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- Herausgeber: C.C. Jameson
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
To prove his innocence, she'll have to believe the impossible.
Officer Kate Murphy’s uncle is like a father to her. When he's arrested for murder, she's his only hope.
After a few off-the-record conversations with Luke, an awkwardly attractive forensic technician, Kate knows something doesn’t add up. And when a host of politicians and homeless people begin to die all over the Northeast, Kate suspects they’re somehow connected to her uncle’s case.
To prove the innocence of the man who took her in after her parents were murdered, Kate must make an incredible leap of faith. But she's not prepared for the stunning discovery that calls everything into question.
The Last Hope is a gripping mystery with some sci-fi elements and a dash of romance. If you like mind-bending whodunits, sizzling sex scenes, and tenacious heroines, then you’ll love this thrilling police procedural.
Buy your copy today!
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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The Last Hope
A Technothriller Featuring Officer Kate Murphy
C.C. Jameson
The Last Hope
By C.C. Jameson
Copyright © 2018 by C.C. Jameson
All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
WARNING: This book is intended for mature audiences and contains disturbing and potentially offensive material.
Thank you for taking the time to read this book. Please leave a review wherever you bought it or help spread the word by telling your friends about it. Thank you for your support.
Published by Creative Communication Solutions Ltd.
Previously published as Twisting Fate under ISBNs: 978-0-9940630-0-7, 978-0-9940630-3-8, 978-0-9940630-2-1, and 978-0-9940630-1-4.
eBook Edition last updated September 27, 2021
Editing by Marley Gibson & Claire Taylor
—————
ISBN: 978-1-988639-32-1
Contents
Bonus
The Last Hope
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Excerpt from The Last Amen
Excerpt from The Last Lies
To be continued...
Bonus
Thank You
Author’s Notes
Book Club
About the Author
Bonus
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The Last Hope
To prove his innocence, she’ll have to believe the impossible.
Officer Kate Murphy’s uncle is like a father to her. When he’s arrested for murder, she's his only hope.
After a few off-the-record conversations with Luke, an awkwardly attractive forensic technician, Kate knows something doesn’t add up. And when a host of politicians and homeless people begin to die all over the Northeast, Kate suspects they’re somehow connected to her uncle’s case.
To prove the innocence of the man who took her in after her parents were murdered, Kate must make an incredible leap of faith. But she’s not prepared for the stunning discovery that calls everything into question.
The Last Hope is a gripping thriller with some sci-fi elements and a dash of romance. If you like mind-bending whodunits, sizzling sex scenes, and tenacious heroines, then you’ll love this unconventional police procedural.
About the Detective Kate Murphy Mystery Series
“If you are looking for a fast paced crime thriller,
this is it!”
“…the book is hard to put down. A truly enjoyable read that I highly recommend.”
“If I could give this book more than five stars I would.”
“I have not enjoyed a book like this in such a long time.”
“The story is engaging, the plot suspenseful, and the characters likable.”
“If you like a book that you don’t want to put down, a story that mesmerizes you, and good writing, then read this book! You won’t be sorry!”
“This book is a winner. From the start it grabs your interest and keeps you questioning who the killer is.”
“Another CC Jameson unpredictable page turner!”
“OH WOW! So entertaining and captured me from the first chapter.”
“Amazing! A must read for mystery buffs!”
“This book will keep you on the edge of your seat. It’s filled with many interesting things about police procedures and religion. I would recommend this book to all mystery/crime addicts.”
“The Last Amen is another incredible crime thriller from a master storyteller.”
“Unbelievable suspense. Had me gripped until the end to find out what happens. Don’t miss out.”
“C.C. Jameson weaves a detailed and intricate plot, you’re guaranteed to be hooked from page one.”
“Move over, Rizzoli & Isles, there’s a new badass female cop in town!”
Chapter One
Kate Murphy
Secret Hiking Spot, Maine
Warm, salty air kissed Kate Murphy’s freckled skin as she sat, perched in surroundings that embodied her emotions.
Early summer rays bombarded the ocean, forming tiny diamonds that sparkled in the distance. Mere minutes later, the same peaceful, glistening water would morph into powerful waves that crashed onto the jagged rocks one hundred feet below Kate’s dangling legs, pulverizing any debris that may have been floating along for the ride. She sipped her bottle of water while soaking in her favorite scenery. The soft chirps and warbles of a few birds accompanied her thoughts.
Life was pretty good these days, even though Kate’s latest attempt at becoming a detective had been rejected yet again, but at least now she was part of a different district. It meant fresh opportunities and new people. Maybe her next application would be approved.
Kate stood up, finished her drink, and then returned the empty stainless-steel bottle to her backpack. It clunked against her phone, which she dug out: it was 1:03 p.m. Five missed calls and one voicemail.
Weird.
The message must have come in during the past hour when she came into range. All she ever got around here was one bar, and it only appeared if the winds were blowing in the right direction (with no clouds on the horizon) and lucky leprechauns sprinkled their magical signal-boosting powder around her.
Crappy coverage.
She should change cell providers. Then again, there was something to be said for enjoying quiet time and being unreachable, especially when she was here.
She tapped her way to the voicemail screen. Unknown number. She pressed “play” and listened to it over speakerphone.
“Miss Murphy, I’m calling on behalf of Kenneth Murphy. My name’s George Hudson, and I’m the defense attorney who’s been assigned to your uncle’s case. He’s been arrested. He wanted me to let you know he’s currently being held at the Roxbury Precinct, accused of murder. Your uncle says he’s innocent, and I’ll do my best to prove that he is. Sorry for leaving this important message on voicemail. I would have preferred doing it in person, but your uncle said I might have a hard time reaching you, and I didn’t want to wait too long. I’ll give you a call later this week with more details.”
What?
Kate jumped to her feet, staring at her now-silent phone. Had she heard that right?
She listened to the message again, this time with the phone pressed against her ear.
She had to head back if she wanted to get enough cell coverage to do anything. Kate stuck her phone back in her bag, strapped it on tightly, and then ran the three miles she’d just hiked, back to her car.
