Gorman sighed.“Allegedly, some of the evidence was contaminated.The bloodstains on Hammond’s shirt were sampled, and it was claimed that someone switched the samples out with samples of Gene Parker’s blood taken from the crime scene.”
“Ah,” Marcus said drily.“That would do it.”
Troy scoffed.“He was guilty, man.We all knew it.He was going to get off because of some pretty-boy lawyer.It’s not right.I wasn’t gonna let—”
Gorman shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.Troy got the hint and clammed up.
Marcus didn’t let them get away with that.“So, you planted evidence.”
Gorman only stared.Troy visibly struggled to contain himself, then lost that struggle.“The guy was going to get away with murder.We couldn’t allow him to.You’ve never met someone who youknewwas guilty butknewwas going to walk?You’ve never thought the world might be a better place if you made sure that didn’t happen?”
“No,” Marcus said without hesitation.“Can’t say I have.”
He understood where these guys were coming from, but come on, planting evidence?That was a slippery slope that dropped you straight into hell.
Troy chuckled bitterly.“You’re one of the lucky ones.”
Gorman, frowning after his partner’s diarrhea of the mouth, asked, “Are you here to investigate us for a closed case?”
Marcus shook his head.“No.I’m here to investigate Derek Hammond’s murder.It wasn’t you guys, but it sure as hell was someone.Can you name anyone who was maybe particularly upset about the case?Someone who thought that justice had been miscarried and someone should right that wrong?”
“Everyone thought that,” Troy said.
Marcus was beginning to get frustrated.“Wonderful.Got it.Everyone thought he was a piece of shit.Everyone hated that he got away with it.Jeez, what an asshole.Do you have any idea who that might be?”
“No,” Gorman said.He lifted his hands and let it drop.“Look, we lost.We tried.We did our best, our goddamned best.It didn’t work out.That sucks, but it’s the way it is.”
“We knew we weren’t going to get him after the evidence tampering thing didn’t work,” Troy said.“So, we had two options: be bitter about it and let it turn us into burnt-out husks before our time, or let it go and make sure that we did better in future cases.It hurts.It really does.But if you don’t find a way to deal with hurt, you end updealingwith it, if you know what I mean.”
He tapped the gun holstered to his belt.Images flashed across Marcus’s mind, memories of people who’d come back from Afghanistan but not all the way back.Tears flowing from a man’s eyes while he swallowed a shotgun barrel, string tied around the trigger and his right big toe.
“Yeah.I know what you mean.”
“For what it’s worth,” Gorman said.“I hope you find the killer.Like Troy said, we’re not going to send flowers to Derek Hammond’s funeral, but neither of us want a vigilante running around Chicago.Justice is meant to be undertaken by a society, not an individual.Sure, some people fall through the cracks, but that’s preferable to letting justice be whatever people decided it is based on how they feel at any given moment.”
“I agree with you there,” Marcus said, staring pointedly at the detectives.It might have been petty of him, but he was pleased when Troy reddened.“Again, thanks for talking to me.I’ll reach out if I have any further questions.”
“Good luck, Special Agent.”
He left the precinct.Now that he wasn’t there sniffing for blood, the other detectives and officers ignored him.Whitaker caught up to him in the lobby and asked if he needed a ride to the maid’s house, but Marcus declined and said he’d walk instead.He wanted a few minutes to breathe before he moved on to the next part of the case, and the short walk to the hotel gave him those few minutes.
He picked up his phone and typed a dozen different responses to Cheryl.He deleted each one.What could he say that he hadn’t already said a thousand times before?If she didn’t believe him anymore, that was her problem.
And deep in his heart, behind his anger, his willpower, and the love he still held for the woman he had married, was the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like if he had met Kate before Cheryl.Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like if they had tried to be more than just partners, more than just friends.
And even deeper down, he was pretty sure it would have been a damned fine life if they had.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kate’s phone buzzed.She glanced up from the cipher and read Marcus’s message.Talked to detectives.They have an alibi for last night.Going to talk to maid now.How’s the cipher going?
Kate looked back at the mess of notes she’d taken and replied,Lot of good stuff.I’ll update you when you get back.
Marcus texted a laughing emoji and a moaning emoji.Kate chuckled.Marcus had the technological literacy of a seventy-year-old.
She texted back a thumbs up, then turned back to the cipher.After recognizing the first line, she was pretty sure that she knew what the cipher was.A couple of quick internet searches and a test of a few more lines confirmed it.The killer was using stenographer’s shorthand, a form of abbreviated writing used by court stenographer’s to rapidly record minutes in a trial when the law required every single word and action be thoroughly documented.
