Chapter Sixteen #2
Her first instinct was to lecture him about all the crap rolling around free. His first aid kit wasn’t strapped down, and his gym bag had spilled because he didn’t know how to close a zipper.
Then she saw the camera in an evidence bag.
The Canon EOS C had a telephoto lens on it that stretched the whole thing out about eight inches. Emmy picked it up, felt the weight of it in her hand.
Cole said, “I put out a BOLO on a camera with a telephoto lens. Figured Allison was using one for her PI work. Sherry didn’t list one in her inventory.”
Emmy let him have the white lie. She knew Jude had put him on the camera. “And?”
“I went to every pawnshop in Ocmulgee. Found it at the one off Penley Boulevard. The guy was on the up-and-up. Had all the paperwork on the transaction. Said he paid five grand total for both the camera and the lens. They retail for around thirteen grand.”
Emmy knew you had to show a valid ID to pawn anything in the state of Georgia. “Don’t stretch this out, Coleman.”
He reached into his back pocket. Made a show of taking out a folded sheet of paper. “Michael Allan Cooper.”
Emmy studied the photocopy of a Georgia state driver’s license. It looked as real as the licenses for Sally Anne Cooper and Ashley Renee Cooper that the medical examiner had found in Allison’s back pocket. Except this one had a photo of Bill Garrison.
She turned the camera around in the bag, looking for the memory card slot.
Cole said, “The SD card is missing. Watch this.”
He held up his phone so Emmy could watch a video. She recognized the format of a surveillance camera inside a pawnshop.
Bill Garrison stood at a glass counter holding Allison’s camera in one hand.
White shirt with the Garrison logo on the breast pocket, cargo shorts, sneakers, Tigers baseball hat, the same outfit he’d been wearing at the game.
He looked agitated, ready to get this over with.
He kept peering around the counter as if he was waiting for someone to help him.
Emmy looked at the timestamp. Saturday. 1:42 p.m.
The pawnshop was about a fifteen-minute drive from the ballpark. That’s why the game had started late. Bill was pawning Allison’s camera.
“Keep watching,” Cole said.
Emmy saw a large man with a thick gold necklace come into frame.
He took the camera, examined it with a quick, professional eye, checking to make sure it was working.
There was a very short negotiation before he went to the cash register to get the money.
While his back was turned, Bill opened the memory card slot.
He took out the SD card and snapped it in two.
A few seconds later, Bill was walking out of the store with five thousand dollars in cash.
The man behind the counter picked up the broken SD card and tossed it into the trash.
Cole said, “He told Bill he didn’t want the card. Store policy.”
Emmy imagined the pawnshop didn’t want to risk inadvert-ently trafficking in illicit videos and child sexual assault material. “Did you get the trash?”
“I missed it by two hours. The store doesn’t have a dumpster. The guy drives all his trash to the landfill every Sunday morning on his way into work. I got a copy of his receipt from the dump, but it’s gonna take a lot of time and patience to find one bag out of thousands.”
Emmy didn’t have the resources, though it was tempting to put Brett on the job. The last time she had treaded water this hard she was navigating a surge on the Flint River. “This is good work, Cole.”
His smile showed most of his teeth. “Can I go with you to arrest Bill?”
“We’re not there yet.” Emmy hated his look of disappointment. “Bill can say Allison gave him the camera to sell. It’s the timing that’s going to help. I need you to drive from the pawnshop to Allison’s house. Stay under the speed limit. Look for any cameras along the route.”
“We’ve already pulled everything from around the strip mall and Clifton Gardens.”
“We were looking between the ballpark and motel. The pawn-shop’s in the other direction.”
“The shooting started at one. Bill was probably in and out of the house in five minutes. He had plenty of time to drive to the pawnshop, then go to the ballpark.”
“I know, baby, but that’s what we think. It’s not what we know. And it’s certainly not what we can prove.” She handed the camera back to him. “Log this into evidence before you go out. Maybe there’s some kind of internal memory that Sherry’s people can access.”
“Mom.” His frustration was bubbling up. “If you’re scared of Bill, I get it, but—”
She cut him off with a surprised laugh. “Why would I be scared of Bill Garrison?”
“Because.” His frustration was gone. He turned the camera over in his hands. “What they’re saying online about Bill, that he beat Allison. All kinds of people are telling stories about seeing her with broken bones and bruises. Talking about how Mandy saw it, too.”
Emmy’s mouth went dry.
“I mean, it’s stirring up things for me. It’d make sense that it’s stirring things up for you, too.” He shrugged. “You know, how Dad used to go off on you.”
If he’d stabbed her in the chest it would’ve hurt less. “I’m not afraid of Bill Garrison.”
“I know,” he said, but he clearly didn’t believe her.
