Текст книги "The Simple Truth"
Автор книги: David Baldacci
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
Josh opened his eyes and looked over at Tremaines twisted body, both relieved and sickened by what he had done. Even the worst enemy in the world didnt look so terrifying dead. He looked back at Rufus. You done good, little brother. Shit, bettern me.
Id be dead if you hadnt killed him.
Aint gonna let him get you. Aint gonna let him . . .
Rufus ripped open his brothers shirt and looked at the wounds. The knife had only cut a slice in his side. Probably hadnt hit anything vital, Rufus concluded, but it was bleeding like a bitch. The bullet, though, was something else. He saw the blood dripping from his brothers mouth, the rising glaze to his eyes. Rufus could stop the bleeding on the outside, but he could do nothing about what was going on inside. And thats what could kill him. Rufus took off his shirt and put it over his brother, who was now shivering despite the heat.
Hold on, Josh. Rufus ran over to the Jeep and quickly looked through it. He found the first-aid kit and hustled back over to his brother. Joshs eyes were now closed and he didnt seem to be breathing. Rufus shook him gently. Josh, Josh, dont do it, keep your damn eyes open. Dont be going to sleep on me. Josh!
Finally Josh opened his eyes and appeared lucid. You got to get outta here, Rufus. All the shooting, people might be coming. You got to go. Now.
Wegot to get out of here thats right.
Rufus lifted Josh up a little and checked his back. The bullet hadnt gone through; it was still in him somewhere. Rufus started cleaning both wounds. At one point Josh gripped his arm. Rufus, get the hell out of here, he said again.
You dont go, I dont go, so thats what we got.
You still crazy.
Yeah, Im crazy as hell, lets leave it at that. He finished cleaning and then dressing the wounds and tightly bandaged them. He gently lifted his brother, but the movement sent Josh into a coughing spasm, blood from his mouth pooling down his shirt. Rufus carried him over to the truck and laid him down next to it.
Shit, Rufus, this thing aint going nowhere, Josh said desperately, looking at the battered truck.
I know that. Rufus pulled a bottle of water from the camper, twisted it open and put it to Joshs lips. Can you hold it? You need to get some liquid in you.
Josh answered by gripping the bottle with his good hand and drinking a little. Rufus rose and went to the overturned Jeep. He pulled the machine gun free from where Tremaine had wedged it between the seat and the metal side of the Jeep. The man had used wire, a piece of metal and a string to rig the trigger for full automatic fire while he set up his ambush of Josh. Rufus eyed the situation for a moment and then tried to push against the hood to right the vehicle, but he couldnt get any leverage that way, and his feet slipped in the loose gravel. He studied the situation some more. There was really only one way that he could see. He put his back against the edge of the drivers-side seat and then squatted down. He dug his fingers into the dirt and gravel until they got underneath the Jeeps side, and then he clenched the metal tightly. He gave one good pull to gauge what he was up against. The Jeep was heavy, damn heavy. Thirty years ago, this wouldnt have been that much trouble for him. As a young man he had lifted the front end of a full-sized Buick, engine and all, clean off the ground by a good three feet. But he wasnt twenty anymore. He pulled again and he could feel the Jeep rise a little before settling back down. He pulled once more, straining and grunting, the muscles in his neck tensing hard beneath his skin. Josh put the bottle down and even managed to lift himself partially off the ground by leaning against the shredded truck tire, as he watched what his brother was trying to do. Rufus was tired already. His arms and legs werent used to this anymore, not for a long time. He had always been strong, stronger than anyone else. Now, when he really needed it, when his brother would surely die if he couldnt turn this damn Jeep upright, would he not be strong enough? He hunkered down again, closed his eyes and then opened them. He looked skyward where a big, black crow lazily circled. Not a care in the world, just long, unhurried brush strokes against the canvas of blue. As sweat poured off Rufuss face he clenched his eyes again and did what he always did when he was troubled, when he thought he wouldnt make it. He prayed. He prayed for Josh. He asked the Lord to please grant him the strength he needed to save his brothers life. He gripped the sides of the Jeep once more, tensed his massive shoulders and legs. His long arms began to pull, his bent legs began to straighten. For a moment, Jeep and man were suspended in a precarious equilibrium, moving neither up nor down the Jeep unwilling to yield and Rufus just as stubborn. But then Rufus slowly started to fall back a little as the weight was just too much for him. Rufus sensed he would not have another chance. Even as the Jeep began to win the battle, he opened his mouth and let out a terrible scream that forced tears from his eyes. As Josh looked on at the impossible thing his brother was trying to do for him, tears started to fall down his exhausted face. Rufuss eyes opened again as he felt the Jeep rise, inch by agonizing inch. His joints and tendons afire with what he was accomplishing, Rufus grunted and pulled and heaved and ignored the pain as it snapped perilous signals through his trembling body. The Jeep fought him every punishing inch. It creaked and groaned, cursing him. But then he was standing upright, and he gave the hunk of metal one last heave. Like a wave about to pitch onto a beach, the Jeep cleared the point of no return and fell hard to earth, rocking upon impact and then