Keep Her Safe(96)

“He could have ducked out and come this way. Made the 9-1-1 call from that parking lot.” Kristian stops at the rusty chain-link fence that separates the properties, hidden from view. Grabbing hold of it, he gives it a tug. The one side comes clean off the pole. “Any bets that’s been busted for at least fourteen years?”

“Did they even check?”

“Without the evidence files, we’ll never know.” Kristian’s hands settle on his hips as he does a slow circle, his brow tight. With frustration or thought, I can’t tell.

“Do you believe that evidence was ‘accidentally incinerated’?” I ask.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Not a chance.”

“Is that you being suspicious or do you have actual proof?” Noah levels him with an even gaze.

If Kristian’s irritated by Noah’s constant testing, he doesn’t let on. He does, however, seem to weigh his words. “The team that investigated Abraham Wilkes’s death was hand-selected by Chief George Canning. Mantis was one of them. Shawn Stapley was another. Canning pulled the two of them from their drug squad duties temporarily, to work this case for him.

“Nine months later, Stapley got hurt on duty and ended up assigned to administrative work. Guess where?” He pauses for a second. “The evidence room. He was the one who ‘accidentally’ sent the case to the incinerator.”

The pieces are all starting to fit together nicely.

“And no one questioned this?” My voice carries through the near-vacant parking lot.

“Why would they? New system in place . . . horrible glitch . . .”

“Because they had no reason to question it,” I mutter.

“I think someone started building a case against your dad before anyone crossed that motel-room threshold.” Kristian’s voice is a touch softer. “Why else would they execute a search warrant on his house less than twenty-four hours after he was shot?”

“Holy shit,” Noah whispers under his breath. Realization dawns on his face.

Kristian studies him. “Care to enlighten?”

Noah sighs. “Canning said that right before Abe died, Mantis told him about a tip from an informant that an APD officer was dealing drugs. I’ll bet Mantis started setting Abe up with the chief as soon as he knew Abe wanted to bust him.”

“So you know Canning personally?” Behind that veiled flat look, I can see Kristian’s thoughts swirling.

“No, not really. He was at my uncle’s for dinner. We talked about Abe’s case a bit.”

Kristian’s knowing gaze passes over me, his eyebrow arching. I see the unspoken accusation there. See, Grace? Canning and Silas, like two peas in a pod.

I ignore it. “Okay, so Canning picked Mantis and this Shawn Stapley guy to investigate. But what about the others?”

“You mean the two officers who work in Internal Affairs under Mantis? The ones who were recently investigated for falsifying evidence?” Amusement touches his lips. “I wouldn’t count on them for honesty, either.”

“Weren’t they cleared?” Noah asks.

“They were. By Chief Marshall.” Kristian begins walking away.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To go visit the lovely Glorya again.” He holds up a business card between two fingers. “I want her to be able to call me when she hears anything.”

I snort. “Because she’s been so cooperative.”

“We’ll see if she changes her tune when I show her my badge and hand her the warrant we just got to tear apart this room.”

So that’s why he was here in the first place . . . “Do you actually think you’ll find anything?”

“You two need to get to my office,” Klein says, ignoring my question. “Give your name to security and Agent Proby will get you started. I’ll be there as soon as I get my team settled here.” He waves at Agent Tareen, who just stepped out of his car, holding papers in the air as if in confirmation. Beside him an unmarked white van has pulled up.

“If nothing else, he’s efficient,” Noah mumbles, digging change out of his pocket as he heads for the vending machine. “Do you want anything?”

“A Coke. Please.”

After sliding the coins into the slot and stabbing at the button with his finger several times, he frowns at the machine, then smacks it. “Damn thing ate my money.”

“Are you surprised?”

Noah’s phone rings, distracting him. He looks at the screen and then, shaking his head to himself, hits a button, sending the call to voicemail. He’s done that twice already today. My guess is he’s avoiding his uncle.

“You all right?”

He squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Yeah, I just . . . Let’s get this statement thing over with.” His phone rings again and he swears under his breath.

“Who is it?”

Surprise flashes across his face when he checks the screen again. “Pool company. Give me a sec?”

While he answers, I let my gaze drift over the three buildings. It’s quiet here, not a soul milling around. Not many want to be caught loitering in a place like this.

If each block has sixteen rooms—which looks about right—then there are forty-eight rooms in total. And even if some of those rooms weren’t rented that night, some of them had to be. How many people might have seen a third person duck out of 116?