Shades of Passion

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE NEXT DAY, SIMON interviewed Davenport at the SFPD while his attorney watched on. When Simon first walked into the small interrogation room, he did so with trepidation. He was afraid his personal feelings for Nina would prevent him from keeping his cool. That he’d want to hurt Davenport the same way the other man had hurt Nina. Not just in the recent past, but every year that he’d sent Nina a card, shattering her attempts to move on and live a happy life by reminding her again and again of his daughter’s death, and the fact Davenport held her responsible for it.

Instead, as he sat across from the man, noting how pale and subdued and pathetically small he looked, Simon’s anger was somehow transformed into the same professional calm that always served him well during interrogations. He began the interview by asking preliminary questions about Davenport’s date of birth, place of residence and employer. Sure, Davenport was calm and cooperative now, but he had no doubt that would change once Simon started asking him the tough questions. As such, he was glad Nina wouldn’t be around to hear whatever ugly accusations soon came out of Davenport’s mouth.

Though she’d insisted on coming with him to the station, and had already identified Davenport’s mug shot, confirming he was indeed the man whose daughter had died in her care and who had been sending her threatening cards, she hadn’t even argued with Simon when he’d asked her to wait in the lobby during the interview. In a way, the ease with which she’d given in bothered him. It indicated more than anything else that she was still a little shell-shocked and not quite ready to deal with the full realities of the situation.

Still, he’d promised to keep her updated on their progress and he was going to keep that promise. Right now, however, he needed to get as much information out of Davenport as he could. Between Nina’s testimony, and the fact Simon had caught him red-handed in Nina’s house, had had to chase him down and had had to disarm him, convictions for making unlawful threats, burglary and resisting arrest were pretty much in the bag. However, the same couldn’t be said for pinning him with the murders of Cann and John Hastings, the man and the second murder victim whose identity they’d discovered early that morning.

His preliminary questions over, Simon continued to stare at Davenport until the man squirmed. Then he stood, deliberately using his height to make the man look up at him. “Mr. Davenport, you’ve said you live and work in Charleston, South Carolina. Let’s talk about when you arrived in California and why you’re here.”

Davenport looked at his attorney, who nodded, indicating he should go ahead and answer. “I drove here over the course of several days. I arrived yesterday morning.”

“Did anyone accompany you on the trip?”

“No.”

Of course not. So unless Davenport had some proof, such as gasoline records, it was only his word that he hadn’t been in the state before yesterday. “Tell me, was the sole purpose of your cross-country trip to break into Dr. Whitaker’s house?”

Again, Davenport looked at his attorney. And again, his attorney indicated he could answer. “I didn’t come to break into her house. I wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

“Yet you did break into her house. And you were carrying a gun with you. Do you always do that when you plan on talking to someone?” Simon asked. “Or only when you plan on talking to someone you’ve been sending threatening cards to? Someone you blame for your daughter’s suicide?”

“She is to blame for Beth’s death,” Davenport hissed. “And the cards I’ve sent her were only meant to remind her of that. Beth’s gone and I have to live with that loss every day of my life. Why should she get to move on with her life when I can’t?”

Because she did everything she could to save your daughter after you obviously screwed her up, Simon thought, but he managed to keep those words to himself. “What else have you done to remind her of her guilt, as you see it?”

Davenport blinked. “Nothing.”

Simon cocked a brow. “Perhaps I should rephrase my question then. Assuming you’re telling the truth about not arriving in San Francisco until yesterday morning, who did you hire to terrorize Dr. Whitaker this past week?”

Davenport’s brows furrowed. He glanced at his attorney, who wore a similar expression, then turned back to Simon. “What are you talking about? I haven’t hired anyone to do anything.”

