Dead Reckoning (8 page)

“I’m going to run over to Dallas PD and take a look at the evidence,” she said, steering her gaze away from details she didn’t care to notice.

“I’ll go with you.”

She didn’t want him to go with her. “Look, Mr. Matrone—”

“Since we’re going to be working together, the least you can do is call me Frank.” He smiled, but she knew he was trying to disarm her. Fat chance. “It’s shorter than Matrone. Less syllables. You can yell faster that way.”

She sighed. “Frank, I’d like you to stay here and catch up on what you missed yesterday. I want you to take a look at the security camera video. Review the file I put together for you. I’ll meet with you and David Perrine later this afternoon. I’m probably going to have you doing background checks on witnesses.”

He had the most penetrating stare of any person she’d ever encountered. Kate was good at reading people. It bothered her tremendously that she couldn’t read this man. That she couldn’t figure out what was going on behind that shadowed gaze.

“I know my way around the police department,” he said.

“So do I.”

“No offense, but the cops down in evidence like to make you jump through hoops.”

Kate felt a ripple of uneasiness. Surely he wasn’t saying what it sounded like he was saying. “They have procedures for evidence.”

“For you, maybe.” He smiled. “For the most part, they just like to yank your chain.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “Me personally?” she asked, not liking the way the question felt coming out of her mouth. It made her sound insecure.

“They get a kick out of pissing you off and watching you stomp and snort.” His smile was deceptively charming. “In case you hadn’t noticed, cops are jerks.”

“I’ve noticed.” She stared at him, not sure whether to believe him. Maybe
he
was the one yanking her chain. But she felt a little embarrassed because she’d always suspected the cops she dealt with didn’t much care for her. She felt a little bit like a fool because this man knew it.

“I can help you cut through the bullshit,” he added. “Could end up saving you some time and effort.”

Kate had planned on giving him the grunt work involved with the case. Background checks. Delivering files. Anything to keep him out of her hair. But if he could help her cut through some of the red tape getting into the police evidence room, it might be worth taking him to police headquarters with her. “All right,” she said.

“I’d like to have a look at that security camera video first.”

Impatience swept through her. “If you had been on time yesterday morning, you would already know there’s nothing more to glean from that tape. This is a straightforward robbery, sexual assault, and double murder.”

“I’d still like to see it. Just take a few minutes.”

Frustrated because she’d wanted to get started, Kate turned and crossed to the door. “Conference Room B is open. They’ve got AV in there.”

Once in the hall, she didn’t wait for him, but started toward her office to get the tape. She was aware of Matrone moving behind her. One of the administrative assistants passed them in the hall. A young woman Kate had seen a hundred times before but had never spoken to. She passed by Kate without so much as making eye contact. Then Kate heard the young woman speak to Matrone. “Hey, Frank.” He called her by name, then said something beneath his breath that made her laugh. Kate rolled her eyes, but it didn’t elude her that he’d only been around a few days and already knew the woman’s name when she did not.

Kate retrieved the tape from her office and met Matrone in the conference room. He was standing at the window, looking out at the Dallas skyline and a slate sky that was threatening rain. He’d removed his leather coat. She got the impression of a tall man—well over six feet—wide shoulders, narrow hips, and legs slightly bowed with muscle. She felt herself hesitate as her eyes took in the length of him and an unfamiliar sensation that was both pleasant and uncomfortable went through her.

She was keenly aware of his eyes following her as she crossed to the VCR. She inserted the tape and hit the Power button. “Here we go,” she said.

Rather than sitting, he leaned against the edge of the table, folded his arms and watched the video in silence. Kate stood a few feet away and watched the crime unfold, trying hard not to let it affect her.

When the tape had played out, she turned back to the VCR and started to hit the Eject button. Frank stopped her by putting his hand on hers.

She jolted with the contact and jerked her hand away before she could stop herself.

“I want to see it again,” he said.

She felt herself flush, but within seconds she’d regained her composure. “Any particular reason?”