coming to rest on all four wheels. Rufus sat down in the Jeep, his whole body shaking from his immense exertions. Josh looked on in silent wonderment. Damn, was all he could finally say about what he had just witnessed. Rufuss heart was racing so hard now, he worried his success might prove to be an empty one. He clutched at his chest, breathed deeply. Please, he quietly said, please dont. A minute later Rufus slowly rose, shuffled over to his brother and carefully lifted him into the Jeep. He rearranged the cloth top, which had become dislodged when Tremaine and Rayfield had been thrown clear. He gathered up as many supplies as he could from the truck, including his Bible, and put them into the back of the Jeep along with the weaponry. He climbed in the drivers seat and then stopped and looked over at Tremaine and Rayfield. Then he stared up once again at the circling crow, which had now been joined by several brethren, large enough to be buzzards. In less than a day the two dead men would be picked to the bone if left out in the open. Rufus climbed out of the Jeep and went over to Rayfield. He didnt have to check the mans pulse. The eyes didnt lie. That and the stench of released bowels. He slid first Rayfields and then Tremaines bodies into the shack. He said a few simple words over both men before rising and closing the door. One day he would forgive them for all they had done, but not today. Rufus climbed back in the Jeep, gave Josh a reassuring look and started the Jeep. The engine didnt catch the first time, but it did the second. Gears grinding as Rufus got a quick lesson in driving a stick shift, the Jeep jolted forward, and the brothers left this impromptu battlefield behind. ["C50"]CHAPTER FIFTY
The justices traditionally had a private lunch in the Courts second-floor dining room after oral argument. Fiske had left Sara in her office to catch up on some work. He had decided to use the opportunity to make some inquiries on his own. If his flow of information had been cut off from D.C. Homicide, Fiske decided hed better make it up somehow. One possible source was Police Chief Leo Dellasandro. As he walked along the hallway, he thought about the oral argument he just listened to. Even as a lawyer, he had never really understood how much power was wielded from this building. The Supreme Court over its history had taken some very unpopular positions on a myriad of significant issues. Many had been brave and, at least in Fiskes opinion, correct. But it was unnerving to realize that if a vote or two had gone the other way on some or all of those prior decisions, the country might be very different today. By any definition that seemed to be a precarious, if not perilous, state of events. Fiske also thought about his brother, and how much good he had undoubtedly brought to this place, even in the role of a clerk. Mike Fiske had always been fair and just in his opinions and actions. And when he made up his mind, a person could not ask for a more loyal friend. Mike Fiske was good for this place. The Court had indeed suffered a great loss when someone had taken his life. But not as great as the Fiske familys loss. Fiske made his way to Dellasandros ground-floor office, knocked on the door, waited. He knocked again, and then opened the door and peered inside. He was looking at the anteroom to Dellasandros office, where his secretary worked. That space was empty. Probably at lunch, Fiske assumed. He stepped into the office. Chief Dellasandro? He wanted to know if anything had turned up on the surveillance videos. He also wanted to know if one of the officers had driven Wright home. He approached the inner office door. Chief Dellasandro, its John Fiske. I was wondering if we could talk. Still no answer. Fiske decided to leave the man a note. But he didnt want to leave it at the secretarys desk. He slipped into Dellasandros office and over to his desk. He picked up a piece of paper and, using a pen from the holder on the desk, scrawled out a brief note. As he finished and positioned the note prominently on the desk, he looked around the office for a moment. There were many ceremonial tokens on shelves and walls, attesting to a distinguished career. On one wall was a photo of a much younger Dellasandro in his uniform. Fiske turned to leave. Hanging on the back of the door was a jacket. It had to belong to Dellasandro, obviously part of his Court uniform. As Fiske passed by it, he noticed several smudges on the collar. He rubbed it with his finger and examined the residue: makeup. He went out into the anteroom and looked at the photos on the desk there. He had seen Dellasandros secretary once before. A young, tall brunette with quite memorable features. On her desk, there was a photo of her and Chief Dellasandro. His arm was around her shoulder; they were both smiling into the camera. Probably many secretaries had a photograph with their bosses. There was something in the eyes, how close they were standing together, however, that might suggest something more than a platonic working relationship. He wondered if the Court had specific rules on fraternization. And there was another reason why Dellasandro would be well advised to keep his pants on and his hands off his secretary: Fiske glanced back into Dellasandros office at the photo on his credenza of his wife and kids. A very happy-looking family. Only on the surface, obviously. As he left the office, he concluded that it pretty much summed up how this place and the world in general operated: Surface appearances could be very deceiving; one had to dig deeper to get to the real truth. *����*����* Rufus stopped the Jeep. Im going to flag down the first cop I see. Get you some help, Rufus said. With an effort, Josh sat up. The hell you are. Cops get hold of you, they find Tremaine and Rayfield, theyll bury you.
