“Can you come here for a minute?”
“What’s up, boss lady?” Cheryl appeared at Nikki’s elbow.
“Look at the roof of that truck. What is that?”
Cheryl squinted at it. “I can’t tell.”
Tony kept binoculars in his desk to watch the yard with, so Nikki pulled them out and looked at the roof of the truck. It was a piece of duct tape – white duct tape – and it had a strange-looking, protrusion-like lump in the middle of it. The protrusion was round and had rough, upward-pointed edges that were visible even under the duct tape. “You look.” She handed the binoculars to Cheryl. “What is that?”
Cheryl looked through the glasses. “I can’t tell. It’s weird.”
“Can you find out if that truck has had glass breakage recently?” Something was bumping around in Nikki’s mind, and she wracked her brain to try to remember all the things Steve had told her about the evidence in Dottie’s murder.
Cheryl went back to her desk. In a few seconds she came back. “Yeah, we’ve had twelve in the last month. That one had a windshield replaced.”
“When?”
“The day after Thanksgiving. What are you thinking?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a bullet hole underneath that duct tape. I think I just found the crime scene.” She grabbed her phone and dialed Clayton.
“Hi! What’s up?”
“Clayton, I’m going to ask you some questions. Please, please just answer them yes or no, or something like it. Try to be casual, okay?” Nikki instructed as clearly and emphatically as she could.
“Okay.”
“Is Cal still with you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And you’re at a jobsite?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Is it the Colufab site?”
“No.”
“Is it the hospital site?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what, about twenty-five minutes from the office?”
“Something like that.”
“So here’s what I need. Keep Cal with you. Don’t let him out of your sight. Don’t let him come back here with anybody else. Keep him busy. Then I’ll call you in a little while and tell you when to bring him back. When you do, make sure he has his seatbelt on so it’ll take more effort for him to get out of the truck. When you get here, there will be lots of cops here, but it’s okay. Can you do all of that for me, honey?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Thanks, sweetie. I wish I could explain to you what’s going on, but I can’t if he’s with you. I’ll call you in a little while. Love you.”
“Uh-huh – same here,” he replied discreetly.
Nikki hit END, then dialed Bryson. It only took one ring for him to answer. “Hawkins.”
“Detective Hawkins? This is Nikki Wilkes, Tony Walters’ fiancée?”
“Hey, Ms. Wilkes, what can I do for you?” The detective sounded sort of friendly. “And please, call me Bryson.” Nikki was shocked, but she didn’t have time to ponder Bryson’s personality.
“Um, Detec . . . Bryson, I think I found your crime scene.”
“Wha . . . really? Where?”
“We’ve got a company truck over here that has what looks like a bullet hole in the roof. I mean, I haven’t pulled the tape off because I didn’t want to ruin any evidence, but that’s certainly what it looks like from the window with Tony’s binoculars.”
“Where is the person who drives the truck? Because this could be dangerous if that individual knows you’ve figured this out,” Bryson warned.
Nikki went over the instructions she’d given Clayton. “Excellent.” Bryson was impressed. She was really, really sharp. “Listen, I’ll be over with a wrecker and a couple of uniforms in about fifteen. We’ll take care of everything – don’t touch anything.”
“No problem. We’re not going anywhere near that truck until you get here. And thanks, Bryson.”
“No, thank you, Nikki. I appreciate you calling me. See you in a few.”
Now it was just a matter of waiting. Nikki thought about what this could mean. She was getting excited just thinking about the possibilities. After a few minutes, she quieted her mind, then realized she should probably call Steve, and he assured her he’d be there as fast as he could get there.
True to his word, Bryson and a cruiser with two uniformed officers showed up in less than ten minutes. She had Cheryl give him the keys to the truck, and the three of them went out to look at it. Bryson pulled the tape off the roof and, sure enough, there was a bullet hole through the metal. Inside the headliner he found the entry, a tiny slit in the cloth. Using a small metal rod, he stuck the rod through the slit and it went through the hole in the roof at an angle toward the truck’s bed. Before he could ask about the windshield, Nikki told him they’d checked and the truck’s windshield had been replaced the day after Thanksgiving. The department’s wrecker showed up, and Bryson helped them load the truck.
