Unthinkable (The Detective Jane Candiotti Series) by Clyde Phillips

Author:Clyde Phillips [Phillips, Clyde]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2013-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

“Goddammit!”

Chief Walker McDonald was seething. He sat on a folding chair in Interrogation One, his feet propped on another chair across from him. An hour earlier, Jane had called him at home to come view the DEA surveillance tape, and he had shown up in a gray UC Berkeley sweatshirt, navy blue sweatpants, and sneakers. It was the first time most of the cops in the room had seen him out of uniform.

The video had shown Herman Jones at Dock Twenty-Eight in San Rafael at precisely the time of the massacre. He was part of a four-man crew who were transferring dozens of plastic loading crates from a cargo container into three plain-wrap Ford Econoline vans.

Mike Finney had already verified the time code. There was no getting around it: they had the wrong man.

The chief pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up to the wall clock. Just past midnight. “We are royally fucked, Lieutenant.” He dropped his feet to the floor and rose to his full six feet four inches.

Jane stood against the back wall, the chief’s bodyguard sitting in the darkened bullpen behind her. There were five or six support personnel still in the war room along with Kenny, Finney, and Lou Tronick. “It’s shitty, sir,” she said, “but we have to move on.”

Kenny rewound the tape. “We could have wasted a ton of time playing this out. It’s better we cut bait now.”

Chief McDonald swiveled his head toward Kenny. “While you cut bait, Inspector, I have to let the mayor and the press know we fucked up.”

Kenny held his ground. “All due respect, sir. It’s not a fuck-up to bring in the wrong man with the evidence and the witness ID we had.”

Jane knew that Kenny was defending her. “The fuck-up, Chief,” she said, “would be to not do everything we could to make our case. And that unfortunately includes coming to the conclusion that we don’t have one.”

Pressing the back of his fist to his forehead, the chief slowly nodded. “Okay, okay. Granted.” He scanned the room, making eye contact. “I know you’ve all been working your asses off, and I appreciate that. So don’t get me wrong here. It’s not only the mayor and the press I’m worried about. It’s the people of this city. They spend their days watching funerals and they deserve some closure. Not to mention the fact we still have a mass murderer out there.” He started for the door. “I gotta make some calls.” Hooking a finger to summon his driver, he strode across the squad room and entered a waiting elevator.

“Lou,” Jane said, “push some paper and book Herman Jones for the first two Stella’s robberies.”

Lou scribbled a note on his legal pad. “What about pressing Jones on the drug stuff?”

“We’d have to reveal our sources and that wasn’t the deal.” Jane shook her head. “Fact of life.”

Kenny popped the DEA tape out of the playback machine and handed it to Finney. “This goes into the secure evidence locker.

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