Chapter 2 - The Photograph Nobody Was Supposed to SeeSloane spent the next three hours inside an interrogation room.
Carter spent them outside.
He was furious that Mina had followed him.
He was also grateful.
Both things could be true.
“You could've been killed.”
Mina stood beside the vending machine holding two coffees.
Carter took one.
“So could you.”
“I wasn't the idiot riding into the woods because of an anonymous note.”
“You followed the idiot.”
“Professional responsibility.”
“You weren't assigned to me.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Mina looked at him.
“Because after your father died, you started acting like a man who'd found a door in his own house and was afraid to open it.”
Carter said nothing.
She knew him too well.
Mina had been his partner in Major Crimes for six years.
She also knew what Lucas’s death had done to him.
Lucas was six years older.
The reckless brother.
The funny brother.
The one who taught Carter to ride motorcycles before their mother found out.
Lucas joined Richmond Police at twenty-three.
Carter followed years later.
Then Lucas died.
The department concluded he had been riding too fast after rain.
His blood alcohol was zero.
No drugs.
No second vehicle.
A tragic accident.
Carter accepted it because their father demanded that he accept it.
“Lucas made one mistake,” Elias Briggs had said. “Don't make his death into your life.”
So Carter stopped asking questions.
Now he wished he hadn’t.
Mina slid the photograph across the table.
Lucas stood outside an old service station.
The woman beside him looked perhaps twenty-two.
Dark hair.
Small silver necklace.
One hand on Lucas’s shoulder.
On the photograph’s corner was a date.
August 17.
Lucas died August 19.
“Tessa Mercer disappeared August 20,” Mina said.
“Day after.”
“Yes.”
“What was the original missing-person report?”
“I'm pulling it.”
Carter looked through the interrogation-room window.
Sloane sat alone.
No fake belly.
No criminal confidence.
Just a woman staring at the table.
“You believe her?”
Mina asked.
“About Tessa?”
“Yes.”
“That reaction wasn't acting.”
“No.”
“About the robbery?”
Carter exhaled.
“That part is obviously real.”
Sloane had admitted she organized vehicle thefts.
Not often, according to her.
Carter didn't believe that part yet.
But this job was different.
Someone contacted her five days earlier through an encrypted messaging account.
They offered fifteen thousand dollars to obtain one specific motorcycle.
Carter’s.
No questions.
No damage.
No stripping it for parts.
The motorcycle had to remain intact.
Most importantly:
Take the ignition key first.
Carter stared at that instruction.
“Why the key?”
Mina asked.
“No idea.”
“You received a key in the envelope.”
Carter reached inside his jacket.
The old brass ignition key had belonged to Lucas.
Elias kept it after the crash.
Carter thought it was lost.
Then it appeared with the photograph.
He had used a newer key to ride tonight.
The old one remained in his pocket.
Mina noticed.
“So they wanted that?”
“Maybe.”
“Does Sloane know?”
“No.”
They returned to the interrogation room.
Sloane looked up.
“Are you arresting me?”
“Yes,” Carter said.
She looked down.
“Okay.”
Mina raised an eyebrow.
“No argument?”
“What argument?”
“You attempted to rob a police detective.”
“I didn't know he was police.”
“That isn't the part that makes robbery illegal.”
Sloane almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Carter placed the photograph in front of her.
“Tell me about Tessa.”
Sloane’s face changed again.
She touched the image carefully.
“My sister was nine years older than me.”
“How old were you when she disappeared?”
“Seventeen.”
“What were you told?”
“That she stole money from her employer and ran.”
“Employer?”
“City procurement office.”
Carter looked at Mina.
Government access.
Interesting.
Sloane continued.
“My mother believed it.”
“You didn't?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
“Tessa called me the night before she disappeared.”
Carter leaned forward.
“What did she say?”
“She told me if anyone asked, I hadn't seen her for a month.”
“That’s strange.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She told me she was sorry.”
“For what?”
“I asked.”
Sloane’s eyes filled.
“She said, ‘For making you think I left because of you.’”
Carter felt something tighten in his chest.