When she reached her Subaru, it was already 1:45 p.m. She was starting to regret her decision to drive out-of-state on her day off. She was 170 miles away from the Roxbury station.
Kate drove fast on the winding, scenic roads, ignoring the breathtaking views she would usually savor. She far exceeded the speed limit, mastering the unpaved bends like a professional race car driver. The skills she’d honed during police training certainly made driving her Impreza even more fun than before, but this time her mind was on autopilot.
Why was Uncle Kenny accused of murder? He was the last of her living relatives, the only human being she felt connected to and loved by. He couldn’t have killed anyone.
After fifteen years of psychotherapy, Kate was mostly over the gory memories of finding her own mother, father, and little brother murdered in their family home, throats slit, her mother half-naked and raped, and blood dripping down the kitchen walls.
Today was June 23rd, the twentieth anniversary of that awful day. It was why she’d requested—and had been granted—a day off.
Kenny, her dad’s older brother, had taken Kate in when she was thirteen years old. He didn’t have children of his own, so he and his wife, Lucy, had decided to adopt her. They’d done the best they could to protect and help her get over her horrible loss and trauma. The therapist’s bills had been expensive, especially on Kenny’s welder’s salary. Lucy’s chain-smoking had quickly ruined her health. She’d died of lung cancer when Kate was twenty-three. Tragedies seemed to occur every decade for Kate, and now, at the age of thirty-three, her uncle was in jail. And for murder? Kenny was all she had left in the world.
He couldn’t have killed another person, could he? No, no way.
A white-tailed deer crossed the road two hundred feet in front of her, snapping Kate’s attention away from the past and returning it to the present. She knew this part of the countryside like the back of her hand. Another two miles and she’d be on paved roads, and then it’d be five more miles to the state highway where she could get decent cell reception.
When she finally reached the end of the cellular dead zone, Kate pressed the voice command on her steering wheel.
“Call the district commander at the Roxbury police station.”
Siri confirmed her request, and then Kate heard a ringing sound, followed by Susan’s British accent. “Captain Cranston’s desk. How may I be of service?”
“Hi, Susan. It’s Officer Murphy.”
“Yes. Kate, right?”
“Yeah. I got a voicemail from a lawyer saying my uncle, Kenny Murphy, has been brought in for murder and he’s being held at our station. Can I talk to the district commander and find out what’s going on?”
“He’s in a meeting right now, and there’s a queue of people waiting to see him, but I’ll let him know you called.”
Kate tapped her fingers on her steering wheel and shook her head.
A message wouldn’t do much to help Kenny... but that’s all Susan could do.
“I’m on my way to the station. I should be there in about two hours. Do you think he’ll still be around?”
“I don’t know, love. Not sure how long his meeting will be, but doubtful he’ll stick around after it’s over and he’s done seeing these other fine folks. But who knows? You might be able to catch him on his way out. I’ll leave him a note to call you back ASAP.”
“Thanks, Susan.”
Kate returned her focus to the road, sneaking intermittent glances at the phone in her cup holder, and hoping he’d call her back. Then again, why would he? That wasn’t proper. She wasn’t following the chain of command. She had no right to go to him directly. As far as she knew, there was no official police handbook designating the appropriate person for police officers to talk to when their loved ones were arrested for murder. When she’d first joined the district, Capt. Cranston had told her that his door was always open. She hoped he’d meant it.
A giant billboard promoting Clark Ferguson, a handsome, brown-haired Boston mayoral candidate with a million-dollar smile, welcomed her to Massachusetts. Kate still had a solid hour of driving to get to Roxbury and traffic could be wicked bad. She checked the clock on her dash again: 3:30 p.m.
Today’s Tuesday.
She might just get there in time to see Capt. Cranston before he left for the day.
Seventy-five minutes later, Kate veered into the station’s lot, parked her car, and then ran three flights of stairs to the district commander’s office, only to find it empty and locked.
Shit. Too late.
She wouldn’t be able to hear the official word on Kenny’s arrest, but she should still be able to talk to her uncle and learn what they’d told him and see if he was doing okay. The poor man was probably scared to death.
She made her way down to the detention area and found the officer on duty; his name tag read “Reynolds.” She recognized his face but couldn’t remember his first name.
Dave? Don? Dean? One of those “D” names.
“Hey, Reynolds.”
“Hey, Murphy. What brings you here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking a few days off?”
She smiled. She’d only been here a couple of weeks, but being a female officer seemed to help her male counterparts remember her name... and her schedule? Maybe it had nothing to do with being a woman in a man’s world. Wasn’t it always easier for any group to remember the new kid’s name?
“Today was my only day off. I got a message telling me my uncle has been arrested and is being detained here. Do you have a Murphy in the cell?”
“Let me see. I’m just here for a few minutes covering for Matthews. Bad burrito,” Reynolds said with a laugh. He then looked at Kate and became serious again. He returned his attention to the computer screen. “Don’t know who he’s got in here. Let’s see... Kenneth Murphy?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Can I see him?” Kate asked.
“Sure, do you need an escort?”
She shook her head. “He’s my uncle, no need.”
Reynolds nodded and stood to open the door. “You know the drill. Leave your stuff here.”
Kate emptied her pockets and left her backpack with him. Reynolds and Kate then walked over to Kenny’s holding cell, their footsteps echoing against the bare, white concrete walls. An antiseptic smell reminded her of her last hospital visit. Most cells were unoccupied, and Kate soon spotted her uncle’s balding head a few feet away. He was sitting on a jail bed, staring at the floor in front of him. What was left of his hair was restless and out of place. His white mustache had seen better days.
“Kenny!”
He looked up, eyebrows raised, faint dimples appearing on his cheeks from his growing smile.
“Katie, sweetie. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Mr. Murphy, please put your back against the wall,” Reynolds said. After her uncle complied, Reynolds unlocked the door to let Kate in, relocked it, and then addressed her on his way out. “Holler when you’re done. Fifteen minutes max. Matthews will be back shortly.”
