More Heat Than Light: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 4 Read online

  Corey began to get emotional. So much so that he decided to pull over and come to a stop on the side of the road. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a tissue. “I’m sorry. I’m a wreck, I know. What you said is touching, that’s all.”

  “Aw, that’s quite all right,” Sarah said. “Take all the time you need.”

  Sarah continued to do her best to comfort Corey while a chiming, shaking distraction inside my pocket made me lose track of what was being said. A text message had come in. I pulled my phone out just as it indicated two more messages had been delivered. The screen revealed a thread sent by Detective James. I began reading the lengthy communication.

  In mixed company meeting on a separate case. Text instead of phone as this couldn’t wait.

  Service provider records netted game-changer. Corey Anders looking bad. Now prime suspect.

  Black and whites en route to hospital to grab him. Give you details in person. Where are you?

  I felt my cranium thunk against the leather head rest in the back seat of Corey’s car as my brain swam in a tide of rushing thoughts.

  What was my move, here? Should I tell Corey to head back to the house? Maybe make up some lame excuse as to why?

  What was it they’d found in the text message records that was so damning, related to Corey?

  Should I let him know what’s coming, or keep my mouth shut and throw him under the bus?

  “Right, Carter?” I heard Sarah say as the motor growled and the car began moving again.

  I noticed she’d twisted in her seat and was staring back at me as my eyes caught up and regained focus. “Sorry, what?”

  “Where’d you go?” Sarah asked. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

  “We need to head back to the house.” My eyes shifted from Sarah’s furrowed brow to Corey’s, his eyes glued to mine via his rear view mirror.

  “What did you forget?” Sarah asked as I felt the car decelerate.

  “Uh … nothing. It’s James He just texted me. He needs some contact information from a previous case. Said it couldn’t wait.”

  “No problem,” Corey said, his smiling reflection giving me a jarring head rush.

  “What case?” Sarah asked.

  “The, uh … the Iacona case,” I said, then took advantage of the moment while Corey focused on negotiating a U-turn. I shook my head at Sarah to get her to stop questioning me.

  She made an odd face then turned back around. “Oh, okay.”

  I got my fingers moving as quickly as my lousy text-messaging skills would allow.

  Corey’s with me. Re-route black and whites. My house in 5.

  I hit send and took a deep breath. Sarah turned around and glanced at me, obviously confused by my odd behavior.

  As fate would have it, we were now sandwiched inside a long line of vehicles stuck behind a massive farm tractor---pulling a commercial hay wagon loaded to the sky with fresh autumn bales.

  “I’m sorry, Carter,” Corey said as he looked back at me. “Your stomach must be upset by the delay. Don’t worry, though. We’ll get you that lobster roll before long.”

  He was right about my stomach being upset.

  But way off about why.

  Chapter 22

  “Oh, my,” Corey Anders said as we approached my house. “This doesn’t look good.”

  Sarah whipped her head around just before my phone chimed and shook again.

  Where are you? Black and whites on site.

  My eyes met Sarah’s disturbing glare before looking out the window at two police cruisers---one in the driveway, one at the curb. An officer stood on the stoop, banging on my kitchen door, while another was walking across the lawn, coming from my back yard. Two other officers were standing in the driveway.

  “Where should I park?” Corey asked.

  “I don’t think it’s going to matter,” I replied as the two officers closest to the street placed their hands over their holsters and began moving toward us. “Best if you shut the engine down then keep both hands on top of your steering wheel.”

  “Carter?” Sarah said in an unusually high pitch. “What is all of this?”

  “Just stay put,” I said. “Please don’t move, and don’t say another word.”

  Corey’s head pivoted around in short, quick bursts, trying to make sense of the situation playing out around him, as one of the officers stopped and stood against the Chevy’s front bumper. He squared his body to the windshield, drew his weapon, and aimed it directly at Corey’s chest.

  The second officer opened Corey’s driver’s side door. “Sir, keep your hands where I can see them and slowly swing your legs out of the vehicle for me.”

  The second pair of officers now stood next to Corey’s car, keeping a close eye on Sarah and me. My impulse was to jump out and make sure Corey was treated respectfully, but I didn’t recognize a single cop and had no idea what James had told them.

  The officer next to Corey said, “Sir, I want you to stand up then slowly turn and place your hands on the roof of your vehicle.”

  Meanwhile, the two officers beside me and Sarah opened our doors and instructed us to stay put.

  Corey was frisked and cuffed. “Corey Anders, you have the right to remain silent.”

  Chapter 23

  “What in the world was that?” Sarah asked, her tone accusatory.

  “C’mon,” I said. “We have to go. I’ll explain on the way down to the station.”

  Sarah’s movements were quick and exaggerated as she went for the car. I knew I was in for it once she slammed the door shut.

  She didn’t bother to wait until I got in. “How could you do that to him?” she asked just as I opened the driver’s side door.

  I got in and started the car, took a deep breath, and began backing out of the driveway.

  “Well?” she asked.

