See Jane Die Part 72

articles about you. Last he knew you were a broken, disfigured girl. Now you're a success. In both your

career and personal life."

She looked at Jane. "You were right. He is punishing you. But not only for living. For winning. I think that p.i.s.ses him off."

"So he found me," Jane jumped in, excited. "Watched me. And Ian. He learned our routines and habits.

He planned it all carefully. He killed Elle Vanmeer firs-"

"I'm not saying I believe Ian's innocent, only that I'm thinking it possible you're right about the threatening letters coming from the boater."

"Everything you have against Ian is circ.u.mstantial. Elton said so."

"Many a suspect's been convicted on less."

Jane fisted her fingers. "He's innocent. Why can't you believe me?"

"Because I'm a cop. Because I've listened to too many men- and women-proclaim their innocence to

the heavens, only to be guilty as sin. Have heard the certainties, outrage and disbelief of their loved ones and witnessed their stunned disbelief when their 'innocent' was proved, unequivocally otherwise. Sorry, Jane."

"You believe me about the boater-take one more step and believe he's behind it all."

Stacy looked at her, expression grim. "You doubt Ian's faithfulness. Take one more step and doubt his innocence."

Jane held out her hand, pleading. "I need your help, Stacy. Please help me."

"How? By leaving my mind open? Fine, you've got it. Until there's physical evidence that absolutely ties

Ian to the scene, I'll do that for you."

It wasn't good enough. G.o.d help her, she wanted more. "What do the police have that's solid?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." Jane began ticking off what she knew. "They believe they have motive.

His infidelity and my millions. Lots of circ.u.mstantial to back that up. And I suppose, they believe he had opportunity. The window of time I was asleep the night of Vanmeer's murder, the fact that he had been outside."

Jane stood, crossed to the bay window and gazed out at the midnight sky. "And of course, Elle Vanmeer's cell phone, found in the Dumpster with Lisette Gregory. His connection to all three victims."

She looked over her shoulder at her sister. "What else?"

When her sister didn't reply, she narrowed her eyes. "What harm can my knowing be to the state's case?

Think I'll destroy evidence? Tip my incarcerated husband that they're onto him? Please."

Stacy let out a long breath, as if coming to grips with a decision. "A cherry-red Audi TT at La Plaza at

the time of the murder."

"And the search here, what were they looking for?"

"Clothing."

"Clothing? Why-"

"A security tape from La Plaza captured the man we believe is Elle Vanmeer's killer. It's obvious he

knew where the cameras were and made certain his face is never on tape. Judging by build and height, it could be Ian."

"I want to see the tape."

Stacy laughed. "Fat chance of that."

"I'll know if it's him. Please, Stacy, let me see it. For me. My peace of mind."

"Not only could I lose my job, I could be prosecuted. That's State's evidence in a capital murder trial.

Besides, the defense will get their crack at it."

"When?"

"The discovery phase of the trial."

Jane knew from the timeline Elton had given her that he would submit motions for discovery and

inspection and for a bill of particulars, within thirty days. All discovery would be completed before the

trial began.

"I can't wait that long," she said, crossing to stand before her sister. She looked her dead in the eyes. "I know I'm right about this guy. That Ian's innocent."

"What if you're wrong? Jane, what if you look at that tape and see your husband?"

The words, the possibility, rocked her. She thought of what Ted had said, that day she'd gone to see Ian's ex.

What if she tells you something you don't want to hear?

And she had. At every turn, the worst had happened. Why not this time?

She steeled herself against the possibility. "Consider this, Stacy. What if I'm right? By the time discovery

rolls around, I very well may be dead."

FIFTY-FIVE Monday, November 10, 2003 6:30 a.m.

I think I've changed my mind," Jane said, slipping her Jeep into park and turning to her sister. "I don't want you to do this."

"Too late," Stacy said. "We made a plan and we're going through with it."

She sounded more confident than she felt. In fact, she had decided she was out of her mind. Check the

Plaza security tape out of the evidence room so Jane could look at it? She could be fired. Prosecuted, for G.o.d's sake.

But she was willing to risk it all.

For her sister. Because she owed it to her. And because she couldn't-wouldn't-take a chance with her life.

By the time discovery rolls around, I very well may be dead.

"Give me twenty minutes to get the tape and get it into a player. I'll let Kitty know you're coming in. To give a statement."

"About Ted."

"Yes."

"What if Mac's there? He won't buy this whole statement thing. He'll-"

"He won't be. I'm ninety-five percent certain. But if he is or I get heat from any other direction, we sc.r.a.p

the plan. Go in another direction. Follow my lead."

Jane nodded, though she didn't look convinced. In fact, she looked scared.

Stacy reached across the seat and gave Jane's hand a squeeze. "They're just cops. They don't bite."

Jane laughed at that; Stacy climbed out of the car. She and Jane had concocted this plan the day before.

Timing was important. Shift change wasn't for forty minutes. The early birds would be in, as well as those involved in intense, time-sensitive investigations. The night guys would be winding down. Looking forward to heading home. No one would find her presence jarring.

She glanced back at her sister. "Twenty minutes."

Jane nodded. "Be careful."

Stacy saluted and started up the block. They had parked a block from the Munic.i.p.al Building, so not to

be seen together. Stacy rubbed her hands together, wishing for gloves. Instead, she stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, shivering against the cold, gray day.

Checking out the videoca.s.sette would leave a paper trail. The evidence room officer wouldn't think twice

about it, but if anyone in the know cared to look, her a.s.s was cooked.

When it came to evidence, chain of custody was huge. The prosecution had to be able to prove the evidence hadn't been tampered with. They did that by knowing-and by being able to show-where the evidence had been at all times. Compromised evidence equaled a blown case.

She neared the building. She nodded at several officers on their way out as she entered. The angry, inconvenienced ma.s.ses hadn't arrived yet and the floor was mercifully quiet.