You need a doctor, Josh.
I dont need shit. With a lunge, he gripped his pistol. We started this, we gonna finish it. He wedged the barrel of the pistol against his gut. You stop for anybody, Im gonna put a hole right here.
Youre crazy. What the hell you want me to do?
Josh coughed up blood. You find Fiske and that girl. I cant help you no more, maybe they can. Rufus looked at the gun. Dont go thinking it bullets pretty damn fast.
Rufus put the Jeep in gear and pulled back on the road. Josh watched him, his eyes coming in and out of focus. Stop that shit.
What?
I see you doing that mumbling shit. Dont be praying for me.
Aint nobody telling me when I can talk to the Lord.
Just keep me out of it.
Im praying for Him to watch over you. Keep you alive.
Does it look like its troubling me any? You just wasting your breath.
God gave me the strength to lift this Jeep.
Youlifted this damn hunk of metal. Aint no angels come down from no heaven and help you do shit.
Josh
Just drive. The intensity of his pain forced Josh to suddenly hunch forward. Im tired of talking. *����*����* While she was in her office, Sara received an urgent summons from Elizabeth Knight. She was surprised by this, because on Wednesday afternoons the justices were usually in conference, going over the cases heard on Monday. Each justice had two secretaries and a personal assistant. As she entered Knights chambers, Sara greeted Knights longtime secretary, Harriet, who had been with the justice through several careers. Normally cheerful and friendly, Harriet spoke in a cold tone. Go right in, Ms. Evans.
Sara passed by Harriets desk and paused at the door to Knights office. She turned around and caught Harriet staring at her. Harriet quickly turned back to her work. Sara took a deep breath and opened the door. Within the office, either standing or perched upon chairs, were Ramsey, Detective Chandler, Perkins and Agent McKenna. Seated behind her antique desk, Elizabeth Knight was nervously fiddling with a letter opener when she saw Sara.
Please come in and sit down. Her tone was barely cordial, Sara thought. She sat in an upholstered wing chair that had been, she thought, carefully positioned because it allowed everyone in the room to directly face her. Or confront her, perhaps? She looked at Knight. You wanted to see me?
Ramsey stepped forward. We all wanted to see you, and, more to the point, hear you, Ms. Evans. However, I will let Detective Chandler do the honors. Ramsey was as stern as Sara had ever seen him. He leaned back against the fireplace mantel and continued to stare at her, his large hands clasping and unclasping nervously. Chandler sat down across from her, his knees almost touching hers. Ive got some questions I need to ask you, and I want the truth in return, he said quietly. Sara looked around the room. Only half joking, she said, Do I need a lawyer?
Not unless youve done something wrong, Sara, Knight quickly pointed out. However, I think you should make the determination whether to have legal counsel present or not.
Sara swallowed with difficulty and then looked back at Chandler. What do you want to know?
Have you ever heard the name Rufus Harms?
Sara closed her eyes for a moment.Oh, shit. Let me explain
Yes or no, please, Ms. Evans, Chandler said. Explanations can come later.
She nodded, then said, Yes.
Exactly how are you familiar with that name?
