Senseless (8 page)

Angie shrugged off her coat and hung it on the hanger dangling from the hook on her office door. She shoved her purse into the bottom desk drawer and sat down. The day promised to be jam-packed. Briefings to write. Motions to file. She thought about Charlotte, now on a long overdue vacation in the Florida Keys. Toes in the sand. Hot sun.

Sighing, she sipped her ginger ale and nibbled on crackers as she reviewed the wording on a brief that needed to be filed by tomorrow. It promised to be a long day.

A knock on her door had her looking up at Iris who stood in the doorway. In her late fifties, Iris kept her silver hair pulled in a French twist and she dress ed in immaculate Chanel suits. She’d joined the firm a year ago after she’d discovered her late husband had lost all their money in the stock market. The double loss of a fortune and husband could embitter most women but not Iris. She’d been born poor, she’d explained, and she knew how to work. She now ran Wellington and James with brutal efficiency. “You look like death.”

“Thanks. I feel it.” Too much wine and too little food last night, but she’d never admit it.

Iris eyed her carefully. “Flu’s going around.”

“So I’ve discovered.”

Iris held a pink message slip between her manicured fingers. “Mr. Lenny Danvers is still very anxious to talk to you. ”

Angie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“And I quote, ‘Mrs. Carlson will be pissed if she doesn’t hear what I have to say to her.'”

Angie drummed her fingers on the polished desktop. “That’s it? I’d be pissed.”

“That’s what he said.”

“So I’m supposed to drop my morning routine and work him into my schedule?” Irritation, spurred by the nausea, crept into her voice.

Iris flicked the pink slip with a manicured finger. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Sorry. Can you get specifics? I’m not jumping to Mr. Danvers’s request just because he needs some hand-holding.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Her stomach tumbled. “Bless you.”

“Want me to bring you a coffee?”

“God, no. But thanks.”

Iris hesitated in the doorway, studying Angie like a mother. “Wow, you must be sick.”

Angie smiled, determined to keep up appearances. “I’ll live.”

“I’m not so sure.” Iris’s gray eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just got a bit of a bug. The flu is going around. I’ll be fine.”

“Right. The flu. I’ll report back.”

Alone, Angie cradled her head in her hands and tried to concentrate on the documents in front of her. But as much as she wanted to read, her wobbly stomach wouldn’t allow it.

When Iris reappeared, she felt almost relieved. “Yes.”

“Danvers on line three.”

“Okay.” Angie sucked in a breath and picked up the receiver. “Mr. Danvers.”

“About time I got you. Christ, you’re my attorney.”

“I represented you once, Mr. Danvers. And as I remember, you made me look like a fool when you faked a heart attack. And you still have invoices outstanding.” “ Yeah, well, I’m not crying wolf this time. And I’ll get you the money.”

“What do you want?”

He dropped his voice a notch. “I got information on a murder.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I can help the police.”

She’d give him points for the sincerity in his voice. “Tell me.”

“Not over the phone.”

“Why not? ”

“Look, someone just posted bail for me.”

“And why were you in jail?”

“The usual. Breaking and entering.”

“This is at least your third strike. How did you get out? Bail would have been high.”

“Exactly, but someone posted it.”

“You have a girlfriend, from what I remember. ”

“It wasn’t her. She don’t love anybody that much.”

“You’ve a guardian angel?” Angie rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

“Or the killer wants me back on the streets.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit paranoid?”

“No. Look, if you want information on this murder, meet me at the Fort Ward Park in one hour.” Fort Ward was a park that commemorated the Union camp that defended Washington, D.C., from the Confederates. It could be reached easily and provided open spaces as well as wooded areas.

She glanced at the stack of briefs on her desk and then at the digital clock on her desk. “You’re kidding.”

“I ain’t kidding. Ms. Carlson, this killer is a nut and I can tell the cops who it is.”

“What do you want?”

“Immunity. Lots of it.”

She picked up her pencil and doodled boxes on a legal pad. “Lenny, that is not enough. I’ve got to give the cops more.”

