Page 76 of Fatal Fame
"The office needs your official statement about what happened out there. You know—how you knew about the location, what you found, what you remember about the incident. It’s just protocol."
"They're saying the blogger may not pull through. It's touch and go. Still in a coma."
"Did you see who put the cover back?"
And now Anita had possession of the bone evidence that could solve the Hale murders.
Had a corrupt insider they'd been searching for been hiding in plain sight, wearing a Sheriff's Office uniform and conducting official interviews while covering up a decade-old conspiracy that had already claimed multiple lives?
And if it was true, why?
As the white Jeep pulled out of the hospital parking lot, Mia understood that she'd possibly identified the person responsible for Pierce's murder, Travis Rudd's death, and the systematic cover-up that had protected the real killers for ten years.
The question was what to do with that knowledge when the person responsible wore a badge and had access to all the evidence that could expose her crimes.
27
The antiseptic smell of the Adirondack Medical Center corridor triggered memories Noah would rather forget, memories of other medical facilities, other emergency calls, other times when someone he loved had been pulled from danger by strangers in scrubs. He found Mia's room on the third floor, her discharge papers already signed and her small overnight bag packed on the narrow bed beside her.
She was dressed in yesterday's clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt that Ethan had brought from home. Her left arm was encased in a bright blue cast that extended from her wrist to just below her elbow. The bruises on her face had darkened overnight, purple shadows that spoke to the violence she'd endured in that underground tomb. But her eyes were alert, focused with the same intensity that had gotten her into trouble in the first place.
"You got everything?" Noah asked, stepping into the room and noting how she immediately sat up straighter, as if preparing for another interrogation.
"Yeah." Mia swung her legs over the side of the bed, testing her balance. "Look, Dad, about the bones I gave you?—"
Before she could launch into whatever theory had been churning in her mind during the long hospital night, Noah held up a hand. He'd anticipated this conversation, had prepared for the questions that would inevitably come about chain of custody and proper procedure. His decision to hand the evidence to Anita Emerson had been practical, not political, but he knew how it would look to someone with Mia's suspicious nature.
"They're safe, if that's what you're wondering about," he said quickly. "That's also what I'm here to find out. Adelaide has the results."
Mia's eyes widened with surprise. "Hold on, what? So the bones you gave Anita, she processed them?"
Noah chuckled, though he caught the edge in his daughter's voice. "Of course. Why wouldn't she? That's her job. Well, not as much anymore since she's sergeant, but she was kind enough to handle it. Don't worry, I told her not to hand them to anyone else. You were smart holding on to those since the others were taken."
"Yeah, I guess so."
As they made their way to the elevator bank, Noah studied his daughter's profile. Something was bothering her beyond the trauma of nearly dying in that well. The way she'd asked about Anita processing the bones suggested suspicion, but suspicion of what?
Emerson had been with the department for over a decade She had worked her way up from deputy to sergeant through competence and reliability. If Mia was developing conspiracy theories about everyone in law enforcement, that was a problem that would need addressing.
The elevator descended toward the basement level where Adelaide maintained her domain among the dead. The mechanical hum of the building's ventilation system filled thesilence between them, broken only by the soft ding as they passed each floor.
"Have you heard any update on Gideon?" Noah asked, watching the floor numbers descend.
Mia nodded, her expression darkening. "Still in a coma. I feel awful about it. I wish I hadn't gotten him involved."
"He was already involved," Noah said firmly. "The question is how deep. Did he say who gave him that tip about the body being out there?"
"No."
"Was he phoned? Emailed? Texted?"
"I can’t remember."
"Let's hope he wakes up to tell us."
Mia nodded as the elevator doors opened with a soft pneumatic hiss. The basement corridor stretched ahead of them, its fluorescent lighting casting harsh shadows that reminded Noah of crime scenes and morgues. He could sense his daughter's mind working, processing information and connections that he couldn't see. Part of him was proud of her analytical thinking; part of him was terrified of where that thinking might lead her.
He could tell she was wondering about more than Gideon's condition. The way her jaw tightened suggested she was holding back questions, theories, accusations that she wasn't ready to voice. Noah found himself wondering if Gideon had seen the person who struck him and trapped them in the well.
