Liars, Cheaters & Thieves (26 page)

“I think you do.” Jackson leaned forward. “You just blushed, your eyes won’t focus on anything, and your leg is vibrating harder than ever. Just tell me about her affair, and I won’t have to subpoena the phone records of everyone you both know.”

Dolan swallowed hard, but didn’t manage to clear his throat, so he gulped from his water bottle. “My wife can’t find out, please. It was long ago when Rafel first left for Afghanistan. It only lasted a few weeks. She was gorgeous and horny, but I couldn’t take the guilt.”

CHAPTER 25

After another ten minutes of intense questioning, Jackson had to get out of the closetlike space. “Let’s take a break, Matt. You can stand and stretch, but don’t go anywhere.” He left the camera running, stepped outside into the dark driveway, and pulled in long breaths of cool night air. The pounding in his head eased, but the hollow pit in this stomach was growing.

A moment later, Schak and Evans stepped out of the back of the unit and joined him. Evans spoke up. “I saw most of the interrogation. What do you think?”

“He’s consistent and makes good eye contact. If he’s lying, he’s damn good.”

“But he was in Pittman’s house during the time-of-death window,
and
he admits to an affair with Sierra.” Schak wasn’t really arguing, just verbalizing his own internal struggle.

“He also came into a load of cash yesterday,” Evans added. “Dolan is a very viable suspect.” She handed him her cup of coffee. “You look like you could use some caffeine.”

“Thanks.” Jackson took a long slug of the lukewarm brew. “We need a search warrant for his house and truck.”

“I’ll write the paper,” Evans said. “But what about Pittman’s slit throat? We haven’t released that information about Mazari.” She gained confidence as she talked. “Whoever killed Pittman likely knew Mazari had his throat cut. Either because they killed both men or because they wanted us to think the deaths were connected. We’re pretty damn sure Sierra killed her husband, and since she was in jail last night, I’m starting to think she conspired with whoever killed Pittman.”

“What’s the motive?”

“Seven thousand dollars.” Evans and Schak said it at the same time.

“Pittman admitted to having an affair with Sierra,” Jackson said. “If they’re still sleeping together, he’s probably our man.”

“Which explains why Dolan locked himself in his bedroom when they tried to bring him in for questioning.” Evans started to bounce a little. “Pittman may have known about their affair. They may have killed him to silence him as well.”

“I’ll go question Dolan again,” Schak offered. “You guys talk to the wife. Look around the house while you’re in there.”

“It’s a plan.” Jackson was ready to get out of the cold and wrap up this scene. “After this, we’ll head back to the department and pull our information together. This has been an eventful day, and I don’t want any details to fall through the cracks.”

“What are we going to do with Dolan?” Evans asked.

“Release him and keep an eye on him if we can. We don’t have enough to arrest him.”

“We need to get his DNA too.” Evans reached out, wanting her coffee back.

Sheila had little more to offer except to say her husband had been under a lot of financial stress, and the news of Jake’s murder had pushed him to the edge. Jackson had no reason to mention her husband’s infidelity with Sierra, but he intended to find out if the affair was still going on. Dolan had vehemently denied seeing her recently, and his wife probably didn’t know about the affair, so Jackson had no idea where to go for the information.

Sheila Dolan let them do a cursory search of the house, and they found no guns, no cash, and no explosives.

As he and Evans walked out to the command unit, Jackson’s legs felt like lead. Yet his brain was still jumping between connections in these cases. When his mind stopped for a moment to rest, thoughts of Kera flooded in, making him doubt everything. What could he do to win her back?

“What are you thinking?” Evans asked. “You stopped in your tracks.”

“Kera broke up with me today.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud. It was nobody’s business.

“That sucks. Why?”

He didn’t want to admit it was his lack of commitment, and he was sorry he’d said anything. “I’m not sure and I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t repeat it to anyone.”

“I won’t. I hope you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. Let’s round up Schak and get on with this investigation.”

Assuming his teammates had eaten long ago, Jackson bought a burger on his way downtown. Neither Katie nor Kera was there to give him grief about it, so he sat in his car in the Dairy Queen parking lot and thoroughly enjoyed every greasy, cheesy bite. He had a flash of worry about how the cholesterol would affect his
retroperitoneal fibrosis, but quickly let it go. No one had any idea what caused the damned disease, so they didn’t know what made it worse or better. Except the steroids. They worked, at least for a while.

Had his diagnosis and surgery scared off Kera? Was that part of it? Was she worried about having to take care of him after all the surgeries he might face? He wouldn’t blame her for that. Kera was a nurse and had seemed to take the development in stride, but maybe she’d given it a lot more thought.

Jackson picked up the last few days’ worth of debris from the floor of his car and hauled it to a trash can. Sipping his coffee, he drove to headquarters, wondering if he should transfer to a position that didn’t require him to work on Sunday nights. Would that save his relationship—or was it too late?

He stopped at his desk to check e-mails, saw nothing critical to the case, and headed for the conference room. Schak and Evans were already seated at the table, watching Sierra’s interrogation again. Evans got up and turned it off.

“You stop and feed your face on the way?” Schak asked, pointing to Jackson’s chin. “You’ve got cheese there, I think.”

Jackson made a face, pulled a tissue from his carryall, and wiped his mouth again. “Let’s make this meeting fast. I’m exhausted.” He realized who was missing. “Oh crap, I forgot to contact Quince.”

“I texted him,” Evans said. “He’s coming.”

“Thanks. Will you take the board too?”