Kate hugged her uncle. He was seventy-six years old and frail, but his arms held onto her like she was a lifebuoy in a violent storm.
She sat next to him on the bed and looked into his tired, brown eyes. They seemed sadder than usual and confused.
She tapped his leg and gently squeezed his knee, “How are you holding up?”
He answered by raising his shoulders and shaking his head, his mouth forming an upside down U.
“Tell me everything,” Kate asked.
“I don’t know what happened. Why do they think I killed that man? That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Tell me about the arrest.”
“They showed up at my house this morning. Two plainclothes officers with a warrant and four or five uniformed men.”
“What did they say?” Kate asked.
“They wanted to know if I was Kenneth Sam Murphy, so I told them I was. Then, they said I was under arrest for the murder of Paul McAlester.”
“Who?”
Kenny’s eyes widened. “That’s what I said! But one of them got ahold of my wrists and handcuffed me while they read me my rights. They said they had a warrant to search the house. I was too dumbfounded to remember anything else they said after that. Next thing I know, I’m being questioned about what I did three nights ago.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t remember, but I probably heated my dinner and watched a movie while drinking a scotch or two.”
“You don’t remember?”
Kenny shook his head, and Kate felt a black curtain of despair fall over them.
He has no alibi.
“I’m getting old. Most nights blend into one,” he said. Then, he gazed at Kate’s face, softening some as he smiled at her. “You don’t come and visit often enough. All I have left are memories. Some good, some bad. Lately, the awful ones have been on the reel, and I drink to shut them down. Normally works for a few hours until I fall asleep.”
Kate hugged her uncle again, feeling guilty for not being there for him more often. Her failed marriage had been at the forefront of her mind lately, and she had needed more alone time than usual. And then the anniversary of her family’s murder... That was no excuse, though. Her uncle didn’t deserve to be neglected just because she couldn’t get her shit together.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll make things right. I’ll talk to the district commander tomorrow and see if I can find out something new that could help us.”
Kenny nodded, and he scratched the back of his neck. A forced smile appeared under his mustache. Kate knew that look too well. It meant he was terrified, just like when he’d found out about his wife’s cancer and how large her medical bills were going to be. Kate knew better than to tell him to voice his feelings. No way would an old, Irishman like him spill the contents of his heart.
Changing subjects was always the best option when he scratched his neck or faked a smile.
“I got a call from your lawyer,” Kate said. “How did you find him?”
“You know I can’t afford one, so they assigned him to me. Seems nice enough.”
Kate knew how tight her uncle’s finances had been, and still were. He’d been poor for the past twenty years. He ate lots of canned beans and could barely keep the heat on some months. Once again, guilt got ahold of her. She should have given him more than ten percent of her paychecks. He deserved more; especially after all he’d done for her. But she didn’t make that much, and the job forced her to live in Boston, which wasn’t cheap at all. Ten percent was all she could afford most months. However, she was hopeful things would change soon when she finally made homicide detective and had the chance to get murderers off the street. Real murderers, like the one who’d killed her family.
A cacophony of emotions stirred inside her—rage fighting against fear and sadness—but none reached the podium. She hated feeling out of control when facing a terrible situation she couldn’t do anything about. Kate forced herself to take a deep breath and see the silver lining to this dark cloud. At least her uncle would be getting three square meals a day for free.
“Most of the court-appointed lawyers are good,” she said. “Be honest with him. Tell him everything you can. It has to be a mistake. Did they say anything else?”
Kenny shrugged again and shook his head. “They found my blood and my DNA at the crime scene.”
“What?” Kate couldn’t comprehend how his genes could have made it there without him. “Did they say where the murder occurred?”
“No, but they asked if I had a car or access to one. He must live somewhere far from me.”
“When was the last time you drove?”
“I told them. About thirteen years ago. I sold the car to cover some of Lucy’s medical bills. I haven’t driven since, not even a rental car. Remember your graduation from the police academy? I took the bus then a cab to get there. Made it in the nick of time.”
Kate smiled and kissed him on the forehead. She remembered how much perspiration had been on his shirt that day. He must have run a lot as well after getting out of that cab. He had worn his best outfit: a short-sleeved beige shirt with vertical brown lines, a matching pair of brown pants, and a wide orange tie. But she also clearly remembered the smile on his face when he finally snuck his way to the family section of the reserved seats just as the guest of honor was delivering his speech. Kenny had been so proud of her.
He leaned toward her, his bony hands grabbing hers, and he said, “I’m not perfect, but I’m no murderer. I don’t want to die with this label added to the Murphy name. Our lineage has had enough of a bad rap. I still want to take you to Ireland before I die, you know? You need to see the Irish coast for yourself, see how green it is, how beautifully rugged the scenery is. You have to meet your cousins. Our family is bigger than you think. You’d love it there in Cork.”
They sat still, hanging onto each other’s hands as Kate let their physical bond temper the harsh reality.
The sound of a key in the lock brought her back to the here and now.
“Time’s up,” Reynolds said.
Kate gave Kenny one last hug and looked at him, “I love you. I’ll do everything I can to make this right and get you out, okay? Just be brave and patient, and we’ll fix this.”
He squeezed her hands, nodded, and, for the first time in the fifteen minutes she’d spent with him, she saw hope appear in her uncle’s teary eyes. She had to turn away before her own started to water.
After making her way back from the cells, she grabbed her things from the front desk and then headed home.
Kate sat alone in her apartment, realizing there wasn’t anything she could do until tomorrow. Nothing but hope that Capt. Cranston would tell her what was really going on and that their evidence wasn’t airtight.
In the meantime, she occupied her mind by Googling the victim’s name and found two articles that mentioned his death. There was no reference to her uncle... at least not yet. But chances were, his name would be in tomorrow’s headlines.
She had to find a way to prove his innocence, and fast.
Chapter Two
Kate Murphy
Roxbury Police Station, Boston
Kate sat in one of the four padded stainless steel chairs outside the district commander’s office, crossing and uncrossing her legs and picking imaginary dirt from under her trimmed fingernails.