Simon stared at the man, his stomach clenching at the man’s expression and tone of voice. If he didn’t know better, he’d be tempted to believe him. No, this guy was one of the best liars Simon had ever met. But he wasn’t buying it. He leaned forward. “You didn’t leave Dr. Whitaker a typed letter outside her front door telling her she was going to die? Didn’t kill her cat and leave it in her car? Didn’t kill two homeless men and carve a message into the back of one of them?”

Davenport’s eyes bulged out. “Wh-what? What are you talking about? No!”

“Mr. Davenport,” his attorney spoke up. “Please don’t answer any more questions unless I give you the okay to do so.” The man then turned to Simon. “What’s going on here, Detective? My client’s been arrested for burglary, assault on a police officer and possessing an unlawful firearm. Mutilation and murder of either an animal or a human isn’t on the table, as far as I know.”

“Not yet,” Simon gritted out, “but it’s gonna be. We have strong circumstantial evidence that your client is responsible for the deaths of two men.”

“You’re crazy!” Davenport shouted. “Crazy. I haven’t killed anyone.”

“But you were intending on killing Dr. Whitaker, weren’t you? Isn’t that why you drove to California? Broke into her house with a gun? Vandalized her home with your daughter’s initials and left that bear with the pink ribbon for her to find...”

“What?” Davenport’s complexion seemed to pale several shades. “No. No, I didn’t do any of that. I—”

“Mr. Davenport,” his attorney began, but Davenport cut him off.

“No, I won’t be quiet. I didn’t do any of those things. Her front door was unlocked. I let myself in, but only because I wanted to talk to her. And okay, I wanted to scare her a little. But I didn’t leave Beth’s initials or any damn doll. I—I wouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to her. Tell her I knew what she was trying to do. That she was trying to convince people she’d helped that other girl, Rebecca Hyatt, but that I knew the truth, me and that reporter. That’s why I came to California, so I could—”

“Reporter?” Simon interrupted. “A reporter called you about Rebecca Hyatt? When?”

“Last week.”

“What was his name?”

“I—I don’t know. I can’t remember. Shannon something. From the San Francisco Reporter. He told me that a girl had almost died because of Dr. Whitaker.”

Simon snorted with patent disbelief. “That’s a real convenient story, Davenport. But there’s no newspaper called the San Francisco Reporter.”

Davenport looked confused. A little scared. “What? Well, then he lied about where he worked.”

Simon pierced Davenport with a glare. “I totally agree someone’s a liar, Davenport, but I think that person’s you. But if you’re going to keep to your story, why don’t you tell me exactly what this phantom reporter told you.”

* * *

WHILE SIMON INTERVIEWED Davenport, Nina sat in the station lobby and tried to read old magazines to pass the time. Eventually, however, after reading the same paragraph five times, she gave up. She sat there for what seemed like hours, staring at the dingy walls and entering an almost meditative state before Commander Stevens stepped up to her.

“Dr. Whitaker?”

Nina jerked to attention. “Yes?” She stood, looking for Simon. “Is the interview over?”

“Not quite yet. Simon is still in with Davenport, trying to wrap up a few loose ends. He asked me to tell you he should be out soon.”

“Did—did he get the information you need?”

“Some of it. Davenport confessed to sending you a threatening card and breaking into your house, but that’s it. It’s to be expected,” Stevens reassured her. “He’s copping to those crimes since we already have the evidence we need to charge him with them. I’m not at all surprised he hasn’t copped to the others, especially since he has an attorney. They’ll wait to see what the DA charges him with and what kind of deal he’s willing to offer prior to trial.”

“But will the DA have enough to charge him with the other things? Killing my cat? Killing those two men?”

“The initials he left on the man and in your house are circumstantial evidence. We’re still working on tracking down his movements. He claims he drove here and didn’t arrive in California until yesterday morning. If we can confirm he was actually in the city when the victims were killed, it should be enough to charge him. Of course, the DA will want more before he’s actually brought to trial, and we’ll continue working on getting it for him. Unfortunately, we’re going to need your help for a while longer.”

Nina’s eyes widened. “In what way?”

