Читать книгу Ranger Defender - Angi Morgan - Страница 13

Chapter Four

Meeting Vivian Watts at work seemed like a smart thing to do, until Slate remembered the waitress uniforms at the restaurant. But that was after he’d walked through the door and asked for her section. Immediately noticing how smoking hot she was stopped coherent thought.

And then she’d cried.

Mercy. He was just like any man wanting to do the right thing. He wanted her to stop crying.

He knew he could help make that happen. All he had to do was find a murderer.

Choosing a table in the far back corner of the coffee shop, he opened a file no one in the room should see. The chicken wings sat like a lump in his gut. Maybe the acid from the strong brew would help with the digestion. Good thing he didn’t have a weak stomach or he’d be losing it all by studying the murder scene pictures.

He wanted to help Vivian and Victor Watts. But it did all boil down to one question that no one had ever asked her brother.

“Officer.”

He flipped the file shut and stood, pushing back his chair. “You want something?”

“No. I’m fine.” Vivian sat and pulled her coat tighter.

It was sweltering hot inside the shop despite the November chill that hung outside. Well, she was wearing hot pants and half a T-shirt.

“It’s Slate. Lieutenant if this was official, but again, I can’t make any promises.”

“I stopped believing in promises about the time my brother was arrested for murder. Every promise that was made to us by the Dallas police was broken. And then there’s been the three court-appointed attorneys who promised they’d find the real murderer.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this experience. It doesn’t feel fair, but the evidence does point to your brother.”

“Spare me, Lieutenant. Until you’ve lost everything you’ve had and are about to see your only family convicted of murder in a state that has the death penalty... Please, just ask your question so I can go home.”

“Sure.” He opened the file to a copy of the murder victim’s journal entry. “Can you tell me if your brother ever participated in a study performed by Dr. Roberts?”

“The answer is already in your file. He was seeing her for a sleep disorder. Night terrors. Yes, he knew the victim. Yes, he had an appointment with her the day she was murdered. No, he’d never mentioned that he had a problem to me. No, he never mentioned wanting to kill anyone. No, he hasn’t been the same since he was discharged from the army.” She pushed away from the table. “Thank you for taking a look at Victor’s case. But I really have to get home—”

“Subject Nineteen. Was that your brother’s number?”

“What are you talking about?” She sank back onto the metal chair.

“No one’s ever mentioned how your brother was linked to the murder before?”

“All I know is that my brother was participating in a VA-approved sleep study sponsored by Dr. Kym Roberts. She was one of the doctors conducting the study where she was murdered.”

“That’s all in the file.”

“So what does this subject number mean?” It was actually the answer he wanted to hear.

Watts was a part of the study. The police had verified that much. But there was nothing in the file verifying he was Subject Nineteen. What if it was a different person? They’d have another suspect. But he couldn’t share something like that. It would wreck the prosecution’s case. Slate wouldn’t get “box” duty like Wade. He’d be looking not only for a different job, but a different profession.

No one would hire him if he shared that type of information.

“I can’t show you the evidence.”

“You mean whatever made you question Victor’s innocence?”

“Yes. So you’ve never heard of his status in the study as a subject number?”

“As far as I can tell, it wasn’t a blind study if that’s what you’re referring to. I have a copy of it at home. It doesn’t include the names of the participants but it has information specifically for Victor. Do you need it? Could I bring it to your office tomorrow?” Vivian scrunched her nose, sort of grimacing.

“You said you don’t have a car. Perhaps I could give you a lift home.”

“There’s an office supply store around the corner from my apartment if you need copies.”

“That’ll work.”

“Lieutenant, I know you said you weren’t reopening Victor’s case. It does sort of sound like you’ve found something new.” She bit her lip, pulling her jacket even tighter around her.

“Why don’t you show me the copy of the report you have? That’s the first step.”

The sky broke open in a severe thunderstorm that had been threatening all day. Slate stuck his hat on tight, tucked the file into his shirt and gestured for Vivian to stay at the door. “No sense in the both of us getting soaked. I’ll be right back.”

Slate ran the two blocks to his truck, dumped his hat in the back seat, locked the file in the middle compartment and drove back to the coffee shop. A little over ten minutes. But when he pulled up outside, Vivian wasn’t standing near the door. He waited a couple more minutes. Then he pushed on the flashers and ran inside to see.

“Hey.” He got the attention of the barista. “Where’s the woman I was with a few minutes ago?”

“You left. She left. I don’t know where.”

“Well, if that don’t beat all.”

Cranking the heat once inside the truck, he dialed Wade.

“So?” his friend asked first thing.

“I met with her. How ’bout you look at the list of things in the evidence file?” Slate paused, slapping the file against his thigh waiting while Wade pulled up the rest of the information.

Information he’d deliberately left out to entice Slate to look further into the case.

“Got it.”

“Is there a follow-up report from a sleep study that the victim was conducting?”

“Nothing.”

“So if I thought the list was necessary to answer the questions that we had...”

“I knew it!” Wade said with force, then repeated himself in a lower voice. “You’d need to sweet-talk a copy, not request it through a warrant. Seriously, Slate, if you have those kinds of doubts, take it to the district attorney’s office.”

“I need a couple more things clarified and then I’ll head there.”

Yeah. A couple more questions like...why didn’t Vivian wait at the coffee shop? He opened the incomplete file Wade had given to him to pique his interest, then added Vivian’s address to his GPS. Traffic was pretty bad in the downpour. He wasn’t surprised that someone who didn’t own a vehicle lived right on the bus route, but he was surprised that Vivian wasn’t home.

He was already soaked but standing on an apartment doorstep would only draw attention to himself. And it was getting colder by the minute. So he waited in the truck. He had a perfect view of the door, but several minutes later, there was a knock on his window, followed with a gesture to roll it down.

“Get in!” he shouted.

Vivian ran around to the opposite side and jumped in the front seat. Soaked to the skin, still dressed in the short shorts and T-shirt.

“I thought we agreed I’d give you a ride.”

“I appreciate it, Lieutenant, but I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.” She dripped on the papers she had in a folder. “The top copy is the original. You can see that the cover letter is a diagnosis and the results of the study.”

“They mailed this to you?”

It didn’t look identical to the other report even though it began the same.

“To my brother. This is where he lived prior to his arrest.” She opened the door. “I’ll be heading inside now. Thanks for looking at Victor’s case...even unofficially.”

“But I’m not.”

Too late. The door was shut and she ran up the sidewalk. So he took the time to compare the two papers.

This report was in the same tone as the journal page. Formal, doctorly, professional. And dated recently. It was also signed by an assistant who had been interviewed just after the doctor’s murder. The statement, along with numerous others from hospital staff, was in the file. The recent report...was not.

Nothing new.

Except there were names. Summaries of group sessions. No one was referred to as a subject and there sure as hell wasn’t a Subject Nineteen.

“Damn. They have the wrong guy.”