“What did you think she meant?”
“I didn't know.”
“And then she vanished.”
“Yes.”
“Did police investigate?”
“Barely.”
“Who handled it?”
Sloane hesitated.
“Your father came to our house.”
Carter stopped.
“My father?”
“Judge Briggs.”
At the time Elias had been a Commonwealth’s Attorney, years before becoming a judge.
Carter had never heard Tessa’s name.
“What did he say?”
“He told my mother Tessa had been connected to financial theft.”
“Evidence?”
“None.”
“He personally came?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sloane looked at him.
“I thought you knew.”
Carter felt cold.
“What else did Elias say?”
“That chasing Tessa would make things worse.”
Mina’s expression sharpened.
“For who?”
“He didn't say.”
Carter remembered his father’s obsession with ending discussion about Lucas.
Maybe there had been a reason.
Sloane continued.
“A month later my mother received twenty thousand dollars.”
“From?”
“She said it was a settlement from Tessa’s employer.”
“Was it?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you ask?”
“I was seventeen.”
Fair.
Carter pushed the photograph closer.
“Did Tessa know Lucas?”
“Apparently.”
“You never heard his name?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
Sloane stared at Lucas’s arm around her sister.
“Looks like more than coworkers.”
Carter agreed.
Then Mina entered information into her tablet.
“Tessa’s missing-person file is weird.”
“How?”
“The reporting officer closed it after six days.”
“Why?”
“Adult voluntary departure.”
“Who signed the closure?”
Mina turned the screen.
Carter read the name.
Marshall Dane.
His chest tightened.
Commissioner Marshall Dane had been a lieutenant fourteen years ago.
Lucas’s supervisor.
Later Carter’s mentor.
And Carter’s godfather.
Marshall had delivered the eulogy at Lucas’s funeral.
He had encouraged Carter to join Major Crimes.
He had sat beside Carter when Elias died two months earlier.
“What?” Sloane asked.
Carter didn't answer.
Mina quietly said:
“Marshall closed Tessa's case.”
Sloane stared.
“Who is Marshall?”
Carter looked through the glass wall.
Outside, two uniformed officers walked past.
For the first time that night, the police station didn't feel entirely safe.
“Someone my family trusted.”
Sloane gave a humorless laugh.
“Those are usually the dangerous ones.”
Carter looked at her sharply.
“Don't get comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“You're still going to jail.”
“I know.”
“But if you're telling the truth, whoever hired you knew about Lucas and Tessa.”
“Yes.”
“And knew my route.”
“Yes.”
“And knew Mina was following.”
“Yes.”
Carter looked at the old brass key.
Then at the photograph.
“Did the client ever say what was inside the motorcycle?”
Sloane shook her head.
“No.”
“Did they say anything besides take the key?”
She thought.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“They said if I got the bike…”
She swallowed.
“…I was never supposed to open the left saddlebag.”
Carter and Mina exchanged a look.
The motorcycle had been moved to a secure police garage.
Carter had checked that saddlebag dozens of times during restoration.
Tools.
Registration.
An old rain jacket.
Nothing important.
Yet someone believed something was there.
Mina stood.
“We search it with evidence techs.”
Carter nodded.
Sloane looked at the photograph again.
“Detective.”
He paused.
“What?”
“My sister wasn't a thief.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
Sloane looked him in the eye.
“Because she hated motorcycles.”
Carter frowned.
“So?”
“She wouldn't have been standing beside your brother's bike unless she trusted him enough to get on it.”
Carter looked at Lucas’s smile.
It wasn't casual.
Lucas looked happy.
Happier than Carter remembered him being near the end.
Then an officer entered.
“Detective Briggs?”
“Yes?”
“Someone just tried to access the impound garage.”
Carter stood.
“Who?”
“Credential worked.”
“Whose?”
The officer hesitated.
“Retired police credential.”
Carter already knew before hearing the name.
“Marshall Dane.”
Someone had tried to reach Lucas’s motorcycle less than an hour after Sloane failed to steal it.
May you like
The past was no longer buried.
It was moving.
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