Cold Truth Read online

  He shrugged. “You know how much red tape it takes to get things done around here, right? Could be Monday, could be next year.” He opened a drawer and handed her a gold badge. “You can keep your silver one as a souvenir. You’ll receive a badge with your number on it when it comes in.”

  She accepted the heavy gold badge with “Detective” stamped on it, trying to keep her excitement at bay. “Thank you.”

  “You’ll have plenty of space to work while you’re waiting for a desk. Since you’re here already, I guess I can show you what you’ll be working on.”

  “I already have a case? Shouldn’t I work on it now, then? I know the first forty-eight hours are crucial, so I don’t think sitting on it all weekend—”

  He held up his hand. “It won’t make a bit of difference when you start.” Shrugging, he pursed his lips. “I’ll get together a list of priorities, but honestly, it doesn’t matter which case you do first. If you need guidance, I’ll help you out, but for the most part, you’ll be flying solo.”

  When he stood and walked around the desk to open the door for her, his presence was imposing. He was quite a bit taller than she’d realized. As soon as they’d cleared the doorway, he took a sharp left and took her to a door opposite Violent Crimes in the main hallway.

  “This is the way to the service elevator. If you see any civilians wandering down this hall, send them back toward the main entrance. Authorized personnel only.” He stepped into a dingy elevator that was about half the size of the main one that served the public area, and pushed the button for the basement before leaning against the wall. “It can get a little bumpy.”

  The elevator lurched downward, and Ellie’s hand shot out to grab the railing. Detective Fortis smiled. A few moments later, the doors scraped open, and Ellie hurried off the lift. It shuddered, then the doors closed with a loud clank.

  “That was an experience,” she muttered.

  “You’ll get used to it.” He gestured down a dimly lit hall. “The evidence locker is this way. Our clerk is on lunch, but you’ll be issued a key code Monday.” He gave her what passed for a stern look as he typed in his own code, his body obscuring her view. “Only a select few have a code, but every time you use your code, it’s noted, and the video log for the time you’re in evidence is tagged to that timeframe. When things have gone missing in the past, the situation has been corrected very quickly.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “You can check evidence out as needed, but only with the clerk, and don’t abuse the privilege.”

  “Got it.”

  He shot her a smile. “Honestly, you’d have to really try to mess this up.”

  “I’ve been told I can throw a wrench into any plan,” she joked.

  Fortis chuckled with a shake of his head. “I really didn’t want to like you, what with you going over everyone’s head to get what you wanted, but you’re a trip. I can see why Cap likes you.”

  “He likes the family name,” she said, then covered her mouth, horrified she’d spoken her thoughts. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

  “You only said what we’re all thinking. At least you’re aware of Cap’s,” he searched for the right word, “motives. The man is driven to succeed, and everything he does is a calculated effort to get what he wants. Right down to having his hair dyed weekly so no one realizes he’s pushing sixty.”

  “His hair is dyed?”

  “How did you not notice?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, but now that you mention it, it’s an unnatural shade of black.”

  “Captain Browning is so bent on looking the part and rubbing elbows with all the right people, he doesn’t see how asinine it looks.” He winked. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Understood,” she said, following him into the cold room.

  There was a large desk near the door, stacked with neatly arranged piles of files and a rubber stamp that was comically large. The light above it was outrageously bright, as if someone had wished for natural light, and installed it to give off as much as the sun. There were no windows, and the air was only as fresh as the filters in the building’s air-conditioning unit.

  A small collection of unicorn figurines were lined up under the huge computer monitor, and next to that, a frame depicting a dog running down the beach carrying a piece of driftwood nearly twice its size. The dog was dirty and wet with sand stuck to its fur, obscuring most of its black coloring. Ellie could tell it was some kind of mutt, but it was the happiest dog she’d ever seen.

  “You’ll like Clerk Reed. Friendly and helpful, but not overbearing. Nice combination.” Fortis went to another metal door to the right and typed in his code again. Inside the large storage room, he flipped on a light switch and walked to another doorway, this one without a door. A sign hanging on the wall nearby caught her attention.

  “Cold cases?”

  “Yep, that’s you.” He gave a grand gesture to the rows upon rows of standard white evidence boxes inside the second room. “They go back from two to twenty years or so. How many boxes they fill just depends on how much evidence we were able to collect before we had to shelve them. Like I said, for now, which cases you tackle first is up to you, but this should keep you busy. Don’t worry about checking in Monday morning. I get an alert when anyone from my unit enters the evidence locker, so you can head straight in.”

  “This is it?” She couldn’t keep the note of trepidation out of her voice. She’d been looking forward to her first case as a detective, and now she had more cases than she could familiarize herself with within a year.

  “It is. All yours. If you need help, feel free to come upstairs, and once I get your desk, I’ll get you set up in that corner. But you’ll spend most of your time down here.” He frowned. “I should probably get you a laptop for your desk so you can move from one place to another.” He led her down one row and pointed to an empty tabletop. “There are several workspaces like this you can use. Just make sure you put the boxes back where you find them.”

  “How many cases are there?”