His office door was open, but he was sitting at his desk, reading. Susan had told her that he was wrapping up a case, and then he’d see her.
“Murphy, come in,” his husky voice called out a few minutes later.
Kate got up and walked in. “Good morning, sir.”
His oversized body amplified the power that emanated from him, yet his gray hair and blue eyes, when accompanied by the smile he was beaming at her, turned him into a teddy bear. Maybe this was what they called innate charisma. His open hand pointed to the chair in front of his desk, and Kate took a seat.
“Fitting in nicely with the guys here?”
“Sure. No problem there, sir.”
“I got this note from Susan,” he said, waving a little piece of yellow paper in the air. “Why did you want to see me?”
“My uncle, sir. He was arrested yesterday for murder.”
The district commander raised his eyebrows, adding a few horizontal lines to his already streaked forehead.
“Heard about the arrest, but it didn’t occur to me that one of our own could be related to him. There are so many Murphys in town.”
“He’s the only relative I’ve got. He adopted me when I was thirteen.”
“I see. So, you’re here because you think he’s innocent?”
Kate shrugged. “I know he’s innocent. I’d like to prove it, but I don’t even know where to start. Maybe... I was hoping I could see the evidence we have against him.” She corrected herself as soon as she heard the words leave her lips. “No, I misspoke. I don’t want physical access to the evidence. I want to know what proof we have and maybe what possible motives they’ve come up with, that type of stuff. I know how it is, and I don’t want to interfere with the investigation. But, at the same time, I can’t just sit here and wait.”
He nodded his head toward a file on his desk. “Well, from the brief I got, they found his DNA at the crime scene, so that’s gonna be hard to refute.”
Kate sat still, not knowing how to push for more.
The district commander turned his attention to Kate’s file, which was sitting on his desk. He flipped through pages of notes, sometimes pausing to read entries. Probably stuff her previous supervisors had filled in, past evaluations, commendations and reprimands, or other things like that. She didn’t quite know what was in her file. Kate had only been in this district for two and a half weeks. She’d requested the transfer because she thought her chances of becoming a detective would be better here. She’d already been turned down four times at her previous district, and, although she hadn’t yet started the process here, she desperately wanted to. She’d aced the detective’s exam last year. The interviews were a different story, though. All of that was probably in her file.
“Tell you what, Murphy,” he said before leaning back in his chair, his eyes locked on Kate as if sizing her up and contemplating the consequences of what he was about to say. “I can see you really want to be a detective, and I can understand why you’d want to do everything you can to help your adoptive father. I admire that. And your last supervisor thought you could improve your teamwork skills and get more hands-on experience... So, here’s what I propose: I’ll let the detectives know that you’ll sit in on the case as a way to gain more experience, but”—he paused and raised a hand, as if he could put a speed limit on Kate’s fast-escalating hopes—“with two conditions.”
He lifted his index finger. “You can only do it in your spare time. I need you patrolling the streets and answering calls. We’re short-staffed as it is. If you feel like hanging around with the detectives, after or before your shift, that’s fine by me. However, this isn’t paid overtime. The department won’t be liable, and we can’t cover you should anything happen, so you’re not gonna do any real investigative work with them out on the streets after your regular work hours. You can only shadow them here in the building, all right?”
Kate nodded. “And what’s the second condition?”
His middle finger joined his index. “You absolutely cannot touch or come close to the evidence or be involved in changing the direction of the investigation. I don’t need to lecture you on the chain of evidence. Don’t go near it. If you pay attention to how the detectives talk, think, cooperate, and handle the case, you may learn a thing or two that will help you with your detective’s interview next time. But don’t get your hopes up for freeing your uncle. Their case is pretty tight.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As she moved to leave his office, he stopped her. “Hold on a sec before I forget.”
He picked up the phone and hit one of the pre-programmed buttons. “Fuller, Cranston here... I’ve allowed one of our new officers to sit in on the McAlester murder investigation. Her name’s Murphy... Yep, she’s the accused’s niece and adopted daughter.”
Kate couldn’t hear the man’s exact words, but the mumbled voice that reached her ears had grown louder.
“I know, I know... but she won’t be able to do anything, only sit in. Think of her as a piece of furniture or wallpaper. Conduct your investigation as if she weren’t in the room.”
The voice at the other end of the line was now so upset that Kate could clearly hear words like “protocol,” “inside investigation,” “improper,” “irresponsible,” and “emotional.”
“Listen, I’m the district commander, and I’ve made my decision. When you talk to your team, you may want to present the idea as ‘detective training.’ She wants to become one anyway. I’ll send her down to your desk in a minute or two. Be nice.”
He hung up before lifting his head and looking her square in the eyes. “I’m doing this as a favor. I can recognize potential and passion when I see it, but these guys won’t be happy to have you around. Be as invisible as possible.”
“Of course.” Kate understood the meeting was over and got up.
“Fuller’s desk is on the second floor, on the right.”
“Thanks, sir. I really appreciate your help.”
“Don’t thank me. Just prove you’re worth it,” he said. “And close the door behind you.”
Small victory.
However, Fuller certainly didn’t want her there. Best get the introduction meeting over with before she lost her nerves.
She followed Capt. Cranston’s directions and stopped at the door labeled “Detective Lt. Mark Fuller.”
She knocked and waited.
Nothing.
Knocked again.
Nothing.
Didn’t Capt. Cranston just tell him she’d be down to meet him in a couple of minutes? Where’d he go?
She slowly pushed open the door. “Detective Fuller?”
Nobody was in the office.
She closed the door and walked down the hall until she reached a lunchroom. It was small: a fridge, kitchen sink, half a dozen cupboards, a vending machine, a coffee dispenser, and a few tables and chairs. Two boards on the wall were overflowing with colorful bulletins. An assortment of tea boxes, a container of sugar packets, and a jar of instant decaffeinated coffee occupied the small counter space. An odor of curry lingered in the air. The room was empty except for a couple of plainclothes men sitting at one of the three small round tables, stirring their coffees, a pint of milk sitting on the table between the two of them. She hadn’t yet been introduced to the detectives in this district, so she wasn’t sure who they were. They certainly looked like detectives in inexpensive suits.