“According to Simon, you and he already discussed why Davenport might have targeted the two men that he did. However, he also said he hasn’t had a chance to talk about those two men in detail, and explore whether you might have met them or otherwise know anything about them or their treatment histories.”

“No. We discussed some things yesterday. Some of his theories, and the victims in general. But he—he hasn’t had a chance to talk to me about them in detail yet. He said he’d speak to me after he was done with Davenport.”

Stevens nodded. “Yes, well, I’d prefer another investigator go through things with you.”

“Why?”

“Frankly, to cover ourselves. It’s clear to me that you and Detective Granger have become...friends...and it would just be simpler all the way around if he wasn’t the detective to take your official statement. Do you have any objection to Jase Tyler or Carrie Ward taking care of that?”

She hesitated and stared at Stevens. All of a sudden, she was hit by a vague sense of discomfort. As if she needed to be wary of this man. But why? What he was saying made perfect sense. And it wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. Still, she’d have felt better if Simon was here. So he could watch her back, so to speak. But that was exactly the kind of thing Stevens was trying to prevent. He didn’t want there to be any appearance of favoritism or bias in case Davenport tried to fight the charges against him.

So even though she’d remain on her guard, she needed to do what Stevens asked. She tipped up her chin. “Do I need an attorney?”

“No. You’re not under suspicion for any crime, Dr. Whitaker,” Stevens said. “You’re not under arrest and you’re free to leave at any time. We just need to explore what you might know that can connect you to Mr. Cann and Mr. Hastings, the two men to each other or more important, either of the two men to Davenport.”

“Mr. Hastings. That’s the second murder victim? You’ve identified him?”

“Yes.”

“Simon said both murder victims were homeless. Have you informed their families?”

“Mr. Cann’s family was contacted weeks ago. As to Mr. Hastings, we’re trying to track them down right now.”

Nina thought about things then took a calming breath. “Okay. I’m happy to tell you what I might know, but I doubt it will help. As I told Simon, I’ve never worked with the homeless population, certainly not since moving to San Francisco. But first...can I see Lester Davenport? Is that possible?”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“I knew him before he was suffering from guilt-induced crisis. I also had some interaction with him after Beth’s suicide. I’m a psychiatrist. Trained in interpreting behavior and emotional states.”

“Any conclusions you form about Davenport in this case can’t be used by us in any formal capacity, and that includes at trial. You’re one of his victims. As such, you’ll be deemed a biased witness.”

“I realize that. But you see, like I said, I knew him. Not well, but even so, even knowing how much he grieved his daughter and blamed me for her death, I would never have thought him capable of violence. Not like this.”

“Would you have suspected he’d threaten you, even break into your house with a gun?”

“No,” she said truthfully.

“Yet you saw for yourself that he did do that.”

“Yes, but murder? Mutilation? That’s far different. I just want to see him. Observe him when he doesn’t know I’m there. I might be able to offer you something useful, even if it’s nothing that can be used against him in court.”

Stevens pondered what she’d said for several minutes, then nodded. “Come with me. You can watch the tail end of Simon’s interview from a one-way mirror.”

He led her to a small room with a window that looked into another small room. There, Simon sat at a long table. On the other end of the table sat a pony-tailed man in a blazer, and Lester Davenport.

Davenport was shackled to a metal chair, his forehead on the scarred metal table in front of him, his sobs echoing through the interrogation room. Despite herself, despite all the things Simon suspected he’d done, Nina’s heart ached with sympathy for the man.

“Has he said anything about me?” she asked Stevens.

Stevens hesitated, and Nina reassured him, “It’s okay. I’ve heard him blame me for Beth’s death for a long time now. I’m just wondering if his accusations have remained consistent or if he’s started to remember the past in a skewed way. That would give me some insight into his current mental state.”