“Baby, look at me.” Everything in the world fell away except for her son. “We can talk about it. Let’s go somewhere right now. Just the two of us.”
“No, I don’t need to talk. I just wanted to say it out loud. To let you know it would be understandable.”
Emmy needed the reassurance of touching him. She tucked his shirt collar under his vest, left her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all good.” Cole pulled away. It was like watching a light bulb turn on. He flashed a grin as he put the camera back in his trunk. “Just clearing the air.”
Emmy felt the knife twist. She searched for the right words.
“I’ll text you with the drive time, boss.”
He was such a Clifton, and she was such a coward, because she played along. “Thank you.”
He closed his trunk, then kissed her cheek. “Love you.”
“You, too.”
Emmy kept her composure until the back of his cruiser disappeared into a swirl of gravel dust up the driveway. She could feel her heart shaking inside her chest. What a mess of a human being she’d turned out to be.
The front door opened behind her. Emmy wiped her eyes. Taybee was carrying a large, empty soup pot in both hands. For once, Emmy was glad to stand in the fire hose of her cousin’s one-sided conversation.
“Holy crap, lady. Millie’s still on a tear about Cousin Ace being at Myrna’s funeral. I told her Ace loved Myrna just as much as the rest of us. Even sat with her at the nursing home, didn’t he?”
Emmy felt her hands wanting to shake. She forced herself not to grip them together.
“Good Lord, when is it gonna cool down? I can’t tell if I’m having a hot flash or a stroke.” Taybee used a bungee cord to secure the soup pot to the seat of the golf cart. Then she started the arduous process of adjusting and readjusting. “Have you decided what you’re gonna do about Hannah?”
The question was so out of the blue that Emmy couldn’t decipher its meaning.
Taybee released the bungee and started over. “The school board’s got that hearing next month to see whether she’s gonna keep her job. Most of ’em will vote however you tell ’em to, but you’re gonna have to work on Dervla McClatchy and Cousin Ace if you want her back in the classroom.”
Emmy found her voice. “Why is it up to me?”
“It’s your daddy her husband killed.” Taybee braced her foot on the cart to pull the bungee tight. “Tommy will go with the flow, Celia has more enemies than Stalin, nobody gives a hoot what Jude has to say, and that leaves you.”
Emmy couldn’t deal with this right now. “You told me you had a forensic accountant go through Bill’s accounts.”
“Not much meat on that bone. Bill clears ten grand a month from the family business, but it all goes to credit card companies and the bank. He wouldn’t even have a roof over his head if the house wasn’t in his mama’s name. His truck is leased through the company.”
Emmy had been inside the monastic house. There weren’t any high-end electronics or expensive toys. “What put Bill in that much debt?”
“No idea, but it goes back years. Allison says he’s always been really bad with money. Probably lost his ass in crypto. He’s got that kind of personality.”
“Do you think he gambles?”
“Lady, that’s what crypto is.”
Emmy could tell that Taybee was ready to go. She’d started adjusting the mirror. “How did Allison pay your retainer?”
“Four different credit cards. She probably paid ten times as much in interest. That’s why I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want the retainer back. At least make a dent in some of that debt. Poor thing spent her life trapped in a hole and all she ever did was keep digging.”
“Okay,” Emmy said. “Thank you.”
“You are most certainly welcome.” Taybee turned the ignition key back and forth three times in a row. “Let me know when you want to prep for the debate with Brett. I know he’s being a butt, but we can turn the tide back your way. Hashtag Clifton family strong!”
So many subjects Emmy wanted to avoid.
“Take care, lady. Oh, and stay off Facebook. You don’t even wanna know.”
Taybee tapped the pedal twice before punching it on the third go. The golf cart bolted up the driveway. Taybee’s phone was out before she reached the first bend. She was not a woman who could tolerate silence.
Emmy resisted the urge to look at Facebook. She climbed the stairs. Bill Garrison was covered in debt, barely getting by, abusing Allison, pissing off the Rawleys. He was an unflushable turd. Every time she moved him down her list, he came floating back to the top.
Her phone vibrated with a call as she was reaching for the door latch. Emmy saw the name of Mandy’s neurosurgeon on the screen.
She answered, “Dr. Cody, thank you for returning my call.”
“Sheriff,” he said. “I’m about to go into surgery, but I wanted to talk to you about Mandy.”
Emmy let her hand fall away from the latch. “Okay.”
“There was tattooing around the entry wound. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes.”
Tattooing referred to the dark, dotted marks around an entry wound that were created by partially burned gunpowder particles embedding into the skin.
From a forensic standpoint, tattooing indicated that the muzzle-to-skin distance was under forty-eight inches when the gun was fired.
Mandy’s entry wound was on the left side of her forehead.
The exit wound was just behind her left ear.
The girl was looking directly at the killer when he shot her.