The Strategist (31 page)

Powered by a sudden adrenaline surge, Camille jumped to her feet. Instead of picking up the gun, she kicked it as far as she could. It came to a stop underneath the wheel of a police cruiser. There were at least ten of them, and double the number of uniforms, all of them looking at her with their guns drawn. Camille instinctively put her good arm up. She couldn’t lift the second one at all.

“Are you all right, Chloe?” one of the patrol officers said. It wasn’t until then that Camille realized the officers weren’t actually looking at her.

When she turned around she saw Detective Sullivan on one knee, a few feet from the man who had shot her. Her blouse was covered in blood and her once pretty face looked gaunt. The gun she had just fired was still raised, as if she feared she would have to use it again.

Within seconds the officers swarmed in, one group rushing to Detective Sullivan’s aid, the other descending on the man who murdered Camille’s best friend. He hadn’t admitted to it, but Camille knew; just like she knew who had hired him to do it.

This morning, those officers were confident that he was one of their own. They probably told jokes over coffee and bagels. Now he was powerless to offer resistance as they put handcuffs on his wrists and lifted him to his feet. Camille tried to get one last look at him as they passed, but the officers had him completely surrounded, like a group of Secret Service agents shielding the President. It had all happened so fast. One minute he was holding a gun to her head, the next he was being whisked away in the back of a police cargo van with six officers in tow. 

She looked at the scene around her, and the almost indescribable level of destruction he had left in his wake. It was entirely too much to process. She dropped hard to one knee. She felt no pain. She felt no fear. She felt nothing.

Two paramedics sped past her pulling a stretcher. They stopped in front of Detective Sullivan and began the frenzied work of trying to save her life. It wasn’t until Camille was pulled up and lifted onto a stretcher of her own that she realized anyone had even noticed her.

The back of the ambulance was cold and the faces hovering over her looked concerned. And all she could say before everything around her went black was: “Someone please call my father.”

CHAPTER 54

Camille checked herself out of the Rose Medical Center four days later, a full three days earlier than her doctors recommended. She knew it probably wasn’t wise to disobey their orders, but she couldn’t take the fanatical attention a moment longer.

There were dozens of visitors during those four days, most of whom were part of the jovial celebration in her honor less than two weeks before. But many of the visitors to her hospital room were unexpected, including Julia’s sister Nicole, who visited on the second day. Even though she was clearly overwhelmed by her own grief and sense of loss, she sat at Camille’s bedside for over three hours.

“I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am,” she said. “And at the risk of sounding corny, Julia would be extremely proud of you.”

Camille smiled despite the physical and emotional pain that was otherwise battering her existence. “I’m the one who’s proud of her. You should be too. The bravery it took to create that disk was beyond anything I’m capable of. All Julia wanted was to do the right thing. And in the end, she did. That makes her the only hero
in this particular scenario.”

After Camille was released from surgery to remove bullet fragments from her arm, Paul turned the disk over to Lieutenant Hitchcock personally. The investigation of Elliott Richmond began immediately. The details of that investigation, as well as the contents of the disk, were leaked to the media, presumably by someone within the department, the very next day. Nicole heard those details, along with the rest of the country, and became immediately convinced that Richmond was her sister’s killer.

“The people who did this to her are going to hang,” Nicole insisted. “Without you that wouldn’t have been possible. In my book, that makes you a hero too.”

Camille wanted to protest Nicole’s declaration, but decided it was best not to.

Based on the personal briefing she had received from Lieutenant Hitchcock, the man he had wrongly known as Officer Patrick Davies was cooperating fully in the investigation. Within hours of his arrest, Joseph Solomon had not only revealed his actual identity, but had confessed to the murder of Detective Graham, the attempted murders of Camille and Detective Sullivan, and revealed that he may have had ‘involvement’ in Julia’s murder. But aside from the claim that his conspirators were high-level officials whom he would reveal only after he was guaranteed full immunity, he offered nothing more about himself or the specifics of his involvement.  

A dozen fingerprint index checks came up with zero matches for Joseph Solomon, as did medical, DMV, and social security records. It was as if he never existed. Because of this, details about the shootings, and Solomon’s role in them, were being withheld from the public as the department scrambled to not only find any tangible information on their suspect, but also to figure out how this man with no traceable history ended up in a DPD uniform. Whatever they eventually discovered, the public relations nightmare
was going to be unavoidable.

The department may have had Solomon clean on one count of murder and two counts of attempted murder, but as far as establishing a firm connection between him, Elliott Richmond, and Julia’s murder, they were a million miles away from square one. And unless Solomon was willing to talk without the immunity that no judge in the free world would grant him, the chances of Elliott Richmond walking, at least in Camille’s mind, were roughly one hundred percent. But she wasn’t about to tell Julia’s sister that. “I hope they hang too,” was all she could bring herself to say.