The one in the light gray suit had matching hair, thick bushy black eyebrows, and a salt-and-pepper mustache. He appeared to be tall, reasonably slim, and probably in his early fifties. The other one seemed younger, in his late thirties or early forties, but not as fit. Seated, he looked like he had extra weight around his waist. Maybe he was just big-boned. His outdated brown suit and beige shirt had seen better days. Kate wondered if he’d slept in it. He wore black, plastic-framed glasses like Kate had seen her dad wear in his wedding pictures. The younger man had curly, dark blond hair and had a mischievous grin on his lips.
She decided to address the older man.
“I’m looking for Detective Fuller,” Kate said.
“His office is down the hall,” he replied, not even bothering to make eye contact with her.
He immediately returned to the one-way conversation he was having with his younger colleague.
Annoyed, Kate put on a smile and insisted, “I’m sorry, but I’ve just come from his office, and he’s not there. Is there anyone I could leave a message with?”
The man turned to face her, shaking his head and frowning. “Detectives don’t have secretaries. Just call him and leave him a message.”
He returned to his story about his neighbor’s lawnmower.
Really?
Kate clenched her teeth and smiled even wider. “I’m really sorry to bother you again, sir, but would you happen to know his number or extension?”
The other guy broke his silence. “Come on. Just do it, write it down for her.” His voice was surprisingly soft and velvety. He could have been a radio DJ for an after-hours jazz program.
The older man sighed, put his coffee mug down, and then retrieved a business card and pen from his breast pocket. He flipped the card over, wrote “x 679,” and then handed it to Kate.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said, taking the card off his hand. “Have a great day. Sorry to have interrupted your coffee break.”
She was glad to walk away from him and wondered if she’d ever met a bigger prick in her life. Matt, her ex-husband, immediately came to mind, so she shook the thought of him away.
Kate returned to the corridor she’d come from, flipped the card, and then stopped in her tracks. The front of the card read “Detective Lt. Mark Fuller.”
Jerk!
She decided to let herself into his office. He’d probably be back any minute now. How long could it take him to finish his coffee and laugh at her behind her back with his buddy? She left the door open, sat in one of the two chairs across from his desk, and waited. She noticed a piece of lint on her uniform and flicked it off. He evidently knew who she was. Her name tag said it loud and clear.
“He’s just an ass,” she muttered.
A few more minutes passed, and Kate focused on her breath. That was what the therapist had shown her to do whenever bad feelings or memories crept up, which they inevitably did.
1-2-3-4-5-6 in, hold it, 1-2-3-4-5-6 out.
1-2-3-4-5-6 in, hold it, 1-2-3-4-5-6 out.
She felt calmer now.
A minute later, a voice spoke from behind her.
“So, you figured out who I was then, Murphy.”
She turned around and shot him a sarcastic smile. He was much taller than she had expected. “I did, Detective. Thank you for so kindly giving me your contact information.”
He walked around his desk, sat down, and then scowled at her. “We both know you shouldn’t be on this case. Plain and simple. The last thing I want around is an emotional woman crying and whining that her uncle’s been wrongly accused.”
Kate leaned forward and lowered her voice, just to make sure she wouldn’t come across as anything close to emotional.
“I can assure you, Detective, that you won’t see or hear me cry or whine. I’m a police officer, and I will be a detective one day. Yes, my uncle is the accused here, but I will not take anything personally. I’m good at letting go of personal attachments, believe me.”
He waved his hand at her. “You can’t mess with our process. You’ll see we’ve got plenty of evidence to prove he’s guilty.”
“But what if his DNA had been planted by someone else? You wouldn’t want to accuse the wrong guy and let the real killer run loose, would you?”
“Why the fuck would someone want to frame your uncle?”
She did her best to remain calm and professional. “What motive would my uncle have for killing a stranger? He’s a frail old man who feels bad when he has to kill a fly.”
Fuller sat back and stared at Kate.
“Okay, you may have some valuable information on our prime suspect. We have yet to come up with a plausible motive, but you can’t speak unless we ask you a question. Capt. Cranston is forcing me here, and as he said, you’ll be invisible... You’ll be a fucking wallflower and nothing more, understood?”
Kate nodded. “Yep, understood.”
He got up, and Kate followed him down the hall to conference room two. It was relatively small for a conference space, but probably the perfect size for a team of detectives to work on a homicide case. One wall had windows looking outside, but the other three were covered from floor to ceiling with corkboards and whiteboards. Pictures of the crime scene and a map were pinned on the corkboard. There were also pictures of her uncle and other people she’d never seen before. Were they suspects? The whiteboard had a list of possible motives; many items like “financial gain” and “lover’s triangle” had been crossed off.
Lover’s triangle?
The thought of her uncle involved with a woman other than her deceased aunt made her cringe, but there was no point in thinking about it. It had been ruled out by the detectives.
Fuller turned around and made eye contact with her. “You can’t touch anything, understood?”
Kate nodded again and continued moving around the room. The map had two pins on it: her uncle’s house and another, which she assumed was the crime scene. File folders were piled on the table, and two computers showed the Boston PD logo floating and bouncing off the edges of their screens.
“The guys will meet this afternoon to discuss. They’re wrapping up another case in court this morning,” Fuller told her.
“I’m on patrol until 4 p.m. I’ll come in as soon as I get back.”
“Whatever, but come in plain clothes. I don’t want your name tag to affect the team’s judgment or behavior.”
“I understand.”
Kate was going to have to switch her schedule around and work evening or night shifts if she wanted to sit in and help her uncle.
Detective Fuller walked out of the room, and Kate followed.
He closed the door. “Remember to stay out of our way, Wallflower,” he said, heading back to his office.
Kate ran down the stairs two steps at a time and found her shift supervisor. He was easy to spot. At around 6′5″, he was the tallest uniformed man in the precinct.
“Sergeant, any chance I could switch shifts for a while? Could I get evenings? Or night shifts?”
Sgt. Anderson had files in his hands and a confused look on his face.
