Untameable: Merciless. Diana Palmer

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Название Untameable: Merciless
Автор произведения Diana Palmer
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Серия
Издательство Современные любовные романы
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781408980460



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testify. One was the man who sold his daughter to Monroe.”

      “That’s the problem.” Marquez grimaced. “The witness says he won’t testify and he’s withdrawn his statement.”

      “No problem,” Jon said. “I know where we can find three more witnesses in the same family, two of whom are perfectly willing to testify despite any threats from Monroe.”

      “Give me their names and we’ll help you locate them so you can get depositions, since it’s a federal charge he was arrested on,” Marquez replied. “Why didn’t the witnesses come forward before?”

      “Because they fell through the cracks,” he said. “We had one witness, the father, who gave us a deposition, and the mother, as well as a sister. The federal prosecutor didn’t think he needed more than a handful. Now we do.” He shook his head. “I hope they don’t go the way of the witness who was supposed to testify against Jay Copper at his trial about the death of that teenager in Senator Sanders’s case. He accidentally fell off a ten-story building.”

      Marquez wrote down the names of the witnesses. “We do our best,” he said defensively.

      “So do we, and it wasn’t a criticism. Unless you’re really psychic, you can’t foresee a murder in your city.”

      “It would be nice if we could.” Marquez sighed. “I just hope Monroe doesn’t walk on this one.”

      “With the federal charges dropped on a technicality,” Jon said, grinding his teeth at the so-called technicality, which involved a slipped link in the evidence chain, “and new charges pending, the ball may be in your court if we can’t make ours stick. You can still get him for trafficking, though. We’ll help.”

      “He won’t walk. I promise.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you watch yourself.”

      “You’re giving Monroe too much credit,” Jon said. “He’s a beer short of a six-pack.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe two beers short of a six-pack.”

      “He may be, but he’s dangerous. You got him on a trafficking charge. But he’s worked his way out of numerous other charges including one daylight robbery. That one was committed as a juvy—” which meant a juvenile offender “—and he only drew a few days in detention before he turned eighteen.”

      “Yes, he managed to get first offender status and kept his nose clean until his record was wiped,” Jon said. “But he was twenty-five when he was accused the next time, and he got a good attorney, courtesy of his boss, Hank Sanders, the racketeer brother of Senator Will Sanders who’s up on murder charges.” He smiled. “Hank turned out to be a good guy. He saved my brother’s butt in the standoff with Jay Copper, just after Mac and Winnie came back from their honeymoon.”

      “Some honeymoon, trying to convince Senator Will Sanders’s wife, Pat, to tell what she knew about the murder of Kilraven’s wife and little girl,” Marquez amended.

      “Which she did, but Copper ordered the murder of Mac’s wife,” Jon said somberly. “He said that the perp, the late Dan Jones, wasn’t ordered to kill Melly, Mac’s little girl, but I never believed him. One of his idiot goons turned state’s evidence and verified that Copper told Jones to get both the wife and child. He’ll pay for Melly’s death, and Monica’s. The D.A. has asked for the death penalty.”

      “Good luck to him,” the other man said cynically. “Juries don’t like to order it.”

      Jon nodded. “I had to sit in a death-penalty case once. You think, this guy should die for the crime he committed. But when you put your vote to it, and realize that you’re ordering the guy’s death, well that’s a whole other thing.”

      “A matter of personal conscience,” Marquez agreed. “A very hard decision to make, for any human being.” He studied Jon. “But it’s you I’m worried about. Monroe may be an idiot, but he has an uncle who’s knee-deep in the local mob, Jay Copper, and a brother-in-law who’s been in and out of prison for years, Bart Hancock. Hancock walked on accessory charges linked to Jay Copper’s arrest, because the tape Winnie got of Copper telling the story of the murders went mysteriously missing. Hancock has been implicated in two murder-for-hire plots and never got much past arraignment. He makes sure there are no witnesses.”

      “There’s something in the back of my mind about Hancock. Wait! Now I remember,” Jon said. “Joceline dug up some information on him that was supposedly classified. Don’t ask—” he held up a hand “—she has sources. Anyway, Hancock was in spec ops in Iraq during the 2003 invasion.”

      “That’s right. He worked with a private contractor. There was a big stink about civilian casualties, and Hancock was in it up to his neck. His buddy was an officer in the private corporation that ran the coverts, and he cleaned up Hancock’s record so he wasn’t prosecuted.” He sighed heavily. “They say he killed children and enjoyed it.”

      Jon’s jaw set. “What a sweetheart.”

      “Isn’t he, though?”

      “Yes.”

      Jon’s mind was busy. The man who died linked to Melly’s murder, Dan Jones, was a bit of a mystery. Jon had always wondered if the man was really going to confess that he’d done it. He didn’t seem the sort to kill children. But Jay Copper’s spec ops nephew, he had been friends with the perp, and the accomplice who’d gone with the perp to commit the murders was never found. What if …?

      “You’ve remembered something, haven’t you?” the other man asked, noting the facial expression of his visitor.

      Jon nodded. “Yes, that there were two shooters at Mac’s house that night. We only identified one. The tape had Jay Copper talking about his nephew, Peppy, who helped Dan Jones kill Monica. He said the child got in the way. Peppy was questioned but he suddenly had a supposedly airtight alibi for that night. Then the tape where Jay Copper told about Peppy’s part in the murder went missing from the evidence room …”

      “I’d forgotten that.” Marquez opened a file on his computer and his dark eyes narrowed as he read what was on the screen. “Peppy. His full name is Bartholomew Richard Hancock. And his brother-in-law is Harold Monroe, which makes Monroe Jay Copper’s nephew by marriage. I don’t have to tell you Copper’s reputation for getting back at anyone who works against his family.” He glanced at Jon, whose face wore a look of utter astonishment. “You never made the connection, did you?”

      It had been four months ago, the end of the trail when all the suspects in Dan Jones’s death, and at the same time the Kilraven murders, were fingered. Only Senator Will Sanders and Jay Copper had been arrested and sent to jail pending trial. But the man, Peppy, had slipped out of the noose with the help of a slick attorney and had never been charged even as an accessory, thanks to that missing tape, which, through an unfortunate lapse, had not been copied or transcribed before it was stolen. Jay Copper denied he’d ever implicated Peppy. The fact that Kilraven, and Winnie, were closely involved helped to discount their testimony about it. Pat Sanders had suddenly backtracked on her own testimony, despite the efforts of Hank Sanders, the senator’s brother, to coax her to repeat it.

      Harold Monroe had been arrested by Jon on the human trafficking charge not a week after Peppy Hancock had slipped out of the accessory murder charge in the Kilraven case. Jon and Joceline had worked tirelessly to find the evidence to connect him with the trafficking, which they’d been investigating prior to his most recent arrest. But no, Jon had never made the connection.

      “So Harold Monroe may be an idiot,” Marquez agreed, “but Hancock isn’t. You want to watch your back. He might target anyone close to you, but especially Joceline, since she helped you get evidence on him. His uncle Jay would know she helped. He has somebody in law enforcement feeding him information. We’ve never been able to identify who.”

      Jon sighed. “Why is life so complicated?”

      Marquez indicated the office they were sitting in. “This is a police precinct. If you want answers to philosophical questions,