Page 80 of Justice Delayed

Brogan jotted down the name as he asked a few other questions to wrap up his story on the murder. “Thanks, detective.”

“There is one more thing.”

Brogan waited, his mind already busy composing the lead to his story about the Williams’ death and Jared’s confession.

“I’m going to be taking a few hours off, starting tonight. My lieutenant’s been after me to whittle down my accrued PTO or lose it,” Livingston continued in a casual tone. “But with my missus off visiting her sister, I’m a bit at loose ends. I don’t suppose you have any reading material that might make the time pass by a little quicker?”

The import of Livingston’s words hit him square in the jaw. He strove to keep his tone as nonchalant as the detective’s. “I think I just might, if you care to stop by my uncle’s house later today.”

“Give me a good time to drop by.”

“Come around seven.”

Livingston agreed and ended the call. Brogan sent Melender a series of texts to update her on what had happened but didn’t mention Livingston coming over. She would be at work when the detective arrived, and Brogan didn’t want her hopes raised that Livingston was on their side.

ChapterThirty-One

Livingston riffled through a box, reading file labels but not extracting any papers to peruse as Brogan set down two mugs of coffee on the table.

“Thanks. This is regular, right?” The detective didn’t wait for Brogan’s answer before lifting his mug and taking a sip.

“Yes, as strong as I could make it.” Brogan took a tentative sip of his own cup, and the hot liquid nearly scalded his mouth.

Livingston had arrived a few minutes after seven wearing Bermuda shorts, a faded Police Academy t-shirt, and sandals. The transformation from all-business cop to weekender jarred Brogan, but he wisely didn’t quip about the clothing option. The detective projected the appearance of someone off the clock, but his manner was serious.

“You’ve organized this nicely.” Livingston tapped one of the boxes. “How far have you and Harman gone through these?”

Brogan brought him up to speed on the slow progress they’d made. “We kind of got sidetracked with Jared’s arrest related to the ransom.”

“Yeah, that was a bit of a surprise, I’ll grant you. I knew something was off about Jared Thompson, but since the FBI handled the kidnapping part, I never got to question him beyond his initial statement.”

“We were hoping his confession would open up new avenues to explore in Jesse’s disappearance.”

“We?” Livingston raised his eyebrows. “Seems to me you’re losing your objectivity with this story.”

Brogan didn’t take the bait to discuss his involvement with Melender, not when he couldn’t be honest with himself about his feelings for her. Instead, he switched topics. “What I don’t understand is why everyone accepted the Thompsons’ version of events without question.”

“Early in the investigation, it looked like a case of a missing child. That’s treated very differently than if we thought it was a homicide case. So yes, we gave the family the velvet-glove treatment because we had no reason to suspect any of them of foul play in Jesse’s disappearance.”

“When did Melender’s name come up as a potential suspect?” Brogan flipped through the pages on his yellow pad to refresh his memory of the interviews he’d read.

Livingston sipped his coffee, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. “When it became obvious the child had been taken, not wandered off.”

“How did you determine that?” Brogan strived to sound friendly, not antagonistic. The detective had volunteered his time to read the files, but that didn’t mean Livingston thought Melender innocent. Brogan pegged the man as someone who liked to have all his questions answered about a case, and this was one instance where loose ends had dangled for nearly two decades.

“The usual trio of means, motive, and opportunity. Given the testimony of the other household members, Harman appeared to be the only one with all three.”

“But you discounted the nanny’s testimony about Quentin leaving the charity function for an hour and you never fully interviewed Jared about his whereabouts that night.” Brogan tried to mask his frustration with how things had unfolded nineteen years ago.

Livingston didn’t change his posture, but a slight tightening of his lips indicated he wasn’t pleased with Brogan’s statement. “I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet. You were a big shot investigative reporter. Surely you’ve discovered life isn’t fair, especially to those who haven’t the ability to ensure an equal playing field.”

Brogan scrambled to interpret the words in light of Melender’s case. Then a snippet from an article about Quentin flashed in his mind. “Quentin played golf with the police chief.” He met the detective’s eyes. “But this wasn’t a traffic ticket. It’s a woman’s life. It’s a child’s life.”

“The results are the same. When your boss tells you to lay off questioning the immediate family, you push back as much as you can because you believe there is more to the story. Then comes the ransom note, and the FBI takes over the case. Finally, the prosecutor swoops in to say there’s enough circumstantial evidence to hold a grand jury, and voila. Indictment, trial, conviction, sentencing.”

The picture of how easily that had happened to Melender unfolded in Brogan’s mind like a silent movie.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t the only time where the wheels of justice crushed someone instead of serving the public.”

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