Karin Slaughter - Broken

Will answered, “No, sir.”

Gordon shook out another cigarette from the pack. “He liked to take things apart,” the man said. “I’d get to work and try to write my service orders and the pen wouldn’t work. Tommy would take the springs out. I’d find a bunch of them in his pockets when I was doing laundry. Tore up the motor in the dryer once. I thought it was something to do with his problem, but Sara told me he was playing me. He liked practical jokes. Liked trying to make people laugh.” Gordon wasn’t finished. He glanced into the rearview mirror, looking Will in the eye. “I knew early on he was different. I knew I wasn’t gonna have that kind of life with him, the kind of life fathers have with sons. But I loved him, and I raised him right. My boy is not a murderer.”

Lena put her hand on Gordon’s arm. “He was a good man,” she told him. “He was a very good man.”

Gordon put the car in gear, making it clear he didn’t want to continue the conversation. Will and Lena got out. They watched the Ford drive up the street.

The rain had slacked off, but Lena still pulled the hood of her jacket up to cover her head. She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “Tommy didn’t kill Allison.”

Will had figured that out a while back, but he was surprised to hear the admission. “What brought about this epiphany?”

“I’ve spent most of the day talking to people who knew him. The same as I would have done if Tommy was still alive.” She crossed her arms. “He was a good kid. He ended up in trouble the same way a lot of good kids do—he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. And he had a knife in his hands.”

“I think you mean that he was in the right place at the wrong time. Tommy was in his apartment. His garage apartment.”

She didn’t contradict him. “He stabbed a police officer.”

“Accidentally, from what I’ve heard.”

“Accidentally,” she agreed. “And we had no legal right to go into that garage. Brad got the address, but it’s not on the building. I led us here. I was the one who said that the garage was Allison’s apartment. That’s why Brad looked in the window. That’s what started everything.” She took a shallow breath. He could tell she was scared, but determined. “How does this work? Do I make a statement? Do I write out a confession?”

Will tried to figure out her grand scheme. It couldn’t be this easy. “Let’s back up a second. What are you confessing to?”

“The false search of the apartment. I guess that’s breaking and entering. My negligence led to a police officer being injured. Two officers. I elicited a false confession. I’m the one who walked Tommy back to the cells. I’m the one who didn’t frisk him. The ink cartridge was from my pen. I had some extra ones, so I changed it out, but Tommy got the cartridge from me. And we both know I’ve been dicking you around all day.” She gave a forced laugh. “So, that’s obstruction of justice, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Are you willing to put all that on paper?”

“I’ll let you tape it.” She pulled the hood off her head and looked up at Will. “What am I looking at? Jail time?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, but the truth was she had skated a thin line. Her negligence wasn’t willful. The false confession had been taken in good faith. She was cooperating now, even if she’d been recalcitrant before. She wasn’t shifting blame. “In the immediate term, I imagine you’ll be suspended pending a review of my investigation. You’ll have to go in front of the board. They might come down on you hard or they might not. Your pension is probably gone. If it’s not, you could take a hit on years of service, get a period of unpaid leave. If they don’t pull your badge, this is going to be on your record until you die. Finding someone to hire you might prove difficult. And Gordon Braham might bring a civil suit against you.”

None of this seemed to surprise her. She reached into her pocket. “Do I give you my badge now?”

“No,” Will told her. “I’m not in charge of that part. I just file my report. There’s bound to be some political involvement with your city council and various other civilian boards. As for whether or not you’re suspended pending the outcome, I would assume Chief Wallace is the one who gets to decide what to do with you.”

She gave a rueful laugh. “I think he’s already decided.”

Will felt oddly conflicted. He knew that Lena had screwed up, but she wasn’t alone in this debacle. The evidence in the garage told a story that she could use to get herself out of this mess, or at least lessen some of the pain. He felt compelled to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

“Tommy was my prisoner. He was my responsibility.”

Will couldn’t argue the point. “Why did you call Marty Harris after you talked to me?”

She hesitated, and he saw some of her old slyness come back. “I wanted to know the details.”

“Which were?”

She gave him a halfhearted account of the same story Will had heard from Marty Harris an hour ago. She told Will, “I got Jason’s contact information and called his mother. She lives in West Virginia. She didn’t seem too concerned that the police were calling about her son.”

“How were you sure about the victim’s identity?” Will realized the answer before he finished the sentence. “You went to the school.” She must have called Will from the building, a detail Lena had seen fit to leave out. “Well?” he asked.

“I was already there checking Allison’s school records when Marty called me.” She shrugged. “I needed to see if it was the same killer.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. It makes sense. Jason was Allison’s boyfriend. They both turn up murdered within a day of each other. Tommy doesn’t fit into the puzzle anymore.”

That at least explained part of her sudden turnaround. Tommy was dead before Jason was killed. Lena would know that he was innocent of the first crime because he couldn’t have committed the second one. “Did you close the window in Jason’s dorm?”

“I used a glove. I didn’t want the rain to wash away any trace. I also covered my shoes and hair. I was careful, but you can get my rule-out samples at the station. They should be on file with the GBI.”

Will wasn’t going to waste time berating her. “What did you find out at the school? You said you were going through Allison’s records.”

She took out her spiral-bound notebook and thumbed to the right page. “Allison was taking four courses this semester. I won’t bore you with the details—chemistry stuff. I managed to talk to three of her professors. One on the phone and two in person. They say Allison was a good student, kept her head down, did her work. They never noticed her hanging out with a particular group. She was a bit of a loner. Her attendance was perfect. No missed days. Her grades were A’s and high B’s. Campus security didn’t know her name. She’s never filed a report with them or been the subject of a report.”

“What about the fourth teacher?”

“Alexandra Coulter. She’s out of town for the holiday. I left a message on her cell and home.”

“Any other known associates?”

“None of them knew about Jason, but it makes sense. He was a couple of years ahead of her, taking graduate classes. She was undergrad. They wouldn’t mix except outside of class. She didn’t have friends. I tossed around the name Julie Smith because you brought it up earlier. She’s not a student.”

“Did you get a warrant for searching Allison’s records?”

“No one asked for one, so I didn’t volunteer.” She added, “I also talked to Tommy’s boss at the bowling alley. I showed him Allison’s picture. He says he’s seen her around with another kid—male, dark hair, chubby, obviously Jason Howell. Tommy was giving them free games, but the manager put a stop to it when he found out.”