Once it was gone, he turned to Nikki. “Now it’s time to call and have your son bring him here.”
Nikki made the call, and in less than a half hour, Clayton’s red truck pulled into the parking lot. They were all watching through Tony’s big window, and she noticed the look on Cal’s face as they drove up and he realized his truck was gone. The uniformed officers met them at Clayton’s truck, talked to Cal for a few minutes, and then handcuffed him and put him in the car.
Clayton took the steps two at a time and came through the door double-time. “What the hell is going on now?” Clayton asked, looking from Nikki to Bryson and back to Nikki.
When Nikki explained, Clayton dropped down onto Tony’s sofa and sighed. “So you think my mo … Dottie was with Cal?” he asked, dazed.
“It sure looks that way,” Nikki said.
“Our forensics team will find out for sure, but that’s what we’re betting,” Bryson told him.
He shook his head. “Dad’s trusted him for years, and Cal’s let him sit in jail? I can’t believe it. Do you think he’s the one who killed her?”
“No, I’d say not, but he might know who did,” Bryson said.
Clayton squinted at Bryson. “Wait – I thought you thought it was my dad.”
Bryson shook his head. “No – I never said that. Actually, I don’t think that at all.”
“Oh.” Clayton’s struggle to process it all was unmistakable. “I’m confused, and I’m not going to ask any more questions. Just let me know when you’ve figured it all out.”
Nikki sat down beside him and took his hand. “Honey, I know this is all crazy, but we’re going to get to the bottom of it, I promise.”
Clayton stood up and walked toward the door without looking back. “I’m going back to work. I can’t think about this anymore.”
“He’s really having problems with all of this, isn’t he?” Bryson asked after Clayton had gone.
“We all are. But Clayton saw Dottie’s body at the jobsite, his dad’s locked up, and the man they’re out there putting in a squad car is somebody their whole family has trusted for years, not to mention that if this doesn’t turn out as it should, he’ll be responsible for this whole company. This is difficult for us – more so than most people can understand.”
Steve appeared in the doorway. “Okay, what’s going on? I passed Clayton and he looks like he’s stoned or something. And is that Cal in the cruiser out front?”
“Long story. Bryson, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do, thanks to me – sorry! But thanks for coming over,” Nikki said.
“No, thank you. Steve, we’ll let you know what we find.” With that, Bryson strode out the front door.
“Missy, you let the fox into the hen house,” Steve growled as soon as Bryson was gone. “This had better be good.”
When Nikki answered her cell later that afternoon, Steve said, “Nikki, Bryson just called me.”
“And?”
“He said the bullet hole is a forty-five, and there’s blood all over the inside
of the cab. Cal tried to clean it up, but it can’t be done, not completely. There are shards of glass in the cab that are the same kind as the glass taken from Dottie’s hair, and there are small amounts of brain matter on the back glass. And this gives them probable cause to get a DNA sample from Cal, which I’m guessing will match the pubic hair they found on her body. I’m also guessing the thumbprint from the trash can in the office is his.” Then Steve snickered, “To top it off, there’s the fact that Cal’s singing like a bird.”
“No shit? Good. I’m pissed,” Nikki seethed into the phone. “I’m here to tell you, if Tony doesn’t fire him, I will; I can, and I will. That little shit knows Tony didn’t do this, but he’s let Tony sit in jail and said nothing to save his own ass. Leave me alone with him for ten minutes and that little cocksucker is mine, I swear to god,” Nikki hissed. Steve had never heard her like that, and it was a revelation to him. She wasn’t the meek little thing he’d thought. “Not to mention the fact that he was sleeping with Dottie. I mean, what the fuck? I’d love to hear him explain that.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear what he’s got to say,” Steve snickered again. “But I’ll tell you this – if the DNA checks out, the blood is Dottie’s, and the thumbprint is Cal’s, I’m going to ask that the charges against Tony be dropped.”
