and comfortable people made mistakes. I decided to throw Carter off his rhythm.
“What did you see on the hospital surveillance tapes?”
He looked at me, flashing annoyance, then muzzling it. “The hospital’s cameras cover the entrances and lobby. They don’t have cameras in the stairwells or on the patient floors.”
“So, you didn’t see anyone who jumped out at you?”
“Not yet. We’re still studying the tapes.”
“Any other leads?”
He took the same deep breath he always took when he was trying to decide whether to shoot me. “The investigation is ongoing.”
“Then I guess we’re done here.”
“Yeah, we’re done,” he said, tucking his notepad inside his suit-coat breast pocket. “By the way, Roni, the gun you shot Crenshaw with, you should be able to pick it up in a couple of days. Just come downtown. There’ll be some paperwork, but it won’t be too painful. In the meantime, do you have another gun you can carry until then if you feel the need?”
“I do, but that’s okay. I never shot anything except a paper target until a couple of days ago. I’m still sorting that out. I don’t feel like carrying anything right now.”
“I know what you mean. All that time on the range doesn’t prepare you for the real thing. What kind of gun is it?”
“It’s a Ruger LCP. 380.”
Carter leaned back in his chair. “Really? That is a sweet little gun, fits right in the handbag. Perfect for a woman. I’ve been thinking of getting my wife one for her birthday. Mind if I take a look at yours?”
Roni’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening halfway as she sucked in and swallowed a sharp, shallow breath.
I took my cue. “We’ll skip the show and tell. I think we’ve had enough fun for one day.”
Carter stood, leaning toward her, using his height to full advantage to pressure her. “Is there a problem, Roni? Some reason you don’t want to show me your gun?”
I came out of my chair, wedging myself between them. “What’s going on, Carter?”
“I’m just wondering why Roni about crapped her pants when I asked to see that gun.”
Roni retreated, scooting against the back of the sofa, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to her chest. “What’s he talking about, Jack? What’s going on?”
“Detective Carter is playing you. Do you have a permit for the Ruger?”
“Of course.”
“Then he knew about it before he walked in the door. Probably ran your name last night, checking for any other handguns you owned if he hadn’t already done that on Sunday. Now he wants you to show it to him, but I don’t think that’s because he’s shopping for his wife’s birthday present. He thinks it has something to do with Crenshaw’s murder, but he didn’t hand you a search warrant for the gun. Why is that, Carter?”
He smiled, his lips bloodless. “Why do you think, Jack?”
It didn’t take long to figure out why. I glanced at Roni, who refused to look at me. I shook my head and let out a sigh.
“Because you’ve already got the gun, you know it was the murder weapon, and you wanted to see her reaction when you asked to see it.”
Roni doubled over on the sofa. “Oh my God!”
I shot my hand in front of her face. “Not another word.”
“C’mon Roni,” Carter said, reaching for her arm. “We’ll finish this conversation downtown.”
He pulled her off the couch and spun her around, cuffing her hands behind her back.
“What’s the charge?” I asked.
“We’ll sort that out later, but I’d say she’s looking at conspiracy to commit murder at a minimum.”
The color drained from Roni’s face. Her mouth trembled as she blinked back tears. “Jack, please, I never…”
“No talking, Roni. Don’t say a word in the car or when you get downtown. I’ll have someone there as quick as I can.”
“You! I want you to be there!”
“Sorry,” Carter said. “Visiting day isn’t until Sunday. I guess you should have hired that lawyer after all.”
I followed them outside, standing on the curb as Carter put her in the backseat of his car and drove away. Lilly Chase watched from the front porch, arms folded tight against her chest. I started toward her, but she turned, marched into the house, and slammed the door.
Chapter Thirty-two
I leaned against Lucy’s car, bracing one hand on the hood as gut-ripping spasms jacked me to my knees and strangled my breath. On the bright side, the onslaught saved me the trouble of kicking myself in the ass for letting Carter blindside Roni.
I should have known better. He wanted to meet at her house. There had to have been a reason, and I should have been smart enough to figure it out or at least ask the questions that would have tipped me off to the trap he set for her. Worse, I’d let him play me, accepting the pat on the head he gave me in front of Lilly Chase like a schoolboy getting a gold star.
No one touched by violent crime is objective because it’s impossible to separate our inner lives from what we do. Pressured to clear cases and win trials, cops settle on a suspect, and prosecutors shape the evidence to prove the cops are right. Needing a big fee to pay for the condo in Aspen, defense lawyers pretend it’s all about the state’s burden of proof and that their client’s guilt doesn’t matter. Confusing vengeance with justice and passing it off as closure, victims and their families demand immediate arrests and ironclad convictions.
Memories and nightmares of my dead children haunt my inner life, teasing me with second-chance fantasies that always end badly, waking me in a cold sweat. Helping Roni was my way of doing penance, but I’d let my twin burdens of grief and guilt color my thinking, making me give her too much benefit of the doubt, forgetting that I had to give doubt its due. I’d screwed up because I wanted her to be innocent too badly to consider the possibility that she wasn’t.
Her lawyer would fashion an explanation for how her gun became the Crenshaw murder weapon. Odds were it would be some variation of the lost or stolen gun defense offered by way of cross-examination of the state’s witnesses, denying the prosecuting attorney the chance to dismember Roni in front of the jury.
When I could stand and breathe, I called Kate.
“I need Ethan Bonner’s phone number.”
“Why, where are you?”
My vocal cords seized, my answer escaping in short staccato bursts. “Somebody used a gun registered to Roni Chase to kill Frank Crenshaw. Quincy Carter just took her downtown.”
“What does she say about the gun?”
“She didn’t have to say anything. Carter asked to see the gun, and she came apart. I didn’t want her to dig a deeper hole, so I didn’t give her a chance to explain. Ethan has to get to her before Quincy Carter gets her in a room.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call him. Where are you?”
“In front of Roni’s house. Tell me where you are, and I’ll meet you.”
“The way you sound, not a chance. Give me the address, and if you get behind the wheel of that car, I’ll break both your legs above the knee.”
I gave her the address, the words fighting their way out of my mouth.
“Good,” she said. “Now sit tight until we get there.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one shaking.”
“You are a crazy person. Don’t move. Oh shit, I did it again,” she said, laughing, and hung up.
I slid into the driver’s seat of Lucy’s car, my inner schoolboy glad that I’d made her laugh. Ten minutes later,