“Tell them the killer burned his victim.”

Her stomach turned. Years ago, her sister had been burned by her attacker. “What do you mean ‘burned'?”

“I’m not sure. But I could smell it. I could hear her scream.”

The urgency in his voice cut through her malaise. “Where did this happen?”

“That I ain’t saying until I have a deal with the cops.”

“Which jurisdiction should I call?” The Northern Virginia area was comprised of two cities and several counties.

He paused, then said, “Alexandria.”

That meant Garrison. Shit. “I swear I will bury you if you are lying. ”

“I ain’t lying. Get the cops there and I’ll supply an address.”

“Who knows if they will deal?”

“They’ll deal with you. You’re kinda like Wonder Woman.”

“Wonder Woman.” Bitterness dripped from the words. Once upon a time she’d been a wet-behind-the-ears, fresh-faced lawyer, who was full of fire and determination to protect the innocent. Then she’d realized most of the people in the system weren’t so innocent or were working an angle. She didn’t feel like Wonder Woman anymore.

His voice raised a notch. “So you’ll deal for me?”

“You haven’t offered me much.”

“I will.”

For the first time in a long time, Angie considered the victim before her client. “I’ll make some calls.”

“Make it quick. Fort Ward. One hour.” He hung up.

Angie tossed her pen on her desk. “Damn it.”

“What did he want now?” Iris said.

“A meeting at Fort Ward. With the cops.”

“Tell me you are not going to bite. The guy is a con artist. He’s just jerking your chain.”

“I’m not so sure this time.”

“Look, anyone who can read knows you’re a sucker for a defendant. All that work you did on Project Innocence and those boys you got out of jail. He’s playing you.”

“He won’t be the first.” She glanced again at the paperwork. If she went to the park she’d lose at least two hours. She’d be here until midnight. But better to work here than drink alone at home.

Iris’s voice sliced through the silence. “Which cops are you calling?”

“Garrison.”

“Oh, he’ll be so thrilled to talk to you again.” Sarcasm dripped from the words. “Few have seen that man mad but you managed to accomplish that feat when you got his suspect acquitted.”

Iris referred to the Dixon case. After the verdict, Garrison had been angry, but his partner, Kier, had been the one that had cornered her later on the courthouse steps and called her scum. She’d shrugged it off for Kier’s benefit but the detective’s words had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“We’re all big boys and girls, Iris. I’m just offering them information. ”

She retrieved Garrison’s number from her cell and hit Send. He picked up on the second ring.

“Detective Garrison.”

“Detective. Angie Carlson with Wellington and James.”

“Yes, Ms. Carlson.”

Ice crackled through the phone. Clearly, deep emotions simmered in the detective. “What can I do for you?”

She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “One of my clients has information that might be of use to you.”

“Really? I can’t wait to hear this one.” Normally, he didn’t let his frustration or anger show.

“I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t credible.”

“Shoot.”

“One of my clients appears to have stumbled upon a murder in progress, or at least that’s what the guy said. Anyway, he believes the killer burned his victim.”

“Say that again,” Garrison said.

“He says your victim might have been burned.”

A heavy silence hung in the air for a moment. “Did he say anything else?”

“Nope. The rest he’ll tell you in person.” She expected him to laugh it off.

“I’ll meet with him.”

Angie buried her shock. “He said Fort Ward in one hour.”

“I’ll meet you at the entrance in one hour.”

“Great.”

“Carlson, don’t speak to the media about any of this. If it leaks, your client doesn’t get a deal.”

The menace in his voice had her hackles rising a little. “You’ve got my silence until the meeting.”

Chapter 7

Tuesday, April 4, 8:47 A.M.

The image of the pale woman with full slack-jawed lips and high cheekbones niggled Eva’s mind. Who was she? Why did she seem so familiar? It bothered her that she shared a sense of connection with this woman—this murdered woman. Her only alibi was Bruce Radford and he’d never help her. If the cops really dug into her past they’d learn about her record.

Damn.