  “Couple hundred. Maybe more.” He gestured toward the open door. “Reed is really good at keeping up with them and will help you find anything you need. We cover all violent crimes, but I want you to stick with the unsolved murders.”

  “And how many of those are there?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “What’s the protocol when I solve a case?” She glanced down a row of boxes and imagined solving one after the other.

  “Write up a report and leave it on my desk. If the perp is still alive, have patrol bring them in for questioning. You can question witnesses alone, but I don’t want you picking up persons of interest without a patrol officer.”

  She stiffened, about to object that she’d been a patrol officer until this morning.

  He pinned her with a stern look. “We do things my way here. I like you, but don’t think I’ll hesitate to knock you down a few pegs if I think you need it.”

  Was there something lower than cold cases? she wondered, then thought better of asking outright. Detective Fortis didn’t seem like the kind of guy who played around.

  “That’s the tour,” he declared, ushering her out and securing both doors behind him.

  He led the way to the elevator and pushed the up button. When the door opened, he tipped his chin in an informal farewell and pointed down the hallway.

  “That door goes straight out to the parking lot.” The square pane of reinforced glass was the only place sunlight could peek into the basement. “The clerk is here nine to five, Monday through Friday. There’s a cap on hours for clerks, but you’re salary, and as long as you’re here doing your job, you can set your own hours. Until you get the lay of the land, I would suggest taking advantage of Reed’s expertise. You can work more than one case each week, but if you’re not making headway within thirty days, I’d like you to note it, shelve it, and move on to the next case.”

&n
bsp; She nodded, ready for him to depart so she could get her hands on her first case after the clerk came back from lunch. Her fingers were itching to have a file in them.

  The doors started to creep shut even though Detective Fortis was standing on the threshold. He didn’t flinch when the door bumped his leg and skittered back open again. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He tipped his head and stepped into the elevator. “I look forward to it. I’ll let Reed know to expect you.”

  Ellie stood in the hallway for a few moments after the door closed and the elevator light indicated the car had made it back to the second floor. She waited by the evidence room door for a few minutes, but the basement was like being in a cave. A cold, dark, boring cave.

  Was this some type of punishment? A move just to get her out of the way? She decided to soak up some sunlight, maybe wait until Monday for her first case after all. Heading for the exit, she pushed open the outer door and stepped out into the brilliant sunlight.

  Jacob was standing a few yards away, leaning against his car, which was parked next to hers.

  “Were you waiting for me?” She heard the locks of her Audi Q3 click open as she approached. She loved technology.

  “I saw you through the window and figured you’d be out soon. How was it?”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “I think I know why Danver was happy to be rid of me.”

  “Besides the obvious?”

  “Very funny.” She shoved his shoulder playfully. “I’m not working active homicide. I’m working cold cases.”

  “Cold cases.” He appeared to be studying the words. “That could be interesting, right?”

  “Sure,” she huffed. “If you like looking at old cases that no one was able to solve.”

  “Maybe they thought you’d enjoy the challenge.”

  She laughed. All those boxes certainly looked like a challenge to her. “He didn’t say it, but Detective Fortis acted like he’d been saddled with babysitter duties. He’s nicer about it than Danver was, but it was pretty clear he wasn’t happy about the change.”

  “Fortis is a good man. You’ll get along, and soon you’ll be totally in sync like you and me.”

  “He’s not my partner,” she scoffed, feeling mutiny to her marrow.

  Jacob’s forehead wrinkled. “Who are you partnered with?”

  “The evidence clerk.”

  Jacob blinked. “The evidence clerk?”

  “Yep. And my workspace is in the evidence locker. Or a table in the corner upstairs.” She blew out a breath, and a stray lock of curly hair floated a few inches off her cheek then settled in the same place again. “It’s busywork, Jacob. I don’t know why they didn’t just put me there in the first place. It would’ve saved Danver a lot of gray hair.”

  “Don’t let them get to you.”

  “Why not? That’s what they want, isn’t it?”

  “No. They want to prove you can’t hack it. That you’re just some rich girl playing cops and robbers.” He clamped his hand on her shoulder, and she met his dark gaze. “Don’t let them screw with you. You’re stronger than this. Monday morning, you find a case that speaks to you, and you work it until every angle is exhausted. They’ll take notice when you start solving cases their guys couldn’t.”

  “It’s such bullshit.”

  “It is, but you’ve got this. Prove them wrong and make them sorry they doubted you.”

  His confidence in her shook her out of her mood. She stepped back, breathing out the breath that had felt locked in her lungs. “You’re right. I’m not going down without a fight.”

  “You can do this. Hell, you jumped off a bridge yesterday to catch a thug and braved turtle infested waters for justice.”

  It felt good to laugh. “I wonder if gator guy knows he made the news.”

  “I’m sure he does by now. Every time they showed the footage, they used a stylus to highlight the ‘killer turtle,’ then his mugshot was added to the frame.”

  “At least someone is having a worse day than me.”

  “Worse day?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “This is the best day. You made detective! Let’s celebrate?”

  He was right. “It’s too early to hit Charlie’s Pub.”

  “Later then, after my shift?”