“What? When?”
“I need more time for personal stuff in the day, and I was hoping to switch shifts with someone for a day or two.”
“Sure, if you can find someone who’s willing to switch with you. Then, run it by me again. Oh, and make sure that person’s partner is fine with it, too, because they’ll be working with you. I won’t let anyone do their patrols alone at night, not even for one shift.” He pulled a piece of paper out from one of the files he was holding. “Here’s a copy of this week’s roster.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sergeant.”
She glanced at the list of names and wondered which one of these officers would be easiest to approach. She didn’t know many of them yet. In the twelve years since Kate had joined the police force, she’d never had a regular partner. She wondered why for a moment. Most cops settled in with a partner, but she’d never done that. Instead, she’d been passed around from cop to cop, partnering up on an as-needed basis with whomever needed a partner for a few days. Either that or she’d worked dayshift, where having a partner wasn’t standard procedure, especially with the budget cuts the police were forced to deal with.
She and the others on patrol never had much to talk about. Kate liked to keep her personal life private and didn’t want to hear about the ups, the downs, and whatever else was happening in the other cops’ lives. Maybe that was why nobody wanted to partner up with her on a regular basis. Perhaps that explained the negative points on her last evaluation. Was it the “teamwork” issue she had to work on? If it had made its way into her file, then it had to be important. Could it be a significant flaw to fix or at least improve upon?
Meh.
Maybe one day she’d get around to it.
“Roll call is about to start; you better hurry,” the sergeant said, pulling her back to reality.
Kate glanced at her watch. He was right. She folded the roster, placed it in her breast pocket, and then rushed to the meeting room.
After answering four domestic disturbance calls, dealing with one breaking and entering, and issuing half a dozen speeding tickets, Kate was done with her shift.
She was returning her patrol car keys when she ran into Officer Mansbridge. She remembered his name because he was the chubbiest cop in the district and probably the most talkative as well. In just a few days, she’d heard all about his wife, his kids, his tooth problems, his back pains, his retirement dreams, his fear of heights, and... what else? Oh yeah, she couldn’t forget how he had listed every single dieting fad and why they were all scams.
“Hey, Mansbridge, would you be interested in switching shifts with me for a little while? Just a few days?”
“Hey back, Murphy.” He smiled at her, but it seemed forced. “I’m doing well, and how are you doing today?”
Argh.
She hated it when people wanted to make small talk. Pointless. But she needed him to do her a favor, so she played along. “Sorry, how are things?”
“Life’s good, Mary’s pregnant again,” he said with a smile. This time, it appeared genuine.
“Congratulations!” Kate hesitated, not sure if asking a follow-up question would result in a twenty-minute conversation. She really needed to join the detectives as soon as possible. “When is Mary due?”
“She’s twelve weeks, so... early January.”
“That’s fantastic.”
Kate remained quiet, hoping Mansbridge wouldn’t expand on this or other irrelevant details for too long, but she was pleasantly surprised when he continued.
“So, you want off day shift? Mary would certainly prefer to have me home in the evenings. Let me talk to Smitty, and I’ll get back to you.”
“I’ll give you my cell number,” Kate said. She scribbled it down and then handed him a ripped page from her unofficial notebook.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Probably just a day or two.”
“Okay, I’ll text you later,” he said, grabbing his car keys and walking away.
“Thanks, Mansbridge. Have a safe shift.”
She rushed to her locker, changed out of her uniform, and then headed to conference room two where she walked into a discussion, midstream.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” an Asian woman said.
“Have you checked with the bank?” Detective Fuller asked.
A tall and slender brown-haired man continued, “Yes, and there wasn’t any. I also ran a check across all US banks. Nothing else.”
“Okay, let’s look at it from a different perspective,” Fuller said, and his eyes locked onto Kate as he finished.
He made quick work of the introductions, motioning to the tall, brown-haired man, then the woman, and then the chubby blond she’d met in the lunchroom with Fuller earlier, and saying, “Detectives Chainey, Wang, and Rosebud.” They nodded hello and he added, “Here’s our wallflower. Wallflower, these are the detectives.”
The conversation picked up where it’d left off.
“Wallflower” is probably better than mentioning my last name.
However, Kate was confident they’d figure out her identity soon enough. Heck, Rosebud probably saw her name tag this morning.
Whatever.
She couldn’t care less what he called her. At least she got to sit in and learn more about the case.
“What we have is DNA that matches his old sample from a decade ago. Did the lab re-test it against the fresh sample?” Fuller asked.
Old sample from a decade ago?
Kate had completely forgotten about that. Her uncle had drunk himself silly a few days after Aunt Lucy’s death.
Was it the night of her funeral?
She couldn’t remember the exact date, but he’d gotten into a bar fight. A one-time incident, but it had coincided with someone getting killed in an alley near the bar. An assault charge wouldn’t have required a DNA sample under normal circumstances, but due to the timing and proximity of the murder, they must have tested him, and his DNA must have remained on file since then. That was how they’d matched it so fast. Kenny had since moved his drinking to the privacy of his home—no more chance of getting in a fight—but Kate knew he wasn’t a violent guy. That incident had been out-of-character for him.
Rosebud replied, “Yes, LeBrun, the new guy, compared it to the old sample on file. Just to be extra-safe, I asked the lab supervisor, Luke O’Brien, to test the recent sample himself. That LeBrun kid looks so young; I didn’t want to bet it all on him.”
Luke O’Brien... That name… Could it be my Luko?
She hadn’t thought about him since... Well, last time she’d talked to him was the day of her family’s murder. She’d also seen him at the funeral, but what can kids say at such an event? They hadn’t spoken in twenty years.
It may not be the same Luke O’Brien anyway. Probably isn’t. What are the odds?
Then again, he was from the East Coast, always loved dissecting animals, admired police officers growing up, and Boston seems like a good option for moving up the career ladder if he followed his dreams of becoming a scientist.
Luko working at the Boston PD crime lab would be plausible. Likely? No. But possible.
She forced herself out of her head to refocus on what was important.
