Beside me, Gracie’s body is stiff with tension.
“I usually like to watch a little bit of late-night news,” Isaac says, from his chair. He didn’t bother to watch the video with us, which makes me think he’s watched it plenty. “But that night I was already in bed, and not fast enough getting out of it when those gunshots went off. Lucky for me. Otherwise I’d have been standing in that window. That fella and me would have met eye to eye. He’d have known that I had him pegged.”
“Why didn’t you give this video to the cops!” Gracie’s voice cracks with frustration.
“You just keep watching, there.” Isaac shifts the curtain to peer out at the parking lot.
She shakes her head with frustration, but refocuses her attention on the screen, as we wait.
Barely a minute later, we get our answer. The same SUV from the Lucky Nine drug bust—or something similar—speeds into the parking lot, lights flashing.
Mantis and Stapley jump out and move straight for Room 116 to kick in the door.
Two minutes later a police cruiser comes racing in. Stapley meets them at the threshold, holding them back with a raised hand and some words.
“Let me guess: that’s where he’s telling them that Canning has ordered that no one step inside,” I mutter. What a perfect cover for Mantis.
A second and third police cruiser roll in.
And suddenly the video cuts out.
“I wanted to see what my little camera had caught, so I went back a bit. When I saw your daddy walk into that room and not walk back out . . . I had a damn good idea about exactly what I’d caught.”
Gracie’s body was already tense by the time we watched Abe stroll up to 116 to push into the room, badge and gun in hand. Because Isaac’s recording started twenty-five minutes before, when Mantis appeared. We watched him hand cash and a phone to a hooker who’d ducked out of a room and was heading toward her car. She made a call.
A call, I’m betting, to Abe, on the phone found on Hernandez.
It’d take about twenty minutes to get to The Lucky Nine from Abe’s old house. Twenty-five by the time Abe said goodbye to Dina and collected his Colt .45 from his safe.
Mantis sent that hooker scurrying away at a fast pace, the fear in her face telling me his words were laced with sharp warning. And then Mantis, his hand laden with a small navy-blue gym bag, knocked on 116. Someone opened the door; Mantis went in and didn’t come out until after the gunshots were fired.
He was the only person who ever came out.
“I recognized that cop. He was the same one that night of the bust, tossin’ that bag into his car window. I gave your daddy that recording and he was gonna do something about it. I ain’t stupid. I could see what was goin’ on,” Isaac mutters. “And then that cop comes knockin’ on my door with a pad of paper, looking for witnesses?” He scoffs. “More like to shut up witnesses. I wasn’t about to give him that video. So I shook my head and said, ‘No, sir. I didn’t see a thing. Have yourself a good night, sir.’ I figured I’d wait for someone else to come around, someone I could trust, before I turned over that video.” He pauses. “No one else came.”
“But you knew my father was innocent and you sat on this for fourteen years?” Gracie cries out, tears in her eyes.
“And I also knew he was dead, and nothing would be bringing him back. Besides, I like my body not riddled with bullet holes, thank you very much.” Isaac says that with confidence, but he averts his gaze to the floor. I sense a hint of shame hiding beneath that exterior. “Like I said, I was waitin’ for the right person to come by, askin’. And you finally came.”
Gracie’s phone rings. Two seconds into her conversation, I can tell it’s Kristian on the other end. He’s here and he’s looking for us.
“We can take this, right?” I hold up the jump drive.
“You can take that. You can take the original DVD, too. I’ve got that one in a safety deposit box at the bank. You never can be too careful, ’specially around here.”
My eyes roam over the small room again. “So you’ve lived here for . . .”
“Goin’ on twenty years. What can I say? I lead a simple life. Do my own thing. People don’t bother me and I don’t bother them, and that’s how I like it.” A hard knock sounds on the door and Isaac lifts the curtain to peek past. His face twists with displeasure. “Well, there he is again.”
Gracie opens the door and Klein strolls in, closely followed by Tareen.
“I see you’ve met the owner of this fine establishment,” Klein says, giving Isaac a once-over.
My mouth drops open. Owner?
Klein shakes his head at the old man. “Don’t know nothing about nothing, hey?”
“I suddenly remembered somethin’.”
Klein jabs a finger toward Isaac, his aloof mask cracking to show irritation. “I’m going to nail you for obstruction of—”
“Kristian! Forget that!” Gracie snaps, smacking his arm to gain his attention. “He has a video of the night my father died. We have proof. We have Mantis!”
Klein’s threats die on his lips as they curl into that arrogant smile. But behind it, I see satisfaction. And relief.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s see it.”
* * *
Silas hits the power button on the television to shut off the latest news, throwing the kitchen into silence. “That’s enough about that.” He pushes his half-eaten breakfast of eggs and bacon away and rubs his weary face. These past couple of weeks have aged him five years. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and he probably hasn’t, not with the media frenzy that’s taken over after the FBI arrested Mantis and Stapley, with charges for everything from murder, to conspiracy to commit murder, to a dozen other crimes.
Abe’s story has grabbed statewide attention. We’ve had to sequester ourselves inside the house to avoid persistent reporters camped outside, hoping to talk to Chief Jackie Marshall’s son.
Wait until they discover that Abraham Wilkes’s daughter is with me.
“Well, if there’s one good thing that’s come from all of this, it’s that your mother isn’t anywhere on that video,” Silas mutters.
“But we still don’t know why she had that bag of money and Abe’s holster.” I thought I’d feel more relief once Mantis and Stapley were caught. But this disquiet persists.
“Have the FBI told you anything?”
“Nothing.” Klein’s shut us out completely and, from the sounds of it, the FBI is no longer collaborating with the APD. If they ever really were to begin with.
“Well, maybe Mantis or Stapley can fill in some gaps.”
Gracie tosses a treat to Cyclops. “I wouldn’t trust any explanation those two give.”
Silas drums the table with his fingers. “What about the search for Gracie’s aunt?”
“They had a lead the other day, but it turned out to be false.” It was painful, watching the hope bloom on Gracie’s face, only to have it crumble.
Silas pats my hand and then, with a heavy sigh, stands. “I best be getting into the office. You need to stay away from there for the time being. It’s a zoo. We’re getting grilled from every direction. We’ll talk about your return to work once this all settles.”
“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t imagine going back to work right now; my head is still swimming with unanswered questions.
With a nod toward Gracie, Silas limps down the hall and out the front door.
“What if they get off?” She turns green eyes toward me and I see the fear in them. “What if they find some loophole, or mistake, or some way to make that video inadmissible?”
I settle a hand on the back of Gracie’s neck. It’s taut with tension, just like mine.
“You can’t think like that.”
“That’s all I’ve been able to think,” she admits.