Grain of Truth Read online

  Iain raised his eyebrows. “I would think, given the fact that you’ve spent your life as a prosecuting attorney, that you’d recognize what you could jeopardize by going in without a warrant.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Damn it.”

  Iain sat back down.

  She started to pace again. If they screwed this up, then Pierce’s defense would have a wide opening to get him off scot-free. But if they did nothing, they could be allowing their friend to die. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What?”

  “Amos’s life is the most important thing right now,” she said. “The rest of it doesn’t matter. I’m going.”

  Iain stood up again, sighing heavily. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  With the chair toppled over, there was no comfortable position for Amos. He rolled this way and that, but his weight was always resting on either his hands or one of his arms. Sometimes, he rolled over onto his knees, but then his forehead was pressed into the floor, and it was awkward and painful as well. If it got too painful, he moved.

  And that was how he discovered that he could continue maneuvering himself across the room toward the shelves. He could scoot himself across the floor by throwing his weight back and forth like before.

  It was slow going. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but it felt like eons.

  When he made it over to the shelf at last, he realized that the light from around the curtain was fading. It was getting darker. It was the dead of winter, and it got dark early anyway, but the lack of light wasn’t doing him any favors. He couldn’t see what he was doing.

  He threw his weight and managed to slam the feet of the chair into the shelves.

  It made an incredible amount of noise, but he wasn’t afraid of that. He wanted the mother or Ellie to come back down and realize he was in there and he needed saving.

  He slammed the feet of the chair into the shelves again.

  More noise.

  No one came.

  And what was worse, nothing was falling off the shelves, especially not the lighter, which was what he desperately wanted.

  Time passed. He kept trying.

  It got darker. He could barely make out the shapes on the shelves above him.

  And now he began to worry, because he knew that Dick had said he would be coming back in the evening. Amos was running out of time. He also suspected that when Dick realized what he’d been trying to do, he would be angry, and that might make it all the worse for him.

  But Amos had to try.

  So he kept banging the chair into the shelf, over and over and over again.

  And finally, he was rewarded with some movement. Sleeping bags tumbled down on top of him, one after the other.

  He sputtered, shaking them off, and prepared to try again.

  But then he heard something outside the door. Footsteps?

  Was it Ellie, come back to rescue the dog she thought was trapped inside or was it Dick, come to end it all?

  Amos froze, waiting, feeling the moments ahead of him stretch out, like beads on a string.

  How much time did he have left?

  But then there was no more noise, no more footsteps.

  Amos banged the chair again.

  Finally.

  He had the lighter.

  It was lying on the floor next to his face.

  Grunting, he began to turn his body, still attached to the chair. He needed to line his hands up with the lighter.

  The only problem was that it was too dark to see the lighter once he moved more than two feet away from it, and so he had to feel around with his hands, which had a very limited circle of motion.

  He scrabbled and grunted and scooted and still he couldn’t get his hands on that lighter.

  He had to get it, though.

  He reached out, letting out a muffled cry of agonized frustration.

  And someone banged on the window.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Elke and Iain hadn’t gone to the front door when they arrived at Donald Pierce’s address. Instead, they’d walked around the perimeter of the split-level house, looking around for anything that might be amiss.

  They heard a muffled banging noise, and they were able to pin it down to one of the windows. The two knelt down next to the glass, and they heard someone making muffled yells in there.

  Elke banged on the window.

  There was a long silence, and then an answering yell.

  Iain was already at work trying to open the window from the outside. He had the storm glass out, now he was doing his best to get the inside window up.

  The window screeched as it was raised. It obviously hadn’t been opened in a long time, being a basement window.

  With the window open, they pushed aside the thick curtains that shrouded it, and there, on the floor, was Amos.

  Iain climbed into the window. It was a tight fit, and he barely made it. Elke started to come after him, but he waved her off.

  “It’ll be harder to get us all back through,” he said.

  “Amos, hang on,” she said to the other man. “We’ve got you.”