“Did we get a match on the rest of the fingerprints at the crime scene?” Fuller asked.
Chainey answered. “Most belonged to the victim, but there were quite a few from unknown people. No match in our database.”
“Do we have family members, friends, or past girlfriends who could be matches? Could we request fingerprints from them?” Fuller asked.
“No wife or girlfriend as far as we know. The body was released, and his funeral is tomorrow. I’ll attend and make note of people who may be of interest,” Chainey said.
“Good. Wang, go with him and take pictures, discreetly.” Fuller continued his examination of the board. “What else have we got? Have you made progress on a motive for Murphy? Did you get any new information from him?”
Chainey sat on the corner of the table and flipped through his notebook. “His not-owning a car checks out. His neighbors haven’t seen him drive in years and his license has expired. They see him at the bus stop once in a while. That’s how he goes to the grocery store and liquor store, normally late afternoon. They haven’t heard or seen anything unusual. They usually see light from his living room TV in the evenings.”
Fuller scratched his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Okay, do you know what buses come near his house?”
Wang shook her head.
Fuller frowned. “Well, look at the routes and see if he could have reached McAlester’s house by bus.”
“Bicycle?” Rosebud asked.
“Didn’t check,” Chainey said, shaking his head. “I doubt he’d physically be able to get there without breaking a bone or having a heart attack. Steep hills, high-traffic roads, and the guy’s old and out of shape.”
“Check anyway,” Fuller replied. He glanced at the wall behind him. It was covered with images, maps, and other information Kate couldn’t read from where she stood. “Okay, we’ll meet again tomorrow. I’m tracing back the victim’s and suspect’s previous addresses. Maybe we’ll find a common link that’ll point us to Murphy’s motive.”
The three detectives left first, with Wang nodding at Kate on her way out. Fuller approached the door, and then stopped, waving his hand from Kate to the door, “Wallflower, after you.”
Kate left the room without speaking. What’s the point anyway?
They had nothing but DNA, but that would be enough to prove him guilty unless she could show that he was being framed, but why and by whom?
She checked her cellphone, but nothing from Mansbridge.
Kate could go and visit her uncle, although she wasn’t sure where they’d transferred him. With today’s hectic schedule, she’d missed his hearing, but there was no way he was still in the holding cell at the station. Plus... what in the world was she going to tell him? She didn’t have anything comforting to say, and she wasn’t allowed to divulge the details of an ongoing police investigation. She wasn’t willing to risk losing access to the detectives and their knowledge of the case for such an avoidable faux pas.
She looked at her watch: 3:55 p.m. She remembered reading a memo about the crime lab’s operating hours: Monday to Friday, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. She’d never stepped in the DNA lab before, but she knew the building was in Maynard. Although televised police drama series always portrayed the crime lab conveniently located down the hall from where the detectives worked, it didn’t take her long to understand that it wasn’t the case in real police life, at least not in Boston.
The DNA lab was about thirty miles away, so, depending on traffic, getting there before they closed was possible. She peered out the window to assess the traffic: vehicles were moving, albeit slowly.
Could she get there in under an hour and find out if the lab supervisor was indeed the Luke O’Brien she knew as a child? It was worth a shot.
What else was she going to do?
Chapter Three
Kate Murphy
DNA Laboratory, Maynard, MA
Kate’s police badge, ID, and a signature in the logbook was enough to allow her past the security desk. The officer on duty informed her that the supervisor hadn’t left yet, but the lab was officially closed.
She walked to the elevator and read the department listings until she saw what she was looking for: DNA lab - second floor.
She got in the elevator and headed up. When she reached the correct floor, two glass doors with the Massachusetts State Police logo etched on them were all she could see. She tried pulling them open, but they were locked.
The noise from her attempt stirred movement in the dimly lit area at the back of the room. A man in a lab coat and protective goggles had apparently heard her and was coming her way.
Could it be Luke?
Last time she’d seen him, he was fourteen. A skinny kid with wild hair, acne, and thick glasses.
The man coming toward her was tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. If he wasn’t six feet tall, he was close to it. He had thick and wavy brown hair and a weary frown on his face.
Could it be him?
When he reached the doors, she saw intense blue eyes behind his protective eyewear, and she knew.
“Luko!” she exclaimed, feeling an unstoppable smile dawning on her face.
The man’s expression went from annoyed to surprised, and a big, crooked smile appeared on his lips. She’d forgotten how the left side of his mouth always went much higher than the right. She’d teased him about it as a kid. He unlocked the doors and awkwardly stood in the entryway, one hand on the closed door and the other on the one he’d pushed open, holding it just wide enough for his shoulders to get through.
“Katie? Katie Murphy?”
Kate smiled. “Yeah! It’s me.”
“What...” He shook his head and blinked three times. “It’s b-b-been fifteen, twenty years? I never thought I’d see you again.”
Kate moved forward, wanting to hug her old friend, but he retreated behind the doors, and then popped his head and right index finger out. “Wait here.”
“Okay,” Kate said, stepping back.
He hadn’t changed much after all. Sure, he was taller, bigger, and, she assumed, smarter than he’d been as a kid. He used to read his parents’ encyclopedias from cover to cover just for fun. She couldn’t believe he still stuttered a little, but the thought of it made her smile even more.
His stutter was why she’d nicknamed him Luko. When they’d first met, he was eight years old, rolling down the street on a cool blue BMX. She was seven, riding on her brand-new yellow bike. She could still remember the day vividly. It was one of only two days she ever looked back on from her childhood.
Her family had just moved into town. It was her birthday, and her parents had gotten her a new bike. It was the exact one she had always wanted. The yellow frame came with a red banana seat, a blue basket, a pink bell, and red streamers hanging off the handlebars. Kate didn’t know any other kids in town, and this boy was the first one she’d seen in her new neighborhood. Both of them were riding their bikes on the street. When you’re seven, that’s reason enough to make friends with someone.
She’d dashed up to him and dared him to compete with her. “First one to the end of the street wins!”