“I’m on it.” Evans jumped up. “We need a second board, and I know where to find one.”

A minute later, she was back, pushing a smaller wheeled version. “This was in the storage room. I think Internal Affairs stashed it, but they haven’t gotten around to sneaking it out.”

“You’re stealing your boyfriend’s pilfered goods?” Schak let out a grunting laugh.

“We’ll call it a loan.” Evans parked the second white board next to the first and wrote
Jake Pittman
at the top. “We have to keep these separate until we know for sure they’re connected.”

“But you think they are?” Jackson wanted to hear every side and every angle. These cases were stumpers.

“They have to be.” Evans wrote
Connections
on the board and started a list:
best friends, ex-military, money problems, wife problems, died 48 hours apart.
She looked back at the group and asked, “Anything else?”

Quince came through the door and peeled off his wet jacket. “Where are we?”

“We’re establishing connections between the two homicides,” Jackson said.

“That’s quite a list.” Quince scanned the second whiteboard. “How does Sierra Kent figure into the second death? I thought she was in jail.”

“She is, but we think she has a partner, maybe her lover.”

“She wouldn’t say much when I saw her in jail,” Evans reported. “Except to threaten to sue us for emotional damages. And she vehemently denied having an affair with anyone. The animal clinic was closed when I stopped by earlier, so I still haven’t talked to Dr. Davidson, the veterinarian, yet.”

Jackson collected his thoughts, then summarized for Quince. “We have a suspect for Jake Pittman’s murder. His name’s Matt Dolan and he used to be Pittman’s boss. He also loaned Pittman money and got burned, so Pittman owed him nearly four grand.” While he talked, Evans wrote Dolan’s name on the board and listed the details. Jackson continued. “Dolan admits to visiting the second victim last night during the time frame for his death,
but he claims Pittman called him over and paid back the money. He showed me an ATM receipt for the deposit.”

“He could have killed Pittman and taken the money,” Quince offered.

“Yes, and here’s the interesting part. He also admits to having a brief affair with Mazari’s wife more than a year ago. But if Sierra and Dolan are still lovers, they could have conspired to kill both men—with the cash from the charity scam being the motive.”

Evans cut in. “We need to know who took the seven grand out of the charity’s bank account after they transferred it. If that’s where Dolan’s money came from.”

“None of the money was ever in Mazari’s account,” Jackson added. “I looked at his statements last night. Now we need Pittman and Dolan’s records. I think tracking the money will show us what really happened.”

“I should have information about the charity’s bank account tomorrow.” Quince looked frustrated and a little guilty. “Maybe we’ll even get a name.”

Evans looked at the board. “What else do we know about Pittman? Did you get anything interesting from his wife today?”

Jackson summarized the conversation he’d had with Hailey Pittman, focusing on her husband’s financial troubles followed by his unexpected money. “She also heard him mention the Veterans Relief Fund while on the phone with Rafel Mazari. Which links both men to the fraudulent charity.”

“Any other connections?” Evans looked back over her shoulder, after making rapid notes.

“Not that I know of. I asked Hailey Pittman if her husband had been sleeping with Sierra and she said no, that Jake didn’t even like Sierra. I sensed she might not like her either.” Jackson glanced at Schak. “What have you got?”

“Nothing yet. I couldn’t reach Cody Sawyer by phone, so I stopped by his house, but no one was home. I’ll keep trying.” Schak rubbed his face, looking tired. “I wrote the subpoenas, but I can’t get bank or phone records until the businesses open again tomorrow.”

“Let’s get Pittman’s cell phone company to ping his phone and see if we can locate it. Mazari’s too. If the killer took them, he or she may still have them in their possession. Even if they tossed the phones, the location should help us.”

“Will do.”

Jackson added, “I’ll attend Jake’s autopsy, then we’ll meet here as soon as we have the bank and phone records. We’ll be up to our asses in paperwork, but we’ll find the trail.”

“Mazari’s funeral service is tomorrow at ten,” Evans said. “That’s another thing Sierra told me. She’s hoping to be arraigned first thing in the morning so she can attend. I think I’ll go and see who Sierra leans on. Maybe her lover will be there.”

The information surprised Jackson. “That seems soon for a service.”

“Sierra said Rafel’s sister set it up. Apparently, it’s a cultural thing to bury their dead as soon as possible.”

“Text me with the location, in case I get out of the autopsy in time.” Jackson turned to Quince. “Call me tomorrow if anything breaks on the charity’s website or bank account.”

“I will.”

Schak closed his notebook. “Are we giving up on the guy at the tavern who had the shoving match with Mazari?”

“No. But our sketch artist won’t be back until Tuesday morning, and our witness won’t return my call, so it’s on a back burner.” Jackson looked at his cell phone: 9:45. “Let’s call it a night.”

CHAPTER 26

Monday, November 14, 5:30 a.m.

Jackson woke from a nightmare and sat up, heart pounding. In his sleep, his ex-wife had murdered Kera, and Jackson had found her body in a ditch near the stadium. Somehow, in the dream, he’d known where the body was, as if he’d conspired with Renee to kill Kera.

Jesus
. He shook off the horrific images, jumped out of bed, and rushed to splash cold water on his face. A sense of guilt and dread hung over him as he showered and dressed for work. Sitting down with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, he texted Katie first:
I’ll pick you up at 7. We can stop for a bagel.
He knew his daughter was up and dressed for school, because she’d been getting herself ready in the morning since she was eight, when she realized her mother was not dependable.