Chapter 6

Sgt. King flipped through the file one last time. "I'm torn between one of two things," he finally told the young man and the man's lawyer. "I can continue to ask questions, and get no asnwers, or I can let someone else ask questions."

"Won't make no difference," the man said.

"Ah, but it will," King said. "If I ask the questions, you'll be able to repeat your answers in court. If Ms. Phillips asks, I doubt either of you will answer any questions ever again. That was her daughter you shot, or allegedly shot, and when I last saw her she was honing a skinning knife."

"Is that a threat?" the lawyer asked in an outraged voice.

"Why yes, yes it is. Let's leave Ms. Phillips out of this for the moment. Let's look at what might happen. Let's assume you don't answer any further questions. The trial comes around. We play that videotape you saw. We get the eyewitness testimony and we play the GPS record from your car putting you within four feet of the end of that driveway and the deceased. The odds that the jury would find you guilty approach 100% at that point. Off you go to prison, where you'll be a stand-up guy. You never squealed. Instead you shot a teenage girl thre times in the chest. In broad daylight. In front of witnesses and a camera.

"You know, reputation is everything. You're not a gang-banger, nor are you affiliated with anyone at all. Plus we have your partner's testimony. You'll sit in a cell for a few years, then one night they'll strap you to a gurney, stick a needle in your arm, and you'll die. By the way, it isn't the peaceful "going to sleep" the reporters say, but the last one I saw flopped and screamed. Reminded me of a fish I caught once. Bottom line, though, is that you'll die."

"Trask ratted me out?"

King smiled. "I've said too much. One way, you'll die. Of coruse this being Virginia, you may get the gas chamber. Then you'll die puking on your own vomit. The doctor said the last one to be gassed died from drowning in his vomit.

"Now if you do tell us who paid you, just a name, that's all, you'll get, oh, 25 years, but be eligible for parole in 10. You'll have a few years of reporting to a P.O., but you'll still be breathing.

"Your choice. Now, while you think about it, I'm going to get some coffee. Cream? Sugar? Both?"

"None."

"Okay. See you in a few."

When Detective King came back to the interrogation room he held the door open momentarily while he finished a conversation with another police officer.

" ... like on one of those cooking shows. She got the knife under the skin and then just worked it along. They sprinkled salt on the flesh afterward, and ... Oops, we'll have to finish this later."

He closed the door behind him, set the coffee down, along with another for the lawyer and a plastic bottle of water. "Well, what did you decide?"

The prisoner looked at him for a few seconds. "Is that deal firm?"

"I'll bring in someone from the District Attorney's office. They'll lay it out for you."

"Okay." The man swallowed. "We was hired by Arthur Meyer. Said Traci Phillips had corrupted his daughter and had to pay for it."

"Arthru Meyer." Detective King smiled politely. It was as they thought; the father of one of the kids arrested for indecent exposure, he knew the chargers were going to be dropped, had hired these two. Mr. Meyer, he thought, you are in a world of trouble.

"Thank you, thank you very much. I'll have someone from the DA's office here in a few minutes. He'll lay out the deal."

He walked out of there feeling pleased. There were rumors of wild orgies and so on. He'd dismissed most of them. A couple getting together in the back seat of a car sparked rumors, regardless of what they actually did. He'd investigated, and while there were probably some things that did happen, as far as he could tell there was no evidence that there'd been those kinds of activities. He hadn't dug very hard or very deep, nor was he going to. Kids were kids, and looking at each other's naked bodies from the other side of a swimming pool didn't strike him as a "wild orgy". The complaint sounded more like wishful thinking.

Arthur Meyer, though, that was different. He was a general contractor, and there were other things, little things, that had made him wonder. The plates said the car owner was living in Richmond, which was quite a ways from here. Professionals? Not too likely, guys who wanted to make a name for themselves. Still, there might be something there. He'd cracked one, which meant he could probably get the other one, Trask, to roll. Arthur Meyer would be tougher; the man would lawyer up right away. It would warrant more digging into him.

He had the District Attorney on speed dial just for such occasions. He picked up his phone and pressed the appropriate button. "Sheena? We have a break in the Phillips murder. They want a deal, even that minimal one you outlined." His smile broadened. "I'll look for you in just a couple of minutes, then."

One of the other detectives looked at him inquisitively. "You got a break."

"They're starting to cooperate..."

"Good. We'll get this sorted out."

No matter what he tried, he couldn't get the bloodstain off the driveway. Finally he made arrangements to repave the driveway. It didn't matter. His mother put the house up for sale. That autumn she moved them to an apartment. He came home from school one day to find a man in the living room. He nodded politely and headed for his room, but was stopped by a word.

"Kevin."

"Yes?"

"I want you to meet your father."

Something in him wanted to say "Are you sure?", but he held his tongue.

His mother, though, must have read his mind. "Yes, I consented to a DNA test, this was several years ago. Robert, here, is your father."

"-I don't know what to say."

"You're turning into a fine man," his father said.

He looked at his mother. "Are you... ? Is he... ?"