Immediately following the media leak, a reporter from the Denver Post showed up at Camille’s bedside, angling for the rights to an exclusive interview. Her father, and self-appointed watchdog, not-so-kindly escorted the reporter out of the room and into the elevator; with the promise of severe bodily injury should he ever return. He didn’t. But several others attempted to follow in his footsteps. Not one of them ever got close enough to ask a single relevant question, but their numbers and persistence were enough to let Camille know the heights that the story had reached in a relatively short time. She had kept the television turned off for fear of seeing her name and face on the news yet again. Based on the number of media visits she received, this fear had become a stark reality, and she would have to face it head on very soon.

Camille discharged herself at nine a.m. She had just packed the last of her flowers and get-well cards for the trip home when one last visitor knocked on the hospital room door.

“That’s probably the nurse coming to wheel you out,” Paul said as he went to the door.

The man standing on the other side was not a nurse
. He wore a modest suit and tie; his black shoes so polished they were almost too bright to look at.

“May I help you?” Paul asked in his newly perfected watchdog tone.

“Hello,” the man said shyly as he extended his hand. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to see Ms. Grisham. My name’s Stephen Clemmons.”

Paul didn’t hesitate to take his hand. “Paul Grisham. Nice to meet you, young man.” He smiled as he invited Clemmons inside.

When she met Stephen’s gaze, a lump the size of an apple instantly formed in Camille’s throat and she thought she was going to cry.

This is the man who Detective Graham insisted had brutally killed my best friend
? She realized at that moment that man’s ability to become corrupted by power, greed, and pure hatred knew absolutely no bounds. If a fundamentally decent man like this was not protected from the destructive effects of that corruption, who in this world could possibly be?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Camille said with a slightly broken voice as she shook his hand.

“You as well. It looks like you’re on your way out of here.”

“Against my doctor’s and father’s wishes. But I’m anxious to get home.”

“I’m really glad to hear that. Listen, I don’t want to hold you up. I just stopped by to thank you for everything you’ve done in trying to help the police find out who did this. I only met Julia once, but I knew what a good person she was. Everyone at the firm did. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

Camille nodded. “Neither did you, Stephen.”

Something tightened in Clemmons’ face, but he softened it with a smile. “Thanks.”

“So where do things stand right now? I read that you were released on bail.”

“Yes. I still don’t know who posted it though. All I was told was that I was free to leave. The grand jury hearing is scheduled in two weeks, but my attorney says that with all of the recent developments, we may not even make it to that before the charges are dropped altogether.”

Camille hoped he was right, but as was the case with Nicole Blair, she did not want to give voice to her overwhelming doubt. “You have a lot of
people on your side, Stephen.”

“Speaking of someone being on my side, I recently visited Detective Sullivan.”

Camille’s eyes lit up. With her own stay in the hospital, she hadn’t had the chance to visit Sullivan. Lieutenant Hitchcock reported that she had been in surgery for three hours to remove bullet fragments from her leg and abdomen. But aside from a ruptured spleen, there was no serious internal damage and she was expected to make a full recovery. Camille had passed along a message of thanks for Hitchcock to deliver to the detective, but she looked forward to doing it personally very soon.

“How is she?” Camille asked.

“She seemed good, considering the circumstances. There was a lot of family there at the time, little kids and stuff, so I didn’t stay long. But I had to see her. When she and Detective Graham came to my house, Detective Sullivan was the only one who seemed willing to listen to me. If it wasn’t for her, I think Detective Graham would have taken me out of there in handcuffs and shackles, or worse. I feel like she actually went to bat for me, and I wanted to thank her, and to tell her I was glad she was okay.”

“She definitely went to bat for you, Stephen. And for good reason.”

Stephen smiled, almost blushing with embarrassment. Then he continued. “Anyway, the reason I brought it up is because she told me that you were the one who deserved all the thanks. She said it was you who did all the fighting to make sure the truth came out. I know you went through a lot to get that truth out. So again, I just want to say thank you, not just for myself, but for everybody who knew Julia. From what the news says, this story could get a whole lot worse before it gets better. But I know justice will prevail in the end. I know it doesn’t always happen that way. But in this case, I have to believe it.”

Camille nodded. She felt like crying again, and this time she succumbed to the urge.

A wave of sadness washed over Stephen’s plump face. “I’m sorry, Ms. Grisham. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She quickly composed herself. “You didn’t upset me at all. In fact, I couldn’t be happier that we met. I’m so sorry about what happened to you. I can promise you that the people working this case now are right-minded, and they’re just as eager to uncover the full truth of what happened to Julia as I am. So you keep thinking positively about this. If nothing else, you’re inspiring me to do the same.”

