Tomorrow needed to be better than today. Even if it had to begin at Tim Hight’s house.
23
She woke up with the sun in her eyes-on the couch and still in her clothes. When she noticed her.45 laying out on the coffee table, the memory of last night came back to her and she sat up.
Cobb.
He was more than a nuisance now. He had become a problem, one that seemed to be evolving. And she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She didn’t think a phone call to Barrera would stop the man. Based on what she’d seen of Cobb so far, a reprimand that came from the department or even his own supervisor would only feed his irrational behavior and light the man up.
Lighting Cobb up didn’t seem like the way to go.
Deciding that the best move was no move, at least for now, Lena pushed the thought aside and headed to the kitchen. She needed to check in with Martin Orth at the crime lab before driving over to Hight’s house, but it was too early to make the call.
Lena brewed her coffee by the cup with filter paper and the best beans she could afford. Setting the tea kettle on the burner, she switched the flame to low and left the room to shower and change. When she returned, she made toast and soft-boiled eggs and ate standing over the sink.
The meal revived her, but it was still too early to call Orth. Digging through her briefcase, she found the weekly planner she and Harry had discovered in Gant’s room and removed it from the evidence bag. She sat down at the table by the windows, sipping coffee and leafing through the small book. By all appearances, Gant’s planner was more of a journal than anything else. And it was short-something he had started after the trial, but stopped two weeks before his own death.
It looked like Gant had been trying to piece together the last ten days of Lily’s life without much luck. Lena could see the problem immediately. Not many people would have been willing to talk to him or to help someone that they thought had committed a murder and walked away free and clear. According to one entry, Lily’s best friend had agreed to meet him but had been followed by her father. After several attempts to reestablish contact, Gant received a phone call from someone identifying themselves as a cop and stopped trying.
Lena didn’t recognize the girl’s name from either Cobb’s murder book or the trial. Julia Hackford. It seemed curious that she hadn’t heard the name before and she wrote it down, then returned to Gant’s journal.
Several pages were stained with blood, and Lena found more than one passage where Gant wrote about being attacked on the street, about his fear of going outside, and about months of bad dreams that began with his arrest. Advice that Paladino had given him during the trial was recounted here as well-thoughts that inspired Gant and seemed to give him hope.
Lena read through the entire book in about twenty minutes, then pushed it aside and gazed out the window as she thought it over. She knew that Cobb would have called the journal bullshit. That he would have said that Gant didn’t keep up with it because his writings were nothing more than an attempt by a psychotic killer to recreate his self image as an innocent.
Most of the department would probably have agreed with him.
Yet, there was a certain authenticity to Gant’s words. Like the photo of Gant found by Lily Hight’s bed, it was a shift too decisive for Lena to ignore. She only wished that there would have been some mention of meeting and working with Johnny Bosco. Her gut told her that Bosco didn’t do anything unless he was the primary beneficiary. As she glanced back at the journal, she decided that the omission could only mean that he came in late. That whatever went down between Bosco and Gant began within the last two weeks of their lives.
She checked the time. It was almost seven. As she picked up the phone to call Orth, she was still thinking about Jacob Gant’s life since the trial. What it must have been like to walk in his shoes. How horrible it would have been to go through what he went through if he really was innocent.
Orth picked up after three rings.
“I was just about to call you, Lena.”
“Good,” she said. “Then you have something.”
Orth was an SID supervisor and had played a key role in Lena’s last case. They worked well together. Like everyone else at the lab, Orth had been caught up in the DNA evidence that went missing during Gant’s trial. But Lena regarded the scandal as guilt by association. Orth’s only involvement in the crisis was his position as a team leader. Lena had always known him to be a consummate professional and she trusted him completely.
“We’ve got something,” he said. “The cocaine’s a match. What you found at Hight’s house mirrors what was found at Club 3 AM in every way. They are chemically identical, the cut made at exactly the same percentage. It’s high-grade stuff, better than what we’ve seen in a long time.”
Lena started pacing. “So, either Hight was in the room or they used the same dealer. What about fingerprints on those hundred-dollar bills?”
“No luck there,” Orth said. “But we’ve got blood, Lena. We found it in the sole of Hight’s left shoe.”
“Enough to work with?”
“If he was in that room, we’ll know about it. And that’s a promise.”
It wasn’t the gun, but it was close. Maybe even enough to convince Hight that a confession was the easiest way out. If the blood from either victim wound up on his shoe, there could only be one explanation.
“Are you gonna be in your office this afternoon?” she said.
“I’ll be here all day. What’s up?”
“I want to show you something.”
Another call was coming in. Lena glanced at the caller ID.
“I’ve gotta go, Marty. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“See you then,” he said.
She clicked over to the next call. It was Buddy Paladino, calling on her home line at ten after seven in the morning.
“It’s a little early, isn’t it?” she said.
Paladino remained silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft and low and smooth as silk.
“There’s a rumor floating around town, Detective Gamble. All across the city, people want to know.”
“What’s the rumor?”
“That you’ve reopened the Lily Hight murder case.”
It hung there-a heavy silence enveloping his words and radiating through the house. Lena moved to the counter, grabbed a stool, and sat down. She had helped Paladino with a personal problem last year, and knew that he was in her debt. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t dangerous. It didn’t mean that she could trust him or that she was safe.
“It’s a bad rumor, Buddy. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“I think you’re trying to mislead me. I can tell by the sound of your voice. I thought we had an understanding, Lena. That we were above all this. You scratch my back, I scratch yours-so to speak.”
Vintage Paladino.
“Who did you talk to?” she said.
“A friend.”
“Then it’s not all over town?”
“No. Just you, me, and a friend. We’re a small network. I just wanted to see how you’d take it. By the way, I could tell that you were lying to me. You’re gonna need to work on your technique. It’s not what you say. It’s the way you say it.”
Lena shook it off. “Maybe we could meet at your office,” she said. “Later in the day.”
“Later in the day. I like it.”
“Fine,” she said. “But I have a question before we meet.”
“About what?”
“Tim Hight.”