  Iain knelt down next to Amos and surveyed the zip ties securing him to the chair. He took out the pocket knife he always carried. “Hold on, let me get these.” He cut the ties. He pulled the gag out of the other man’s mouth.

  “Oh, my God,” said Amos.

  “Can you stand?” said Iain, taking Amos by the arm.

  Amos cried out. “Not that arm.”

  Iain recoiled. “Sorry.”

  “I hurt it,” said Amos, scrabbling to his feet. He rubbed his wrists and hands. “You guys found me?”

  “We did,” said Elke. “Now let’s get you the hell out of there.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “I don’t have to tell you that what you did was extremely reckless,” said DA Andrews. He was in the conference room in the CRU office, and it was early morning a few days later. After all the excitement, they’d been taking it easy for the past few days. Amos hadn’t been back to work yet. He was staying with his parents for a while. His arm wasn’t broken, but sprained and bruised and he had to wear a sling. Other than that, though, he’d escaped from the Haven Hills Ripper unscathed, the first of the victims to do so. “You should know how hard it is to make a case against a criminal, Ms. Lawrence.”

  Elke, Iain, and Frankie were gathered in the conference room to meet with the DA.

  “Reckless, sir?” said Elke. She was pretty sure she knew what he was talking about, but sometimes playing dumb was the way to go.

  “Very reckless,” said Andrews. “You went into that house ahead of the warrant, and that was abundantly unprofessional.”

  “Now, sir, we weren’t there in any official capacity,” said Elke. “We happened to be strolling through that neighborhood, when we heard noises that indicated to us that someone was in trouble. It was only a happy coincidence that we managed to free Mr. Bradley.”

  Andrews gave her a sour look. “You think that would hold up with any jury?”

  Elke shrugged. “We saved a man’s life. And now he can testify against Donald Pierce. I think that makes a better case than the police officers breaking in four hours later when the warrant came through and finding who knows what. Maybe Amos would have still been alive, but maybe not. And maybe they would have found a body, or maybe Pierce would have cleaned it up by then. I think we made the right call.”

  Andrews pointed at her and then pointed at Iain. “From now on, you stick to your job, which is reviewing convictions, not chasing serial killers, got it?”

  “We’ll do our best, sir,” said Elke.

  Andrews sighed, shaking his head. “Well, I can’t say I’m pleased with your methods, but I think we’re all glad to have the Haven Hills Ripper off the streets, and you did play a part in that. So, I choose to focus on that, which gives it all a positive spin. And I took the liberty of intercepting this.” He handed over an envelope.

  Elke
peered down at it. “Is this from the lab?”

  “It is indeed,” said Andrews. “Go ahead and take a look. I already have.”

  Elke tugged out several sheets of paper. She scanned them quickly and smiled.

  “What?” Frankie spoke up.

  Elke handed over the first sheet. “It’s the DNA tests. The DNA in the Mukherjee house matches Wheeler and Chapman.”

  “Of course it does,” said Iain. “We knew it was them.”

  Elke raised her eyebrows. “Oh, we did, Mr. I-Need-Concrete-Evidence?”

  Iain smiled.

  “Congratulations,” said Andrews. “A warrant has been issued for Chapman’s and Wheeler’s arrest. And we’ll be moving forward to free Saanvi Mukherjee and Kevin Greene from prison. Justice has been served, ladies and gentleman, thanks to you. Not bad for your first case.”

  Elke smiled. “Well, it’s been a little rocky at times.”

  “But we made it in the end,” said Frankie, handing the paper over to Iain.

  “Yes, we did,” he said.

  * * *

  They’d been taking it easy, but the news kicked them all into high gear. They needed to prepare their case to bring before the Conviction Correction Panel, which would convene to review their work and make the final decision on Saanvi’s and Kevin’s innocence. The panel was there to be a check and balance on the CRU’s power, so that they couldn’t free anyone they chose. Their detective work had to be solid.