"He'll be there if you need him or have questions men ask each other." She shook her head. "No, we're not getting married. He has a wife and children."

How ... how long have you known?"

"For quite some time," Robert said. "I wanted to be part of your lives, but my work kept me away."

"He works for a software company," his mother said. "They're based on the West Coast."

"Let's go r a walk around the block," Kevin said. "I do have a question."

They'd reached the end of the block and were making the turn when Kevin finally aired the worry he had been hiding.

"Mom hasn't been ... well. I'm not sure she's accepting hat Traci is gone."

"Have you?"

Kevin nodded. "Mom didn't go to see her at the funeral home. I did. Cheri got her to the funeral, but it was like the whole thing was a blank to her. Did you know she's set up a bedroom for Traci?"

"She told me she'd just stepped out and would be back soon."

"Those guys put three 9mmrons in her chest. She died in our driveway."

"I'd be bitter."

"I told the teachers that I'll be calling for homework. I'm going to be at their trial. I'm also going to be at the trial of the man who paid them. I understand they agreed to name him, and testify against him, and in exchange they won't get the death penalty."

"He might, though."

"I know." Kevin smiled. "I normally get the mail. That day she did. Such a little thing."

"Have you talked with the District Attorney?"

Kevin nodded. "I'm testifying."

"Good luck. Just remember, a desperate defense attorney will drag out anything he can to save his client."

"That's what they told me." He took a settling breath. "I'm ready. I wish I could say the same about mother."

"I'm not sure time will help her," Robert said. "She was quite a spunky woman when I met her. She's even more so, now."

Kevin lowered his head, staring at the sidewalk. He'd sort of gotten used to the idea that Traci was gone—seeing her in the funeral home helped, and so did the graveside service—he wasn't sure his mother would ever accept her loss.

"I have yet to meet your sister."

"Cheri and I are a lot alike. Well, we're twins, but she has something that keeps her after school. She should be home in a little bit."

The meeting with Cheri went well. That night, after Robert drove back to Raleigh in North Carolina, they talked. In the past they would have met in one of the bedrooms. Now it just felt more comfortable to do the talking in the kitchen.

"Nice man," she said.

"You resemble him more than I do."

"Think so?" Cheri looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. "Perhaps."

"I think you take after him in another way: software solves problems, and you're a problem solver."

"And you're not? " She shook her head. "You're underestimating yourself. Again."

"There's one problem I haven't solved," Kevin said. "Where did Traci put those tapes?"

"Is it that critical a problem?"

"It's more to satisfy my own curiosity than anything else."

"Okay, I'll grant you that. I also don't have an answer for you."

"It was some place close, but secure."

"And some place the police never found." Cheri sighed. "Yeah, it'd be nice to know where they are, if for no other reason than to make sure they don't accidentally surface."

"Think on it," Kevin said. "In the meantime, we have a father."

"Too bad Traci never got to meet him, or hers."

"Mom said she knows who it is."

"We're a part of something. That feels go, in a way."

Kevin went to his room wondering if other guys talked with their sister's this way. Of course it helped that he and Cheri were twins. That removed one wall right there. The other had always been there, and always would be.

The trial for the two men was short and simple. They pleaded guilty, and took the plea deal. They'd already told the police, and they'd made the arrest. Julie's father was facing trial for murder, Homicide in the First Degree as the District Attorney put it. In the eyes of the Law hiring someone to commit murder was the same as pulling the trigger, and it showed premeditation.

The two men both got 25 years. The police officer who'd been the first on the scene explained some of it to him. "They'll be in Maximum Security because it was murder. They'll be eligible for parole in 15 years."

"Will they get it? I understand Parole Boards don't always grant parole."

"It's possible they'll get turned down. However the other case, I'm not sure he'll get off so lightly.

He didn't. On his first day back in school after the trial he was asked point-blank what had happened.

"He got 25 to Life," Kevin said. "The judge also said he must serve 25 years before being eligible for parole. He'll be 70 the first time he faces the Parole Board."

"They'll probably let him out," the Civics Teacher said. "He may not apply, though. Some people get so used to prison that they don't want out."

"I'd just as soon he stayed there," Kevin said. "I know it's hard on his family, but he didn't have to do what he did."

"There's always that. How's your own case?"

"Charges dismissed," Kevin said. "I was 15, and they sealed the records of each of us."

"It's not illegal to take your clothes off in private," the Civics Teacher said. "I'm surprised there weren't lawsuits."

"They were dropped if the State dropped their charges."

"Again I'm not surprised." Kevin nodded and went back to his books. He'd lost the enthusiasm for a lot of the things that happened around the school. It was like he'd told the police officer on the day Traci was shot: he'd done a lot of growing up in a very short time.

Traci's legacy cropped up over the next few months. Checks continued to arrive with her name on them, sent from some company in San Francisco. She'd been old enough under Virginia Law to set up a separate account; When he and Cheri turned 16 they could, too. Kevin spent some of his money on a lawyer, who helped them work out the details. The bottom line was that the Federal taxes were paid, the state ones were a mess, but the money went into an annuity. Some of it they'd see in later years. Some of it the could get at.