  She scrunched her nose, and a slow smile spread across her face. “I don’t know…” she said, enjoying teasing him because she wouldn’t be seeing him that much after today.

  “Come on. For old time’s sake.”

  She kicked at the ground. “Fine, but I hope your new partner never lets you drive. Text me when you get off.”

  He was laughing when she pushed the start button in her car, and the engine roared to life. “What are you laughing about?” she demanded.

  “I guess they felt sorry for me, you know, since my last partner was so reckless.” His eyes were shining with the bit of info he was clearly withholding.

  She ignored the bait. “Do you know who your partner is already? Is it Davis?”

  “Close.”

  She narrowed her eyes and revved the engine. “Spill it. I have pressing matters on my day off.”

  He turned toward his squad car, throwing a grin back at her. “I’ll be driving for the next five years, at least.” He paused at the door, then laughed when Ellie only gave him a questioning look. “My new partner is a K-9.”

  Mercy. Did the insults never cease?

  Ellie flipped him the bird as he got into his car and drove out of the parking lot.

  A thought occurred to her. She might be stuck in the basement, but Jacob had to scrape dog shit.

  She hiccupped out a laugh as she turned out of the station’s lot.

  He got to deal with dog hair.

  And Monday morning, she would be investigating her first very own murder case.

  8

  I clicked the play icon on the computer monitor, sitting back and watching the video once again.

  The news chopper caught the tail end of the highspeed chase, and the near perfect PIT maneuver executed by Officer Jacob Garcia. There was gunfire, then silence.

  I held my breath, even though I already knew that not one of the bullets had found their mark. It seemed the street thug had spent more time planning his ridiculous wardrobe than he did at the gun range.

  My pencil flew across the yellow notepad as I wrote down my observations. The way the fleeing man clutched his waistband in one hand as he ran.

  I wondered why he didn’t just wear clothes that fit, but if he had, the footage wouldn’t have been quite as amusing. I’d seen the video enough to have the ending memorized, and Mister Street Thug came out looking like the moron he was. He was a waste of air, unworthy of the data used to store his most embarrassing moments for future generations to enjoy. But his capture was important to Ellie, and I had a vested interest in what drove her. If I had to study useless men who couldn’t bother to match their plaid boxers to their shirts, so be it.

  Ellie emerged from the passenger side of the battered cruiser, a vision despite the manly cut of the navy-blue uniform. She hit the ground running, forcing the man to lengthen his stride. He nearly lost his pants twice, and Ellie was catching up to him when he turned his head and focused on the railing. I could see the exact moment he made the decision.

  I paused the video and recorded the time, scribbling more notes down before I pressed play again, but not before admiring Ellie’s form frozen in a run, right foot poised to hit the ground. I noted that she’d managed to break free of the chains of wealth—she’d worked hard to be everything her parents were not.

  She still possessed the gazelle-like grace she’d managed to emanate during her first appearance in the public eye at the tender age of three, but with hard work and grit, Ellie had transformed into a more authentic version of the person her parents trained her to be. She was perfection—ready to take action and get her hands dirty for justice. It was almost cute, the way she ob
viously cared for the wretched souls who walked the earth. As if they mattered.

  In another instant, she would realize what the man intended to do and immediately take action. It was my favorite part, far superior to the action-packed vault over the railing and almost slapstick comedy that followed. This moment was the one when Ellie’s tenacity showed through. She didn’t mindlessly follow the hapless criminal over the edge. She assessed the situation, left on the ground any items that would drag her down to her useless partner’s level, then she went for it. Those precious ten seconds were the epitome of who Ellie Kline was as a person, and I’d watched them until I had every nuance memorized.

  Her French braid was tucked into a bun so smooth and neat that her hair didn’t move when her hat flew off, and she plunged several feet to the water. Had she been prepared for the temperature? The local kayaker’s club had recorded the water temperature at seventy-two degrees. Refreshing in the summer, but not quite comfortable in the fall. Would she fare as well in the same water without the benefit of the adrenaline that flowed through her?

  Even with the volume low, I could hear the man the moment he began to scream. I waited, grimacing when the thug attempted to crawl onto Ellie’s shoulders to escape the water. It was clear he didn’t understand basic science let alone tell the head of a river turtle from the snout of a gator.

  I leaned in, waiting with bated breath for Ellie to resurface, then watched the emotions play across her face as she found the source of the man’s fear, then hid her obvious amusement. Right away, she knew it was a harmless turtle.

  What neither of them knew was there was indeed a gator, buried in the soupy mud on the opposite bank, too busy soaking up the sun’s October rays to be bothered with the two of them. The internet had yet to notice the mammoth beast, and I had every doubt they ever would. The added danger was inconsequential. Ellie would’ve handled the situation with the same grace she did everything, and the city would still be talking about her.

  Her celebrity raised my hackles. Suddenly, Ellie Kline was the darling of Charleston. In the public eye for much of her life, I’d loved her for more than a decade. But now, Ellie Kline was trending online, and everyone wanted to know if she was single. As if she’d only just been discovered. As if my admiration didn’t feed the glorious creature she’d become, even if it was from afar.