“He told Simon that you were responsible for his daughter’s death because your staff knew she was suicidal, yet you let her boyfriend give her a teddy bear with a long length of ribbon tied around its neck into a bow. He said that although your staff confiscated the bear, they failed to notice that Beth secreted the ribbon in her mouth. And he said that she used that ribbon to hang herself.”

“That’s exactly what happened,” she said. “So he’s in touch with reality.”

“He said you weren’t actually at the hospital at the time, though.”

“That’s right.”

“Yet he blames you so strongly.”

“Because I’d told him that Beth was getting better. That I didn’t think she’d make another attempt on her life as long as she continued to improve the way she had. I was obviously wrong.”

“You mean because you couldn’t predict the future with perfect accuracy, you’re to blame?”

“In his mind, yes.”

“And in your mind?”

She startled and looked up at the commander. “Logically I know I’m not to blame. But I still can’t help wondering if I could have done more to get through to Beth. Aren’t you plagued by such doubts at times?”

“Of course. We all are. I just hope you remember that.”

She smiled slightly. Commander Stevens was obviously trying to do the right thing by having someone other than Simon interview her, but he was compassionate about her situation, as well. He was just being objective, like he’d said. That went a long way in getting her to trust him again.

The interview concluded less than two minutes later without giving Nina much of an opportunity to observe Davenport. Stevens escorted her out of the room. As they walked farther down the hallway, she asked, “Despite what he believes about Davenport, Simon has said I shouldn’t assume I’m safe now. Do you agree? Because I’d like to go home. Get on with my life.”

“Does that include the shadow program with Simon?”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to continue the program. I’ve seen enough, and I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to you that, while I find your men to have a basic understanding of mental illness consumers and de-escalation techniques, there is ample room for improvement. As such, I will be recommending SFPD and other city law enforcement undergo the MHIT training. Of course, I can shadow Simon or another detective a few more times if you insist but—”

“No,” Stevens said. “You’ve done what I asked. If you think you have enough information to make your recommendation, I believe you. And as far as getting back to your home? Your life? I agree with Simon. We need to proceed cautiously here. However, between last night and today, the techs should have already processed your house. If you feel strongly about it, you can return home as soon as you’re done here.”

She nodded. “Great. Then I’d prefer to give my statement to Jase or Carrie as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Stevens said. “Jase is waiting for you right now.”

Stevens escorted her to another room. There, Jase greeted her in a more subdued and professional manner than normal. It set the stage. Made Nina face the fact that her friendly interactions with Simon and his team were indeed coming to an end. Methodically, Jase told her about Cann and Hastings. He showed her sanitized photos and urged her to try to remember if she’d had contact with either of them, or if she’d ever heard Davenport talk about them.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t recognize them. I’ve never met them. You can always double-check what I’m saying by checking patient records at the hospital, see if they were ever admitted there, but other than that, I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sorry.”

Jase nodded and made some notes. “That’s a good idea. Looks like both men have lived in the city for the past few years. I’ll check with the hospital records clerk. They won’t give me any confidential information, of course, but whether a particular person has ever been a patient there should be something they can—”

Both of them jumped as the door to the interview room suddenly banged open.

From the open doorway, Simon glared at them. “What the hell is going on here?” he growled.

Jase looked at him calmly. “Take it easy, Simon. I was just asking Nina a few questions, trying to see if she could tell us anything about Mr. Cann or Mr. Hastings, or how she or Davenport might be connected to them.”

“And who the hell told you to do that? The Cann and Hastings cases are mine. And DeMarco’s. You have no business taking over my interviews.”

“Stevens made it my business. He wanted to make sure she was interviewed by someone objective. Just to cover our asses from accusations of preferential treatment. You two have been working together. Hell, she helped you find that little girl. It’s in the press. If you want charges against Davenport to be rock-solid, we need to think two steps ahead of his attorneys.”

“Fine. If Stevens didn’t want me interviewing her, why not DeMarco?”

