8:25 A.M.
Chief Cadwell looked like he hadn’t slept well. Miranda’s last check in the mirror confirmed he wasn’t the only one. Jake was on his way; he’d stopped to get them both coffees.
They’d been up late, trying to chase down Jessie Lund. She hadn’t been at her home; her neighbor on the other side of the duplex had claimed he hadn’t seen her in a couple days. They’d learned her family lived in Metairie, near the New Orleans airport. They’d made the drive—and come up empty.
Jake arrived. “Sorry I’m late.” He handed her a large cup and a paper bag.
“Bless you,” she said, nearly swooning at the aroma wafting up from the cup.
“Close the door,” Chief Cadwell said, “and take a seat.” He folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “The Stark case. Update me.”
“We’ve made progress. We interviewed Rhonda Peale, the psychology professor to whom who Stark sent a message just before his death. She insists she didn’t respond to Stark’s message.”
“But she saw it?”
“Yes.”
“Alibi?”
“Nope. She was home alone the entire evening. Grading papers and posting grades online.”
“And, obviously, checking Facebook.”
“Yup. She offered up a motive for being a suspect, right then and there. Apparently, she stopped by his place Friday and found him shacking up with somebody else.”
“Who?”
She didn’t see them or ask a name. He offered the information up as the reason she couldn’t come inside. Didn’t see his sleeping around as an issue because they hadn’t made a commitment to each other.”
“Pretty cold. And classic woman-scorned motive.”
Jake jumped in. “Which is why she didn’t respond to his invitation the night of his death. She said she had her pride.”
“Meaning she wanted to go.”
“I asked if she was in love with him. She didn’t answer directly, though she implied she was.”
Chief Cadwell nodded. “She seems like a really good suspect to me.”
“She is,” Miranda agreed. “There’s just…”
“What?”
“No twitching. No thrumming fingers or jumpy gaze.”
“You mean she didn’t act guilty? That means squat, Rader. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know. But I bought her story. Either way, we probably have enough to subpoena phone and Internet search records.”
“Do it.”
“We’ve got another good lead,” Jake offered. “Jessie Lund, Stark’s former graduate assistant. She up and quit a month ago. Dropped out of school, the whole bit. Supposedly a family emergency.”
Miranda took over. “Her fellow assistant didn’t buy it. Said Lund had a major crush on Richard Stark and figured Stark had rebuffed her advances. We’re still trying to locate her.”
“She hasn’t been seen in a couple days. We even travelled to Jefferson Parish to her parents. They said they haven’t heard from her.”
“You believe that?” Cadwell asked.
Jake shook his head. Miranda seconded it. “They were too calm. Your daughter’s unaccounted for and you’re not worried? No way. Otherwise, we’ve got one glowing testimonial after another. The man all but walked on water.”
The crime scene filled her head. The rage of it. Someone had felt differently. Someone had hated Richard Stark—even if only for those minutes with the knife.
“‘Beloved’ was his father’s description,” Jake said. “And that pretty much played out.”
Chief Cadwell settled his gaze on her. “How did that interview go?”
“With President and Mrs. Stark?” He nodded and she went on. “As well as could be expected.”
“Meaning?”
Something in his tone sounded off. She frowned slightly. “They’d both suffered a major loss and weren’t particularly … receptive to our questions. In fact, Ian Stark was particularly accusatory toward me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
For a moment she was shocked silent. “Excuse me?”
“Why would he act accusingly toward you?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
He looked at Jake. “You read it the same way?”
Jake hesitated a moment before answering. “Pretty much,” he answered cautiously. “He was a bit hostile toward us … but, as Miranda said, they’d both suffered a shocking loss. Every person reacts differently to grief.”
The chief shifted his attention back to her. She suddenly had the sense that something was wrong. That he was looking at her in a way that was different from the way he usually did.
“What’s going on, Chief?” she asked.
“Ian, President Stark, he said you were impertinent toward him.”
“What!” The word exploded out of her. “Me? I was impertinent?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not true. I know how to handle myself and I was completely professional.” She looked at Jake. “Wasn’t I?”
“Absolutely,” Jake replied.
“Have you ever met President Stark before?”
“No, never.”
“What about his son, Richard?”
“You mean the victim? No, I told you that before.”
“President Stark wondered if you had.”
She glanced at Jake. He had a look on his face she couldn’t interpret. She turned back to her superior officer. “Why?”
“Because, in his opinion, you acted like you had an ax to grind with him. Or Richard.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” She hated that she sounded as hurt as she felt, but she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what was happening here. This was Buddy, mentor and friend, asking her.