  I reached inside my pocket and pulled out my phone, the screen still showing James’s text message thread. “I got these just as we started heading north with Corey,” I said.

  Sarah read the messages then turned and looked at me. “Why didn’t you give him a heads-up, or something?”

  “Sarah, I know you have a soft spot for Corey. I get it. He seems like a good man. Thing is, we have no idea what kind of evidence James has against Corey. But whatever it is, it’s serious enough that James felt compelled to send multiple units out to our place.”

  Sarah stared at me without blinking and handed my phone back to me.

  “Look, Sarah, I had no time to weigh the risks.”

  She gave a subtle shake of her head.

  “Don’t take this question the wrong way, because I’m really asking from the heart,” I said. “How would you have handled it differently?”

  “Maybe you couldn’t see Corey’s face when there was a gun pointed at his chest,” Sarah said. “Unfortunately, I could. He knew you sold him out and he was shattered. It was as if you’d already shot him in the gut.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

  “I don’t know. But not that way. It’s not like Corey was going to pull out a gun. Or … or take us on some wild, high-speed police chase.”

  “With all due respect, there’s no way you can say that with any kind of certainty. Trust me, the way that situation just played out sucked for every one of us. I felt like my hands were tied. I had to make a difficult call. I made it, and I stand by it.”

  My phone rang. It was James. “We’re on our way,” I said and ended the call.

  Sarah remained quiet for several minutes. I was just getting ready to make the turn into the PD parking lot when she asked, “What on earth can they possibly have on Corey that’s so incriminating? I mean, they placed him under arrest right on the spot.”

  I pulled into a parking stall and killed the engine. “No idea. Let’s go in and find out.”

  We hustled inside the station and spotted one of the officers who’d been at our house just minutes before. “Detective James is waiting for you
at his desk,” he said as he opened the door leading to the back area of the station.

  James didn’t say a word as we approached his desk. He simply handed us a transcript listing a long series of text messages belonging to Corey Anders. Two, in particular, were highlighted.

  Meghan wants to meet with you tonight, instead of tomorrow morning. Briarwood Office Condominiums. Please say you will.

  Good. Have a taxi pick you up and bring you to her new office. Meet you there.

  Both messages were from Sunday night, the first with a time stamp of 8:55 pm, and the second 8:57 pm.

  And both were sent to Amanda Enright.

  Sarah looked at me and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “We have his phone,” James said. “Both texts were deleted from the device. My IT team is working to see if they can recover the messages, as we speak.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Sarah said. “I did not see this coming.”

  “Corey Anders know you have these?” I asked James.

  “Nah. We stuck him in holding. I want to wait and see if the messages are recoverable on his device. The evidence will be much more compelling if we find them on his phone.”

  “Are your IT guys hopeful they can recover the texts?” Sarah asked.

  “Said they didn’t think it would be a problem,” James replied.

  “Let’s say they’re successful,” I said. “And we can pin Amanda Enright’s presence at Briarwood on him. What’s his motive? And where’s the evidence?”

  “No idea. But if he killed Enright, getting a confession out of him should be a heck of a lot easier with this revelation,” James said. “He never mentioned this exchange, which makes him look as guilty as sin.”

  “He’s going to need a lawyer,” Sarah said.

  “He already made the call,” James responded. “Got one on the way.”

  I was about to speak when an officer approached James’s desk. “IT came through,” he said with a smile. “The thread is verifiable on Anders’s device, including Enright’s reply.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Sarah shook her head as the officer walked away. “This can’t be right.”

  James gave Sarah a look. “What? You don’t want resolution concerning this investigation.”

  “I don’t want to see the wrong person behind bars,” Sarah said. “I want to find the killer.”

  “Look, I’m having a hard time getting there, too,” I said. “But we don’t really know Corey. He could be playing us all like a fiddle.”

  James nodded. “I’ve been fooled by guilty parties more times than I care to admit.”

  “Sorry, but I wouldn’t have given Corey a 1% probability of being capable of this,” Sarah said.

  “He doesn’t have to be the murderer to be guilty,” I said. “What if it was simply his job to get Enright to Briarwood that night? Maybe someone else was responsible for handling the dirty work.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Sarah said. “But, if it turns out that Corey Anders had any involvement in harming Amanda Enright, whatsoever, it’s going to kill a major degree of confidence I have in my own instincts.”

  James’s desk phone rang. “This is James.” A beat passed. “Thanks. Be right there,” he said as he hung up. “Anders’s lawyer is here.”

  “You going to interrogate Anders right away?” I asked James.

  “Nah. Think I’ll let him sweat it out for a while.”

  Sarah’s expression told me she didn’t approve.

  “Keep us in the loop,” I said as I waved to James. Sarah was already ten paces ahead of me.

  “Will do,” James replied.

  I made my way toward the car, knowing it was going to be a difficult afternoon.

  And that I wouldn’t be getting that lobster roll anytime soon.

  Chapter 24

  Sarah stared straight ahead as I got in the car. I wanted to ask what it was about Corey Anders that made her believe so strongly in his innocence, but knew better than to bring it up right now.