  They all knew that it was in this case, but that didn’t mean that they could slack on presenting it. They worked tirelessly on their assertions, on the evidence that they would produce, and on the arguments they would make. Frankie and Elke would speak to the panel, considering their background as attorneys suited them to the task.

  Amos came back to work on the last day they were working on the case. He said that he couldn’t handle being away. His parents had wanted to keep him home, but he’d insisted that his dad fix the deadbolts on his door and let him get back to his routine.

  “I think it’s like getting back on a horse after it throws you or whatever,” he said, balancing a box of donuts with his good arm. “However, I can’t drive, so I had to take the bus this morning, and if someone wouldn’t mind giving me a ride home—”

  “I will,” said Elke.

  “Or me,” said Frankie.

  “I can help you out.” Iain took the box donuts away from him. “You sure you don’t want to take a few more days to get rested up?”

  “Oh, my God, no,” said Amos. “I was going absolutely stir crazy at my mom’s house. She kept serving me sandwiches with the crusts cut off, like I was still three years old.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  “Anyway,” said Amos. “I figured I’d come back to work and be useful.” He wriggled his arm in the sling. “Of course I can’t type, and I’m not so much good at doing coffee runs, because I can only carry about one drink at a time, so I don’t know how useful I can actually be, but I’m here anyway. Use me.”

  Elke laughed. “You brought donuts. That is as useful as a person could be. We need fuel.” She turned in a circle. “Speaking of which, Hudson? Where did you take the donuts?”

  “Conference room,” called Iain.

  Elke headed that way. “Let’s get our sugar on, and then we’ll kick this case’s ass shut.”

  “Sounds good,” said Frankie, following her.

  Amos brought up the rear. “Guys, I’ve been thinking about the decorations in this office?”

  “Yeah, what about them?” said Elke, not turning around. She was heading for donuts or bust.

  “Well, they’re kind of nonexistent.”

  “You going somewhere with this?” said Elke.

  “Just that maybe if I brought some stuff in, maybe I could, you know, spruce the place up? Would you object to that?”

  “Go nuts, Amos,” said Elke. “I trust you.”

  “Yeah, we saw the inside of your apartment,” said Frankie. “You have great taste.”

  “Why, thank you,” said Amos.

  Elke had arrived at the box of donuts, which was closed on the conference table. She opened it up with fanfare. “Sugar time!”

  “I want one of the cream filled ones,” said Amos. “You better not take them all.”

  “You should have first pick,” said Frankie.

  “Absolutely,” said Elke, smiling at him. “We’re so glad to have you back.”

  Amos reached in and snatched out a donut.

  “Now,” said Frankie, picking up one of the glazed donuts, “what do you think about the section on the crime? Should we include the blow-by-blow or not?”

  * * *

  “On that Friday night,” Elke’s voice rang out, “there was no reason to think that anything different might happen.” The room wasn’t particularly big. It was actually a conference room in the courthouse, usually used for lawyers to confer with their clients. But today, it had contained the Conviction Correction Panel, who sat at long tables set up in a horseshoe. Even though the room was small, there was a bit of an echo whenever Elke spoke, probably owing to the fact that the floor was tile and the walls were unadorned. All the sound bounced off the smooth surfaces. “It was as typical a Friday night as you could ask.

  “The only thing that might have made it feel different,” Elke continued, “was the fact that it was only the third Friday that the Mukherjee family had spent in their new house. Though they had begun unpacking, and they had most of their clothes in their closets and their sheets on their beds, they were still living out of boxes for the most part. But like any Friday night, Saanvi Mukherjee went out with her boyfriend Kevin Greene. And her parents spent the evening as they usually would, relaxing. Dr. Abeer Mukherjee stayed up late, but his wife Tempest went to bed. At some point, Abeer wandered into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He got out everything that he needed and spread it out on the counter.”

  Elke paused, and then she set the scene. “A loaf of bread. Cold cuts and cheese. Mayonnaise. Lettuce. They were all sitting in front of him when he heard a noise.”