“I’m just following up on a complaint.”
“Maybe the problem was that I didn’t kiss his ass.”
“That’s enough, Miranda.”
“No, maybe it’s not. I wonder if you’re the one who’s—”
“So, you never met Richard Stark?”
“For the third time, no. Never.”
“What did you know about him?”
“Before the murder?” She thought a moment, then shook her head. “I didn’t know he existed. I knew the Starks had a son, I guess … but that’s it. Chief, Buddy, I treated Ian Stark the same as I would anyone in that position. Did I get a little frustrated? Yeah, I suppose. I tried not to let that show, but maybe it slipped through. If so, I apologize. But you weren’t there. Frankly, he acted like a dick.”
“Jake,” Chief Cadwell turned his way, “you second Miranda’s version of events?”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “My version of events? This is feeling, and sounding, a lot like an interrogation. What the hell’s going on?”
“Your fingerprints were found at the scene.”
That stopped her cold. She knew she must look shocked, because she was. Completely. “That’s not possible.”
“They were.” He opened a folder, extracted a piece of paper, and slid it across the desk. It was a printout of the computer match.
She studied it a moment, then looked back up at Buddy. “This makes no sense at all. I had scene gloves on and there’s no other way my prints could have been at the scene.”
Buddy nodded. “You had them on when I was there earlier.”
“Of course I did.” She was obsessed with following orders, procedure, protocol. That’s who she was, the kind of cop she’d made herself.
This was wrong. Impossible. She didn’t know Stark, had never met him.
Yet, they had found her prints at the scene. And the news clipping about her.
Someone was setting her up. What other explanation could there be?
“Miranda?”
She refocused on Buddy.
“So, how’d your prints end up at Stark’s place?”
She blinked, opened her mouth to tell him she had no clue—and lied instead. “I took my gloves off. To call Jake. My phone’s touch screen doesn’t respond when I’ve got them on.”
The ease with which the lie spilled off her tongue shocked her. Years ago, lying had been a way of life. To her parents, her teachers, the law. Whatever she needed to say to save her own skin or get what she wanted.
But she wasn’t that person anymore. Her hands in her lap began to shake and she curled them into fists. She’d left that girl behind.
Apparently not, Randi. Looks like you’re the same, no-good, lyin’ trailer trash you were back then.
Buddy didn’t believe her. She saw it in his eyes as he gazed at her. It wasn’t too late. She could still retract. Tell she was mistaken. Tell him—
“That’s right, Chief,” Jake said. “They were still off when I got there.”
Chief Cadwell shifted his gaze to Jake. “You’re just remembering that now, Billings?”
Jake didn’t react to the sarcasm. “Worst scene I ever worked. Having to remind Miranda to put her gloves on isn’t what stands out.”
Miranda looked at him, torn between gratitude and dismay. He’d stuck up for her, literally put his own career on the line for her. No one had ever done that for her, not even her family. They’d been more the every-man-for-himself kind of folks. But with dismay because now he was in it with her. She went down, he went done. She couldn’t even recant without implicating her partner.
A couple seconds ticked past. They seemed like hours. It felt as if both men were staring, waiting. Her heartbeat boomed in her head and sweat pooled under her arms.
“Yeah, that’s right.” She sounded easy, like a carefree teen. “That’s the way it went down, Chief.”
That teen. The liar and sneak.
The girl no one believed.
The chief frowned, moving his gaze between the two of them. “It’s not like you to be sloppy, Miranda.”
“No, it’s not. Which is probably why I didn’t recall it right away.”
“What did you touch?”
“I don’t remember. There was a lot going on. I—”
“You better damn well remember, because you’re going to have to account for it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Write it up, both of you. I want it in both your reports.” He slid a folder across the desk. “Take it. It’s everything we’ve got so far.”
She did and they started for the door. Buddy stopped her. “Miranda, a moment alone.”
She turned to face him, heart thundering in her head like a war drum. She schooled her features. “Yes, Chief?”
“That’s the way it all went down, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” God help her.
“I expect better from you. That was sloppy police work.”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Make sure of it. And Miranda?”
She looked over her shoulder at him.
“I’m trusting you. You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
That girl. Untrustworthy. A liar.
She didn’t blink, though she felt like she was dying inside. “You know me, Buddy. Do you think I’d lie to you?”
“No, I don’t.”
He’d hesitated, just a fraction of a second. That moment spoke volumes. “I’ll keep you posted, Chief,” she said, and exited the office.