She had nothing to be ashamed of or anything to feel guilty about. The law should be on her side in this matter. But too many years in prison had taught hard lessons. Right did not always win.

Her hands trembling, she jerked open the back door to the kitchen and found that King had peeled most of the potatoes and had set them in a pot on the stove to boil. Whistling the theme to
Gilligan’s Island,
he appeared happy as he always did. She never could figure out how the guy remained so positive.

She was surprised to see Bobby sitting on a stool at the end of the butcher-block countertop. He ate a bagel with cream cheese and had a half-full glass of milk in front of him. “Bobby, I figured you’d be at school now.”

“I’m sick. King said I could stay home with him and Merlin.”

“Merlin?”

“The cat,” King said. “Bobby and I went out and got cat supplies.”

“You’ve caught it? ”

“Not yet,” King said.

“But we will.” Excitement sparked in Bobby’s eyes.

When she’d been a kid, she’d never missed school. Her mother had seen skipping as akin to waste. And one of her mother’s old admonishments rose in her before she caught herself. Let the kid have a day with the kitten.

Bobby glanced up from his bagel. In the morning light she could see a sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of his nose. “King says Merlin eats like a horse.”

King glanced toward Eva as she shrugged off her jacket. “Merlin eats more than you do.”

Eva smiled. “That’s saying a lot.”

“Remember when you first tripped through my front door?” King spoke easily, as if they’d broken bread a thousand times before. “You ate all the leftover meat loaf I had.” He looked at Bobby, his lips twisted into awry smile. “Drank five glasses of milk—nearly a half gallon.”

When she’d showed up at King’s she’d not eaten much for a couple of days. The bus ride from Richmond had stretched from the expected two hours to four thanks to traffic snarls. The thick air on the bus coupled with constant stopping and fears of returning home had twisted her stomach into knots. But when she’d arrived at King’s and smelled his meat loaf her stomach had growled with hunger.

Eva sat on the stool next to Bobby and spread cream cheese on her bagel. “These are great, King. I love fresh bagels.”

“I never met anyone that didn’t like bagels. Glad I got extra.” King kept his tone even and light as he continued to chop. Both pretended this was just another day and this kid who had just dropped out of nowhere belonged at the edge of the table eating a bagel.

“Good call.” She took a couple more bites. “So what’s on the menu for tonight?”

King laughed. “Potatoes. Wings and the usual burgers and chili dogs. Good bar fare.” The pub had a limited selection but “the eats were good and cheap,” as King enjoyed saying.

“Let me know what you need done today. I don’t have any subpoena deliveries.”

“That reminds me, that Luke fellow called. He wanted to know how the delivery went. He also said the cops called asking if you had a job last night.”

Garrison had wasted no time. “I’ll give him a call back.”

King tossed her an annoyed glance over the top of his half glasses. “I don’t like that fellow.”

Refusing to engage in an old argument, she popped some bagel in her mouth. “He’s okay.”

“He puts you at risk. Tosses you the worst jobs he has on his books. Almost as if he wants you to find trouble.”

“They are the best-paying jobs.”

“Because nobody wants them, Eva. And,” he said, lowering his voice, “he’s a little too well acquainted with you. ”

“What’s that mean?” Bobby asked.

“He wants to date Eva,” King said.

“He won’t,” Eva said. Life was complicated enough right now without a man mucking it up.

Aware that Bobby was studying their volley of conversation as if it were a tennis match, she shrugged and tossed the kid a smile. “I’ll buzz him this morning.”

King swallowed his retort when he caught Bobby’s gaze. He grunted and lapsed into silence for several minutes before saying, “So how did your errands go this morning?” He didn’t mention the fire, mindful of Bobby.

“Fine,” she said, glancing to the boy who still stared at them both, trying to figure them out. “Didn’t pick up anything new. ”

“Really?”

She inclined her head toward the kid. “I might try back later. ”

King grunted, clearly not happy. “Maybe tomorrow. ”

Eva tore another piece of bagel but didn’t eat it. “I can go today. ”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “No rush. That reminds me,” King said. “You got a letter. Came in the mail yesterday. Just got it from the P.O. box this morning.”