She could still remember the surprised look on his face and the stupefaction moving to his body, making him waver a little. To this day, she still didn’t know if he’d fallen over or just lost his balance for a second, but Kate had taken advantage of her head start. She knew she wasn’t the fastest girl on a bike, and he’d almost caught up with her, but she managed to reach the stop sign first, ringing her bell to celebrate.
Then she’d parked her bike on the sidewalk, using her fancy retractable kickstand, and walked over to the boy she’d just beat by a hair.
“I’m Kate Murphy.”
“I’m Luke O... O...”
“Nice to meet you, Luko,” she’d said, extending her hand like she’d seen her parents do when meeting new people.
He’d pushed her hand away and shaken his head.
“No, Luke O... O... O’Brien. O’Brien.”
She’d raised her shoulders.
“Nah... I prefer Luko. I knew some Lukes at my other school, and I didn’t like them. I don’t know any other Lukos. I’ll see you around,” she’d said before getting back on her bike and returning home.
And that was how their friendship had begun: two awkward, geeky kids who hung out before and after school, read Choose-Your-Own-Adventure books, explored caves, climbed trees, and ran around town.
Kate stopped her reverie when Luke exited the laboratory a few minutes later. He’d traded his lab coat for a plain beige jacket, and his protective eyewear for a regular pair of glasses.
“Oh... Almost forgot,” he said before going back in. He pressed a few buttons on an alarm panel, then closed and locked the glass doors behind him.
He stood in front of her, put both hands in his pockets, and then shook his head. “Katie Murphy. God. I can’t believe you’re here right now.”
Kate couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her old friend, although she cut the hug short. His strong arms felt right and reassuring around her, but who was he? She didn’t know him anymore. He was no longer a kid; he was a grown man.
When she pulled away, she peered up at him and said, “I heard your name today, and I had to find out if you were the Luke O’Brien I knew.”
“The one and only,” he said with his crooked smile.
She’d found his smile different and cool as a teen, but now there was also something sexy about it, especially when combined with what appeared to be a two-day beard. Very attractive... but the rest was all nerdy: invisible-frame glasses, outdated clothes, awkward body movements. He kind of looked like Gerard Butler acting as the world’s biggest geek.
“Luko...”
He lowered his eyes for a moment. “You’re the only one who’s ever called me that.”
“Too bad, it’s a great name, and it suits you,” Kate said.
They turned to face the elevator.
“Wanna grab a drink?” Kate asked.
“Sure, but let me make a call first.”
He reached for his phone. Kate summoned the elevator, and it only took a few seconds for it to arrive. When the elevator opened, he walked a few steps away from her, his index finger motioning “one minute.”
“Hey... it’s me. I’ll be home late, okay?” He glanced at Kate for a second, and then lowered his voice as if trying to hide the rest of his conversation from her. “No, everything’s fine. Don’t wait for me for dinner. Okay... Later. Love you.”
He put his phone back in his pocket. Kate wondered who he’d been talking to, but then again, it was none of her business.
Luke extended his arm to the edge of the elevator door to keep it open. “Let’s go. Beer? Coffee? Dinner?”
“How about beers and nachos?” Kate asked, stepping into the elevator.
“Is this what you traded your ice cream floats and fries for?”
They walked a few blocks in a mix of awkward silence and the two of them talking at once, reliving old memories, but only the happy ones. By the time they reached the nearest pub, Kate felt much more comfortable, and Luke appeared less awkward.
“Your stutter is gone,” she said.
“I have it under control most of the time.”
“That’s good. I remember how much kids used to tease you about it.”
They took a seat at a table, and Kate ordered two pints of Guinness for them.
“My favorite. How did you know?” he asked.
“I still remember your dad drinking it all afternoon. I just thought you’d follow in his footsteps.” She paused for a moment, and then added, “How are your parents?”
Luke let out a long sigh and then said, “Dad passed a few years ago. Bad heart. Mom’s doing all right.”
“I’m so sorry to hear.”
A lull followed, and Kate broke it off, knowing Luke couldn’t inquire about her parents. At least she could tell him about her adoptive parents.
“After that day...” she began, but the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She stopped to gather her breath and then continued. “My uncle took me in and adopted me. I moved to Douglas. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch. It was too hard.”
His eyes softened, and he tilted his head. “I knew you had to leave. I’m sorry I didn’t attend the funeral. I tried, but I was too angry... and sad... and confused. My parents forced me to go, but I only got as far as the back of the room, then I ran out. That was the last time I saw you.”
Kate forced a smile to help push down the tears that were threatening to come up. “I know... I saw you run out of the funeral parlor.” Trying to avoid the nightmares that would inevitably follow, as they often did whenever she talked or otherwise revisited that time in her life, she changed topics. “So, how did you end up working in the crime lab? Give me the CliffsNotes version of your life. What happened to you during the past twenty years?”
He snickered a bit. “Well, after you left and broke my heart—”
Kate kicked him under the table, interrupting a sentence that didn’t make any sense. Had he developed a sense of humor?
He smiled. “Okay, okay. Finished high school, then went to college, studied biology and got a degree in genetics. Now I’m working on my doctoral thesis. Hoping to finish it this year.”
“What’s it about?”
“I won’t bore you with the long title. It’s about genes, chromosomes, and DNA. I spend most of my free time staring at blood samples in the microscope and comparing DNA strips.”
“Married, children?” Kate asked.
“No, not for me. Unlucky in love. How about you? How did you spend the past twenty years?”
“Graduated with a degree in criminal justice, then went to the police academy. When Aunt Lucy’s health started to decline, we moved closer to Boston so she could have access to better healthcare. I like being a BPD cop, but I’m hoping to become a detective someday. Hopefully, sooner rather than later.”
“Interesting. How’s your aunt doing?”
Kate’s smile disappeared; she still missed her. “She passed ten years ago.”
Luke paused and placed his hand on her arm. “Sorry...” Then, he promptly yanked back, almost as if he’d touched a hot iron. “Married?”
Kate forced a grin back onto her face. “Divorced, but no kids, so that made things easier.”
“Recently?”
She nodded. “Almost a year ago.”