She fidgeted in her chair. I know that hes a military prisoner who escaped. I read that in the papers.
Was that the first youd heard of him? When she didnt answer, Chandler continued, Youve been asking questions at the clerks office about an appeal presumably filed by Rufus Harms. In fact, you did that before he escaped from prison, didnt you? What were you looking for?
I thought . . . I mean
Did John Fiske put you up to it? Knight asked sharply. She looked searchingly at Sara, the disappointment on her features making Sara feel even more guilty.
No. I did it on my own.
Why? Chandler asked. From his vague conversation with Fiske in the Courts cafeteria, he already had a notion as to what the truth was. But he needed to hear it from her. Sara let out a deep breath and looked once more at the army aligned against her. She wished that Fiske would suddenly appear to help her, but that was not going to happen. One day I happened to see what looked like an appeal with Rufus Harmss name on it. I checked at the clerks office, because I didnt recall seeing it on the docket. The clerks office had no record of it.
Where did you see this appeal? Ramsey interjected, before Chandler could get the same question out.
Just somewhere, Sara said, looking miserable.
Sara, Knight said harshly, its no use covering up for somebody. Just tell us the truth. Dont throw your career away for this.
I dont remember where I saw it, I just saw it. For maybe two seconds. And I only saw Rufus Harmss name, not what was in the filing, Sara said stubbornly.
But if you suspected it was an appeal that was not logged into the system, Perkins said, then why didnt you take it down to the clerks office and have it logged in?
How was she supposed to answer that? It really wasnt convenient at the moment, and I didnt get another chance.
Wasnt convenient? Ramsey looked ready to erupt. Its my understanding that you just recently inquired at the clerks office about this missing appeal. Was it still not convenient for you to have it logged in then?
At that point I didnt know where it was.
McKenna spoke up forcefully. Listen, Ms. Evans, either you tell us or we find out from another source.
Sara stood up. I resent your tone and I dont appreciate being treated this way.
I think its in your interests to cooperate, McKenna said, and stop trying to protect the Fiske brothers.
What are you talking about?
We have reason to suspect that Michael Fiske took that appeal for his own purposes, and that somehow youre involved in all of that, Chandler informed her.
If he did and you knew about it but remained silent, that is a very serious ethical offense, Ms. Evans, said Ramsey.
Youre doing all of this running around, asking questions, because John Fiske put you up to it, didnt he?
This may come as quite a shock to you, but I can think and act all by myself, Agent McKenna, she said hotly.
You know that Michael Fiske had a half-million-dollar insurance policy naming his brother as beneficiary?
Yes, John told me.
And do you also know that Fiske has no alibi for the time of his brothers death?
Sara shook her head and smiled tightly. Youre wasting valuable time trying to pin Michaels murder on his brother. He had nothing to do with it, and hes trying as hard as he can to find out who did murder Michael.
McKenna put his hands in his pockets and studied her for a moment, changing his tactic. Would you say the Fiske brothers were close?
What do you mean by close?
McKenna rolled his eyes. Just the ordinary meaning of the word, thats all.
No, I dont think they were particularly close. So?
We found the life insurance policy at Michael Fiskes apartment. Tell me why he insured his life for all that money and made his not-so-close older brother the beneficiary. Why not his parents? From what Ive found out, they can certainly use the money.
I dont know what Michael was thinking when he did that. I guess well never know.
Maybe it wasnt Michael Fiske who did it at all.
Sara was momentarily stunned. What do you mean?
Do you know how easy it is to take out a life insurance policy on somebody else? Theres no photo identification necessary. A nurse comes to your house, takes some measurements and fluid samples. You forge a few signatures, pay the premiums through a dummy account.
Saras eyes widened. Are you suggesting that John impersonated his brother in order to take out the life insurance policy on him?
Why not? It would make it a lot clearer why two estranged brothers would have such a big financial pact.
You obviously do not know John Fiske. McKenna gazed at her in a way that she found unnerving. The point is, Ms. Evans, neither do you.
McKennas next words almost put her on the floor.
Did you also know that Michael Fiske was killed by a slug fired from a nine-millimeter? He paused for effect. And that John Fiske has a nine-millimeter registered to his name? And this appeal, Im sure hes telling you its connected to his brothers murder, isnt he?
Sara looked at Chandler. I cant believe this.
