Keep Her Safe(115)

“All the more reason to have believed he didn’t do it,” Gracie says carefully.

“You are right, there, Miss Wilkes. Sorry—Richards.” He sighs. “I put my best, most trustworthy cops on it. Never in a million years did I think . . .” His voice drifts off. “I don’t know what that says about me, how easily I was had. I’m sure my critics will have a field day with it.” He waves it away. “None of that matters, though. What matters is gettin’ to the bottom of this. And making sure you and your mother get some sort of compensation for it.”

Gracie frowns, confused. “Compensation?”

“You’d best believe it. If I have my way, you and your mother won’t have to be worryin’ about money for a long time. Why, look at you, sweet thing.” He chuckles, taking in Gracie’s surprised face. “Most folk these days are just itchin’ to lawyer up and ring every last penny out that they can. But you haven’t even thought of suin’. I have to say, I like that.”

Neither did I, I’ll admit. But he’s right. Gracie and Dina may have one hell of a winnable lawsuit against the APD. Not that it’ll bring Abe back, but at least it will help them finally move forward.

First, though, we need to find out—and prove—what really happened. “So you believe that Mantis and Stapley set Abe up?” I ask.

“The theory is definitely a concerning one, I’ll agree. But after all this, I’m afraid to believe anything unless I have ‘see it with my own eyes’ irrefutable proof.”

“You mean the video.”

“Well, that would certainly lend credibility to this theory about Mantis’s motive. Lord knows where that thing is, though. Your uncle swears up and down that he had asked the tech guys to search Abraham’s computer for it and there was nothin’ there. Unless the tech guys were in on this, too.” He snorts, but there’s no amusement on his face.

“They didn’t find it. Not if Mantis was still looking for it, the night he broke into our house and threatened my mom,” Grace says.

“Right.” Canning frowns. “That’s what the feds are thinking? It was Mantis?”

I throw Gracie the fastest warning glance I can manage, not wanting Canning to see it.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” she says smoothly.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Just my gut, for whatever that’s worth.” She takes a large bite of the biscuit and chews slowly, her face giving nothing away. She can play ambivalent much better than I gave her credit for.

“I think the best next move is to retrace Abraham’s steps as much as we can in those last few days. If that video wasn’t in his house or on his person, then he must have hidden it somewhere where he figured it would be safe. Noah, you may be the key here. You might be the only one old enough and clearheaded enough to remember anything.” Canning’s brow furrows deeply. “Silas said you saw him the day he died. Did he say anything strange to you? Anything at all?”

“No, sir . . .” I shake my head, picking through my brain. It’s all a foggy recollection, though. Hell, I was only eleven. “He came by to talk to my mom, out back, but I didn’t hear them. And then he asked me if I wanted to go to a Spurs game with him that weekend. That was it.”

“Hmm. After fourteen years, we might have to assume that video was lost.” He shakes his head. “But enough about the nitty-gritty details for now. I wanted you both here today so I could personally tell you how sorry I am. And I won’t let it go unpunished.”

“I appreciate that.” Gracie offers him a smile.

One of the children starts crying, having tumbled off the slide.

“Excuse me for a sec.” Canning eases himself out of his chair and leaves the veranda. Just a loving grandfather, checking on his grandchildren.

Gracie’s hopeful eyes watching his every move.

In less than a minute, all three are climbing again, their childish laughter carrying in the warm breeze.



* * *



“Hang back here, just a second, son.” Canning throws a small wave toward Gracie, who’s a few steps ahead, her hands full of leftover biscuits and casserole, courtesy of Dolores. “Hope you don’t mind—I need to borrow Noah. We’ll be in touch soon, though, ya hear?”

With a smile and a nod, Gracie keeps going, heading toward the lake beside the driveway, where the early afternoon sun beats down and those massive sheepdogs laze.

“Do good by that girl, Noah. She’s had it rough.”

“Yes, sir. She sure has.”

“I don’t have a lot of hope for how this case will turn out, but if we can at least give Abraham the clean name he deserves, it should make her and Dina happy, don’t you think?”

“It’s definitely a start. Especially if we can get Dina the help she needs.” True to Silas’s word, I’ve already received a phone call from Desert Oaks, notifying me that Dina’s rehab has been covered for the next two months. I know Judy and Silas have been smart with their money, but that has to have set them back.

“You need to help her move on, so this doesn’t fester.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try.”

“Good. I’m glad she has you.” He drops a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Help her focus on her future, not the past.”