“Don’t you want this?” Irv held out a couple of white pages. “I still have a friend or two downtown, you know.”
Chris looked down at the first paper. It was a state driver’s license photo of the man on the TV taken at the time of the event, obviously from the case file, and on the second sheet was his image as it appeared on his current license.
Jesus Christ, Chris thought, that really could be him.
Chris wondered if he’d taken his blood pressure medicine that morning. He needed this to be one of the days he didn’t skip because he had something else on his mind. He dialed Emily’s number, but no answer. He got Gloria on the phone and she said Emily had been out on the case and she was up to her neck “in alligators.”
“Four bookings in the last hour—three drunks and a peeper. Don’t know when the sheriff will be back in, Chris. Keep trying her cell. Stop by when you can. Things are just strange around here lately.”
She has no idea, Chris thought as he hung up the phone and left for the airport. There was no time to drive to Cherrystone. Good thing a plane left for Spokane every hour.
The text message on Emily’s phone came earlier that afternoon from Donna Rayburn, the associate from Cary McConnell’s law office.
If u get this, meet me where u found M. I’m out of range. So can’t call. I’ll be there at 4. Come alone. Do not tell Cary. DR
For the first time, Emily noticed that Donna had made several attempts earlier in the day to reach her, but no calls lasted long enough to leave a message. Cell reception was spotty at best in some parts around Cherrystone. No carrier could really claim total coverage.
For a moment, Emily considered calling Camille to get her take on talking with a lawyer from the other side of the Crawford case, but she thought better of it. Her need to meet likely had nothing to do with the case. If Donna had something to say to her, she might as well hear it. Maybe she had wised up about Cary and wanted an experienced and sympathetic shoulder to cry on?
Chris Collier stood in the security line at SeaTac while a young, blond-haired and dreadlocked TSA agent with a neck tattoo covered by a Band-Aid waved an electronic wand between his legs and down his back.
“Just checking, sir.”
“No problem.” Chris wanted to laugh a little because as he heard the young man’s words, he impulsively edited them to: “Just checking, dude.”
He could hear his cell phone ringing from the plastic caddy that held his shoes, belt, coat, and wallet.
It was probably Emily calling him back. Damn!
He put on his shoes, grabbed the paperwork he’d passed through the X-ray machine, and found his way to the departure gate. A baby’s piercing cry filled the gate area, but Chris merely offered a smile in the direction of the young mother. His own kids were grown, but he never forgot what it was like to have little ones on an airplane.
It’s only an hour flight, he thought.
He dialed Emily back, but no answer. This time when it went to voice mail, he left a message.
“Em, I’m on my way to see you. Something could be breaking on the Crawford case. I’ll explain when I get there.”
He hung up. He chose to be somewhat cryptic. Saying more would be too explosive.
The young man’s voice was matter of fact, though given in a slight whisper.
“Hey, sir, this is me, Devon Little of the DMV. We got a request yesterday on your license photo and information. Seattle PD. The requestor came from Seattle PD. Wanted your photo from today and your pic from back when you were my age. Pretty funny haircut. Don’t forget to send me the money right away. I’m going on vacation next week.”
The man shut his phone. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He knew the day was coming. He just didn’t think it would be so soon. He looked across the room at the woman fussing with the makings of a salad.
It looked good. Too bad she wouldn’t be having any of it.
Chapter Sixty-seven
Cherrystone
It was her late work day, so Gloria Bergstrom was at the desk answering the one or two calls that would come in until 9:30, when Renata Klug would come in to relieve her. She looked up when Emily came in.
“I just tried you,” she said. “Jason called. Steffi’s coming in to the office. She needs to amend her statement. Jason says she can ID the man who was at her shop that night.”
Gloria looked at the door, then back to Emily. “He should be here in five minutes. Went to get her. Says this is big.”
Emily checked her office phone and locked up a second time for the night. Just as she returned, Jason and Steffi came inside the office.
Jason looked like he was going to burst. Steffi looked as if she was about to cry.
“You have to hear this, Sherrif,” he said.
“Hi Steffi. Are you all right?”
“I’m scared,” she said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you. Let’s go to the conference room.”
Gloria sighed. It was clear she hated being left out.
When the three of them sat down, Steffi started to shake. She put her palms flat on the tabletop to steady herself.
“I was watching TV, you know, about Mandy.”
“On the Spokane show,” Jason added, as though the detail was helpful.
“Did it trigger a memory or something?”
“More than that.” Tears started to fall.
“Tell me. Take your time.”
“The man who came into our café. The one I told you about?”
“Yes? The one who was injured?”
“Yeah.” Steffi fidgeted with her hands. “Well, that man was on the TV.”
“We’ve already done the lineup,” Emily said. “We can’t go there again, just because you can ID Mitch Crawford now.”
Steffi looked over at Jason, then back at Emily. She’d stopped shaking and seemed to find firmer footing.
“It wasn’t Mr. Crawford I saw.”
“Then who was it?” Jason asked.
The young woman looked at Jason, then Emily. “It was his lawyer. Cary McConnell was the man I saw that night.”
Emily’s pulse spiked, but she hid the surge in adrenaline that came with it the best that she could. “You think the man you saw that night was Cary McConnell?”
Steffi shook her head and the gesture brought Emily a second of relief.
“No, I don’t think it, Sheriff Kenyon. I’m absolutely certain.”
Jason leaned toward Emily. “Look, it makes sense,” he said, in a low voice. “McConnell wasn’t there at the lineup, right? He had an associate there. Remember?”
Emily recalled how disappointed she and Camille had been when Steffi came up empty-handed. She remembered how Cary had been too busy to come in. He was a man who liked to do battle head-on. But not that day.
“He had access to the Crawford house. He could have faked that note.”
Emily could feel herself nearly lose balance. She was grateful that she was sitting in a chair. Cary McConnell was a sleazebag lawyer. And the world’s worst boyfriend. But they were suggesting that he was a killer.
“That’s a pretty big leap,” she said. The defensive tone of her remark shocked her own sensibilities.
Why in the world would she defend him?
Jason knew and he answered right back. “I know you have some history with McConnell.”
Jason was right, of course. He could read her well. He could see the shame she felt in her own judgment. He saw how compromised she’d been over this whole thing.