“Oh, Steve! Do you think that’ll work?” Nikki gasped.
“Without any physical evidence against him, they don’t have a case. And without a case, they can’t hold him.” Nikki could tell that, as far as Steve was concerned, this was pretty cut and dried and Tony would be coming home.
“Will you call me when you find out about the evidence?”
“Sure will, hon. I think he’s on his way home.”
“Your honor, all of the evidence the prosecution has brought forward points in directions other than my client. Based on the commonwealth’s inability to provide enough evidence that he was involved in the death of Dorothea Walters, I’m asking that the charges against my client be dropped.” It was bright and early on Tuesday morning, and Steve was doing what he loved to do most – working the courtroom. He’d asked for an emergency hearing and gotten it.
“Mr. Holshouser, do you have any new evidence to present?” the judge asked the prosecutor.
“Not at this time, your honor, but the commonwealth requests more time to prepare.”
“Mr. Holshouser, if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence.”
“Your honor, the investigation is ongoing. We’re asking that Mr. Walters be held while the investigation is completed,” the prosecutor stated.
Steve started: “Your honor, the only thing they have is the fact that no one can corroborate my client’s whereabouts that evening during the time his ex-wife was killed. I . . .”
“Mr. McCoy, let me interrupt. You don’t have to say anything. I will allow the commonwealth to continue their investigation.”
Nikki was watching Steve’s face and, even though he was obviously frustrated, it was also clear he’d just had an “aha” moment. “Your honor, under the circumstances, would you at least grant my client home incarceration with a monitor?”
The judge thought for a moment, then answered, “Yes, I believe that would be appropriate. Mr. Walters is to be released to his residence with a monitor pending completion of the investigation. Mr. Holshouser, fair warning,” he admonished the prosecutor, “you have two weeks to come up with more evidence or the charges against Mr. Walters will have to be dropped. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your honor. Thank you, your honor,” the prosecutor replied.
“Thank you, your honor,” Steve echoed.
“Bailiff, take Mr. Walters to processing, have them set him up with a monitor, and send him home. Next case.”
Tony turned and looked back at Nikki. Tears rolled down her face, and he smiled and winked.
They led him out, and Steve found his way to her through the crowded courtroom. “Well, it’s not what I wanted, but it’s better than nothing.” He was breathless and relief was painted all over his face.
“No, it’s wonderful. Thank you so much, Steve. That was brilliant. Can I take him home now?”
“No, it’ll take about two hours to process him and get the monitor set up. They’ll bring him home in a cruiser. But he’s going to need something to wear.”
“I packed him a bag before I left this morning. It’s in the car.” Nikki beamed. “I’ll go and get it for you to take to him.”
“Are you kidding? You packed it before you came?” Steve asked in surprise.
“Yep. I had faith in you.” Nikki hugged him.
Wow, Steve thought, that’s actually pretty amazing. Now I know why he’s so crazy about her.
Bryson and Fox had let Cal sit and stew the rest of the day and spend the night in holding, and then they started in on him bright and early while Steve was in court. Stewing hadn’t mellowed him at all.
“So, Mr. Forrester, um, can I call you Cal? We’re all friends here, right?” Detective Fox began.
“Oh, yeah, sure, you can call me Cal if you want.” Cal fidgeted in his chair.
“So, Cal, when we process the evidence we found in your truck, can I assume it’s going to show that Dottie Walters was in your truck?”
“Uh, uh, yeah, uh, she was in my truck,” Cal stammered.
“And we found a pubic hair on her body,” Fox told him. “Am I to assume it’s yours?”
Cal was silent for a minute, then admitted, “Um, yeah, I guess so.”
“So you were having sex with Dottie in your truck. Is that correct?”
