Page 46 of Dead Air
The post had already accumulated thousands of shares and comments. Blackwell, already pivoting tragedy into promotion with practiced efficiency.
Parks appeared beside her car window. "Department channels compromised. Meet me at Riverfront Coffee. One hour."
He walked away without waiting for a response. Professional distance maintained for any watching eyes. Lawson started her engine and pulled away from the growing media circus.
Hutchinson's death changed everything. Apparent suicide with a convenient confession. The evidence left suggested a murder staged to close Monica's case permanently. The hooded figure, whose walking pattern nagged at Lawson's memory.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Claire's number.
"Fiona canceled her story." Claire skipped greeting pleasantries. "Hutchinson's death created bigger headlines than podcast funding."
"Convenient timing."
"Too convenient." Claire's voice lowered. "Someone's coordinating this narrative, Erin. First Blackwell's podcast. Now, Hutchinson's confession. The story's being managed."
"By Thomas Hutchinson?"
"Possibly. Or someone with equal resources." Papers shuffled in the background. "Fiona's investigating the connection between Hutchinson & Associates and major Savannah business interests. Money trails between law firms and local power brokers."
"Keep me updated." Lawson checked her mirrors for potential surveillance; Parks' paranoia spreading to her actions. "I'm meeting Parks in an hour."
"Be careful. Hutchinson dying hours after Blackwell exposed him isn't coincidence."
The call ended. Lawson drove toward the riverfront, mind processing implications. Ray Hutchinson's death created perfect narrative closure. Confession without investigation. Case closed without exposing wider corruption.
Exactly what Monica's killers would want.
Her social media notification chimed again. Blackwell had posted another update with the security camera still image of the hooded figure leaving Hutchinsons' building. The caption read:The real killer walks free. Justice demands truth. New episode reveals shocking connections.
The media machine continued its inexorable operation. Tragedy transformed into content. Death repackaged as entertainment. All while the hooded figure disappeared into Savannah's morning crowds, mission accomplished.
For now.
chapter
eighteen
Riverfront Coffee buzzedwith mid-morning activity. Tourists clustered near windows overlooking the Savannah River. Businesspeople tapped at laptops while nursing expensive espresso drinks. College students sprawled across corner sofas, textbooks open beside empty pastry plates.
Parks occupied a corner booth away from the windows. Back to the wall. Clear sightlines to both entrances. He wore civilian clothes—jeans and a button-down shirt beneath a lightweight jacket, despite the heat. The jacket concealed his shoulder holster.
Lawson slid into the booth opposite him. "Took precautions getting here?"
"Standard protocol when department channels are compromised." Parks pushed a coffee cup toward her. "Americano. Room for cream."
She accepted without comment. He'd remembered her order from their previous meeting. "Wallace shutting down the investigation?"
"Official statement calls it suicide with confession." Parks kept his voice low. "Case closed pending pro forma review."
"Convenient narrative."
"Too convenient." Parks glanced around before reaching into his messenger bag. "Which is why I secured this before the DA's team could misplace it."
He slid a clear evidence bag across the table. Inside lay a folded sheet of paper sealed in plastic. No official evidence tag. No chain of custody documentation.
"You took evidence from a crime scene." Lawson didn't touch the bag.
"Secured evidence that would otherwise disappear." Parks pushed it closer. "My authority as Internal Affairs investigator establishes legal chain of custody if needed."