“I just want to see it again.” Touching his head with his index finger, he hit the Rewind button. “Cops are slow. Sometimes we have to do things twice before we get it.”

Not believing it for a second, she rolled her eyes and hit the Play button. The chilling scene unfolded again. Only this time Kate found herself watching Frank. Even though she had no idea what he was thinking, she didn’t miss the narrowing of those dark eyes when Bruton Ellis entered the store. The tightening of his jaw when he pulled the trigger. The flex of his jaw when Evangeline Worth was shot in the back and then brutally raped as she lay paralyzed on the floor.

When the tape finished, Frank leaned over, ejected the tape, and handed it to her. “Okay. You ready to go?”

Kate blinked at him. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you think?”

“I haven’t decided what I think yet.” One side of his mouth curved. “I need to mull it over. Could take a while. It’s that slow thing.”

She shook her head. “Now that we’ve pissed away half the morning, maybe we should get over to evidence.”

Frank laughed. “Kate, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

It was the first time he’d called her by name, and for some reason it seemed too personal. “As long as you come in on time and do your job, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

He was still smiling when he walked to the conference room door and opened it for her. “After you.”

FIVE

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 25, 11:36 A.M.

The Dallas Police Department was located on Lamar Street just south of downtown. Kate had wanted to drive, but Frank overruled her and they piled into his Chevy pickup truck—which was closer because it had been parked illegally—and headed south. Ten minutes later they entered the Jack Evans Police Headquarters building. They showed their identification and were issued visitor badges, and after a quick security check the elevator whooshed them to the fifth floor where homicide was located.

The division was large and consisted of mostly cubicles with a few offices along the outside wall. Even though the new building was a designated no smoking building, Kate was pretty sure she smelled cigarette smoke. Cops. Jesus.

Frank crossed to a Plexiglas window and tapped with his knuckles. A large African American woman was working two phones, one on each ear. When she looked up and spotted Frank, she snapped, “Hold on,” put both phones on hold, and came out of her chair like a tank climbing out of a gully.

“Well if it ain’t Frank Matrone in the flesh,” she drawled, opening the door to her office and coming around to meet them. “I’ll be damned.”

“Cora.”

He’d barely gotten out the name when she stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Didn’t think I’d ever lay eyes on you again. How you been, Sugar?”

Sugar?
Frank Matrone was a lot of things, but sugar wasn’t one of them. Kate watched the exchange in stunned silence. In the two years she’d been coming to the police department evidence room, the woman Frank had called Cora hadn’t uttered a single kind word.

“I’m good.” Pulling back slightly, he grinned at her. “I look good, don’t I?”

“Good enough to eat. If I was ten years younger and a hundred pounds lighter I’d be all over your ass.” She frowned at Kate. “What you doing wit’ her?”

“I work for the DA’s office now. Investigator.”

“Nice title.”

“I thought so.” Frank motioned to Kate. “This is ADA Kate Megason.”

Feeling left out, Kate stuck out her hand. “Hello.”

Cora all but sneered, but accepted the handshake. “You looking to get into evidence?”

Kate nodded. “Yes, can you call the sergeant for us, please?”

“Oh, hell, I don’t need to call the sergeant when you got Frank wit’ you.” Waving them off, Cora turned and went back to her office. “Just sign in and I’ll buzz you through.”

Kate couldn’t believe it. For the past two years every time she’d come to the police department to review evidence for a case, she’d had to fill out forms. Plus, wait on the sergeant in charge of evidence to arrive so he could accompany her into the room. She considered that as she signed her name and title.

“Which case you lookin’ at today?” Cora asked Frank.

“Bruton Ellis,” Frank replied.

“You going to be looking for box number 5335B,” the clerk said. “Item 5335A is in a bag on the shelf next to it. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I think we got it covered,” Frank said.

The buzzer sounded. The lock clicked. Frowning, Kate reached for the knob.

“You be sure to say goodbye when you leave,” Cora called out to Frank. “I want to show you a picture of my new grandbaby.”

