“All I’m saying is that Hurley deserves nothing less than our best. He deserves the benefit of our doubt and a promise that we will look at all the evidence and consider it in every possible light. My gut tells me that Hurley is a very smart guy, too smart to leave behind evidence as obvious as his hair embedded in Callie’s wound, or his father’s one-of-a-kind, highly distinctive knife buried in her chest, or Minniver’s key sitting in plain sight in his drawer here. I mean, do you really think he’s stupid enough to leave behind a gas can with his handwriting and fingerprints on it if he set that fire at my house? Or stupid enough to use his personal gas can at all for that matter? Even a dumb kid would have enough sense to buy a cheap generic gas can and use that instead of one that has identifying information on it. And if he did commit these murders, why would he step back from the investigations? He left the scene where we found Callie’s body almost as soon as he got there, and yet if he’d stayed and handled the investigation, he could have hidden and manipulated the evidence to hide his guilt. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe you guys are ready to hang him based on all of that, but I’m willing to give him the presumption of innocence until I’m one hundred percent sure he’s guilty.”
I’ve been talking so fast and with so much enthusiasm that I’m nearly out of breath. I pause to catch it and study the faces of the others in the room. To my delight I see some wavering and doubt there, so I push on.
“Richmond, how much do you know about Hurley’s past when he was on the force in Chicago?”
Richmond blinks several times very fast and then says, “Not much.”
“Have you talked to any of his prior coworkers? Have you looked into what kind of cop he was down there? Were there any hints of mental instability, or corruption, or anything like that when he was there?”
Richmond arches his brows and sighs. “I don’t know.”
“Then don’t you think we should look into that and try to find out what kind of person his coworkers thought he was before we convict him?”
“She’s right,” Larry says, and even though I don’t know if he’s agreeing with me because he actually believes what I’m saying or because he’s merely trying to earn Brownie points from me, I’m grateful for his support. “I’ve worked with Hurley for a little over six months now and I have to confess, I don’t see him doing something like this.”
One of the uniforms pipes up. “I agree. The guy has always been kind, civil, and polite whenever I’ve worked with him. And I know some crazy and evil people are good at putting forth a very convincing façade, but Hurley seems real. Real enough that I think Mattie’s right . . . he deserves the benefit of our doubt until we know otherwise.”
Several of the guys nod and I know I’ve gotten my point across. Richmond says, “You raise some good points, Mattie. But it would certainly help the situation if Hurley was here to address some of these issues.”
“Give him time,” I say. “That’s all I’m asking, that you give him time and a fair analysis of all the evidence.”
Richmond nods thoughtfully and says, “Okay then. Back to work, people.” He takes out his cell phone, starts punching in a number, and heads into the house while the others in the room go back to what they were doing. I turn and look at Izzy, who’s been standing quietly behind me the entire time. I’m not sure what I expect to see on his face, but the dark, thunderous expression he’s wearing definitely isn’t it.
“What?” I say to him. “You don’t agree with me?”
“Oh, I agree with everything in your little pep speech,” he says, his lips tight as he speaks. “But I think you and I need to have a little chat of our own. The sooner the better.”
He turns away from me and focuses on the remaining evidence, but when I try to assist him, he pushes my hands away and won’t let me touch anything. I can tell he’s angry, but I’m not sure why. Is it because I broke the promise I made to him to be objective?
A little while later, after we’ve finished collecting the blood evidence, he says, “We’re done here. Pack up your kit.”
I do so while he does the same. He then turns to Larry Johnson and says, “You guys can finish up here. We’re going to head back to the office and get started on this blood analysis.”
I follow Izzy out to the car, puzzled by his cold shoulder reaction and trying to guess what has set him off. As soon as we have all our stuff loaded into the hearse and climb into the front seat, I ask him.
“What’s wrong, Izzy? Are you mad because I spoke up about Hurley?”
“Drive us to the office,” he says, staring out the front window. “We’ll talk there.”
I start the car and pull out while Izzy takes out his cell phone and calls Arnie. “Meet us in the garage,” he says. “I need you to take charge of this evidence we’ve just collected and process it ASAP.”
We make the journey wrapped in an awkward silence and when we pull into the garage, Arnie is waiting for us. Izzy instructs him on what the evidence is and what he wants done with it while I lean against the wall, feeling like I’m waiting for the head soldier to finish instructing the firing squad.
As soon as Izzy is done with Arnie, he looks at me all tight-lipped and says, “Let’s go to the library.”
I follow him inside, dread growing with every step. As soon as we enter, Izzy shuts the door behind us with a bit more force than is necessary. “Sit,” he says, yanking out a chair.
I do so while Izzy walks around to the other side of the table. He leans forward, his hands on the tabletop, and says, “Do you want to tell me how it is you know that Hurley’s knife is his father’s, or how you know it’s one of a kind? Or how you know there was writing on the gas can when you never saw it?”
Oh, crap. I realize too late to do myself any good that I got a bit carried away during my little speech in Hurley’s garage. My mind scrambles to find some way to explain myself, but the look on Izzy’s face freezes my brain. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
“You’ve been talking to Hurley, haven’t you?” he says.
“We’ve chatted a couple of times. He—”
“You two have been in cahoots right from the start on all of this, haven’t you?”
“I wouldn’t call it cahoots,” I argue, wondering what the hell a cahoot even is. “But I believe him when he says someone is framing him. It doesn’t make any se—”
“Damn it, Mattie!” Izzy seethes, pounding a fist on the table and making me jump. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
“He didn’t kill anyone, Izzy,” I fire back.
“You can’t know that for sure,” he yells.
I open my mouth to argue the point, even though my only supporting evidence is my gut feeling, but Izzy doesn’t let me get a single word out.
“And whether or not you think Hurley did it isn’t what matters. What matters is the fact that you did what you did behind my back. That is inexcusable, Mattie. Not only have you possibly compromised evidence and our investigation, you have undermined this office and betrayed my trust in you. I gave you this job because I thought you were someone with integrity, someone I could trust to be fair-minded and completely scientific in your judgments.” He pauses, looks at me, and then shakes his head woefully. “I need to reconsider whether or not you are appropriate for this position.”