  She paused again, giving them all a moment. “At first Abeer probably thought it was his wife. Or maybe he thought it was Saanvi coming home early from her date with Kevin. But soon, he knew differently, when either Zachary Wheeler or Joseph Chapman came up behind him and jammed the barrel of a gun painfully into Abeer’s chin. A voice snarled in Abeer’s ear. ‘Keep your mouth shut, baby killer.’”

  Elke surveyed the panel. “Abeer wouldn’t have known what to do, but he would have realized that this had something to do with the scandal at his job. Abeer had been helping girls at the college who had nowhere to turn. They came to him, told them of their unwanted pregnancies, and he pointed them to a community resource—Planned Parenthood. He had done it with their best interests at heart, but some didn’t see what he had done as noble or helpful. Some people were very, very angry with him. Even still, Abeer would have had no idea how far things were about to go that night. He would have done what he was told, hoping that if he was cooperative, the man would leave.

  “Imagine the sinking feeling he must have had when he was herded into the living room, only to see that his wife had been brought there too by another man with a gun. He would have wanted to save her, to do anything to keep her from being harmed. This was the woman he loved, the mother of his child, and he was helpless to do anything except what these men told him to do.

  “They forced him to open the safe he kept with his gun in it. The safe was usually kept in his bedroom, but it hadn’t been put it in its proper place yet, because the family was still moving in. This house they had purchased, where they dreamed of spending years together, family gatherings at Christmas, perhaps grandchildren running around in their new backyard, this house would never be lived in by the Mukherjee family. It would be sold to cover Saanvi Mukherjee’s legal costs when she was falsely accused of a crime she didn’t commit. But at that moment, Abeer’s fate wasn’t yet set, and ther
e was still hope, still that promise of a future in that house, with his gun to protect his wife, instead of having it turned on him and Tempest.”

  Elke took a deep breath. “Zachary Wheeler and Joseph Chapman made it clear to Abeer and Tempest what they’d done. They were a symbol of everything these two men hated, and they wanted to make an example of them. They sat them on the couch and shot them down as if they were in front of a firing squad. But first, they would have told them that they didn’t deserve better. Not only were they facilitating abortions, which Wheeler and Chapman found abhorrent, but they were a mixed-race couple, and that was an abomination in these men’s eyes. They killed out of hate and righteous anger. They were brazen, because they didn’t truly think what they did was wrong. In the eyes of Wheeler and Chapman, Abeer and Tempest weren’t human. They were mongrels.

  “And that,” she continued, “is why they didn’t bother cleaning up after themselves when they left. They wanted the world to see what they’d done. They wanted it to be like a lynching in the town square, and so they left the bodies right where they’d been shot. They didn’t realize that they’d left traces of their DNA behind. They thought they could get away clean. But then… one of them must have felt some kind of twinge, some kind of guilt, because before they left, they switched off the light in the living room. So that Saanvi and Kevin didn’t see the spatters of blood when they came home later. They tiptoed past the bodies in the living room and were none the wiser.

  “But later, when Saanvi found the bodies, that was only the beginning of her nightmare. She had lost her parents, but now she would lose her freedom, and Kevin would as well. Because justice was not done when these two were convicted. They are innocent, and they had no part of the deaths of Abeer and Tempest.”

  Elke clasped her hands together. “Now, of course, we can’t be sure if the events of that evening are exactly as I have recounted them to you today. We will never know exactly how Abeer and Tempest spent their last moments. Only Wheeler and Chapman know that, and they will be facing trial for what they have done. We can’t undo what they did to Saanvi. We can’t give her back her parents. We can’t even give her back the years she spent in prison for a crime she didn’t commit, nor can we restore those years to Kevin. We can only do one thing, and that is to set them free immediately, to give them whatever years they may have left. To allow them to walk into the sunlight and start what is left of their lives. And that is what we must do. There is simply no other alternative.”