“Suicide by cop.”
I nodded. I could see the cogs turning behind Niki’s brow, trying to connect the death of Ben Pruitt to my new investigation. “After Pruitt’s death, Boady Sanden became the executor of Pruitt’s law practice. He was responsible for shutting it down, returning retainer money, closing files, that kind of thing. When he was going through Pruitt’s cases, he came across Ray Kroll’s file. When Boady opened the file, he saw Jenni’s name written inside the cover.”
“Kroll was Pruitt’s source,” Niki said. “That’s how Pruitt knew about Jenni’s death.”
I nodded again. “I think Kroll might have been blackmailing someone. That’s the only reason I can think of why Kroll kept the evidence all these years—as proof of the crime. There was a CD in the file. It was a recording of a telephone conversation. Two men. They were talking about Jenni’s murder. They were planning it.”
Niki sat back and mouthed, “Holy shit.”
“I suspect that one of the men on the CD is Kroll. He probably recorded the conversation as insurance. Making sure he didn’t become the fall guy in Jenni’s murder. Or, maybe he saw this as a way to make some money. I don’t know.”
“Where’s Kroll now?”
“He got into a bar fight not long after Jenni’s death. Charged with first-degree assault. That’s the case Pruitt represented him on. He spent some time in jail before bailing out. The assault case never went to trial because someone put a bullet in Kroll’s head. They found his body on the bank of the river in St. Paul.”
“Maybe he used the recording to raise the bail money.”
“That’d be my guess. Kroll was a thug who needed one hundred grand in bail money. A guy like that isn’t rolling cash. How else could he afford that kind of bail and a high-priced lawyer like Pruitt?”
“You said you think Kroll is one of the voices on the CD.”
“Yes.”
“Is the voice on the CD distinctive? I mean, could you identify him if you heard it again, even if it was only a word or two?”
“I think so.”
“If Kroll gave a statement as part of his assault case, we’ll have his voice.”
“I’m way ahead of you,” I said. “There’s no statement—not in any of his cases.”
Niki leaned back in her seat. “Let me think on that. There has to be a way to find his voice. YouTube? Internet?”
“I checked.”
“Does Kroll’s file give you any motive? I mean, why would he kill Jenni? What’s the connection?”
“In that phone conversation, one of the guys says that they’re killing a cop’s wife because she knows something she’s not supposed to know. The fact that she was a cop’s wife was secondary. All this time, I’ve been operating under the assumption that Jenni died because of me—because of someone I busted or pissed off. But that wasn’t it.”
“What do you think she knew?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m trying to re-create Jenni’s life from back then—trying to understand what she was doing.”
“Farrah McKinney?”
“That’s my starting point.” I told Niki what I’d learned about Zoya and that day in the hospital. “My best theory so far is that Zoya was being trafficked and Jenni got in the middle of it somehow.”
“Does Zoya have any connection to Kroll?”
“Not yet, but something else came from our talk. There’s this Jane Doe case I worked before your time. She had a tattoo.” I tapped behind my ear. “Here, on her neck.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out Farrah’s drawing. “Ms. McKinney gave this to me. It’s a drawing of a tattoo Zoya had on her neck. I think my Jane Doe had the same tattoo. It might be an odd coincidence, but then again . . .”
Niki nodded her understanding “We should take a look at Jane Doe,” she said.
“There might be a connection.”
“What do we do about Briggs?” she asked.
I gave that question a couple seconds of thought, and then said, “Briggs is still in the dark about most of Fireball’s case. I say we keep him there until we figure out his angle. Let him hover but don’t give him any details—not yet. We let him maneuver, but do our best to keep him outside the circle.”
CHAPTER 12
I am an asshole—Niki was right. I am a bastard and an idiot. I knew these things to be true, and her words echoed in my head as we made our way back to the Homicide Unit. Against my better judgment, I made her an accomplice to my professional suicide. The smile on her face and glint in her eye told me she was all in. If I allowed it, she would see this through to the end, no matter the cost.
I’m an asshole because I let her think that we were a team. Butch and Sundance charging forward against all odds. She didn’t know that I lied to her. I had to. This wasn’t a noble charge, it was a freefall. We were plunging toward Earth and only one of us knew it—the one without a parachute. I knew then, that when the time came, I would have to pull the cord on her chute and leave her behind. She would never forgive me, but I would never forgive myself if I took her down with me.
We got to the door of the Homicide Unit and she paused and nodded as if to say, “Here we go.” Then we went in.
Niki and I no sooner sat down at our desks when the door to Lieutenant Briggs’s office swung open. I looked at Niki and she rolled her eyes. He sauntered up to the opening of our shared cubicle like some bored coworker hoping to shoot the breeze. Briggs never just wanted to shoot the breeze.
“I hear you two have a hot one going.”
I saw the joke—hot one—burned minivan. I didn’t play along. “Actually, it was about twenty below zero this morning.” I looked at Niki and she nodded as if this were a serious discussion of the weather.
“Even colder than that, if you count the wind chill,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, “but luckily, there wasn’t that much wind.”
“There was a little bit of a breeze. I could feel it on my face.”
Briggs interrupted our shtick. “I hear that some guy ended up in the hospital with burns? Is he your suspect?”
“We’re looking for surveillance footage from the area,” I said, ignoring his question. I heard Niki pick up her phone and dial.
“Got an ID on the guy yet?” Briggs asked.
I was pretty sure that Briggs knew full well who we had in the hospital. “We’re working on a few things,” I said. Not an answer, but true nonetheless. “What brings you in on a holiday?” I asked, trying to turn the table.
“Just catching up on some stuff,” he said, not answering my question either.
“Has he said anything?” Briggs asked. “You take a statement?”
“Not yet, but that reminds me. I need to call the hospital to see if he’s conscious.” I picked up my phone and dialed the number for my own landline phone at home.
“What’s his—”