  We hardly ever found ourselves at odds with one another---especially when it came to our work---but this was one of those rare times when all bets were off.

  I fired up the engine and pointed the car toward home, opting to wait for Sarah to speak first. Best to keep my mouth shut and drive.

  The miles ticked past in silence as I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for Corey’s texts. If he was innocent, why had he decided to keep those messages to himself?

  The unexpected sound of Sarah’s voice disrupted my train of thought. “I think it might be best if we divide and conquer,” she said. “I just need to figure out which trail to follow.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure what she meant, but my gut told me she’d allowed herself to get too close to some of the people in Enright’s orbit. I understood why: this wasn’t a typical case for us. We’d started out running risk assessment strategies, which involved getting to know individuals directly involved with the principal, Amanda Enright.

  Suddenly, Amanda was gone. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

  I couldn’t blame Sarah for that. I wasn’t sure if it boiled down to emotion for her, but I was smart enough not to ask.

  My years of experience had taught me that changes in circumstance sometimes required a quick shift. A pulling back from personal feelings in order to see clearly and get the job done. Our job, as it related to Enright, had morphed from an advisory role to hunting for bad guys. Dissimilar tasks which demanded two very different frames of mind.

  I became so immersed in thought, I almost drove right past our street. I braked hard to make the turn, and within a minute’s time we were home.

  “Can I run an idea by you?” Sarah asked as I shut off the car.

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “I’m not trying to be a pain,” she said. “I’m just having a tough time dealing with the constant changes in direction with this case. It’s making me uneasy. Enough so that I feel like I need to take a step back. I think if I narrow my focus to a specific task, it’ll end up being the best use of my time and skills.”

  I reached over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m open to whatever it is you have in mind.”

  She smiled. “Good. Here’s what I’m thinking. There are a lot of different businesses over at Briarwood. The office condos are small, and the building is huge. I’m going to find out which businesses use cleaning services. There must be quite a few.”

  “Great thought. Those companies usually work at night.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll check with the business owners, get the names of whatever services they use, then find out which ones had staff over at Briarwood late Sunday evening. What do you think?”

  “I don’t like to swell your head with too many compliments, but that’s a great idea,” I said. “I’ll take up the slack while you spend some time away from the front line.”

  A weak smile appeared on Sarah’s face. “Thanks. Glad we have a workable plan.”

  “No worries,” I said, grateful our issues had been put to bed.

  Sarah looked relieved as we got out of the car and headed inside. I was pleased she’d decided to stay in the mix on this case. There was a killer---or killers---out there who needed to be brought to justice.

  I got to thinking about Corey Anders again. Sarah seemed fairly convinced he was innocent. It was messing with my ability to remain objective, as she was right more often than wrong.

  Sarah headed into the living room and collapsed on the couch with her laptop while I chose to spend some time in my office. I closed the door, in need of a quiet space to sort through the complexities Enright’s murder had brought to bear on all of us.

  I pulled out my notebook and began looking at where the case had been, and where it looked to be headed. There’d been a lot of suspects on this one, all of whom could still be viable in one way or another.

  Newspaper big shot Herod Erlichman had lobbed a direct threat at E
nright smack dab in the middle of a crowded theatre. This, after a history of harassment, had placed him firmly in the spotlight---until a number of solid alibis ruled him out as our hands-on killer.

  There was contractor Troy Webber, who’d also looked like a probable prime suspect---but, after offering key information, had managed to pass the suspect torch to psychotherapist Meghan McCue. When it looked like we’d found our guilty party in the 60-something healer, James had given McCue and Councilor Cordite a brief opportunity to dig something up in the way of an alibi.

  Then there was producer Lee Sands. Sands had been a complicated call in the beginning, but the excellent work done by James’s team seemed to verify the guy’s alibi and satisfy any suspicions we’d had in the beginning. And WTLK intern Kayla Brock’s story also looked to be solid. Authorities had been able to nail down specific details of her claims, including a roommate’s eventual confirmation of Brock’s late-night return to her college dormitory in Boston.

  Now, Corey Anders had been picked up and charged, a man most of us had pegged as innocent. Yet, he was now sitting behind bars, inside a ten-by-ten holding cell, waiting for the cops to drag an explanation out of him as to why he’d lied. Why he’d withheld crucial evidence in a murder investigation.

  I thought again about how the moving parts of this homicide had caused my tough-as-nails partner to wave a white flag in order to regroup.

  I reclined in my leather chair and closed my eyes, determined to sift through the statements, photographs, and personalities involved in the case in order to find a new angle. A detail. A clue that may have been there all along, but somehow managed to evade our best efforts.

  I sat there for what seemed like hours, concentrating harder than ever on the details of the case. Unfortunately, the only thing I’d managed to develop was a headache.

  Which brought me back to Erlichman. I’d never followed up on the story relating to his arrest for shoving a co-worker’s head through a pane of glass down in Boston. I fired up my tablet computer and did a search. A number of related articles came up, two of which were written a full 24 hours after the incident had taken place.