He dug under his big white apron into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a rumpled brown letter. He handed it to her.

A frown creased her brow as she glanced at the simple bold handwriting. Her name, King’s post office box and no return address. Who would ever know she lived at King’s?

Refusing to borrow trouble she tore open the back flap with her thumbnail and pulled out the neatly creased newspaper article. The paper was brittle and yellowed on the edges.

Dated a decade ago, the article’s headline read
FIRE DESTROYS SORORITY HOUSE.

Eva’s blood pressure dropped, making her light-headed. She glanced at the envelope and searched for a return address or a postmark. Alexandria postmark with no return address.

She reread the headline.
FIRE DESTROYS SORORITY HOUSE
. She flipped the article over, and written on the back in red ink was the word
Atone.

Atone. Atone for what? She’d spent ten years in jail atoning for sins she wasn’t so sure now that she’d committed. Now she was rebuilding her life. What did she have to
atone
for? Instead of being scared she grew angry. Someone in town had recognized her, remembered her history and thought it would be a laugh to jerk her chain. Outrage burned inside her.

“Bad news?” King said.

Eva carefully folded the paper. “Just a bill. ”

“How could you have a bill? You never spend money. ”

“Don’t worry about it.” She crammed the article into the back pocket of her jeans.

King grunted. “Something wrong?”

“Nope. All good.”

Someone knew about her past.

Eva coaxed a faltering smile for King and Bobby. “No worries, boys. No worries.”

King arched a bushy brow.

Even Bobby had stopped eating and stared at her as if he were trying to read her mind.

Eva bit into her bagel, doing her best to look casual. “You two look so serious. Really, it’s nothing.” To change the subject she said, “That computer professor at St. Margaret’s said I could come by the lab anytime after I audited his class.”

“You should go,” King said.

Eva shook her head. “I’ll skip today. I can help find Merlin.”

King shook his head. “No, you go. I see the way your eyes light up when you get back from one of those classes. The kid and I will trap Merlin.”

The boy’s brow knotted. “I don’t like school but I like reading.”

She smiled. “What do you like to read about?”

“Cowboys. And boats.”

“I’ll bet you are good,” Eva said.

“I am.” Tension suddenly radiated from his little body like a clenched fist. He’d remembered something from his past.

“It’s okay,” Eva said. She had similar moments. She’d be discussing something that didn’t have to do with anything and then the past would blindside her.

Bobby sighed. “Aren’t you too old for school?”

“You’re never too old.” Eva shrugged. “I didn’t get a chance to go much when I was younger. I’m doing a little catch-up.”

“Why didn’t you go to school?”

“Good question,” King said.

The brains that had earned her a full college admission and scholarship at sixteen hadn’t saved her from a manslaughter conviction. “Lots of reasons.”

“Like what?” Bobby said.

“Like it doesn’t matter now.” She dug her fingers through her long hair and checked her watch. “I better get going or I’ll be late for class.”

“Go,” King said. “The boy and I have a kitten to trap.”

Bobby studied Eva. “You’re coming back?”

“Of course. I’ll be gone just a few hours.” Going to the computer lab would mean on-line time and the chance to check on kids matching Bobby’s description.

The boy picked a fresh bagel from the tray. “Not everyone comes back.”

“Yeah, well, I will.”

He thrust his lip out. “Even if you don’t, I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

Garrison and Malcolm pulled into Fort Ward’s stone entrance exactly an hour later. This time of year, the trees had begun to bud and the land looked a little less barren. Still, the air remained chilly and likely few tourists meandered about. Garrison parked at the main entrance lot, which was empty. He checked his watch.

“So what is Carlson selling?” Malcolm said. “She’s always working an angle.”

“I don’t know. But her guy might have a lead on our Jane Doe’s murder. I’ve got to hear what the two have to say.”

“That woman irritates the shit out of me,” Malcolm grumbled. “I doubt she has a conscience.”

“Who knows? She might.”

“How can you say that? She was a barracuda in the courtroom.”

