A Perfect Grave Part 43

Chapter Sixty-Two.

At the takedown off Market, the SWAT team rushed from the aftermath with a suspect.

A white male, early twenties, about five-ten, 175 pounds, faded jeans, AC/DC T-shirt. Clean-cut, doubled over vomiting and coughing from the tear gas. His hands were handcuffed in front of him. Somebody spritzed water in his irritated eyes.

"Where's the boy?" A SWAT cop shouted under his Darth Vader gas mask.

"What boy? What's going on!" he coughed, spit, tears streamed down his inflamed face.

Inside, SWAT members searched the living room, the bathroom, the bedrooms, kitchen, halls, closets. They tapped the ceilings, walls, floors for body ma.s.s. No immediate sign of another person. After clearing the residence, crime-scene people went in while detectives dealt with the suspect.

"What's your name, sir?" Grace Garner asked.

"Darrell Stanton. What's this?"

Grace examined the contents of his wallet.

"I'm a student at the University of Washington. I'm from Canberra, Australia. My pa.s.sport's in my desk. s.h.i.t! My eyes are burning!"

Perelli dispatched a SWAT member to get the pa.s.sport.

Stanton was spritzed again, handed a towel to pat his face, then Leon Sperbeck's photo was held in front of him.

"Do you know this man?" Grace said.

"Albert Crawley." Stanton coughed then looked. "He used to live here."

"Where is he?"

"How the h.e.l.l should I know?" Stanton coughed. "Haven't seen him for weeks ever since I sold him my car. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d owes me money. s.h.i.t, my eyes!"

A uniformed officer sprizted Stanton.

"He leave a forwarding address?"

"No, he's an a.s.shole."

"Describe the car you sold to him."

"A 1995 blue Chrysler Concorde. I told him it's got problems and let him have it cheap. He owes me six hundred bucks. Is he the guy you want?"

Perelli had his cell phone pressed to his ear when he held up Stanton's pa.s.sport, nodding to Garner, Harlan, and Boulder.

"Stanton checks out. He's not in the system," Perelli said.

As Boulder stepped away to take a call, Detective Gilbert Bailey took Grace aside. "Just talked to the guys at the Boland home with the mother."

"Any more calls from Sperbeck, any demands?"

"Nothing. She's going through h.e.l.l," Bailey said. "The FBI and KCSO said the two other addresses DOC had for Sperbeck are washouts."

"Sperbeck's likely aliased up the wazoo, Gib. Can you help us prepare an alert to blast out ASAP, the vehicle and photos of Sperbeck and Brady."

After Boulder finished his call, he pulled Grace and Perelli from Stanton for a private moment.

"We've got press. The national networks are threatening to go live. And we've got word from the Command Post that Ethan Quinn's arrived. They're bringing him up now." Boulder indicated the marked car roaring toward them.

Ethan Quinn got out carrying a briefcase. Grace, Perelli, and Boulder walked him down the street to talk quietly.

"You're investigating Sperbeck's original crime?" Grace said.

"Yes, the robbery-homicide. My client is the insurance firm that paid out."

"Why are you investigating after all these years?"

"The stolen money never surfaced. We had most of the serial numbers. We suspect the cash is still out there, largely intact."

"Exactly what do you know, or suspect?" Perelli said.

"I don't want to jeopardize my investigation."

"This is our our investigation, Slick," Perelli said. "If you think you're going to collect some sort of finder's fee on this, think again." Perelli jabbed a finger into Quinn's chest. "If you possess material information relating to this child's kidnapping and two homicides, you'd be wise to cooperate right now. So let me ask you again, what do you know?" investigation, Slick," Perelli said. "If you think you're going to collect some sort of finder's fee on this, think again." Perelli jabbed a finger into Quinn's chest. "If you possess material information relating to this child's kidnapping and two homicides, you'd be wise to cooperate right now. So let me ask you again, what do you know?"

Quinn surveyed their faces.

"There were a lot of cops there the day it went down and the money vanished," he said. "It's unusual that Sperbeck, the only person convicted, never named the others involved. Most of the players are dead, including the ex-cops who owned the armored-car company.

"Several units responded to the heist and it's my belief that, whether it was planned, or a reaction to the child's death, maybe officers took the $3.3 million, and covered up the shooting of the little boy. You may recall that the autopsy and ballistics reports were inconclusive on the shooting victim.

"I think Sperbeck worked a deal, pleaded guilty, avoided the death penalty, and expected to be rewarded with his cut in exchange for his silence and his time. Maybe they tucked it away in some interest-bearing off-sh.o.r.e account."

"It's an insulting theory," Perelli said. "And it doesn't fit because there are other pieces at play here."

"What pieces?"

"Nice try. f.u.c.k you."

Grace looked hard at Quinn. "What else do you have to support your theory?"

"Henry Wade was one of the many responding officers."

"With Vern Pearce, his partner," Boulder said.

"Henry Wade is now the only surviving officer."

"Henry quit the job and crawled into a bottle after Vern shot himself," Boulder said. "Not many people talk about it. A few old bulls say it was the case, the boy getting shot, all that c.r.a.p."