The sadness on Stephen’s face was replaced with a light smile. “Positivity is pretty hard to come by these days, but it’s all I have to get me through this.”

“I understand from Detective Sullivan that you’re in school?”

Clemmons nodded. “Paralegal studies.”

“I hope
you can continue that now.”

“I plan to. Brown, Wallace, and Epstein offered me my old job back should the investigation turn out the way they assume it will.”

“Do you think you’ll go back?” Camille asked.

Clemmons briefly lost himself in thought, then shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I’m not sure about a lot of things yet. I’m technically still a suspect in Julia’s murder. So until I find resolution there, nothing else really matters.”

Camille nodded. “I completely understand. And you will find resolution.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” After a quiet moment, Clemmons extended his hand. “It was wonderful to meet you, Ms. Grisham.”

Camille stood up, gently pushed his hand away and hugged him instead. “It’s Camille to you,” she answered. 

When they separated, Stephen lightly dabbed the corner of his eye. “Thank you, Camille.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Take care of yourself Stephen,” Paul offered as he walked Clemmons to the door.

“There are a lot of wounds to heal, Mr. Grisham. But I’m working on it. ”

In that moment, Camille realized just how much the two of them had in common. The time
for healing had indeed begun.

CHAPTER 55

D
ale Rooney felt like an irrelevant spectator as he first watched the reports of Stephen Clemmons’ arrest, the widespread doubt about his guilt, and his subsequent release on bail. Never once did those news reports mention the importance of Dale’s testimony. It seemed, in fact, that no one cared about Dale’s testimony, not even the police. Since giving his last statement to Detectives Graham and Sullivan, Dale had waited by the phone night and day in anticipation of the phone call requesting the positive identification of Clemmons that he was fully prepared to give. But no such phone call came. When Dale put in multiple calls to Detective Graham’s cell phone, none were answered. The star witness in the Julia Leeds murder investigation didn’t feel like much of a star anymore.

He felt betrayed.

It was a feeling that only deepened as he watched the news reports of Detective Graham’s murder and its possible connection to Julia Leeds. The man arrested for Graham’s murder, as well as the shootings of Detective Sullivan and Camille Grisham was a police officer. As if that didn’t shake Dale badly enough, the latest rumors were that this police officer had admitted to a role in Julia’s murder, and had named Graham and several other high profile officials as co-conspirators. Once again, Dale waited for his name to be mentioned.

From the beginning, he felt justified in his actions because the police, and Detective Graham in particular, made him feel as if his eyewitness account was the key component to their investigation; the difference between a quick arrest and a twenty-year-old cold case. But if the reports about Joseph Solomon were true, Dale wasn’t helping the police department at all. He was being used by them.

As the details continued to emerge about real story behind Julia’s murder, Dale wondered how long it would be before Stephen Clemmons’ innocence was confirmed, and the actual motivations behind his arrest were revealed. When the story is told years from now, and Clemmons is known only as the man who was set up by the police as a suspect in a murder he had nothing to do with, Dale had no doubt that his role as an all-too-willing accomplice in that setup would be highlighted. The only question that remained was would he be reviled like Joseph Solomon and the others, or would he be given proper acknowledgment as the unwitting mark that he turned out to be? The best that Dale could hope for was that whenever the story was finally told, his apology to Clemmons, the one that he desperately looked forward to giving, would be front and center.

One thing was for certain, whenever the time did come for that story to be told, Dale Rooney would not be an easy man to find. The realtor had been
hired, the ‘for sale’ sign had been put up in his yard, and the search for the life that should have been his fifteen years ago was thoroughly underway. This time when Dale mentioned his intentions to Maggie, she did not put up a fight. It seemed that something inexplicable had happened to them as a result of this otherwise horrific ordeal: Maggie noticed him again. When they spoke now, it wasn’t about a past full of regrets or a present full of resentment and misunderstanding. It was about a future they planned to spend together. If nothing else positive came from this situation, and so far nothing else had, Maggie had developed a newfound respect for her husband. Dale, in turn, rediscovered the wife, lover, and best friend he had forgotten ever existed. Even though that rediscovery came with a cost that he would have to live with for the rest of his life, Dale knew he wouldn’t change a thing.

With Trinket the Pomeranian yipping in her lap, Maggie pulled up a website filled with real estate listings. “So what exactly did you have in mind?”

Dale didn’t hesitate in his response. “Someplace so far removed from civilization that even the world’s most sophisticated GPS won’t be able to find us.”

Now if only he could find
that German Sheppard.