“We’re not really, Ms. Whitney. But the police in Middleton County sure as hell are.”
“Middleton?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure you’ve read about the Christine Sullivan homicide.” He let that statement hang out there to test her reaction. He got the expected one. Complete disbelief.
“You think my father had something to do with that?” It was a legitimately asked question. And not one framed particularly defensively. Burton deemed that significant and another positive for his plan, which had been forming the minute he’d laid eyes on her.
“The detective in charge of the case does. Apparently your father, as part of a carpet cleaning crew, and using a false name, was in the Sullivans’ house a short time before the murder.”
Kate caught her breath. Her father cleaning carpets? Of course, he had been casing the place. Figuring its weaknesses, just like before. Nothing had changed. But murder?
“I can’t believe he killed that woman.”
“Right, but you can believe he was trying to burgle that house can’t you, Ms. Whitney? I mean this isn’t the first time, is it, or the second?”
Kate looked down at her hands. Finally she shook her head.
“People change, ma’am. I don’t know how close you’ve been to your father lately” — Burton noted the small but discernible jerk in her expression — “but the evidence is pretty strong that he was involved somehow. And the woman is dead. You’ve probably gotten a conviction on less evidence than that.”
Kate looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know about me?”
“I see a woman sneaking into the house of a man the police are looking for I do what any law enforcement officer would do, I ran your license plate. Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Whitney. The state police think the world of you.”
She looked around the room. “He’s not here. It doesn’t look like he’s been here for a while.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you? He hasn’t tried to contact you or anything?”
Kate thought of Jack and his late-night visitor. “No.” The answer was quick, a little too quick for Burton’s taste.
“It’ll be better if he turns himself in, Ms. Whitney. You get some trigger-happy beat cop out there...” Burton expressively raised his eyebrows.
“I don’t know where he is, Mr. Burton. My father and I... we haven’t been close... for a long time.”
“But you’re here now and you knew where he kept the spare key.”
Her voice rose an octave. “This is the first time I’ve stepped foot in this house.”
Burton scrutinized her expression and decided she was telling the truth. Her unfamiliarity with the house had already led him pretty much to that conclusion, and also that she and her father were estranged.
“Is there any way you can get in touch with him?”
“Why? I really don’t want to get involved in this, Mr. Burton.”
“Well I’m afraid you already are, to a degree. It’d be better if you’d cooperate.”
Kate slung her purse over her arm and stood up.
“Listen, Agent Burton, you can’t bluff me, I’ve been in the business too long. If the police want to waste their time questioning me, I’m in the phone book. The government phone book under Commonwealth’s Attorney. See you around.”
She headed for the door.
“Ms. Whitney?”
She whirled round, ready for some verbal sparring. Secret Service or not, she wasn’t going to take any crap from this guy.
“If your father committed a crime, then he should be tried by a jury of his peers and convicted. If he’s innocent, he goes free. That’s how the system’s supposed to work. You know that better than I do.”
Kate was about to respond when her eye caught the photos. Her first day in court. It seemed a century ago and was, in a lot more ways than she could ever admit to herself. That smile, the pie-in-the-sky dreams everybody starts with, nothing less than perfection the only goal. She had dropped back to earth a long time ago.
Whatever barbed remark she was going to come back with had just escaped her, lost in the smile of a pretty young woman with a lot she wanted to do with her life.
Bill Burton watched her turn and leave. He looked over at the photos and then back at the empty doorway.
Chapter Seventeen
“You Shouldn’t have fucking done that, Bill. You said you were not going to interfere in the investigation. Hell, I ought to throw your keester right in jail. That’d go over real well with your boss.” Seth Frank slammed his desk drawer and stood up, eyes blazing at the big man.
Bill Burton stopped pacing and sat down. He had expected to take some lumps over this one.
“You’re right, Seth. But Jesus I was a cop for a long time. You were unavailable, I go over there just to reconnoiter the place, I see some skirt slipping in. What would you have done?”
Frank didn’t answer.
“Look, Seth, you can kick me in the ass, but I’m telling you, friend, this woman is our ace up the sleeve. With her we can nail this guy.”
Frank’s tensed face relaxed, his anger subsiding.
“What are you talking about?”
“The girl is his daughter. His friggin’ daughter. In fact his only child. Luther Whitney is a three-time loser, a career crim who’s apparently gotten better with age. His wife finally divorced him, right? Couldn’t take it anymore. Then when she starts to get her life in order, she dies from breast cancer.”
He paused.
Seth Frank was all attention now. “Go on.”
“Kate Whitney is devastated by her mother’s death. Her father’s betrayal as she sees it. So devastated that she totally breaks off from him. Not only that, she goes to law school and then goes to work as an Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney where she has the reputation of being one hard-assed prosecutor, especially for property-related crimes — burglary, theft, robbery. She goes for the max on all those guys. And usually gets it I might add.”
“Where the hell did you get all that info?”
“A few well-placed phone calls. People like to talk about other people’s misery, it makes them feel their own life is somehow better when it usually isn’t.”
“So where does all this family turmoil get us?”
“Seth, look at the possibilities here. This girl hates her old man. Hates with a capital H underscored.”
“So you want to use her to get to him. If they’re estranged that badly, how do we do it?”
“That’s the twist. By all accounts, all the hate and misery is on her side. Not his. He loves her. Loves her more than anything else. He’s got a goddamned shrine to her in his bedroom. I’m telling you the guy is ripe for this.”
“If, and it’s still a big if in my mind, if she’s willing to co-operate, how does she get in touch with him? He sure as hell isn’t going to be hanging around his phone at home.”
“No, but I bet he checks in for messages. You should see his house. This guy is very orderly, everything in its place, bills probably paid ahead of time. And he’s got no idea we’re on his ass. Not yet anyway. He probably checks his machine once or twice a day. Just in case.”
“So she leaves him a message, arranges a meeting and we nail him?”
Burton stood back up, flushed two cigarettes from his pack and flipped one over to Frank. They both took a moment to light up.
“Personally, that’s how I see it going down, Seth. Unless you got a better idea.”
“We still have to convince her to do it. From what you said, she didn’t seem too willing.”