I looked through the two-way mirror at the silky mane cascading down her slender shoulders. Long tresses marking victory over a story, a nightmare, she’d likely never forget. Her eyes flickered with awareness, her face turning slightly in my direction, but not all the way. She knew I was there. She knew I was watching.
I ripped my eyes away. “What’s his name?”
“Kenzo Rees.”
I didn’t need to write it down because it burned into my brain like a branding iron, or baseball bat if you will.
“What did he get?”
“Assault with a deadly weapon. First degree felony. Got him a four year sentence in prison but the guy was already on probation for two DUIs and possession with intent to sell, so the judge threw the book at him and gave him another two years. Rees was rumored to be one of the biggest cocaine dealers in the area, but cops could never pin him for it. Rumored gang affiliations, too.”
“And this happened when she was twenty-one?”
“Right.”
“She’s twenty-eight now. That was seven years ago. His sentence was six years. Is he out?”
“No according to my DPD rookie.”
“He should be. Find out why he isn’t.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door flung open. Colson stormed inside and slammed it behind him, a tornado of energy that had Darby inching closer to me.
“Let’s fucking recap, shall we?” Colson interrupted.
I glanced at Darby, who muttered, “I set a copy of all this on his desk.”
Colson ignored Darby and turned to the two-way mirror, staring at Sunny as he addressed me. “We’ve got an emotionally scarred rich girl who dated a gang member who almost beat her to death, and a dead pastor’s kid who just got back from a fucking mission trip. Who, according to our guest of the evening, attacked her and was killed by a phantom ninja who came out of nowhere and then disappeared into thin air. Despite the fact that she was found holding a gun over Julian’s dead body.”
“You don’t believe her.” Darby said.
“No I don’t. There’s something about her. About this whole thing. My gut is screaming at me. There’s something about her I don’t like.”
“That’s not going to stand up in court.” I said.
“Like you’re so politically correct? Give me a break.” Colson turned to me. “Why the hell didn’t she lawyer up? Why didn’t she tell us everything at the scene? Blabbering like a normal panic-stricken person would be? What’s with the fucking attitude and nine millimeter? Who the hell jogs at midnight? Why is she being so… not normal about this whole thing? Chick’s not normal.”
“Is this your first assault victim, Colson?”
“Why are you so sure she’s telling the truth?”
“Why are you so fucking sure she’s not?”
“Why are you so fucking defensive about this? She’s hot and all, but shit, Jagg, I thought you had better contr—”
“You finish the rest of that sentence, you’ll be slurring it through a hole in your mouth.”
Colson squared his shoulders. “You threatening me, Jagger?”
“Whoa.” Darby shifted between us. “Guys. Stop.”
“Get out.” I said to the rookie, my eyes never leaving Colson as Darby slinked out and shut the door.
Colson threw up his hands, heaved out a breath, and took a step back. “I know you’re messed up about Seagrave’s death, but you need to reset, Jagger. Check yourself. Because we both know you’re hanging onto your job by a thread right now and the last thing you need is to stick your neck out for some random chick. There’s emotions already involved here, bro. The Chief knows the pastor. He knew Julian. He hates you. My opinion, you either need to pass off Seagrave’s investigation or this one. Leave the cursed Cedonia scrolls and this Sunny Harper shit alone.”
“I’m already involved in this Sunny Harper shit.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t mean emotionally you, asswipe. I was one of the first responders with you. Hell, I just interviewed her for you.”
“That’s not why you want to stay on. You think Sunny Harper, Julian Griggs, and the freaking Voodoo Tree are all connected to Seagrave’s death.”
“You’re goddamn right I do.”
Colson shook his head, placed his hand on the doorknob. “I hope you know what you’re doing, bro. All eyes are on you, just waiting for you to screw up.” He glanced over his shoulder and gave me the once-over. “Speaking of, maybe now’s the time to start dressing like you give a damn. Button-up, slacks, shoes that don’t have beer stains on them. Walk the line, at least until everything blows over. That’s my advice.”
I looked down at my T-shirt, jeans and boots.
He turned the knob. “Go home and get a solid night’s sleep. This’ll all be here tomorrow.”
I jerked my chin to the two-way mirror. “What about Harper?”
“I’ve got nothing to hold her on. I’m going to let her go, strongly suggesting not to leave the area for the next few days.”
In case he got something to bring her back in for, he meant.
“You can’t take the easy way out here, Colson.”
He spun around. “You mean by signing the report that says Julian Griggs was simply killed in self-defense? Then filing it away so everyone can move on with their lives? No. I can’t do that. Why? Because the pastor is going to want answers. The town is going to want answers. Because it makes no sense that the God-fearing kid of a pastor would hide in the woods and attack a woman in the park. And don’t even get me started on this mysterious third person.” He pushed open the door. “Forgive me, dude, but you’re fucking crazy to take on a case so high profile right now.”
The door slammed followed by Colson’s heavy footsteps and Darby’s tip toes down the hall.
Colson was right. I was crazy to stay on the case.
Good thing crazy never stopped me before.
12
Jagg
I hung back until Colson’s and Darby’s voices faded down the hallway. I didn’t know how much Darby had heard but I guessed most of it. Just as well. Assuming Darby hadn’t slept through his human behavior class at the academy, the kid had probably already picked up on the fact that the Chief wasn’t too keen on me, as everyone in town had.
Not that I gave a shit. I learned long ago to only give shits about what I could control, and a balding, brash sixty-something divorcee with one foot in retirement and the other in a box of jelly-filled donuts was something I couldn’t. He wasn’t technically my boss, although he liked to think he was. I answered to the state’s attorney general, who didn’t give a shit what I did as long as I got him results and kept him in the voter’s favors. Did I mention I hate politics?
I turned and braced myself on the small ledge below the two-way mirror, looking at Sunny Harper in an entirely new light. Suddenly, the scattered dots started to connect, painting a picture of a woman who’d been to hell and back.
Sunny Harper was a victim.
A survivor.
A fighter.