Chapter Twenty-seven

Deputy Director of the Department of Justice Andy Corona dialed the number on his pager and frowned. He’d like to know what jackass thought he could interrupt his evening. He was trying to have a quiet night with his wife to celebrate their anniversary. They’d just come home from a late dinner and dancing, which was Elaine’s idea. He’d almost passed out on the dance floor. But now they were home, and he just wanted to go to bed. It was after two in the morning. The house was quiet, the kids were all sleeping at friends’ houses, he and his wife had all morning to sleep in, and then his damn pager starts buzzing. Shit.

“Cintrello.”

Corona raised an eyebrow. “It’s Corona here, Bob. How are you?”

“Doing well, Andy. And you?”

“Good.” He rolled his hand in the air as he played along with the bullshit routine.

“How are the kids?”

Corona answered with fake enthusiasm. “Driving me crazy, as usual.”

Cintrello laughed. “I can relate, let me tell you.”

“I’m surprised to hear from you on the weekend. Where are you?”

“I’m at the station, actually.”

“Work? Hell, I’m sorry to hear that. What’ve you got going on?”

“Same thing as you, I’m afraid. I heard we just got another vic on the eucalyptus case.”

Corona hated the word “vic” for victim. What was the sense in cutting out three little letters? How much time did it really save?

“Came in about ten minutes ago.”

“Where?”

“Martinez. Vic is a male Caucasian, early forties, multiple gunshot wounds.”

Corona rubbed his fingers on his brow. “Your guys are on the scene?”

“Yep.” Cintrello paused, as if he was gearing up to say something really important.

Corona did his best not to fall asleep before he got it out.

“Three of them out there now, but I want to hold off taking Chase and Thomas to the scene.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, Andy, I think we need to get Sam Chase checked out before she goes to any more scenes.”

Corona frowned. Politics told him to at least hear the jackass out before telling him where to go. “I’m listening.”

“The lab’s been working on the batteries, and they’ve got almost a full set of good prints.”

“And the outside was wiped clean? It’s too obvious. You think she wouldn’t have known to wipe batteries?” Corona said, trying to make Cintrello realize what a jerk he sounded like.

“Her cases, ones she failed to lock up.”

“There’s no way my agent is capable of murder,” Corona said.

“You willing to stake your career on it?”

He hesitated. Hell, yes, he thought quickly, and then he thought again. He couldn’t screw it up, not this close to retirement.

“That’s what I thought.”

Corona bit his tongue.

“It’s just to clear her, but the undersheriff wants it done and I’m not going to argue.”

“Just to clear her,” Corona repeated, wishing he could swallow that load of bullshit.

“To rule her out, of course.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not hanging my ass out on this one. Not after the shit that went down with Yaskevich. The undersheriff’s going to draw blood if we’re wrong.”

Damn John Yaskevich and his guns.

“And we’ve got the psychological profile on her. Our guy thinks it could be a fit.”

Corona shook his head. The profile had been part of her application to the department. As far as Corona was concerned, any profile could be twisted into something negative. The fact that Sam Chase had expressed her views on abusers was unfortunate. But she’d never said anything about committing a crime. She’d talked circles around killing abusers, making them finally pay for the shattered lives they left behind. Some of it was extreme, but Corona thought it made her all the more dedicated to her job.

The flashlight was circumstantial. He’d been concerned at first. But, after hearing about her failed brakes, on top of that business with the photo and the exploding heater, he was leaning toward a setup. People touched batteries all the time—no crime in that. Planting them at a scene would’ve been easy too. But he had to admit it still looked suspicious, especially to someone as gun-shy as the undersheriff. “I still don’t think you have any evidence that she committed a crime.”

“Of course I’m with you, Andy, but I think you ought to consider some CYA here.”

Corona only half listened. Chase was Corona’s employee, so if she was a killer, it would come back to haunt him, Cintrello was saying. He’d be smart not to get caught in the crossfire. Corona wondered if this call had anything to do with the fact that Chase was seeing Nick Thomas, one of Cintrello’s detectives. His wife came into the room, and he put up his index finger, praying that Cintrello would get to his point in the next minute.

“She’s not capable, Bob. It’s a setup.”

“No one wants to believe that more than me, Andy. She’s your best agent, but I think it’s a liability to have her on the team right now. I think the undersheriff would agree.”

“Are you asking me to pull her off this case?” Corona tensed his jaw. First, they’d asked for Chase to be on the case. Now they wanted her off. Fucking sheriff’s department.

“Yes, I am. And we’re checking her out.”

“Checking her out?”

“A judge is signing the warrant tonight.”

“A warrant? For her home?”

“As a precaution.”

Corona paced his office and thought about his ruined evening. “Oh, Jesus, Bob. This is ridiculous. It’s the middle of the damn night.”

“But we’ve got another vic. If it’s her, I want to know now. And she’s not at home now. It’s the perfect time.”

“You’re going to serve a warrant at midnight to another cop? I think it’s crazy. At least wait until morning.”

“Normal procedure is to call Thomas and Chase to the case now,” Cintrello argued. “If we think she’s involved, we can’t do that. Not even Thomas alone. We need to know if she’s hiding something first. It’s all about covering ourselves, Andy. I don’t want to find out she’s guilty later and not have checked it out.” He paused. “The undersheriff agrees with me.”

Corona shook his head and thought about his pension. Some days he would have loved to just tell the department to shove it. If the undersheriff agreed, they had the jurisdiction to go ahead without him. Damn it all. Chase deserved better, and yet his hands were tied. He blew out his breath. “Fine, but keep it off the wire. I don’t want this to be a fucking news event, Bob.”

“We’ll be discreet.”

Corona thought that was about the funniest thing he’d heard all day. His best agent was about to be dragged through the wringer, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it but sit back and hope he could pick up the pieces tomorrow.

“World’s fucked up,” he muttered, sinking into his chair and leaning back. “Happy fucking anniversary, Elaine. Happy fucking anniversary.”