Well, none of its been proven yet, Chandler said. Perkins nodded thoughtfully, his arms crossed. We received a phone call from the Office of Special Military Operations, Ms. Evans. A Master Sergeant Dillard. He said you had called about Rufus Harms, that you said an appeal had been filed by Rufus Harms with the Court and you were checking into his background.
Theres no law that says I cant make a phone call to clarify something, is there?
So you admit having called him, Perkins said triumphantly, looking first at Ramsey and then at Knight. That means you admit to having used Court facilities and Court time on some personal investigation into some escaped convict. And you happened to have lied to the military, since no such appeal is on file here, as you pointed out.
Your offenses are quickly adding up, added McKenna.
I admit to no such thing. As far as Im concerned, it was Court business and I had a perfect right to do it.
Ms. Evans, are you going to tell us who exactly had that appeal? Ramsey was staring at her just as he had peered down at the lawyers during oral argument that morning. If someone at this Court stole an appeal before it was filed the very idea is unthinkable and if you know who it was, you have a duty to this institution to tell us who it was.
They all knew the answer to that question, Sara realized, or at least they thought they did. However, she wasnt providing any clarification. Summoning a reserve of strength she was unaware she possessed, she rose slowly. I think Ive answered enough questions, Mr. Chief Justice.
Ramsey looked over at Perkins and then at Elizabeth Knight. Sara thought she could see a slight nod pass among all of them.
Then, Sara, I have to ask you to voluntarily resign your clerkship, effective immediately, Knight said, her voice breaking as she made this announcement. Sara looked at her with very little surprise. I understand, Justice Knight. Im sorry its come to this.
Not nearly as sorry as I am. Mr. Perkins will escort you out. You may gather your personal belongings from your office. Knight abruptly looked away. As Sara turned to go, Ramseys voice boomed out again. Ms. Evans, be advised that if your actions cause this institution any harm whatsoever, all appropriate action will be taken against you and any other responsible parties. However, if I am reading the situation correctly, I think the harm has already come to pass, and may well be irreversible. His voice rose dramatically. If so, then may your conscience haunt you with that damnable fact for the rest of your natural life!
Ramseys face was red with indignation; his gaunt body seemed ready to burst through his suit. Sara could read it all in his smoldering eyes: A scandal on his watch. At the one institution that had been above scandal in a town constantly and infamously mired in it. His place in history, his long-earned career of jurisprudence, to be blemished by the blunders of an insignificant clerk; the history of his professional life reduced to a series of explanatory footnotes. If she had struck down his entire family right in front of him, Sara Evans could not have devastated the man any more. She fled the room before she burst into tears. ["C51"]CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Fiske was waiting for Sara in her office. When she appeared in the doorway, he rose and started to speak, but then Perkins appeared behind her. Sara went over to her desk and started cleaning it out, while Perkins watched from the doorway.
Sara, what happened?
This is none of your concern, Mr. Fiske, Perkins said. However, I will let Detective Chandler and Agent McKenna know youre here. They have something to ask you.
Well, why dont you run off and tattle on me so I can talk to Sara in private.
I am going to escort Ms. Evans from the building.
Sara continued to pack her things into a large shopping bag and then picked up her purse and laid it on top in the bag. As she passed Fiske, she whispered, Ill meet you in the garage.
As she went by Perkins, he said, Ill also need all of your keys to this building.
Sara put her bag down, fished through her purse, pulled the keys off her key ring and tossed them to Perkins.
Its not like Im enjoying any of this, Perkins said indignantly. The Courts in shambles, were surrounded by a media army, people being murdered, the police swarming everywhere. Its not like I wanted you to lose your job.
Sara wordlessly pushed past him. On the way down the main hallway, the group slowed as Chandler and McKenna approached from the other way.
I need to talk to you, John, Chandler said. Fiske looked at Sara. Ill catch up with you, Sara.
She and Perkins walked off.
You want to ask me something? Fiske said.
Thats right.
Would this be about my brothers life insurance policy?
Yes it would, Chandler said grimly. McKenna thinks you might have taken it out yourself in your brothers name without his knowledge and then killed him.
You found the policy in my brothers apartment? Chandler nodded. Well, then he obviously knew about it.
Chandler looked over at McKenna with an inquiring look. However, McKenna remained silent.
