“Thinking like a true conspiracy theorist.” Lexis accepted the shoe box. “Who delivered them?”
“Standard courier. He’s delivered to me before. And I called his dispatcher. The package was dropped at the courier’s office early this morning. Paid in cash.”
Lexis adjusted her glasses and studied the box of letters. “I did a little reading up on Annie Rivers Dawson after your television debut. She’d been married less than seven months at the time of her death. Her newborn was five days old. I don’t know much about her husband.”
“I’ve done a little digging too and have a list of people I need to talk to. Annie’s husband, Bill Dawson, is top of the list.”
“Do you really think someone out there is trying to help you?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve touched a nerve.”
Lexis removed the lid but did not touch the letters. “Be careful, Rachel. When secrets have been buried a long time there are people that don’t want them dug up.”
“I hear you,” Rachel said. “And I’ll be careful. When do you think you can get to the letters?”
“Later today. As soon as my office hours are over I’ll head to my home office where I have all my equipment.”
“What about a baseline for Annie’s handwriting?”
“I’ll find one.”
Caution crept up her nerves like an early warning system. “I might need to defend the source in court.”
“Won’t be a problem.” Lexis reached for another cigarette. “What do you think you’ll find?”
“The real killer’s name would be nice.”
Lexis laughed. “You think you could be that lucky?”
“I’m due for some luck.”
“Aren’t we all?”
October 28
Sugar,
My heart just about jumped out of my chest . . . Pow, Zap, Zing! You said the L-word while you were cuddled up to me last night. I pretended to be asleep, but I heard that soft sweet voice in my ear. “I love you, Annie.”
Well, I love you too, Sugar. And no matter what, you and I are gonna be stuck together like glue. You never got to worry about me leaving you.
A.
Chapter Four
Friday, October 14, 1 PM
The heat of his boss’s glare scraped against Deke’s skin. When he worked the streets, survival often relied on a gut feeling, a glance, or a glare. Days on the streets were never predictable, always edgy, but there’d been a freedom he’d liked. He was back in a conventional unit, taking briefings, writing reports, but was still judging angry glowers not from snitches and drug dealers but bosses. Shoving aside annoyance, he looked up.
Captain Harry Saunders was a big man whose wide shoulders and tall stature all but ate up door frames. When he walked, the floor vibrated. When he smacked a fist against your desk, pictures rattled. A not too gentle giant, he was a real hard case who rarely minced words.
“Captain.” Deke closed the file and studied the older man’s deep frown lines. “That’s not your happy face.”
Gray eyes narrowed as he advanced a step into Deke’s office. “It sure as shit is not my happy face. It’s my irritated face.”
Deke folded his arms, unaffected by his boss’s ire, and yet still respectful enough to keep his thoughts to himself. “Why are you irritated?”
“You didn’t see the news last night? That damn woman is making us look like fools.”
“Rachel Wainwright. No, didn’t see the news but I was on hand to witness the live performance.”
Saunders placed large hands on his thick waist. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
Deke rose. “She’s got the right to free speech.”
“She’s trouble.” Captain Saunders all but spat the words.
“No doubt. But she’s an attorney and she had an assembly permit that gave her the right to publicly say her peace.”
“Doesn’t mean anyone wants to hear her opinion. Shit, the way I see it she’s pissing on your daddy’s memory.”
They’d gone round and round on this since Deke had put through the DNA request. “Buddy can stand up to a little heat.”
“Yeah. Hell of a cop. Hell of a man.” His ire cooled. “Did you see that Miller woman hit her?”
“I did.”
Captain Saunders grinned. “Good for her. Where is Margaret Miller now?”
“At home, I assume. That’s where the uniforms dropped her off. Ms. Wainwright didn’t press charges.”
Saunders rubbed a stiff hand over the back of his neck. “When Wainwright filed for the DNA testing in the Dawson case, I got a bad feeling in the pit of my gut.”
“Really? All I’ve ever heard from Buddy and KC was that the case was airtight.”
Captain Saunders grunted disbelief. “Attorneys can twist the truth.”
“I’ve no doubt the verdict will be upheld.”
Saunders shook his head as if memories rushed him. “That case drove every officer in this place damned near insane for months as we searched for the killer and Dawson’s body.”
“You never assumed she was alive?”
“Hopes were always slim. The inside of that house was painted red with her blood. We figured if she was alive she didn’t have long. And then, no one said it but we knew we had a recovery not a rescue. You remember your old man talking about it?”
“I remember him talking to Mom but they clammed up when I came around. And as I got older, he shared stories about the case.”
“That case aged Buddy a decade. Dark circles under his eyes. Worked around the clock.”
“I remember him being gone. My brothers and I weren’t easy and Georgia was an infant.”
“Your momma was a damned saint.”
“A point she mentioned often when I was growing up.” His mother had endured thirty years of Buddy’s demanding schedule, but Deke’s wives had had little patience for his job, which required extended absences. Maybe if he’d had children, the story would have been different.
“I want this case closed. Once and for all. When will the DNA be back?”
“I called the state lab a half-hour ago. They’re saying soon but aren’t making any promises.”
“I know you can lean on the best of them. Lean on the state.”
The answers would come but he’d not push or prod. “They are swamped and working as fast as they can. Can’t get blood from a stone.”
“Bullshit. Squeeze ’em.”
“Is there a reason I should be worried about the DNA test results?”
“Shit, no. Your daddy ran a clean investigation. Clean as a whistle.” A ragged breath suggested age had stolen some of his fire. “Time has a way of making people forget what we were up against when Annie Dawson vanished in a bloody mess. Those months we searched for her were a nightmare and I don’t want to ever revisit them.”
“Ms. Wainwright mentioned in one of her many phone messages that Jeb has been asking for DNA testing for years.”
“What does that mean?”