Keep Her Safe(74)

Relief overwhelms me. My uncle hasn’t dismissed it as crazy talk by an addict. Yet. “Whoever did this ruined her life. And Gracie’s.”

“And Dina couldn’t tell you anything about this man who broke into her house?”

“No. Other than that he was scary. And she has no idea where this video went. But I was talking to Jenson and—”

“You’ve told your friends about this?” His face twists with horror. “Are you insane?”

“Jenson’s not going to say anything. And listen! If this guy who threatened her was a cop, or had an in with the cops, then the video must not have turned up from the search. Dina told them about it, so they would have been looking for it, right?”

“There was no video file entered into evidence from the search,” he confirms.

“That means it’s still out there.”

“Fourteen years later?” His expression is grim as he turns away from me to stare listlessly out the window. “I’m guessing it’s long gone.”

“What are we going to do, Silas?”

“What can we do? We have none of the original case evidence, no video, and nothing except the claims of the heroin-addict wife and the incoherent ramblings of a suicidal, drunk woman. Where did you find this money and gun holster, by the way? It wasn’t in the safe.”

I tell him about Fulcher and the secret compartment in the pantry.

“A five-thousand-dollar gun safe and she’s burrowing under the floorboards like a damn gopher.” He shakes his head, then sighs. “I’m not about to hang your mother out to dry. She’s not here to defend herself if some of this lands on her.”

“Neither is Abe.”

He points a finger in warning. “She did not do this to him, Noah.”

“Then why does she have a bag full of money that has to be from a drug bust and Abe’s gun holster—which Dina swears Abe left with on the night he died? She knew there had been a setup and she didn’t do anything about it! And the only reason for that is because she had something to do with it.” It’s time I stop denying that reality, time that I stop protecting her. Gracie is right—Abe deserves better from me. And my mother . . . well, maybe she deserves whatever comes with the truth.

Silas takes a deep breath, his own agitation having risen. “Maybe she only found out recently. Maybe someone threatened her, had something on her. Or maybe she had to accept that knowing something and being able to prove it are two entirely different things. I have no idea, Noah, but I won’t risk moving a guilty label off one innocent dead person, only to stick it onto another innocent dead person, especially given that the latter is my sister. And that’s exactly what will happen here. How do we know the person responsible for Abe’s death didn’t hand her that bag of money and that gun holster?”

“We don’t, but—”

“Corruption, followed by murder and a cover-up in the APD? Do you know what this would do to the department’s reputation if it got out? We can’t throw these kinds of accusations around, based on speculation.”

“This isn’t speculation! Mom knew about it!”

“But she couldn’t prove it; she said so herself. ‘I don’t know how he did it.’ You can’t put Mantis’s feet to the fire based on that, when your own mother is the one with evidence against her!” He snorts derisively. “And here we are, about to give Canning his own monument in part for the wins that Mantis himself delivered.”

“So it’s better to let people go on thinking Abe was guilty? All because of some stupid statue?”

“George Canning put his heart and soul into this city. The job damn near killed him! I don’t want all the good he did getting tarnished, any more than I want your mother’s name dragged through the mud.”

His words from last week trigger a thought. I hesitate for only a second before I ask, “What if Canning knew about it?”

Silas glares at me. “George Canning is a good and honorable man. He would have hung Mantis by his trunk of a neck in a city square had Mantis jeopardized those busts with a case of sticky fingers and Canning found out. Don’t you even suggest something different.” He rubs furiously at his eyes. “I have to think about this. Give me time, Noah. Stop talking to other people about it and give me some damn time.” Silas is cursing. He curses only when he’s rattled.

“Well, I only have the day before Agent Klein comes at me again.” I tell him about the threat of a homicide investigation.

By the time I’m done, he’s staring at me with a gaping jaw. “You punched an FBI agent?”

“You had to be there . . .” I mutter, feeling my cheeks flare with shame.

Silas shakes his head. “He was trying to scare you. He could never make a case against you. Not for homicide, anyway. But don’t say another word to him until he’s formally hauled you in for questioning and you have a good lawyer.”

We sit in defeated silence. There’s no quick thinking this time, no formulating a plan. Silas seems as lost as I feel.

“What am I supposed to tell Gracie?”

“Nothing. I warned you not to say anything in the first place.”

“I hadn’t planned on it. Things just got out of hand, quickly. And she’s not going to back down until her father’s name is cleared.”