Look, I didnt know my brother had taken out the policy. The insurance agent talked with me. Ill give you her name. She actually met with my brother, if youre really thinking I set this whole thing up myself. He looked at McKenna and saw the mans face darken. Sorry to pop your balloon, McKenna. The moneys going to our parents Mike knew thats what Id do with it. Talk to the insurance agent, she can confirm it. Unless you think Im also in cahoots with her. Why stop there? Ive probably got all nine justices in the back of my pocket too. Right?
So you talked your brother into taking out a life insurance policy to help your parents. But you and only you are the beneficiary. Thats still terrific motivation to kill him, McKenna said. He turned to Chandler. You want to ask him or do you want me to?
Chandler looked at Fiske. Your brother was killed by a nine-millimeter slug.
Really?
You own a nine-millimeter pistol, dont you?
Fiske looked at both men. Been talking to the Virginia State Police?
Just answer the question, McKenna said.
Why answer it, if you already know the answer?
John Chandler began.
All right, yes. I own a nine-millimeter. SIG-Sauer P226, to be specific, with a fifteen-round mag.
Where is it?
In my office, back in Richmond.
Wed like to have it.
For ballistics?
Among other things.
Buford, this is a waste of time
Do we have your permission to go to your office and get the gun?
No.
McKenna said, Well, well have a search warrant issued in about one hour.
You dont need a warrant. Ill give you the gun.
McKenna looked stunned. But I thought you just said
I dont want them breaking into my office to get it. I know how cops can be sometimes. Theyre not the most gentle souls, and itd take me forever to get reimbursed on the cost of fixing my door. Fiske looked at Chandler. I assume Im not part of the unofficial team anymore, but a couple of things: Did you talk to the guards on duty the night Wright was murdered, and have the video cameras been checked?
I would advise you to say nothing to him, Chandler, McKenna said.
Advice duly noted. Chandler looked at Fiske. For old times sake. We talked to the guards. Unless one of thems lying, none of them gave Wright a lift home. One of them offered, but Wright declined.
What time was that?
About one-thirtyA.M.or so. The film from the video cameras was checked and showed nothing out of the ordinary.
Did Wright give a reason for not wanting a ride home?
The guard said he just walked out the door and he didnt see him after that.
Okay, lets get back to the gun, McKenna said. Im going with you to your office.
Im not driving anywhere with you.
I meant Ill follow you down.
Do whatever you want, but I want a uniformed Richmond police officer there, and I want him to take the gun into custody and then have it transferred to D.C. Homicide. I will not let you be anywhere near the chain of custody.
I really dont like what youre implying.
Fine, but thats the way its going to be, or you can go get your warrant. Its up to you.
Chandler spoke up, Okay, anybody in particular?
Officer William Hawkins. I trust him and so can you.
Done. I want you to leave right now, John. Ill arrange things with Richmond.
Fiske looked down the hallway. Give me a half hour. I need to talk to somebody.
Chandler put a hand on Fiskes shoulder. Okay, John, but if the Richmond police dont have your gun in about three hours or so, then you got a big problem with yours truly, understood?
Fiske hustled off to the garage in search of Sara. A couple minutes later, Dellasandro joined Chandler and McKenna.
Id like to know what the hell is going on around here, Dellasandro said angrily. Two clerks murdered and now another fired over some missing appeal.
McKenna shrugged. Pretty complicated.
Thats real encouraging, Dellasandro said.
Im not paid to be encouraging, McKenna shot back.
No, youre paid to find out whos doing this. And you too, Detective Chandler, Dellasandro replied.
And thats what were doing, Chandler snapped.
Okay, okay, Dellasandro said wearily. Perkins filled me in earlier. You really think John Fiske killed his brother? I mean, okay, he had the motive, but, damn. Five hundred thousand sounds like a lot, but its really not these days.
McKenna answered. When youve got zip in your bank account, anything seems like a lot. Hes got the motive, hes got no alibi, and in a few hours well see if he has the murder weapon.
Dellasandro looked unconvinced. And what about Wrights death? How does that tie in?
McKenna spread his hands. Look at it this way. Sara Evans may have somehow been duped into helping Fiske. Evans and Wright shared an office. Its not out of the realm of possibility that Wright overheard something or saw something that made him suspicious about those two.
But I thought Fiske has an alibi for the time of Wrights death, Dellasandro said.
Yeah, Sara Evans, McKenna said.
And all this stuff with this escaped convict Harms and the questions Evans was asking?