"Wade's a private detective now, working for Don Krofton," Quinn said. "You guys should check to see if Krofton was at the scene that day."

"I think you've watched one too many bad movies, Ethan," Perelli said.

Quinn shrugged and opened his briefcase.

"Not long after Sperbeck's release from prison, he staged his own death. Then Henry Wade just happens to follow the 'dead man' to a bank where Sperbeck had some sort of transaction. It's all here. I was surveilling Wade."

Quinn held up a disk from his video recorder.

"Don't you move." Boulder waved a uniform over to keep Quinn company while he took his detectives for a short walk.

"What do you make of Quinn's s.h.i.t, Grace?" Boulder said.

"There's a lot at play here. Look at the facts. Sperbeck's our guy for Sister Anne, Sharla May Forrest, and Brady. And Sister Anne visited Sperbeck in prison."

"But some twenty-five years ago," Perelli said, "after the robbery, she enters the convent, with over a million. It has to be a link. And her real ident.i.ty is not what she claimed, according to the Mirror. Mirror. Maybe she was holding the money for Sperbeck." Maybe she was holding the money for Sperbeck."

"But somehow, Sperbeck thinks Rhonda Boland's husband owes him," Boulder said. "This doesn't make sense."

"The pieces are there. They just don't line up yet," Grace said. "Like why did Sperbeck kill Sharla May?"

"That one seems obvious," Boulder said.

"Right," Perelli said. "It was around the time of his release. Remember, Roberto Martell pimps her date with Sperbeck at the Black Jet Bar. Leon likely couldn't get it up, so he took it out on Sharla May. When I worked vice the ex-cons always had problems with hookers because prison messed them up."

"That seems the most likely scenario for Sperbeck doing Sharla May," Boulder said.

"Okay," Grace said. "That brings us back to Quinn's crazy theory on Sperbeck and corrupt cops being involved in the heist."

"I think we have to ask Henry Wade some questions." Boulder looked at his watch. "First we gotta move fast to get that alert out and hold a news conference. We'll do it right here."

Grace nodded and walked away to be alone as she thought of Brady Boland and her two homicides. This was so d.a.m.n complicated. Nothing made sense.

Everything was at stake.

Was Jason's father caught up in this?

Chapter Sixty-Three.

The snow-crowned peak of Mount Rainier rose before them from the Cascade range. They were somewhere between Elbe and Ashford, eastbound on 706.

After leaving Seattle, they didn't speak. Jason's old man listened to those sorrowful Johnny Cash ballads and stared at the lush forests rolling by.

As if the truth were out there and he was in desperate pursuit.

Jason feared his father was driving headlong toward a mental breakdown, like the time he showed up drunk in the Mirror Mirror newsroom. Man, he had to do something, anything to avoid it. newsroom. Man, he had to do something, anything to avoid it.

His old man was carrying a gun now.

"Dad, you've got to talk to me! Tell me what's going on!"

His father adjusted his grip on the wheel. His jaw tensed but he refused to answer.

"Dad, tell me the truth about you and Leon Sperbeck."

"Reach under your seat."

Jason's hand felt around, finding the paper bag and the gla.s.s-hard problem inside as he produced the unopened bottle of whiskey.

"Give it to me."

"Dad, no."

"Give me the d.a.m.n bottle."

The liquid swished as he handed it to him. His father opened his window and threw the bottle away. Jason heard it smash into the ditch behind them.

"I'm doing this sober," he said. "Vern and I get to the call and we come on Sperbeck. Dead cold. Fleeing with a gun in his hand. This thing all goes down in seconds. Seconds. But it feels like slow motion because my heart's going like a jackhammer.

"Sperbeck's cornered. We've got him. We draw down on him, order him to drop his weapon, get on the ground. Out of nowhere, this boy steps from a store looking for his mom. Sperbeck locks his arm around the kid's neck, drilling his gun into the kid's head.

"He's eight years old and he's looking at me. Scared out of his mind. Vern's shouting tactics at me. There's no time to do anything, we're spreading out, edging closer, one of us is going to get a shot at Sperbeck.

"We're screaming at him to drop his gun, let the kid go. But Sperbeck's scared, he knows he's going down and he's going to take all of us with him. I could see the boy's eyes. He's staring at me, they're wild, like someone who's fallen from a cliff.

"Vern's closing in on the left, I'm closing in on the right. Sperbeck's sweeping the boy back and forth but he knows he's exposed on one side and we're going to take him.

"That's when we hear sirens. Backup is coming fast. Time's up.

"Sperbeck makes his move and it happens, he swings to one side, taking a shot at Vern. Vern finds cover but Sperbeck pins him, fires again, missing Vern both times, but somehow the kid has broken free.

"The boy's eyes are huge as he runs directly to me. Over the kid's shoulder and down my sight, I've got a bead on Sperbeck and see him take aim toward me and the kid who's between us.

"The boy's large in front of me running at me and I'm screaming for him to get on the ground, waving him down as I see Sperbeck's trigger finger pulling.

"I fire.

"It's loud, there's muzzle flash and smoke, so I don't see until it clears and the boy's on the ground. Bleeding. My gut convulses, Vern jumps Sperbeck, cuffs him, and I go to the boy.