He shot her a smile over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of walking out of here and not seeing you again.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, bull. Matrone, you’re so full of it!”

Rolling her eyes, Kate shoved open the door and walked in. The evidence room was huge and windowless and filled with rows of industrial-steel shelving with particleboard shelves that ran from floor to ceiling. She heard Frank behind her, but she proceeded down the narrow aisle until she found the numbered box she was looking for. “Here we go.”

“Let me get that for you.” Nudging her aside, Frank lifted the box from the shelf. Kate stood on her tiptoes and, on the shelf next to where the box had been, found item number 5335A wrapped in plastic. It was the shotgun Bruton Ellis had used to murder Evangeline Worth and Irma Trevino.

She pulled the gun off the shelf. “So how did you manage that?” she asked as they carried both items to the table.

“It wasn’t that heavy. . . .”

“Not the box,” she snapped before realizing he was messing with her. She pursed her lips. “I meant getting in here without having to jump through hoops.”

“Cora and I go way back.” When Kate only continued to look at him, he shrugged and added, “They know me.”

“They know me, too.”

He carried the box to a beat-up wooden table in the back corner. She followed with the bagged shotgun and set it on the table. “Why do they make me jump through hoops and not you?”

“She wants my body.”

“I’m serious,” she said.

“I’m not kidding. If I didn’t like being groped by women so much, I would have filed—”

“Matrone,” she cut in firmly.

Frank cleared his throat and sobered. “You sure you want to know?”

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“The cops don’t much care for you,” he said.

Kate knew better than to let that get to her. She knew she wasn’t always a nice person. But over the years she’d learned that nice didn’t always get the job done. She didn’t come here to win personality points or make friends. Her job required her to get things done. In order to be effective, most of the time she had to be firm.

He removed the lid from the box. “Not much here,” he said, pulling a large plastic bag from the box. “Looks like the M.E. hasn’t sent the clothing over yet.”

“Clothing went to the Institute of Forensic Sciences lab.”

“DNA?”

“They’ve got semen.” She frowned. “The lab has had plenty of time. Give the M.E.’s office a call when you get back.” Kate plucked a small bag containing one shotgun shell from the box. “Latent prints have been done. We should have had the report already.” She made a mental note to call them when she got back to her office.

Frank tugged a ladder-back wood chair from beneath the table and sat down. Kate sat opposite him and pulled a legal pad from her briefcase. “What makes you think the cops don’t like me?” she asked, plucking a pen from her appointment book.

He looked over at her and smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about that.”

“Of course not,” she lied. “I just . . . want to know why I can’t seem to get things done here.”

He picked up the bag containing the shotgun shell and studied it as if it were the most fascinating piece of evidence he’d ever seen.

She set down her pen. “Matrone.”

“Kate, come on. I told you cops are jerks.”

“Would you just clue me in, please?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I want to know.”

“It will only piss you off. You really don’t want to know.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, would you just tell—”

“They call you Megabitch.”

Kate struggled not to wince, but wasn’t sure if she succeeded. “Megabitch?”

“You know, it’s a play on words. Megason. Megabitch.”

“I get the connection,” she snapped.

“Cops can be real assholes about stupid shit.”

“Like calling an ADA Megabitch.”

He managed to look contrite. “I told you it would piss you off.”

“I’m not pissed off.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re yelling.”

“I’m not yelling.” Realizing her voice had gone up a decibel or two, she took a deep breath. “Oh, good grief.”

One side of his mouth curved. “See? You’re a sweetheart. The cops got it all wrong.”

Kate knew it was stupid to let something like that get to her. She had thicker skin than that. Damn it, she knew she wouldn’t win any personality contests at Dallas PD. But she couldn’t believe the cops she worked with on an almost daily basis called her Megabitch behind her back. On a professional level, it was important for an ADA to have a good working relationship with the police department. On a personal level, knowing the cops made fun of her bothered her more than she wanted to admit.