“DeMarco went home. He has some kind of bug. But you’re overreacting, Simon. I help you with cases all the time. Some reason you don’t want me helping on this one?”

“I don’t like the way you and Stevens went behind my back. You waited until I was busy with Davenport to pull her in here.”

“Simon,” Nina interjected. “It’s okay. Commander Stevens explained and—”

“Are you done here?” he interrupted, clearly addressing Jase.

“Yeah. We just finished up.”

Simon nodded. Looked at Nina. “Let’s go.”

* * *

AS HE DROVE NINA BACK to his house, Simon knew he was overreacting.

He trusted Stevens and Jase. He knew they trusted him.

Having Jase interview Nina about what she might know about Cann and Hastings had made sense. If he’d still been captain and one of his men had been in his position, he’d have maneuvered things the same way.

He knew all that. So why was he feeling so off balance and pissed? As if his own team had posed a danger to Nina when she’d already had enough to deal with as it was?

“Do you want to talk about it?” Nina asked.

He glanced at her as she sat beside him. “About what?”

“Your doubts that Davenport committed these murders.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“I watched you questioning Davenport for the last five minutes of your interview. He denied killing those men and I could tell part of you believed him.”

“Part of me found him persuasive,” he corrected. “A persuasive liar. There’s a difference.”

“But there’s part of you that believes he might be telling the truth, isn’t there? Or part of you that’s willing to consider it?”

He forced back his automatic denial. Forced himself to be the straight shooter he’d consistently told her he was. “Yeah,” he said finally. “There is. At least until I have more, something to connect him to the two men that were murdered, some part of me has to consider that his role in all of this is limited. The theory that I posed, that he’s trying to kill the mental illness that killed his daughter, is a legitimate one, but it’s just that, a theory. And Davenport...well, now that I’ve met him...now that I’ve actually talked with him...”

“He doesn’t seem smart enough to have pulled off these murders?” Nina nodded. “I’m afraid I have to agree.”

“Everything points to him having done it. But a chain of evidence is almost never this clean. It almost seems like he’s being set up. Again, I’m not saying I believe that. Eighty percent of me thinks he’s good for the Cann and Hastings murders.”

“But twenty percent of you doesn’t. And you’re not willing to risk that the real murderer is still out there. That’s why you’re taking me back to your house, right? Why you don’t want me to go back to my place yet?”

“Do you want to go back to your place?”

“I should. I need to get a more secure security system installed. I mean, I know DeMarco put in a good one, but Davenport managed to get around it. I really want something better. Something befitting Fort Knox would be good.”

He smiled slightly. “We’ll arrange for that. I can call Lana’s father, Gil Archer. He runs one of the top security firms in the city, remember? As for you going back home? I’m not sure if the evidence techs have fully processed the house yet. Besides, I didn’t ask if you should go back to your place. I asked whether you want to go back there.”

She paused, then said, “No. I don’t want to go back there. Not yet.”

He looked at her. “Good.” After a few seconds had passed, he reached out and placed a hand on her leg. The gesture was both comforting and arousing. “Then you’ll stay at my house again.” He squeezed her leg, and fire settled low in her core. Good God, did her body respond to Simon Granger’s touch.

As if sensing her reaction, Simon grinned and murmured, “I’ll cook you dinner. Put you in bed. Let you get some sleep.”

Nina recalled how Davenport had looked in that interrogation room. She still felt sad, but she refused to wallow in it. Simon was right. They couldn’t be certain that Davenport had killed Cann and Hastings, but it was the only possible explanation so far.

In the end, however, it was up to Simon, not Nina, to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. Stevens had been right about Nina’s inability to be completely objective when it came to evaluating Davenport the way a doctor should. She was his victim, and she’d have to leave the assessments and his treatment to someone else. In the meantime, she refused to deprive herself of whatever happiness she could find, no matter how temporary it might be.

She turned until she faced Simon. “I’ll go home with you. But only if you promise you won’t let me sleep.”