Gus.”
“Yeah,” Gus said, taking a slow sip of bourbon. I joined him, but truly hated the stuff. Gus finished his, then put his glass on the table beside him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.
“It’s good that you’re here too,” Gus said. “It’ll save me the trip over to your office.”
Sam frowned as he took the envelope. He tore it open and read the piece of paper inside of it. It only deepened his frown. Sam handed it to me.
I read quickly, not really believing what I was seeing. It was a resignation letter.
“Gus,” I started.
“Nice try,” Sam said. I handed him back the letter. “But I don’t accept this. You’re not leaving me, buddy. Not like this.”
“I’ve been eligible to retire for two years,” Gus said. “It’s time.”
“Nope,” Sam said. “I’ll tell you when it’s time. For months now, I’ve watched you carry the weight of this thing. Blaming yourself. And I’ve given you space to do it. Enough. The bad guy’s going to jail. Ellie Luke can rest in peace.”
“Peace?” Gus said. “I’ve ruined that family.”
“Jamie Simmons ruined that family,” I said.
“You keep wanting to forget that. He killed Ellie. He wormed his way into the Luke family. Brainwashed them. And don’t you dare start talking about Dane Fischer.
He was innocent of this. But he wasn’t innocent in this.
He gave you every reason to think he was guilty.
If I had been around twenty-two years ago, I would have thought he did this too.
As for the Lukes, God … you know … I should take my own advice.
I’ve been sitting here feeling so guilty about what they’ve gone through.
But it’s Jamie. Let’s not forget who the villain is.
It isn’t you, Gus. So forget it. I don’t accept your resignation either.
And Kenya’s coming back. She told me. She’ll kill you before she lets you bail on her. ”
Gus buried his face in his hands. Sam and I went to him, each of us putting our arms around our dear friend. He let us.
“Sheriff?” Deputy Jaffee stood in the doorway, unsure of whether he should come in. Gus immediately straightened.
“What’s the word, Nick?” Sam asked.
Deputy Jaffee had been the one to interview Erin Simmons at her request. I’d almost forgotten about it.
“I’ve got Erin Simmons’s statement,” he said. “I wanted to come straight here. Detective Ritter, I was actually looking for you.”
Gus’s face changed. Whatever emotions he’d been having melted away. He was all business.
“Mrs. Simmons’s house was torn up,” Jaffee said.
“We heard that,” I said. “That it looked ransacked.”
“It was,” he said. “By Mrs. Simmons. She kinda lost her mind. But she said she found something taped under one of the register grates on the floor.”
“The house was searched,” Sam said. “After Jamie was arrested.”
“It was hidden pretty good,” Jaffee said. “Wasn’t something you could have seen if you didn’t know it was there.”
“How did she?” Gus asked.
Jaffee pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“She said she saw her husband messing around with this particular grate a few times. She didn’t think much of it.
I don’t know what made her look there yesterday.
I suppose that part doesn’t matter. But she found something.
She took pictures of it on her phone. The paramedics brought her purse when they loaded her into the ambulance.
She had some pill bottles in it. They always think that might help the doctors . ..”
“Jaffee, what is it?” Gus said, impatient.
“Right,” Jaffee said. “I took some pictures of what she showed me with my own phone. You’re gonna want to send a crew out to collect it. She said she put it back under the grate. As you can imagine, it shook her up pretty good. I think this is why she tried to take her own life.”
Gus took Jaffee’s phone. Sam and I crowded over his shoulder to see. They were pictures of pictures of pictures. Erin Simmons had carefully documented seven Polaroid pictures on her phone.
“My God,” Sam whispered. Gus’s hand shook. I grabbed Jaffee’s phone from him before he dropped it. I scrolled each image.
It was Ellie Luke. She lay in a pile of leaves, her head at an unnatural angle, eyes open, staring vacantly at the spring sky. She was dead. Blood poured down one side of her face. Her hair was caked with it. I knew she would have had a massive head wound on the back of her skull.
The next image had been taken further away, so you could see the full length of her body. She was partially clothed, her pants off.
In the next image, she’d been moved and leaned against the base of the tree where I knew she was later found. She was wearing both earrings in this one, blood caking the one in her right ear. Another image showed her driver’s license. It had been in her purse that the police had never found.
“The rest of his souvenirs,” Sam whispered. “Christ, what a monster.”
“It broke her,” I said. “When Erin Luke finally saw these, it broke her. She knows what Jamie is. She knows what he really did. That poor, poor woman.”
“Thank you, Jaffee,” Gus said. “I’ll get over to Simmons’s house right away. Make sure the scene is secured. There could be more. We’re going to have to go over it again. It’s going to be a long night.”
For now, though, Gus rose. Squared his shoulders. His expression hardened. His duty to Ellie Luke was not yet done. But I, for one, felt grateful that Detective Ritter was going back to work.