“Uh, um, yeah, um, I . . .” Cal was becoming more agitated with each question. His hands were visibly shaking, and sweat was popping out on his forehead.
“So would you mind walking us through what happened that night? Because we’re a little confused,” Fox said calmly, leaning back in his chair.
“Well, I, um . . . so Dottie and me, we were, well, for about six months now we’ve been sort of seeing each other. And I was watching the Colufab site because of all the, you know, the environmentalist crap that’s been going on, them tearing up stuff. I was there alone, so it was easy for her to come over and see me. So she came over Thanksgiving night. She’d bring me some fast food, and then we’d, um, you know.”
“Have sex?” Fox asked.
“Yeah. I couldn’t take a chance on my wife finding out,” he stammered.
“What about Mr. Walters?” Fox asked.
“Tony? I wouldn’t want Tony to find out either.” He stopped, and a look of sheer terror came over him. “Oh god! He’s going to find out, isn’t he? Oh, no, oh, he’ll fire me. Oh god! I can’t do this!” Cal looked like he was going to pass out from the mental overload.
“Cal, let me explain something,” Fox told him in a firm tone. “We’ve got you on multiple charges – failure to report a homicide, obstruction of justice, abuse of a corpse, interfering with an investigation, concealing a homicide, the list is endless – so right now, worrying about what your boss thinks is the least of your worries.” Fox pulled out a box of breath mints and popped two. “Mint?”
Cal shook his head. He was trembling all over and so pale that he looked like he might fall out of his chair. “So just answer the questions and we can see where we stand. Because right now, we might even be able to charge you with murder,” Fox bluffed.
“Oh, no! I didn’t kill her! You can’t possibly believe . . .”
“I don’t know what to believe. So let’s get the facts straight. You were telling Mr. Walters your wife was a drinker, but that wasn’t true, was it? It was your cover to sneak off with Dottie, right?”
Cal got visibly upset when he realized the detective thought of him as a habitual, perpetual liar. “Yeah. Jenny isn’t a drunk.”
“And you told her what?”
“That I had to work – which was true,” he emphasized. “But I wasn’t working the whole time . . .”
“So back to the original qu
estion. Dottie came to you that night, and the two of you had sex. Can you tell me what position she was in inside your truck?”
Embarrassment was plain on Cal’s face by that point. “We were in the cab, and she was sitting on my lap, facing me.”
“With her back to the windshield?”
“Yeah. And we were, you know, and all of a sudden, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, and there was this sound, and the windshield exploded and blood went everywhere, and Dottie’s face blew off, and I was covered in blood, and . . .” Cal was getting more worked up with every word, and he looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“Calm down, Cal. I know this is hard to talk about. So who was the person who killed her?” Fox asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see them, just the movement out of the corner of my eye.”
“So it could’ve been Mr. Walters?” Fox asked.
“No, couldn’t have been. This guy wasn’t tall enough.” Cal sounded very sure.
“I thought you didn’t get a good look at him,” Fox reminded him of his earlier statement.
“No, but I do know he wasn’t tall enough to be Tony,” Cal said with resolve.
Fox sighed; that didn’t help his case. “So after she was shot, what did you do then?”
“Well, I knew they’d dug the footers at the university site that day, so I called Kenny – I knew he was over there – and told him to go on home, that my name was Harold and I was his relief. He didn’t know any different. Then I drove over there – I took the back streets because my windshield was blown out – and wrapped her up in a tarp. Then I called Tony and told him I had to go home because Jenny was drunk. I waited a little while to make sure if he went by the office, he’d be gone before I got there and we wouldn’t run into each other. Then I went to the office to clean myself up and clean up the truck.”
Bryson Hawkins listened to all of this through the two-way mirror in the interrogation room, and Steve McCoy stood right beside him. “That’s exactly what I thought,” Bryson whispered to Steve.
“You mean you used your key, went into Mr. Walters’ office, took a shower, and cleaned up the truck?” Fox continued.