“Just doing her job. And she won the Dixon case fair and square. I don’t like it but it’s done and over.”

Malcolm shifted in his seat toward his partner. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Garrison kept his gaze ahead as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You never seem to get pissed.”

Garrison was gratified his smile could mask so much. “My motto is simple. Don’t get mad. Just get even.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I want both.”

Garrison laughed. “Doesn’t always work that way.”

A sleek black BMW pulled up next to the driver’s side of Garrison’s car. Angie Carlson, her eyes shielded with dark glasses, got out of the car. She moved around to the back of her car as Garrison shut off the engine and slid out. Malcolm followed and the two met Carlson.

Carlson’s arms were crossed and she tapped her foot. Garrison noted tension around her mouth and the fact that she’d dropped a little too much weight. She usually never showed emotion but he guessed, like him, she paid a price somewhere along the line for the stoicism.

“Thank you for the meeting, Detectives,” Carlson said.

Garrison nodded. “Where’s your client?”

She checked her watch. “He said he’d be here.”

“Let’s hope he shows and is not wasting my time,” Garrison warned.

A crease furrowed her brow. “I’ve already outlined the consequences. I don’t have time for wild-goose chases either.”

“All right.”

The trio waited several more minutes, an awkward strained silence hovering around them. Finally, Carlson’s phone rang. She glanced at the number, frowned and flipped it open. “Lenny, where are you?” She listened, her scowl deepening. “You said you’d be here!” As she listened she flexed and unflexed her fingers. “Sure, he’s standing right here.” She handed the phone to Garrison.

He accepted it. “Detective Garrison.”

“Is this really Garrison?” The mousy voice on the other end of the line sounded nervous and agitated.

“It is.” He’d met Danvers once when he worked Burglary and could almost picture Danvers dragging his long, bone-thin fingers through his wispy black hair. No doubt he had a lit cigarette in his other hand, the ash dangling and ready to crumble. “What do you have for me, Mr. Danvers?”

“I want a deal.”

The muscle in the side of Garrison’s face tightened. “You said you were going to be here.”

“And have you haul my bony ass to jail? Couldn’t take that chance. Give me a signed deal and then we’ll meet.”

“Tell me what you have first. ”

Danvers chuckled. “I want a deal in writing before I talk.”

Garrison glanced at Carlson, who stared at him stone-faced. He cupped his hand over the receiver. “You said he was going to be here.”

She shook her head. “That’s what he told me.”

Garrison swallowed an oath and then said to Danvers, “Call me when you’re ready to talk. I’m giving you back to your attorney. ”

Malcolm pushed away from the car. “I knew this wasn’t going to pan out.”

Carlson lifted her chin and said loud enough for Danvers to hear, “He’s not my client. He never paid his last bill and I’ve never once said I’d continue to represent him.”

“Looks like you’re screwed. No deal and no attorney. Have a nice life, Danvers.” Garrison hung up.

Malcolm raised a brow but said nothing.

Carlson leaned a little closer in anticipation, but she was too smart an attorney to say what was on her mind.

They waited in silence just a few more seconds before the phone rang. Garrison handed it to Carlson. “I believe that’s your client.”

She flipped open the phone. “Angie Carlson.” She stared at them stone-faced. “You’re in luck. He was just about to drive away but I think I can flag him down.” She waited a beat and then handed the phone to Garrison.

“Make it fast, Danvers. You’re pissing away my time.”

“Okay. Okay. I was at this house on Saturday night. Nice house. Well-manicured lawn. Looked like the people were on vacation. You know, my kind of place.”

“Keep talking.”

“I get inside and the place is just empty. Nothing. Not a stick of furniture. I was getting ready to leave when I heard a moaning sound coming from the air vents. I thought I’d heard wrong and then I heard it again. It was an awful sound. Like a wounded animal. I moved toward the kitchen to look for basement stairs. And then someone hit me from behind. When I woke up I was tied up like a pig and a woman was screaming. I could smell something burning. Like flesh. I wiggled loose and ran like hell.”