Page 76 of The 1 Lawyer
“She came across some evidence she wanted to show you. When she couldn’t get you on the phone, she came by the house. She was lucky to catch me. I’d gotten back from class right before she rang the doorbell.”
I was glad to hear that Jenny was using the doorbell rather than her house key. “What evidence?”
“Some photographs. I promised I’d run you down. Which I did.” She handed the file folder to me and added, “You’re welcome.”
I opened the folder and found six photocopies of pictures depicting a familiar setting. I quickly shuffled through them. They had been taken near my house. There was a date in the corner. A date burned into my brain.
I shook off my emotions and went through the images again, studying each one.
Rue said, “Jenny wants you to pay attention to that close-up of the car.”
I already was. Couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The picture showed two people in the front seat of an SUV. I recognized the man on the driver’s side. It was Benjamin Gates. Probably casing my house before he broke in.
I looked up and gazed out at the beach. Still deserted. “Where did she get these? They need to go to the Biloxi PD.”
“Yeah, that’s the weird thing. Jenny got the pictures from Pastor Gates, Benjamin Gates’s cousin. Someone, he doesn’t know who, mailed them to his church. He called Jenny, and she ran them straight over to the police department and showed them to the detective in charge. Sweeney, I think?”
“Right.” I examined the pages again. You could see part of my house in one image. “So these are copies?”
“Yeah. She gave the original envelope of pictures to the detective, but she said he wasn’t very psyched about it.”
“Huh?” I looked up. “Why not?”
“He said it didn’t provide any new information. He told her he’d add the pictures to his file. But it’s a closed case, he said.”
I fixed my eyes on the horizon as I considered Detective Sweeney’s reaction to this evidence. A seagull flew overhead, screaming.
The middle-aged beach walker stretched out on one of the chairs and shrugged off her cover-up.
Rue said, “What do you think of the latest response from the Biloxi PD?”
“Dunno.” Hearing that the Biloxi PD wasn’t interested in new evidence hit me like a punch in the gut. The file folder I held started shaking in my hands.
I needed to subdue my resentment and get my shit together so I could unravel the meaning behind the evidence. I cleared my throat and said, “I’m pretty sure I can tell the source of these images. Looks like they came from Roland Shank’s security camera.”
“That’s good.” She waited. “You gonna call your neighbor?”
“I am. Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.” We sat on the sand in silence until Rue asked, “This neighbor a friend of yours?”
I looked down at my shaking hands. “Not particularly.” But I pasted a tight smile on my face, grabbed my phone, searched through my contacts, and hit Shank’s number. As I waited for him to pick up, Rue whispered, “Speaker!”
I hit the Speaker button right before he answered. “Stafford Lee? What’s up?”
“Roland, I’ve called to ask a favor. I came across some photos that were taken on the night my wife was killed. The stills sure look like they’re from a security system at your house.”
The line went quiet for a moment. Then: “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d like to see the tape—if you still have it.”
“Well, no. I don’t have it, not anymore.” He sounded genuinely confused.
I could feel my muscles tense up. “You sure?”
“We replaced that old system last year. Thought we needed more security, you know, after your wife was…”
He let the sentence trail off, unfinished. I quit trying to sound friendly. “I see.”