He looked up.
“There’s too much to ignore. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. This case was never winnable, but we’ve done all we can. Milton was fortunate, as bad as that sounds. But it’ll take more. The gun, the bullet. The history there. The blood on his hands. Shit, I’d convict him if I didn’t know him.”
“But you do know him, right?”
“The jury don’t.”
He walked her out and stalled by her car. “You want to come back?”
“Closing arguments tomorrow. Early night for me.”
Her watched her leave, then climbed into the cruiser and headed back to the station. It was late, Leah done, the place in darkness but he hadn’t stopped by since the trial began. He found a stack of papers on his desk, hit the lights and slumped back. He fished through the mail, opened a couple before he came to it. Verizon Communications. Darke’s cell phone record. Boyd had come through for him.
There were pages going back a year, numbers so small Walk had to squint. He’d get back on it once the trial was done. He flipped them, eyes blurring as he yawned and stretched. He didn’t expect to get anything.
But then he found the date, December 19th, the day Hal died. It didn’t register at first, his eyes glossing over digits he knew well enough.
He focused again, expected to see something different.
And then he dropped the paper to the desk.
The call to Darke’s cell.
It had come from the Cape Haven Police Department.
She cried. He watched.
They sat in the yard, the Cape slept. She had been awake, the shadow beneath her eyes told him she did not sleep anymore.
She blinked dark tears of mascara.
A full moon above, highlighted the sorrow. Leah Tallow wiped her eyes, sniffed, cried some more. He had walked over to the house in silence, trying to find another answer, desperately searching for it.
“You want to tell me?”
There was no attempt at lying. She stared at the grass, calm set in, like she’d been waiting. “We’ve struggled for a long time.”
He drew a long breath, hoping to stave it off a moment longer, knowing once it came it would change things.
“It’s money, Walk.”
He watched the tortured look.
“Ed. The business, it’s all gone.”
“Gone?”
She looked up.
“Connect the dots for me here, Leah.”
She stared back at the house. “Tallow Construction, it’s been in Ed’s family seventy years. He took it over from his father, who took it on from his grandfather. It used to turn a decent profit. It used to employ half the town. Jesus, Ed still has fifteen men. We pay them out of our savings most months.
“And then Ed’s father died, and he left us the house, on Fortuna, second line. Not much, a lot for us, but not all that much in the real world.”
“You could’ve sold the business, cut the loss.”
“Ed wouldn’t. He loves this town, Walk. Like you do. But we need the change, the new homes, the new money. And you blocked it, you and the others, you voted it down whenever you could.”
“Last I heard it’ll go through regardless.”
“But it’s too late for us now. You buried us, you know that.”
He let that sit a while, wondered at his role, his need to keep Cape Haven from moving on without him, without Vincent and Star and Martha.
“Darke?” he said.
Then she took a breath. “He bought the Fortuna house from us for cheap. In return he had the contracts lined up for Ed to pull it down, and the rest of the street. Construction. Ed would get them, all those homes, condos, it would save us, Walk. And save the Cape, the real Cape, the locals that were born here.”
“But it’s gone now. All of it.”
“Not yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The King house. The insurance. Duchess Radley has the tape. If she just gives it back to Darke then the insurance will pay out and we’ll get it back.”
He let that settle, his mind spinning. “How much?”
Leah swallowed. “All of it. The house, second charge on the company, credit cards and loans. Shit, everything, Walk. We couldn’t even afford to keep me on, that’s why I pick up all the extra shifts at the station.”
Walk watched the moon, then glanced back at the house. “Does Ed know what you did?”
“No. I keep the books. Ed is a fucking idiot. He thinks I don’t know, the women, always perfume on him.”
“You sold out a child.”
She shook her head, the tears falling faster. “He wouldn’t hurt her. You don’t know Darke.”
He wanted to take her hand, despite everything, he’d known her a lifetime. He steeled himself. “How did you find them?”
Emotion left her, she went on, callous facts laid bare. “The call. I knew it was Montana, I filed your receipts. The gas station. And then Hal said the name of the school on the phone with you. And the lake by the farm.”
“You listened in?” he said, stunned. The facts took his breath, he rubbed his eyes, the back of his neck, felt the heat in his cheeks. He stood, felt his knees weak and sat again. “Your hands are bloody, Leah. And for what? For your husband’s business.”
“For them,” she said, loud, and pointed at the house. “For my kids. For all the families we support in this town. It’s just a tape, a fucking tape, Walk. Duchess burned the club down. We all knew it, but you didn’t do anything about it.”
“That’s not—”
“It is, Walk. You know it is. You and Star and your fucking misguided loyalty to Vincent King. Star was his girl, you promised to watch out for her. I know that. You told me you’d do anything for your friends. Same as in high school. If you did your job, if you brought the girl in and—”
“Where’s Darke now?”
“I don’t know.”
He watched her.
“I don’t. I swear it.”
“Duchess. He’s still looking for her?”
“It’s about the money with him, it’s always about the money. He wouldn’t stop, with my help
